#yes i meant to reblog this on this account

[tmf-confessions]

now i know how those tournament/confession blogs feel when they keep reblogging stuff not on their main

[galene-gothic]

𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗐?

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ I hope this reading found you in good health, every reblog is appreciated and thank you for everything :) ˖♡ ˎˊ˗ ꒰ 🐇 ꒱

˗ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗             PAID SERVICES

︎︎⊹ ! ೀ Pile 1 ꒱

You desire to be yourself at all costs. I’m getting a bit of a defensive energy from you, you’re not exactly the type to go out there and fight people but if anyone were to mess with you you’d be defensive. Interestingly, you’d defend yourself mentally, as in, you’d not let them get to you. Action wise though, you’re putting yourself first but learning how to still be fairly generous. You’re being private and secretive, you’re not revealing much of who you are, how you think or what you’re up to to others. You have hope for yourself and the future and you wish to shine in order to become who you’ve always wanted to be. In matters of the heart, you seem to have left someone or possibly multiple people, place or situations behind for the best but you still think about it. You also think about how it took for you to walk away if you were unable to walk away right away. You feel like whatever you had to walk away from was stagnant and caused nothing but unnecessary stress and stagnation in your life. When it comes to the soul, you’re putting self love first. Honestly, as much as you desire connection and feel lonely sometimes, you actually want to focus on yourself. Even if you’re someone who in the past was friendly and tried to form connections, at this point even if connections try to fall right onto your lap, you do not exactly want to take them up. You wish to strengthen your bond with yourself and become more controlled within yourself, and your own life first. About the situation that you left behind, it was something with potential but someone’s ego ended up getting in the way. I feel like it was a person that you had to leave behind (possibly even multiple people) and you were initially confused, you didn’t understand why you were being treated so poorly and why they were being so intolerant towards you until you looked deeper into yourself and realised that some things are better not understood. You have a lot ahead of you, you do not even need to think about the past but yes, you were treated poorly and that’s all there is to it. You may have been sorta obsessed or heavily attached to whatever or whoever this was but it was for the best that you got rid of it. I just heard “it’s not your fault”. Right now, you’re trying to get back in touch with your more gentle and compassionate side despite being pushed into this self protective and defensive place by circumstances. As much as you may desire connections, by this point, you know that no one will save you. You’re not even victimising yourself or anything, you’re just trying to take accountability and responsibility for yourself.

You still recognise that some actions you took were shameful and the way you’ve started thinking, and being is tainted too, you’re trying to clear yourself of all this so that you can get back to being yourself, completely and wholly. Whatever you’ve had to undergo, it’s good that you left it behind because you were meant to do so. Even with a heavy heart, you decided to go forth with self trust. You were left with no choice but to move forward all by yourself is what I’m getting. What you saw to be emotionally fulfilling, stable, reliable and full of love, a place where you had actually invested so much affection into turned out to be something to heal from. In the beginning, you could almost see no way out of it. You didn’t realise when your safe haven had become a trap where you were tied and blindfolded, where you felt so scared and didn’t even know what you were supposed to do and not do. However, you’re someone who has excellent thinking abilities so even though you were unsure of what to do going forward, you decided and managed to find a way out of it. The more time that passed, the more you come to realise just how one sided your most fulfilling and deep connections were, and it disheartens you but a part of you is glad to have grown to the point to be able to see and accept the truth as it is. You’re someone who was often carrying burdens and connections all by yourself, you were taking responsibility for people and connections that were one sided, and wouldn’t have done the same for you. Even after things ended, you’ve had to carry the load of guilt, pain and healing all by yourself, and you’re doing so. It’s unfair that you were neglected and they’re apathetic or seemed to be like it despite the storm that you had to undergo but it’s okay, you are only growing into a more lively and warm version of yourself. The same experiences that have closed you off are giving way to a stronger, wiser, more loving, empathetic, compassionate and refined version of you. Your generosity and sort of naive nature was abused, and you have every right to be disappointed but it won’t do much and you know it. You seem to be doing pretty well for yourself so far, please continue doing so. If you’re yet to walk away from this situation, please do so. In the past, you were trying to manage time well and gave a lot of priority to time management, and quality time. You made a lot of memories in the past and were incredibly kind, giving and loving but it ended in heartbreak, betrayal and disappointed. So in the present, you’re a bit more lonely and isolated, you’ve still not gotten over things mostly because you’ve been unable to socialise enough or with the right kind of people but you’re breaking free from a lot that had you trapped.

There was a point when you felt victimised and trapped, you’re slowly but surely stepping into your power and have realised that you’re not as powerless as you were made to feel. I keep on hearing the song ‘lonely’ by Jonghyun and Taeyeon in my head, I haven’t even listened to that song in more than a year I think. You’re going to build a great deal of stability and achievements for yourself going forward, you’ll not have found the right connections yet but you’ll be grateful to your birth family, community and your birth place or the place where you grew up in some way. You’re going to be and feel abundant, and there will be no space for anyone from the past who comes in trying to act as though nothing happened or to ‘apologise’. You’ll follow the philosophy of “silence is better than explaining sometimes” and you’ll gift them with silence or utmost coldness, and you’ll not think twice about it, you’ll not regret it, and you shouldn’t either! Due to your past experiences, you’ve developed a belief that maybe you’re hard to love, maybe you’ll never be truly chosen or appreciated. About how you should go about resolving and dealing with these kinds of beliefs is by firstly understanding that your anger towards people and situations is fully valid. When and if you’re not appreciated or treated well, you’re allowed to treat them in a similar manner too. The thing with you is that you’re not that kind of a person, you wish to be respectful and fairly diplomatic at all times. So the only way for you to treat others the way they treat is through silence, avoidance and absence. Look back at everything that has happened, everything that has caused you pain and see what makes you feel like you’re unlovable. Ask yourself if it was your environment (what they said, how they treated you, etc.), you simply picking yourself apart, a sense of lack or insecurity, just make sure to get to the root of it and throw that belief out from its root, then fill that place with positive thoughts and beliefs instead. Be present, be pleasant, be proud. If you have an idea for something, feel free to implement it, if you don’t have the resources yet, try to find a way to build those resources because look, if you want to, you will. Put yourself first at all costs but don’t close your heart, love people, maybe not interpersonally until you learn that they’re trustworthy enough but just be a kind person in general. Stop obsessing over such thoughts, let them slip away and reassure yourself when they do come up. Be kind to yourself because how can you feel shitty about possibly never receiving love, being chosen or treated the way you want when you’re not even choosing yourself, when you’re not even treating yourself the way you should be. Thank you for reading. Much love and take care.

︎︎⊹ ! ೀ Pile 2 ꒱

You’re not exactly that optimistic right now. I’m getting that you have become sort of defensive but it’s only because you desire to be your authentic self at all costs. You’ve become very self conscious and regretting the choices, and decisions that you’ve made in the past, especially in regard to some sort of an uncommitted connection. You experienced a breach of trust and loyalty that led you to a period of just feeling shaken and just turned your life upside down. You still hold anger about this situation because you felt as though you lost everything. There was something that was initially fun and you felt really passionate and excited about. It was probably romantic or just significant, you thought the feelings there were real and mutual but it ended in disappointment instead. I’m getting that this was something that wasn’t the developed yet. As in, things didn’t really get anywhere. You felt deceived and insecure about yourself in the end. I think that both parties here acted childlike and childish, there was just some immaturity which led to the connection ending before it even started. You felt rejected and as though the other party was treating you that way with bad intentions. You guys didn’t really communicate, you likely overanalysed the situation and are feeling defensive right now. You are unable to make your mind about this person for some reason. You feel like maybe they didn’t intend on anything serious after all and had ill intentions or didn’t feel much but at the same time, there’s an odd soft spot. This soft spot is not even soft anymore, you’re going to spit out venom if this soft spot is touched 😭. You feel like they tried to sell you some sort of false vision of the future. You lack clarity about the situation and feel stupid to have fallen for whatever this stupid game is. In this reading, you’re going to get the closure that you so desperately seem to need but if you don’t want to, you’ll still not make your mind up about them and the situation. You’ve grown to be someone independent and wise, you’re also grateful for all that you have and try to carry yourself properly. You know that this situation is over but at the same time, you don’t really know. You fear moving on but if they were to come in, due to how they’ve left you feeling so uncertain, you’d not even want to commit and you dislike the fact that you were abandoned but you feel like you don’t even have any right to complain either. Your self esteem has lowered, you really need to get it back. You feel like maybe this was not even all that, you just overestimated its significance? You’ve matured significantly and are trying to move forward but something just seems to hold you back, you still haven’t been able to get rid of your soft spot for them and the memories you made. However, despite the lack of closure and soft spot, you’ve accepted your lot and are trying to move forward. You seem to have kept them deep within yourself though, you think of them when no one is around especially and you like to show as if you’re not thinking about them but they’re still at the back of your mind. You’re still pretty confused and also unhappy about how things ended but you’ve released a lot of fear and you’re still doing so.

You want to see the truth at this point but you’re keeping everything under wraps. For most of you, others may not know how deep your feelings for them run, they may not even know that they hold such effect on you at all. You’re just exhausted of everything. You’re here for the reality check that your soul requires to move forward. I hope you actually make a firm decision to do something with yourself and your mind with the information that I’m going to channel for you. They feel quite hopeless about this situation too. You make them feel pretty unstable and it’s not like you do anything wrong, it’s just the dynamic between the both of you. They’ve always had mixed feelings about you and try to be neutral about you. It’s funny because you make them feel extremes. There is this weird feeling of being deeply connected with one another. However, I’m not sure if you know about it but maybe they dated someone else after the both of you went no contact so well, they basically did choose someone else and you deserve better than that. They feel held back from you and are acting like they are persistently moving forward in life (which they are) and aren’t really doing much towards you. They’re focused on refining themself, building their life and trying to create more inner harmony. Maybe if it’s not someone from the past and you’re dealing with someone like this right now and can pick up on odd vibes from them, this is how it’s going to end up but well going forward with the reading, in terms of their intentions, they do not and have not intended anything serious. They’re incredibly focused on building a certain life for themself and you do not fit the mold and you shouldn’t have to, you’re yourself and that’s okay. It’s not like anything is wrong with you, they’re being cautious, they fear getting hurt too. The feelings here are pretty strong but they choose to maintain this half heartedness and you deserve better than that. Especially if they got with someone else, that’s your answer right there, you deserve so much better. They feel protective of you and desired to take care of you. They intended on being compassionate with you but the dynamic between you seems to be such that you’re not even sure if you’re friends, foes, strangers or lovers. It’s confusing to them too. They think that things between you have ended and you’ve changed a lot since the last time they saw you. They think that you’re going with the flow and that your connection didn’t develop the way it could have. There’s this sense of things being left unfinished that you both share. They remember how fun you were and how big your aura, and energy were. They just have the desire to be physically intimate with you, it isn’t conscious but they want to touch you in innocent ways too. They could have done that in the past, touching your head, measuring hands or just any excuse to be around you. They also can’t deny how much they themself have changed. Deep feelings were involved despite the surface level aggression and lack of progression. Both parties lacked tact. There was a lot of attraction between the both of you and they have not forgotten you either, you’re not easy to forget either, you’re not easy to get over either.

You still deserve so much better, don’t let them hold you back anymore. Characterise people by their actions and you’ll never be fooled by their words. Oftentimes people do not need to tell you anything, their actions tell you everything that you need to know. Compromise on your feelings for right now so that you can protect them on the long term. That’s true self love, respect and protection. About how you should go about healing yourself. Put yourself first at all times, it’s very important. I’m also hearing that you should enter the world with a new zest. Get moving, go to new places that you’re not familiar with, help those in need and be selfish, as in, understand that you’re valuable and when it comes to interpersonal connections your needs, wants, desires, boundaries and values need to be prioritised just as much as the other person’s. Listen to your inner self and don’t forget who you truly are. You’re still discovering yourself so you do not need to know all about who you are yet, just don’t forget your true essence. You were hurt, don’t forget that. Be honest with yourself, come clean about anything you might have done unrelated to this person that you’re not proud of (to yourself) and actively decide to do better, and lead a more intentional life. Your past self regardless of any hurt or pain was someone who decided to walk away but it caused you to develop a lack of control and therefore, a need for it. It could have manifested in ways where you wanted to be right in every conversation, where you got angry when things didn’t go your way, etc. You were lazy, lacked goals or didn’t have it in you to follow through with plans. You were undisciplined and indecisive, and were put at a point where you didn’t even know what to do, like legit, you didn’t know if you were supposed to laugh or cry. Currently you hold a great hatred or at least dislike for certain things, people or characteristics. You have a lot of rage within you and feel vulnerable at times and also betrayed but you are slowly regaining the strength to become compassionate and loving again. You’re a charismatic charmer who’s warm and enjoys fun. You’re also someone disciplined who likes to consistently work towards what you desire. Your passion is something that can’t be taken away from you and I’m happy about that because you’re still as passionate as ever. Your future holds many achievements for you and also a community, you are going to receive respect and will have developed really thick skin by then. You’ll have become someone who has it in you to undergo any situation and stand firm but will be willing to walk away at the first two signs of disrespect. You will have a life that’s moving for you and will not be willing to stop your life for anyone. You will have a lot of hope for the future and will become someone who’s looked up to for inspiration. You’ll conduct yourself with a down to earth humanitarian nature but a part of you will always remain distant and untouched. You’ll be deeply intriguing and I heard a ‘dream girl’. I’m hearing the song ‘head over heels’ in my mind, you might give off the vibes of that song. Thank you for reading. Much love and take care.

︎︎⊹ ! ೀ Pile 3 ꒱

You don’t need to hear anything except that you’re doing well plus some advice. Mentally, you seem to be restricted, guarded and just resisting. You’re resisting everything that’s trying to overpower you and rise above it all. You have been through life turning events and have had the rug swept right off your feet yet you choose to hold your ground. You are defensive to a certain extent as in, you’re willing to guard yourself against anything or anyone that tries to stray you away from this knowing that you’re powerful. You have the knowledge that everything is an illusion and that life is in fact what you make it. You’re also aware that you’re going to spend the majority of your life within your mind so you try to make it a good place to be in. Your thoughts revolve around self control and holding yourself back from guilty pleasures or anything that could cause you harm or pain in the future. You’re using your inner resources and letting go of all that you know is better let go of. You feel like certain thought patterns and ways don’t benefit you so you’re trying to do better than that. You’ve become someone who’s willing to give up and won’t be all persistent for people, connections and situations that don’t show growth. It’s not like you were not shaken, at some point, you had your world turning upside down and despite trying to hold yourself together, everything was just very hard for you but you still managed to just be intentional and in turn, have those intentions help you out. Are you by any chance into manifesting or at least believe in something magical happening when a human is being authentic to themself and keeping their attention, energy, thoughts and vibrations in the right place? Whether or not you believe in the concept of manifesting as a whole, you believe and understand the importance of intentions, actions, vibrations, mindset, etc. You have a great deal to influence others but you don’t want to do it in an influencer manner. When you influence someone, you want it to be because your authentic self was so touching to them that they inevitably were influenced, positively at that. You try to be a positive influence for yourself, trying to be intentional and also with others. You seem to be mindful in general though, I’ve gotta say that your focus on your goals can cause you to be too intentional towards them instead. You’re still actively trying to cut through anything that is trying to get to you and maintain a balanced judgement about life and people. You do not wish to hate particular groups of people because you were wronged by a few of them or believe that you’ll never be loved because some people couldn’t love you the way you needed and wanted to be loved.

Instead, you want to maintain an even judgment of what happened and how you, and others played a part in it. You’re not someone who minds taking accountability but you’ve realised that this quality of yours has and can lead you to being used as a scapegoat or to guilt trip you so you’re also trying to be more discerning going forward. You were stuck in situations too long because you might have been trying to see and understand things from the other party’s perspective but when you felt like it was getting too much, you decided to leave despite things being unresolved so sometimes the past does try to haunt you but you still try to leave it behind. You try to grow emotionally, be active if possible at least to a certain extent and be in the present moment instead. You try to focus on the positives like how there is always something to be grateful for, even if it’s just the little things. Life is not too exciting but you’re still not letting your zest for it die. Keep going, young champ. I’m hearing those lyrics “even if you leave, I may fine cause my heart, it has its own design”, you have developed this understanding that no matter who leaves, you will be fine, you should be fine by this point. It has happened a lot, pretty deeply too, while your heart was still deeply attached to people, things ended or you decided to end them which led to you still being emotionally attached to them, and every time you thought it would get better it didn’t, you also really desired and needed a closure but you have decided to give yourself one instead. You understand that emotional cycles for you have either come to an end or are coming to an end with many obstacles and delays. It is a bit sad because you feel like you did waste quite a bit of time mourning, crying or hurting over things that were not that good to begin with or made you feel like you weren’t good enough, where someone else was prioritised over you or you were excluded, etc. but you understand that you just wanted to have a community and be loved so you’re choosing to not be too hard on yourself. You understand that for you connections are something celebratory and like family, you desire and need stability, and you’re just firm on that belief. You feel like, you too, did deserve someone who would try to understand you and meet you in the level of depth that you try to meet everyone. You probably really enjoy the found family trope. Right now, you’re focused on winning in every aspect and remaining self disciplined. I wonder if there are any cancer or fourth house placements here. Possibly even capricorn. Currently, you’re using two completely different aspects of your personality to navigate life and emotional matters.

You probably have goals that you’re working on and are truly doing everything in order to live your dream. You also try to make every day mean as much as possible. When it comes to your soul, you’re more focused on yourself and your own path rather than connections. Even if you do desire connections, because you desire deep ones, unless you can find anything that matches up to that, you are focused on making your own name and achieving your goals. Your soul desires to gain recognition and be self sufficient, and abundant within yourself. My piece of advice to you is to add more passion into your life and not be greedy when working towards your goals. There is a lot of knowledge, wisdom and love around if you simply look around, setting the distractions of the human conditions away. Turns out, I didn’t really have to give you much advice. You seem to be doing well, be proud of yourself. I’m rooting for you, from here. Oh yeah, about your past present and future, in the past, you were over giving and people pleasing to a certain extent, don’t shame yourself for it because you were conditioned to do so and you also carried everything by yourself, you acted and felt like everything was your fault and responsibility even when it was not. There have been times when you’ve had to deal with really one sided connections and in the present, you understand how cold the world is so you try to navigate it strategically, however, you’ve not lost your kindness and try to be generous, and spread warmth everywhere you go but you value reciprocity, and don’t put your energy into places, people and situations that are undeserving of it. In the future, you might be able to look at your past i.e. your present moment and maybe even your current past as something beautiful. You might go back to your school, university, old workspace, childhood home or spend more time with your family. I’m getting some reminiscence of childhood taking place. You’re going to try to build more stability for yourself and have the understanding that everything you need is on the ground. You’ll still be trying to cultivate more wealth though. You’ll have a very ride or die nature and will want people who would stick through with you through anything and everything. People who just have it in them to support you through the various twists and turns of life. You won’t want to closely engage with those whose love for you is not strong enough to stand the issues of life. You’ll believe that “life happens” is just an excuse because life is going to continue happening and using that as an excuse to abandon people and connections is just funny to you. Thank you for reading. Much love and take care.

[theoddest1]

Hey, isn't it so..."Great" that Viv is out here liking posts that clearly find moments where Angel is being sexual with his rapist "Hot" How much more telling can this all get, right? We really sit here, having to explain how fucked up it is to take SA, try to tackle it "seriously" but then proceed to not even do it for that reason. Only for it to be for angst and goon material. How do you expect me to SIT HERE and take whatever Viv has to offer seriously? The number of people I have seen trying to justify this gross behavior is abysmal. If you have this kink or whatever, fine not like I can stop you, be into that shit somewhere else, but DO NOT try and TACKLE IT only for it to be not even seen as serious or as a way for you to get off to your sick fantasies.

Why the hell would you like this? "Angel with his abusive rapist boss😝, so hot guys! Can'tstop thinking about it!"

What good reason would Viv have in liking this post? Why do over 4k people find a post like this neat? "Oh they're fictional, it's gucci, stop bitching" wouldn't need to bitch if people didn't outright sexualize moments meant to tackle an irl fucking problem.

By the way, this person ships Angel and Valentino together. Their pinned tweet is legit sexual Val and Angel art. I wouldn't recommend attacking them regardless if you disagree with their ships and what they deem...ugh "hot."

Fair warning to I WILL be showing some of their arts and reblogs as evidence, so if you are not into that sort of thing (anything NSFW), I highly recommend scrolling past my post or past this section of it.

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I'm pretty sure Viv actively searches for this sort of thing on Twitter, like it's PAINFULLY obvious that she does. How you just so happen to like a post clear af lusting for this abusive relationship YOU CLAIMED to take seriously that ALSO happens to be from an account that ships the abuser with the victim? Gtfo with your two-faced shit, just say your find this hot instead of lying your absolute ass off. The audacity for some fans to go after one group of people for liking questionable stuff only to let other questionable things slide. Like homie, you can let rape slide, but draw the line for any other questionable thing? How's about you have that energy for EVERYTHING with your hypocritical asses. Ion wanna hear y'all stank ass make callouts if you're okay with a rapist being shipped with someone he actively harms in various ways.

And Viv

You say this entire sequence is meant to be uncomfortable, meant to not sugar-coat how awful this situation is, and supposedly have people who are victims/survivors themselves, yet here you are liking posts from people who do anything but take it seriously and even sexualize it. That's absolutely insane to me. And reminds me how you were drooling over some pins that glamorize the abuse Angel and supposedly Husk goes through, you know, the same character that COMPARED his abuse with Angel's.

Ah yes, let's downplay how horrible Angel's situation is further, shall we? Let's especially do it after adamantly arguing with other SA survivors who "haven't seen the episode yet" and need to shut up or don't watch 😃. Let's ignore the fact that Husk and Angel's situations STILL aren't comparable but it's still very odd to have pins on TWO situations taken seriously in the show. So do you actually view the situations seriously or not Viv???

God she's....actually fucking stupid and horrid.

[mysteria157]

Pairing: Sheriff!Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

Summary: A terrifying close call catapults your festering guilt, your secrets slowly consuming you.

Rating/CW: slow burn romance, mild intoxication, brief violence and mentions of blood, smut, vaginal fingering, angst. MDNI!

WC: listen buddy..

Author notes: Hello! Apologies for the wait but here is part two! Only one more part to finish up the story. Thank you all so much for your patience, support, and kind words. It truly means the world. I used this part to focus more on emotion and simmering conflict that will finally shatter in part 3.

As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated.

Happy reading!

Header: myself (image from pinterest) | Divider: @anitalenia @saradika network tag: @pixelcafe-network

Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter | Part Three

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

The universe, it seems, has a cruel and unforgiving sense of humor. Since that night of the cattle drive, when you let yourself believe in the possibility of more, when you basked in the warm desire of Nanami’s gaze and the electricity of his touch—it was the beginning of the end.

Since that night, every step has been in error, every word a potential betrayal, every shared moment tainted by the secrets you keep—

“I’m not one to put my hands on a lady. But you’ve been slippin' past me for too long. This ends tonight.”

His words echo a haunting melody in your head as you sag against your bedroom door, sweaty and lungs burning with every desperate gasp for air. Your heart is beating so fast it feels as if it will burst from your chest, pounding at your sternum like a snare drum—

The deafening pop of your pistol. The bullet that was meant to be a distraction so you could escape the Phillips’ house had hit the wall and then flesh. Horror flooding your veins in an icy wave as Nanami grunted in pain, a hand flying to the now torn upper arm of his navy long sleeve—

You choke on a floundering breath, fingers trembling and wet with blood as they press against your throat. The coal on your skin feels suffocating, a physical manifestation of your sin—

His weight pinning you to the floor, the heat at the apex of his thighs forbidden and delicious against yours as you struggled beneath him, twisting your bandana-covered face from his prying fingers. Your desperate fingers acting on impulse—anything to get you away—pressing hard enough into his wound that he spat out a curse, giving you enough leverage to buck him off you and disappear into the night, your spoils from Mr. Phillips sashaying against your hip—

You snap back into focus, eyes stinging from a fresh wall of tears. You’ve crossed a line tonight, one you prayed and prayed to never even get close to. As you try to catch your breath, you acknowledge that, yes, this is the beginning of the end. The moment you realize that you can no longer keep up this double life. That you can no longer help in a way you find worthy.

You trudge across your bedroom to the dresser that holds your porcelain basin of cold water. You keep it full on nights like these, ready for you to wash the coal off your face before you collapse into bed. Panting, you dip a washcloth in the cold water, wiping the disguise and Nanami’s dried blood from your skin, pulling your fear from tonight along with it.

You look up into the mirror above your dresser, taking in your haggard form. Eyes no longer filled with determination, a tear in your shirt at the shoulder that exposes the faint scar from an injury sustained years ago, your braid frazzled and coming loose at the ends. You don’t look like the fearsome bandit that you’ve made of yourself.

You look tired. Afraid.

As your pulse begins to steady, a wave of exhaustion washes over you, taking the ordeal of tonight and carrying it into the abyss. You set your coal-soaked washcloth on the dresser, ready to shed your bandit persona and collapse into bed, when—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound makes you freeze, your heart seizing in your chest with halted breath as you leave your room and quietly tip-toe to the front door. The darkness of your living room gives you enough cover to peek through the curtains, but you know who it is. Of course, it’s Nanami. Heaving with high raised shoulders as he presses his forehead to your door.

You exhale a shaky breath as you stagger back, walking backward to your room as you think of what to do and—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You jump, your back bumping into your door frame as you gape at the open air.

“J-just a minute!” you call out, your voice higher than usual. With trembling hands, you begin to strip, fingers shaking as you unbutton your shirt and slip out of your leather pants. You toss your clothes under the bed.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“I’ll be right there!” you shout again, slipping into one of your long off-white nightgowns. Your hands fumble with your braid, snagging knots against your fingernails as you unfurl your curls to hang free. One glance in the mirror makes you curse, and you throw on a thick flannel to hide the view of your nipples from behind the near-transparent linen.

POUND! POUND! POUND!

“I said one second!” you yell, frustration and fear curling the edges of your words as you balance the nearly full porcelain basin in your hands. You quietly slide open your bedroom window, throwing the coal mixture out into the night and shucking the blackened washcloth into a dresser drawer.

You rush back to the front door, taking a deep breath as you smooth down your hair and pray he’s not as sharp as usual when he looks at your frazzled form. You pray he hasn’t figured it out. You hope and plead to whoever is listening that your fears about the world falling apart do not come to fruition right now.

You know the sight to expect, but seeing it is still a horrifying shock. He takes up your entire door frame, all muscle and authority, sweaty with pinched eyebrows as he clutches at his bleeding arm. Your stomach coils tight, nausea brewing like a bubbling pot. He’s panting heavily, no doubt from the adrenaline of mounting Flint and racing through town to get here, his Stetson resting on his back, blonde locks sweaty on his forehead.

He swallows, his throat bobbing beneath a sheen of sweat.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his voice strained and urgent. “I saw her—the bandit come this way.”

Nanami’s too kind, too caring, too willing to put himself on the line for someone else. Because the irony of his concern about you, the fact that he’s injured and came this way instead of getting first aid…it’s almost too much to bear.

You shake your head harshly, slipping into a regrettable mask and pushing away the festering guilt that bubbles to life along with the action.

“I’m fine, but you’re hurt! Why didn’t you go to Shoko?”

“I don’t want to wake her. Besides, there’s no time,” Nanami grunts as he squeezes his upper arm. As much as you internally beg your body not to look, your eyes flicker to the crimson blood that oozes between his fingers. Guilt, unbridled and disparaging guilt, threatens to undo you.

“I need to check the house,” he insists, stumbling past you without waiting for an invitation, his spurs clanging against your floorboards. He yanks his pistol from its holster, fingers shaking as he loads the bullets from his sling into the chamber with precision.

Your Nanami would wait to come in, removing his hat at your threshold with kind eyes. So the blood that trails behind him with every step, marking his path like breadcrumbs, the desperation in his gait, the quiver in every exhale from his chest as he fingers bullets from his gun sling and loads them into his pistol, it’s a glaring reminder of just how bad you’ve made things.

Any other moment, you would freely let him roam.

“Nanami, please,” you plead softly, following his aimless form as he wanders without a purpose, his gun raised at no one as he starts for your hallway. “You need to sit down. You’re hurt—”

“It’s just a graze,” he snaps, dismissive even as a fresh gush of blood seeps his darkened shirt and drips crimson onto the floor. “She could be here. Could’ve followed you, could be waiting.” His words tumble faster, more disjointed as he sweeps your kitchen with barely contained panic.

You fight to keep your voice steady. “Well, she’s not here. I would have heard somethin'.”

Nanami turns to face you, gun still raised, a flicker of it trained on you as the bandit just an hour ago making you flinch. Blood has soaked most of his sleeve now, dripping steadily onto your floor.

“You can’t possibly know that. She’s dangerous, clever—”

“I’m fine,” you insist, stepping closer, flinching as he opens and slams your cabinets. Blood smears on the wood from his hands. “Please, you’re bleeding. Let me help.”

Nanami scoffs, it’s a foreign sound from deep in his chest that echoes into the air. Even with a slight hunch from the pain, he towers over your home from his place in the kitchen, that imposing but welcoming frame casting shadows onto your floor as he takes a step back, regarding you as if you’ve grown a second head.

“Why aren’t you taking this seriously?”

The accusation stings, even though you’re the source of it. The source of his frustration and the wound on his arm. If only he knew how seriously you took this.

“I am,” you press, desperately trying to quell his erratic movements now that he’s gone back to searching the pantry for a second time. “But you’re hurt, and I—”

“For God’s sake!” You jump from the boom of his voice, flinching as his gun clatters to the floor and crosses the space in two strides. His hands grip your shoulders with bruising strength, blood from his fingers seeping through your flannel. “You could be in danger!” he snaps, acidic anger spitting from split lips, his face inches from yours with breath hot on your skin. You’ve never seen him like this.

“Nana—” you try to speak through your shock, your whisper drowning in his desperation.

“Why can’t you understand?!” His grip on your shoulders tightens, your skin pinching beneath fingernails. But you can’t register the pain as you take in the fire in his eyes, burning bright and tinged with a vulnerability that makes you want to disappear entirely. “Do you even know what it’s like to lose someone that you—that—”

He struggles, words catching in his throat as his mouth fights silently with indecision.

You watch as he battles with himself, trying to force out words that seem too big in his throat, too consequential to voice as if he’s held them in from the moment they were lodged there. You pick up on the implication quickly. The weight of it, of his unspoken feelings and the pain of his past, somehow connected to that bullet-sized dent on his badge.

“I can’t—” Nanami tries again, voice hoarse. “If anything happened to you, I—”

“Okay,” you whisper, a hand laying softly on his heaving chest. His eyes search yours, frustration giving way to desperation and pleading. It’s rare with Nanami, but when you see the man behind the badge, that raw and exposed cowboy with a hidden past that he will never divulge, you cherish every second it’s presented to you.

He has never told you about that person who changed the course of his life, about the dark side of his work, the death and cruelty that he refuses to talk about. But you won’t ever ask for more, because every minute with him, even if you’re the cause of his misery, is precious and fleeting.

“If that’s what you need to feel safe—to know I’m safe—then check the house.”

The vice grip on your shoulders vanishes immediately, blood rushing back to fill in the gaps of his harsh fingers as he steps away and sweeps through your home with a practiced eye.

You watch, nerves frayed and heart pounding like a hummingbird in your chest as he moves from room to room. The back of your neck breaks into a sweat when he crosses the threshold of your bedroom, lungs seizing as he disappears from your view. But when he finally returns to the living room seemingly more relaxed, you hide the sag in your shoulders from relief.

Gone is the furious and demanding sheriff, duty-bound and crazed with the urge to protect. Now, regret fills his features, brown eyes sweeping over your form and furrowed brows taking in the sight of his bloody hand prints on your flannel. He’s ashamed, remorseful of his sharp words and fierce touch.

“Sit,” you demand as a means to distract him from his inner turmoil, pointing to your sofa. “Let me look at that arm.”

“Ma’am, you don’t need to do that. I should get on,” he tries to fit back into a professional shell, refusing as best he can even though he shuffles closer to you, lingering in front of your sofa with indecision in his eyes.

“Stop calling me that,” you can’t help but snap, glaring at him. “Sit down, Nanami,” you soften your tone, to show just how worried and unwilling you are to entertain his embarrassment. How sorry you are that you’ve caused all of this.

He hesitates, opening his mouth to argue with you, but the glare on your face must be enough. He unbuckles his gun sling and sets it carefully on your coffee table before plopping on your sofa, knees tucked together as if sitting on fine china, afraid to break anything.

You return to lay a medical kit, two basins—one empty to flush his wound, the other filled with water—and a bottle of whiskey on the small coffee table in front of you both, sinking onto the sofa and turning to him expectantly. He eyes the whiskey only for a second before he registers the meaning. You’re not an expert like Shoko, so alcohol may be the only cleaning and numbing agent that will help Nanami with whatever you need to do.

“You’ll need to take off your vest.”

“Right,” he sluggishly moves out of the leather garment, grimacing and biting his lip as he pulls his injured arm free. His upper arm is soaked red, the navy fabric sliced through where the bullet pierced its surface.

“And your…your shirt.”

“What?” he fumbles, eyes slightly wide as he looks down at you.

You clear your throat, blood boiling from his hesitant gaze. “I’ll need to see the entire wound. To clean it and—well…”

“Right, of course.”

Nanami pauses for a second too long, squeezing his fists against dirty denim pants as if to steel himself before his bloody fingers move to the buttons of his navy button-up. But the pain makes him clumsy, the adrenaline finally giving way to the present, and he can barely bend his injured arm. You can tell from the look on his face and swallowed groans that he’s struggling.

Without thinking, you reach out to help, your fingers brushing against his to knock them out of the way. The touch buzzes against your fingertips.

“Let me,” you offer, your voice barely above a whisper.

You take his silence as a cue to continue, and you work the buttons open, hyper-aware of Nanami’s steady breathing and the warmth that heats your fingertips from his skin. Slowly, the lapels of his long sleeve part to reveal sun-kissed skin.

It’s hard to look away from the planes of thick muscle that make up his torso, a firm chest, and chunky bands of abs that bunch together with his haggard breaths. There’s a dusting of honey-brown hair on his chest, littering the skin so faintly that you long to card your fingers through. Saliva pools in your mouth at the sight, scratching an itch deep in your mind that only rears its head in the middle of the night.

You help him guide the fabric off his shoulders, your fingertips kissing his skin in a forbidden dance as you slide his shirt out of the way. The billow of his clothes wafts his scent up your nose—leather, gunpowder, a hint of a cigarette. So uniquely Nanami that it makes your head spin and you have to take a second, swallowing against a thick ball of desire in your throat so that you can focus on the task at hand.

“It’s a graze,” you mutter as you bring the empty basin to rest under his elbow. “But it’s gonna need stitches.”

Nanami simply nods, tersely following your hand that snatches and uncorks the whiskey, body tensing as you pour the amber liquid over his wound.

“God damn—” he snarls, the curse cutting off into a harsh groan as his head falls back against the sofa. His free hand grips the armrest, knuckles turning white, the dried blood between his fingers more prominent with his squeeze. The whiskey runs dark down his arm, a muddy brown collecting in the basin.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, hoping he can taste the sincerity and double meaning. He answers with a noise in the back of his throat, snatching the bottle from your hands, pulling deeply from it as you wipe his wound dry and prepare your needle and thread.

By the time you’re ready to start stitching, he’s three gulps in, his eyes locked on your unlit fireplace, body heaving with pained and frustrated breaths.

You hesitate, hand hovering over his bulging bicep before you wrap your hands around his arm. He’s soft to the touch and so incredibly warm; you want to melt into him—curl against his chest and bury your face in his skin so you can forget about the world.

But the moment the needle pierces his skin, Nanami lets out a sharp bark of pain.

“Jesus, are you sure you know what you’re doing?!” he hisses, grimacing with discomfort as he tries to pull his arm away from you. You tighten your hand on his bicep, fingertips collecting the blood that leaks from his wound at the action. “Are you stitching me up or trying to kill me?”

“Oh, hush up, you big baby!” you snap, angry at his misplaced discomfort. It’s already daunting that you have to do this—that you’ve caused this. While you deserve to be barked at, you’re not one to go down without a fight. “I’ve seen children take stitches with less complaint!”

There’s a moment of stunned silence, your eyes locked with each other as you process what’s happened. His eyes are wide with shock, a tinge of red coloring his cheeks.

Then, suddenly, his lips twitch. A chuckle escapes him, eyes widening at the uncontrolled expression before he breaks into full-blown laughter.

It’s rich and guttural, a cacophony of deep rumbles that traverse across your sofa and caress your body, just like that night as you both rode back into town. It’s such a rare sound to hear from him, such a treasured piece that you and few others have. But your urge to laugh, to join in this rare glimpse of Nanami with his guard down isn’t deserved, so you swallow it down.

“I’m sorry. I was rude.” Nanami’s eyes are soft as he regards you, strands of honey wheat kissing his forehead and upper lids. “I shouldn’t have doubted your medical expertise. I’m more thin-skinned than I realize.”

You roll your eyes playfully as you press the needle to his skin again.

“Don’t bark at me this time,” you warn, absentmindedly rubbing his large bicep with your free hand to soothe him before you guide the needle through jagged skin.

He hisses, teeth bared like a dog, jaw clenching from biting down, the muscles of his stomach twitching as a grunt rumbles from within.

As you continue stitching, that tension he always carries in his shoulders fades away. With every pierce of the needle on his skin, he takes a generous swig of the whiskey, body relaxing inch by inch. It’s a shame how quickly he turns to whiskey, even if you both weren’t in this predicament now, you hate how much you’ve made him turn to something that is slowly killing him.

The motion of the needle is almost hypnotic, compelling your mind to wander to the danger of tonight, of your hand in all of this, of your desire for some sort of redemption without having to say anything.

“Nanami,” you start, ignoring the weight of his gaze that turns to you, “have you ever thought about…why the bandit does what she does?”

He grunts, tensing slightly under your hands, the next needle prick more difficult against taut skin. “Can’t say I’ve spent much time wonderin' about the motivations of someone who’s made my life hell.”

The revelation stings. Oh, does it sting.

You want to press on, to ask him if he would ever forgive the actions of someone like the bandit if it meant helping those less fortunate.

You want his opinion, his validation, his reassurance that if you were to show him your coal-soaked washcloth hidden in your dresser and the torn black shirt, he would still hold you close and say what you are doing is noble. That he doesn’t think any differently of you. Oh, how you long for that.

But there’s a large part of you that knows your definition of reality is faded and unobtainable. So you change the subject, asking him to talk about his frustrations of tonight even though it pains you to listen.

As you work, Nanami’s usually clipped cadence relaxes, the alcohol loosening his tongue. That Western drawl he usually keeps in check now flows without a barrier at the end of his words.

You listen, heart heavy with guilt, pounding thick regret through your veins as he describes the encounter from his perspective. Each word is more agonizing than the last.

“I was so close,” he mutters, chagrin coloring his voice before he takes another swig. “But lately, everythin’ has fallen from my grasp. No matter what I do, it feels like I’m fightin' against somethin' that should be left alone. And I hate it.”

You tie off the last stitch, fighting back the fuzziness at the corners of your eyes.

“There,” you whisper, throat tight. “All done.” You run your fingertips along the protruding edges of his stitches, admiring your work and the warmth of his muscled skin. It’s a piss-poor attempt to atone for your mistakes.

He looks down at your handy work, then back to you. There’s a fogginess in his gaze, a slightly unfocused demeanor in his irises from the alcohol, dark brown warm with gratitude.

“What would I do without you?”

It’s such a simple statement, something that would have made you smile so bright that it could brighten the room. But now…after everything, hearing the earnest trust in his voice—

You throw him a small smile, turning away quickly to shuffle through your medical kit so as to hide your trembling hands. Your curls create a curtain between your misery and his relaxed form on your sofa.

“Oh, I’m sure you’d manage just fine without me,” you offer truthfully. You know, deep down…if you weren’t in this town making his life miserable, he would be happier.

You turn back to him, not meeting his eyes as you procure a small container of salve.

“Calendula?” Nanami hums, watching as you glide a sticky finger along his wound.

“I got it from Shoko,” you lie, despising the taste of it in your mouth. You stole this salve from a doctor’s office years ago when you began this troublesome life. It’s yet another reminder of how unclean you really are.

“You’re a good sheriff,” you admit softly, tracing a particular spot of reddening skin while your mind clambers away from the darkness that is ever-present. “Stop bein' so hard on yourself.”

Each ridge of his stitches feels mocking—reflecting your deception and a physical manifestation of everything you’ve done. He is so good, the best protector a town could ever have, and you’ve made him miserable. Pushing him further into the bottle and deeper into a pit of self-loathing.

The urge to confess roils like bile up your throat, burning your esophagus and tinging the back of your tongue sour. Nanami’s eyes are on you, heavy and searching, his naked chest rising and falling slowly, veins no doubt pumping with the calming effects of whiskey.

You can feel the weight of his gaze, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to meet it. You’re afraid of what he might see—the pain and fear, the guilt and longing, the desperate need for forgiveness.

It’s too much—you can’t do it.

Those tears you’ve been fighting back all night—every month, week, hour, minute—well up, fogging your vision until the sight of his stitches is a sea of black and red. You blink rapidly, trying to clear them away before they make things worse, but it’s too late.

He’s already moving the second a tear drips from your lashes, reaching for you before you can turn away.

“Hey now,” Nanami murmurs, voice soft and comforting as you feel the warmth of thick fingers caress beneath your chin before tilting it up so you’re looking at him. “What have I done?”

A scoff bubbles wet from your lips, disbelief at his words that only make your lips quiver with an onslaught of more tears. He’s done nothing. He’s never done a thing to hurt you or steer you wrong or cause you pain. Nanami has only given you protection, a gentle gaze, and mannerisms laced with so much affection that you want to hope that it’s love.

You shake your head, unable to speak past the dry lump in your throat. How can you tell him that every injury whether mental, emotional, or physical, is one you’ve inflicted? That you want nothing more than to wish he was like every other sheriff you’ve come across in this life—willing to turn a blind eye to anything that is not serving themselves. He should be like them, not kind and determined to a degree that’s self-sacrificial.

“I just—” you manage to choke out, lips trembling until his thumb glides along your bottom lip to settle the quivering muscle.

‘I want you to tell me it’s okay. That I’m not a terrible person. That you’ll forgive me.’

“I hate seeing you hurt,” you sigh instead on a shaky exhale, blinking away a fresh wall of tears that leaks from your bottom lids. “I worry about you.”

His expression softens, and you hate the way his presence pulls at you, silently beckoning you to fall into him. He brushes away your tears with his thumb, the touch so gentle it nearly makes more fall.

“This is why I don’t like to trouble you with what I do,” he mutters, downtrodden in his admission. “I hate worryin' you.”

“No,” you grip the open lapels of his shirt, yanking at the fabric as a means to make him understand. “I want to know. I want to worry. We’ve been…friends for years, Nanami. I don’t care if it’ll make me sad, make me cry, or make me angry at you. When will you understand that?” You parrot his words back to him, laying the irony of it all at his feet.

His eyes search yours, a mix of surprise and something deeper, more intense, and overwhelming that makes the air between you both thin.

“You want to know everything?” he asks, a whisper that’s barely audible in your quiet living room.

“Everything,” you breathe, twisting your fingers more in the fabric of his open shirt.

It’s true. You want to know his fears, wants, and desires. You want to know what he thinks about in the morning and at night before he goes to sleep. You want everything, even though you are the last person who should wish for it.

His thumb slides across your cheekbone, his large hand cupping your face. You resist the urge to lean into the warmth of his touch.

He’s always so warm. When it brushes against yours on your walks. When he hovers too close at the bar on Wednesday nights when you see Kilmer for moonshine. When you close your eyes at night, and dream of every line of him pressed against you, branding your skin in his touch so you’ll never know anyone else but him.

Nanami leans in closer, his breath hot against your face, the faint scent of whiskey and tobacco rushing up your nostrils to wrap around your brain.

“Even if I come to you in the dead of night, bloodied and beaten?” Your heart races at his words, at the implication. “Would you—”

“Patch you up,” you finish, not bothering to hide the shiver that runs down your spine with equal parts desire and dread. “Yes,” you whisper, “Especially then.”

It has to be the whiskey, because the feel of Nanami’s injured arm sliding behind your back, pulling you more into him, would be against everything he holds moral.

But there’s no chance in the world that you’ll pull away now. You soak in his touch while you have it, beneath a tipsy gaze and the heady scent of his breath on your skin.

“And if I tell you about my failures?” he’s rough, wrapped around a pearl of vulnerability that you want to cradle and store away like it’s precious. “The times I’m not the sheriff this town deserves?”

You can’t ever tell him that most of his failures are because of your very existence. But you still meet his gaze without flinching, hoping to convey how much you mean to him. How much you yearn for him even when he’s broken and disappointed in himself.

“I could never think less of you, Nanami. Never.”

He hums as he strokes your cheek, the sound crawling hot and molten down your body, seeping into the thick fabric of your flannel and the threadbare linen of your nearly translucent nightgown. It’s scalding and should make you turn away, but you pitch closer to him, inhaling a deep breath of alcohol that clings to his lips.

There’s a question in his eyes, something he wants to ask but can’t find the words for. You think you know what it is; you hope so because the air is thick again. Only now, it’s leaden with tension and desire, of promise and a line that’s been danced on without care for far too long.

Even as you inch to close that gap, the shame is persistent. You don’t deserve his curiosity and his want. You’ve twisted his kindness, his affection and laughter, and even his frustrations into a warped justification of your own actions. Your selfishness has cast him into a Hell of your own making, and that realization burns just as hot as your desire.

You should pull away and brush the hair from his forehead with a teasing smile. You should roll your eyes and usher him out of your home with the complaint of having to rise early in the morning to prepare for the kids.

But you’re both close—so so close—and the logic of what you should do dissolves into nothing with every breath you take.

The whiskey has left a slight flush on his cheeks, slightly sweaty from the pain of your stitching. You can’t help but flick your gaze to his lips, slightly parted and split down the middle from dryness, and so tempting.

When your eyes catch his, you swallow a gasp at the intensity, at an emotion you dare not name. You can’t. Every fiber of your being screams to close the distance between you, to finally see how his lips feel and taste—even as your mind equally screams with all the reasons you should turn away.

“Promise me you’ll be more careful,” you breathe, the words a prayer and a plea whispered into the dwindled space between you.

His response is wordless, visceral. The scalding hand on your back presses firmly, pulling you even closer with a strength that makes your stomach twist, your knees knocking against thick thighs.

Your fingers twist into the lapels of his open shirt, the fabric groaning in protest, buttons digging into your skin. You’re both tiptoeing on a thinning line of something profound, fighting against an invisible force that screams the implications of what this could mean—a warning for you to step back and not make this worse.

That rope unravels with the weight of you both, strands splintering open and threatening to snap. And oh, how you want to fall with him.

It feels like an eternity, but finally, his lips brush against yours. It’s a ghost of a kiss—feather light and achingly tender as chapped skin teases your lips. But it’s enough. For a second too long, you’re suspended in time, searching each other’s eyes for permission, for absolution. Then, as if pulled by that same inviting force, you come together again.

It’s deliberate this time, awakening and filled with intention. His lips move against yours, warm and insistent and heavy with whiskey and want, and you respond in kind, hoping the way you bite down on his bottom lip that he can taste the years of want.

One of your hands slips from a lapel, smacking onto his bare chest, palm flat against skin feathered with tawny hair. His heartbeat is rapid, matching the frantic pace of your own, and you gasp into his lips, pulling harder for him to fall into you.

In this kiss, you taste possibility. You see a future where you have no secrets, where the guilt in your insides is replaced with the butterflies he consistently makes you feel, where it’s you and Nanami happy in this dusty town. For one beautiful moment, you let yourself believe.

But reality comes crashing down like a bucket of cold water on your body. Nanami pulls away slightly, but enough for the air between you to grow stale, molten desire cooling rapidly.

“Forgive me,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against yours. The alcohol on his breath is like a siren to you, pulling you further under with each whiff. His nose brushes against yours, gentle and exploratory, as he inhales the smell of your skin.

“We shouldn’t—I shouldn’t—” His lips trail down the side of your cheek as he speaks, each word a caress that contradicts his attempted withdrawal.

You shake your head to dispel the cloudiness in your mind and also to convey that he did nothing wrong and that it just might be better this way. That he’s right to regret touching you, kissing you, letting you into his life. It’s better for you both.

You can see the conflict slicing through the fogginess in his gaze, a mirror of the turmoil in your own heart. Your fingers are still twisted in his shirt, still pulling inch by inch, unwilling to be the first to let go.

“I should go,” is what escapes his mouth even as he makes no move to leave, his thumb still stroking your cheek. “It’s late, and I’ve forgotten my manners—I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

The words shouldn’t hurt, shouldn’t smack you with such force, but they do. What he hopes to sound humble, only reveals as insulting.

You offer a wobbly smile, fighting against a stinging sensation of tears that threaten to bubble from his rejection.

“Was it that bad, Sheriff? I know I’m not the best kisser in town but—”

“No. It was perfect,” he interrupts, the hand on your cheek caressing the skin, his thumb stroking in reverence as he offers a regretful chuckle. “You just deserve someone else. Not a man like myself.”

His words fall like heavy weights in your stomach, plummeting into acid that bubbles with guilt and fear. You pull yourself from his embrace before you can stop, his warmth evaporating into the cold air.

“And just what kind of a man are you?” you ask, incredulous, as you regard him with slightly widened eyes.

Nanami sighs heavily, his uninjured arm coming up to card a hand through his unruly strands.

“The kind that spends most of his time with outlaws and criminals instead of decent folk. The kind that smokes with no regard for his health. The kind that drinks far too much whiskey than what is good for him.” He shakes his head, frustration twisting around his fingers as he fumbles for the buttons of his open shirt. “I won’t subject a woman to my carelessness.”

Your mouth hangs ajar, fighting to form words to dispel his worries even as the opportunity to distance yourself presents like a meal on a silver platter.

“Why would you say that about yourself?” you whisper, incredulous as you watch his fingers slip on his buttons, the pain in his arm flaring from the angle with which his arm is bent.

“Because it’s true.”

You smack his hands away from his lapels with far too much force, your anger permeating from your fingertips as you snatch up the fabric in your hands and fasten each button.

“No. It’s not true. You’re a good man. You spend your days and nights convincin' yourself that you’re not good for what? For happiness?” Your fingers falter on the last button that hovers over his collarbone, the words at the tip of your tongue.

For love?

His hands draw themselves up to wrap around yours, cocooning in their warmth even as they burn with the reminder of what you can’t have. What you shouldn’t have.

“I’ve done a poor job of conductin' myself around you. I’m sorry…”

The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. At that moment, something snaps inside of you. It feels like a dam breaking, flooding you with a combination of sadness, frustration, and a desperate need to stop this torturous dance.

“Okay.”

It’s clipped and sharp, cutting through his apology like a knife. It leaves a lingering bitterness on your tongue. A single syllable but loaded with so much resignation and unspoken pain.

For a second, you wish you could take it back, to smile up at him, wrap your arms around his neck, pull him close, whisper in his ear that he deserves more than he gives himself credit for.

When you finally drag your eyes from his collarbone to meet his gaze, the regret in his eyes is so heavy you almost drown in them. It etches onto his features, pulls at the edges of his lips as he frowns, and pushes at the top of his nose to make his brows furrow. Your fingers twitch beneath his, an involuntary urge coming to life as you swallow the need to smooth the worry lines from his skin.

“Please understand that I never want to hurt you. You’re precious—I need you to understand how much you mean to me,” he presses; he sounds insistent, begging, wishing that you could understand his inner turmoil.

It’s ironic just how much you do. Every day you spend with him is another day that you have to live with feeling inadequate. He deserves a woman who is honest and forthcoming, who would never lie to him and hide a secret so heinous it might kill you before you’re half a century old.

So just like he yearns to put distance so that you can find someone more worthy, you do the same.

“You better get on,” you mutter, the words like sand in your mouth, eyes downcast to your floor as you stand and tuck your flannel around your body. It’s a poor substitute for his embrace, but it’s all you will have of him for the foreseeable future.

From your peripheral, you faintly see Nanami’s hands curl into tight fists on his denim-clad knees, knuckles pressed white like sun-bleached bone before he relaxes, blood filling the skin again.

As he stands to leave, you’re struck by the duality of the moment—the warmth of his touch that lingers on your skin, the silent admission from both sides of this conversation—of the kiss that was not enough, and the cold weight of much-needed denial settling in your stomach.

It’s enough to make you nauseous as you watch him shrug on his vest, the rustle of fabric unnaturally loud in the loaded silence of your home. Your eyes take him in a while his gaze is turned away, tracing every curve of muscle, every worry line from work and the harsh sunlight.

“Thank you,” he finally speaks, voice low as he clicks his gun sling in place. Your eyes finally meet, uncertainty and hesitant desire from both sides.

You dig your fingernails into your flannel, tightening its hug around you to desperately hide every inch of yourself and the emotions that are threatening to seep through your pores.

You nod at him softly, offering a gentle but dishonest smile that feels so brittle it could crack at any moment. The door creaks open, the late-night air rushing in cool and with memories of your haste to get home, guilt in your hand at the stitched bicep beneath his coat.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he offers, hopeful. And oh does that nasty side of you, the one that Mama always chastised with a smack to your hands, coils like a rattlesnake—ready to strike.

You could slap him for even thinking you would entertain his presence after giving you so much for months, years, tonight—and stripping it away in a matter of seconds because of misplaced self-righteousness.

But that other side, the side that longs for every inch of him, understands that while your feelings are tumultuous, you know he wants you close, even if it means hurting you both.

“I’ll be working later than usual for the next few days,” you lie blatantly for the second time tonight, your stomach churning. “So maybe next week sometime.”

There’s a hitch in his breath, quick and staggered as it catches in his throat. He lingers, mouth opening as if to speak, shoulders hitching with stolen breath before he sags in defeat, exhaling whiskey-tinged breath across your face.

“Have a good night.”

You don’t offer anything else, not trusting your voice to speak, eyes stinging with more unshed tears as you watch him disappear from your view. You don’t watch to see him mount his stallion. You don’t strain your ears to pick up the rustle of leather as he mounts his saddle. You don’t even peek through your curtains to watch the dust kick from Flint’s hooves as they make their way home.

Instead you press your back to the door, bottom lip trembling before you let your body give in to the mess you’ve made of everything.

“Storm might be the worst one this year.”

Against the backdrop of a clap of thunder, Nanami hums noncommittally, calloused fingers idly twirling his badge, sliding it between each knuckle with practiced ease.

His office isn’t much, just a little room in the jailhouse. His walls hold no relics of his life and are littered with wanted posters and photographs of his form stock still next to outlaws and bandits he’s caught over the years.

But on his desk, there is one photo of him with the schoolchildren, Yuji perched on his shoulders, peach hair spilling beneath the brim of Nanami’s stolen Stetson. There’s a freshness that began to brew on Nanami’s face from that moment, still stone-faced and aloof, but with a soft look in his eyes because of the woman holding the camera.

You’d been new to town then, eager but uncertain, insisting on capturing the moment rather than being in it. Nanami was adamant you be in the frame, to commiserate your first day, but you’d stood firm, that familiar fire in your eyes that’s always drawn him in.

He likes to look at it every day, reminding him of why he protects the town and fights so hard to keep everyone safe. It makes him feel wanted and anchors him when doubt creeps in, and the weight of his duty threatens to overwhelm him.

But Nanami really should be paying attention.

Across from him sits the town’s new lawyer, Higuruma Hiromi, overworked but effervescent as he describes a case that he’s working on. He’s only been in town for almost a week, already capturing the hearts of the town’s citizens, who like to linger in the shiny new law office a few streets over.

While Nanami has never been one to work with others if they will only slow him down, the conviction that radiates from Higruma as he gestures wildly with lightly tanned hands, running them through dark brown hair that’s styled back over and over, Nanami can tell that they will get along. He’s strong-willed with a fierce belief in justice that this town needs.

But Nanami’s mind is, regrettably, miles away. Back to that night when he’s gotten the closest he’s ever come to the bandit with her thrashing underneath him, his arm pulsing with white-hot pain from her attempt at distraction.

She had gotten away again.

And when the bandit had jumped from the window at the Phillips’ house and disappeared into the night towards town, his sole thought was you.

Find you. Make sure you’re safe.

His mind shamefully recalls his raised voice and the shock on your face as he dug his hands into your shoulders. He replays the feel of his limbs loosening with every drag of whiskey, canting toward your body as if you’re a magnet that he spends every waking moment trying to pull away from so he doesn’t stick to you forever.

He can still feel the ghost of your lips, smooth and hot, passionate and tasting faintly of the love he wishes he could have from a woman. Your hands were soft even with the dryness from chalk. Your voice alluring even when tinged with frustration as you chastised him, reeling from his rejection.

“You’re a good man,” you had said, fiery and exasperated. “You spend your days and nights convincin' yourself that you’re not good for what? For happiness?”

He’d pushed you away, insistent in his belief that it was for your own good. But the memory haunts him—your always illuminating melanin-kissed skin twisted with hurt, that brittle smile, the small pearls of tears bubbling at the corners of your lids that you thought he couldn’t see. The consequences of his choice now cut deeper than ever.

He hasn’t seen you since that night—not properly. He finds himself at the saloon more often than usual and can no longer blame the bandit for seeking solace in whiskey.

In the past, his days had been measured by moments with you—walking you home, watching Yuji drag you to the general store as he trailed behind with a somber gait, treasuring that smile you’d shoot his way from over your shoulder.

It’s barely been a week, and to put it simply, Nanami is unbearably lonely.

Fleeting glimpses through saloon windows or watching you with the schoolchildren aren’t enough. Every night since that bullet grazed his arm, when he can’t sleep because all he can think about is you, fingers tracing idly along his healing stitches, he wonders what kind of man pushes away the one woman who only wants him.

A fool of a man, apparently.

His mother always told him that self-righteousness is more foolish than denying your own heart. She’d be clicking her tongue in disappointment at him right now.

His mind is so lost, so caught in its own web of self-destruction, that he doesn’t register Higuruma's question. “I’m sorry,” Nanami says, one hand still twirling his badge while he sits up in his chair. “Could you repeat that?”

The lawyer chuckles, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from his suit as he fixes Nanami with keen brown eyes.

“I was just rambling about the town festival and asked if you’re taking a pretty lady? I’ve finally worked up the courage to ask a beautiful sweetheart to accompany me.”

Nanami’s expression never changes when faced with anything that a situation out of his control. Too many tells in the eyes of the enemy could cost him his life. He’s calm and collected, even with a gun pointed between his eyes.

So he exercises the most restraint he’s ever needed to keep his eyes from twitching, to keep from shifting in his seat under the painful squeeze in his chest.

“Anyone I know?” The question brims to life of its own volition.

Higuruma's tired eyes flash with warm admiration so genuine that it turns Nanami’s stomach. For the first time in many years, he finds himself comparing his adequacy to the lawyer. He looks too refined in his suit, aquiline features too handsome for the rustic surroundings of the sheriff’s office.

“I should think so. It’s the schoolteacher.” Nanami’s heart seizes in his chest, painful and lurching in a desperate act to beat again. “Surely you know her? Radiant as the sun, always wears the nicest skirts, beautiful curls, and smells like lavender—a man could lose himself.”

The physical description of you hits him like a physical blow, punching his gut hard enough to make his lunch gurgle up his throat. The memories of that cool night after the cattle drive flickering like a time reel in his mind.

“…pick someone else. I imagine you have a line of suitors with far more promise than Gojo hoping to escort you to the festival.”

You’ve taken his advice and chosen a man to accompany you. He should be happy that you’re doing the right thing. Shouldn’t he?

“She has the most beautiful smile,” Higuruma continues, seemingly unaware of the badge that’s stopped twirling between Nanami’s knuckles, to the subtle groan of tin as his fingers clench around it.

Nanami knows how to navigate most situations. He has a backup plan for every single unexpected situation in his life.

But not right now. Not while he’s trapped under the guise of propriety with a lawyer he suddenly can’t stand.

Now, Nanami imagines if he punches him in the face, he might smooth the curve in his nose. Now, Nanami hopes that every case Higuruma takes will keep him awake for days, never to know relaxation or peace. Now, he hopes he wakes up each day to more of those silky strands on his pillow until he’s bald for daring to breathe in your direction.

Now, now, now Nanami hates.

The badge protests in his grip, jagged edges breaking thin skin. Anger flares hot and sudden in his chest, irrational and consuming him to the point where he barely recognizes himself. Vitriol burns his mouth, bubbling past his teeth before he can stop it.

“You don’t know a thing about her.”

The words permeate in the air, sharp and accusatory. Higuruma blinks, taken aback by the sudden vehemence in Nanami’s tone. Surprised that the stern sheriff, who usually moves in silence, carries a bark that hangs in his belly, locked in a cage, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice.

The office is silent save for the storm that rages outside and the faint trickle of laughter from the schoolchildren across the street. No doubt you’ve let them out early so they can get home safe.

Another clap of thunder booms through the office, rattling the windows as if the storm is trying to force its way inside. The white-hot anger that boiled in Nanami’s gut is doused immediately with humiliation. It drips over him like a cold sweat, sliding down his leather vest and beneath his clothes.

“I apologize,” the lawyer starts, clearing his throat. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

But he did offend. By coming into this town, by breathing your air, by having the mitigated gall to ask for your hand to an asinine town festival that Nanami should have stepped up for. That Nanami should have swallowed his pride and let his heart guide him for once. Not Higuruma. Not this lawyer who would probably treat you well.

He’s offended Nanami to the highest degree.

Yet, his humiliation runs rampant enough to quell his fury.

“No, I apologize. That was uncalled for.”

“If she’s spoken for, I’m not a man to make matters complicated. I can—”

“No,” Nanami insists, eyes flickering to the rain-stained window. Water droplets cascade as if racing against each other, the landscape a torrent of wild wind and dusty dirt turned muddy. “She’s not spoken for. I’m simply…protective of her.”

The words taste like ash in his mouth, but Nanami swallows down the acrid flavor. He has no right to be jealous, no right to lash out, no claim on your affections. If anything, the very thought him claiming any part of you under the guise of protection would have earned him a rightful scowl on your face.

He made his choice that night on your couch, his lips still tasting of you, his body singing for more. Duty over desire. Now, he has to live with the consequences.

“I’ll be sure to do right by her,” Higuruma insists, earnest and sincere. Nanami wishes at this very moment that his father had taught him to be a violent man. The kind of man that wouldn’t hesitate to reach across this desk and show men like Higuruma what happens when they speak about a woman that Nanami wants. Deeply, viscerally, from a jagged pit in his belly.

Because you’re his—not really. But you are, you are, you are—

Another clap of thunder, his office flashing white. The sound closing the door to his internal rambling.

“If that’s all,” Nanami presses as politely as an impatient man can manage, hand still a vice around his badge as he stands from his seat.

“Right,” Higuruma picks up on the moment turned sour, ready to leave the tense atmosphere, and Nanami wouldn’t mind shucking him out the window if the lawyer wanted a boost. He claps his hands on his suit-clad knees and rises from his chair. There’s a small seed of triumph that blooms in Nanami’s belly as he takes in the two inches he has over the lawyer.

“I’ll bring everything by tomorrow morning and we can discuss further.”

Nanami doesn’t offer any further words, simply extending his hand for the lawyer to shake, unconsciously squeezing a little tighter before they part. He watches in silence, narrowed eyes trained on his back, as the lawyer throws a hat on his head and ducks out into the rain.

The open door carries hot and humid air into his small office, the roar of the storm rising with every passing second before the door closes, and he’s cast back into silence and regret.

Nanami quickly strides across his office to the window that gives him a view of the schoolhouse. He watches as the last of the school children disappear down the street, his eyes catching Yuji as he stumbles in the thick expanse of mud in front of the schoolhouse door, smiling bashfully as he turns back to listen to whatever is being spoken to him.

He seems jovial and careless at his young age as he tries to trudge through the mud before his foot is caught, and he falls to his knees. He yanks at his ankle, tiny fingers slipping over wet skin as he fruitlessly tugs at his foot.

Nanami’s eyes catch the movement of you before he can think, fixating on the flash of dark green calico of your skirts as you race out of the schoolhouse and into the torrential downpour.

He admires the flash of your shins as you hike your skirts up, clambering heavy-footed across the schoolyard before you wrap your arms around little Yuji and heave with the strength of ten men, his feet shucking from nature’s grip.

You fall backward, your skirts fluttering to a thick smack onto the ground, soaked beyond comprehension. You pat Yuji's hair gently, your affection for him clear even from the distance before letting him scurry off, uncaring of the rain that drenches you as you remain firmly planted in the mud, a small smile on your face as you watch him go.

Nanami longs to run outside, to race across the street, pull you up into his arms, and get you to safety. He longs to draw you a hot bath, stoke the fireplace in his home that he built with his two hands, and allow you to curl on his prized fur that he keeps in front of it.

But he can’t have that now.

And as Higuruma comes into view, running across the street to your drenched and relaxed form, Nanami realizes that he’s not only a fool—he’s unequivocally, painfully stupid.

Your curls kiss your cheeks in wild abandon, unfurling along the break of your smile as Higuruma approaches. Something dark and possessive twists in Nanami’s gut as he watches the lawyer reach for you, seemingly uncaring that the downpour ruins his pristine suit.

The casual way his hands find your waist, pulling you easily onto your feet, makes Nanami’s fingers tighten around the badge in his hand until the metal bites into his now raw flesh. The lawyer guides you up the steps to the schoolhouse, work-worn eyes bright with affection that he wants to strangle out of him.

Then, as if to twist the knife further that Nanami has willingly lodged in his own chest, Higuruma takes your hand in his and brings it to his lips for a chaste kiss. The gesture is kind, nothing untoward, especially for a man who’s trying to court a woman.

But for Nanami, it may as well be the most scandalous sight because his blood boils, the sight of another man’s mouth anywhere near your skin makes him so angry it nearly blinds him.

Before he realizes what he’s doing, Nanami slams his badge on the windowsill, cursing beneath his breath as he storms from his office. He barely registers the rain that soaks him as soon as he steps outside to stride across the street. His eyes are locked on Higuruma's retreating form as he runs away from the schoolhouse and to his home, hardly paying Nanami any mind.

The red-hot and foreign jealousy whispers like a cat in his ears, beckoning for Nanami to follow the lawyer home and give him a piece of his mind. But he won’t, not this time, his sight only on the fluttering schoolhouse door.

The familiar scent of chalk dust envelops him when he steps into the schoolhouse, lingering with the lavender that always radiates from your skin. His hot fury splinters from the sight of you, your back to him, wringing water from your curls.

Each strand wraps around your wrist like a tendril, water droplets scattering across the floorboards. Nanami watches, transfixed, as rivulets trace thick lines down the rich brown column of your neck. He wants to trace those trails of water with his tongue, to feel the warmth of sun-blessed skin in stark contrast with the coolness of the rain. He wants to gather your curls in his hands, to know how silky they would feel in his calloused palms, to turn you around and—

“Did you need something, Sheriff?”

Your voice, coolly formal, cuts through the silence. You don’t turn to face him, continuing to wring out your hair as if his presence means nothing at all. Even though it means everything. The scent of him—leather and tobacco wrapped around rain—fills the schoolhouse, permeating the air so quickly that you’re dizzy with it.

You hear the shuffle of his boots against the wood behind you and feel the weight of his gaze on your back like a physical caress. Your spine shouldn’t itch to shudder under those invisible hands.

“I hear you’re going to the festival with the lawyer,” he blurts out, the words rough against your wet back, piercing through the drenched calico of your dress like a pin needle pushing through the thickest of fabric.

Your scoff is bitter as you turn to face him, so unlike your usual melodious laugh that he flinches.

“Is that what you stormed in here to say? After almost a week of silence that you asked for?” Your voice trembles—with festering rage or the slow trickle of hurt in the hollow of your chest, you’re not sure anymore.

“You didn’t speak to me either,” he counters weakly, trying to sound firm even though the words paint him like an idiot. As if he’s a young boy again, trading blows with a classmate that means nothing but is more destructive than the last.

Immediately, you’re angry as you soak in his words, wide-eyed and seething. Your hands curl into fists at your sides, shaking against your skirts as you drip wet onto the floor.

“Do you take me for a fool, Nanami Kento?”

It’s the first time in months that you’ve said his full name. You brandish it like a weapon, deliberately sharp. He has that look on his face again—a mischievous schoolboy caught in mischief, all that stern authority crumbling under your gaze with no Stetson to anchor him.

“No ma’am, of course not—”

“Then let me spell it out for you,” you begin, your voice trembling slightly with barely suppressed emotion. “I like you. You like me. A few days ago, we shared somethin'…” your voice cracks traitorously. “Somethin'…intimate. After so many years of dancin' around each other. And then you decided to pull away, to make decisions about how I should live my life, to tell me what I deserve, as if I’m incapable of takin' care of myself!”

Thunder rumbles like a hovering figure, matching the storm brewing in your chest. Lightning flashes through the windows, catching in the water that falls from his locks, illuminating the conflict in his brown eyes.

“Hiromi is a nice man. He asked me on a friendly date, and I said yes. That’s all there is to it.”

“You said yes to a man who’s only been in town for a few days,” Nanami growls, jealousy coloring his words that strike your chest like a dagger. “Already calling him by his first name?”

The temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees as your gaze turns icy. You’ve never known Nanami to have a scornful bone in his body. So while you know his actions now stem from some deep-rooted insecurity in his choices, the words still sting.

You stalk towards him slowly, purposefully, your leather boots squelching as they leave wet prints with each step.

“What exactly are you tryin' to imply, Sheriff?”

“A few pretty, albeit stuffy, words from a stranger in his pressed suit, and you forget yourself entirely,” he hisses, the words so painful as they stab at your cheeks that you can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes.

It’s hurtful because these words come from someone who knows you so well, how carefully you’ve built your reputation, and how hard you’ve worked to earn a place in this town. It’s a feeling you never thought would be directed at you.

“How dare you,” you snarl, raising your hand to smack, punch, do anything to hurt him like he’s hurting you.

But Nanami is faster, catching your wrist mid-swing and yanking you against him. The impact against his chest steals your breath—or maybe it’s the feel of him, towering and burning hot despite the rain-soaked clothes between you. Your free hand flies up to twist in his shirt, fingers catching on the fabric in a dance of pushing him away and pulling him closer.

You struggle against his grip, grunting with futile effort that meets iron strength. His fingers don’t dig enough to hurt you, but to remind you of his brutal strength, of all the times you’ve dreamt of how that strength would feel when channeled into his hands on your body. The thought only fuels your anger.

You wrench your hand from his grip with a sound that croaks from your chest like a raging dragon, turning to storm to your desk. Papers scatter in your wake like startled birds, floating to the slick floor beneath your sodden boots.

You have no right,” you spit, fingers trembling as you bend down to gather the papers. “No right to act like I belong to you when you pushed me away!”

You need to push him away. God the hypocrisy is overwhelming, but not enough to grasp the logic you need right now.

“You don’t know Higuruma—” Nanami starts, and you whirl to face him, wet skirts slapping against your legs, eyes flashing with a storm of your own that claps with the next ring of thunder and lightning outside.

“And you do? He’s a good man, a respected lawyer—”

“He’s not good enough,” Nanami cuts in, voice rough like gravel. You watch his jaw clench, the muscles jumping beneath sun-weathered skin moist from the rain that slides down his throat.

“Oh?” You bare your teeth in a mockery of a smile. “Let’s play this game then, Nanami. Put the shoe on the other foot. I guess Thomas from the general store won’t do it for you?!”

“The man can’t keep his hands to himself even in the saloon,” he growls, the corner of his lip twisting into a snarl.

Something in his tone makes your skin prickle with heat despite your anger. You’ve never seen him this furious, not with you, and it shouldn’t make your stomach churn with arousal, shouldn’t make your stomach twist with want, shouldn’t make heat bloom between your thighs.

“Mr. Foster.”

“Unfaithful to every woman who’s given him the time of day!” Nanami’s words crack through the air like a whip, furious at your suggestion.

“Deputy Gojo then,” you challenge, lifting your chin in defiance.

It’s a low blow, a harmful punch to the intimacy of the conversation and closeness that brewed from Gojo's presence that night after the cattle drive. But you don’t care. Your heart pounds against your ribs like a war drum, each beat echoing the pain and anger that pushes through your veins and thrums in your ears.

His warm brown eyes widen with fury, menacing as they liquefy into a glare so dangerous that your core pulses with a need you should be ashamed of.

“Don’t,” he says simply, low and deep, unwilling to entertain it any longer. The very thought of Gojo's name in association with you is enough to make him crazed.

Something inside you snaps, fraying like an old rope, finally giving way to the push and pull of you both. You slam your hands on the desk, the sharp smack of your palm echoing through the schoolhouse.

“Well, then, enlighten me, Sheriff!” Your voice rises with each word. “Since apparently no man in this town meets your precious standards, what exactly do you want from me?!”

He’s silent. So dreadfully silent, broad shoulders heaving with each ragged breath, eyes locked on yours, conflicted but unwilling to back down.

You storm up to him until you can smell the tobacco on his clothes, and you have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. Dark blonde eyebrows are pitched down in barely contained rage, sharp cheekbones beckoning your hand to slap him. You’re so unfortunately attracted to this cowboy, but so angry that your head spins.

You jab a finger into his chest. His shirt clings to every muscle like a second skin, reminding you of how his chest felt under your fingers that night, how his skin burned against yours as you stitched him up.

“You don’t get to push me away and then dictate who I spend my time with,” you whisper with deadly intent. “You don’t get to act like some—some jealous husband when you made it clear that I wasn’t—that we weren’t—”

The words stick in your throat like thorns, choking you from speaking any further. Nanami’s eyes darken, black nearly eclipsing brown, something dangerous and wild flickering in their depths. The air between you crackles with electricity, every breath shared between you charged with the energy that seeps through the walls from the storm.

But despite the quiver of want in your bones, the close proximity, you can’t do this anymore—you can’t stand here in this now suffocating schoolhouse and lay your emotions at your feet that need to be locked away.

You have to leave.

Without thinking, you shoulder past him, flinging open the school door and stepping out into the rain. The harsh pellets are a jolt on your feverish skin, quickly soaking through your barely dry clothes.

The thud of Nanami’s boots and the jingle of his spurs behind you spur you on, your legs trudging through the mud to Buttercup’s stable and away from him. You only make it halfway through the schoolyard before a large hand catches your wrist, firm and calloused but somehow still gentle as he spins you to face him.

“I’m done talkin' Nanami!” you yell over the storm, glaring at his handsome face soaked in rain. You yank free from his grip, gait heavy and sticky as you stagger away until you’re several feet from each other. “I’m done arguing with a man who doesn’t know what he wants!”

Through the veil of rain, you see his eyes widen in disbelief before they narrow into heinous slits. “You think I don’t want you?” Thunder punctuates his words, your heart fluttering against its cocoon of rage. “That I don’t think about you every waking moment?!”

“Then why—” you holler, throwing your hands up to the sky in exasperation before he interrupts.

“Because I can’t have you!” The confession rips through him like tearing open a wound, his words cracking along the next lightning strike in the mountains. “I’m supposed to be dedicated to this town. To my citizens. To my career. If you weren’t so—” he stops short, growling beneath the howl of the wind. “If you hadn’t shown up that day all those years ago, if you didn’t bake me those pies, if you weren’t so goddamn beautiful and—”

“This is my fault!” you screech, taking a step towards him only for your leather boots to sink into a particularly deep patch of mud. The wet soil seeps into the spaces, coating your socks and toes. The rain continues its onslaught, your curls heavy as they sway and stick to your face. You wipe them from your cheeks in a fury, sputtering through dirt and water.

“You’re blamin' me because you’re too much of a coward—”

“Yes!” he shouts, shoulders shaking in a wave of vulnerable anger as he glares at you. “Because every time I see you smile, every time Yuji comes to me happy that you taught him something new, every time you look at me like I’m worth something—” His voice catches Adam’s apple bobbing and lips gaping for words. “I forget why I need to stay away.”

You flop your hands against your thighs in defeat, huffing a humorless laugh. “Just tell me what you want,” you whisper, half challenge, half plea. You should run, turn around, and make your way home before you fall deeper into a web of lies you’ve spun. “For once in your goddamn life, Nanami, just tell me.”

“I want you to tell him no,” Nanami growls. “I want you to turn down every. damn. man. in this town who thinks they deserve you.”

The whiplash of his want and need is enough to make your neck hurt. That simmering rage boils to the surface, churning like melted butter in your limps as you yank your feet from the mud to storm toward him.

“You stubborn—” you start, boot immediately sinking in mud. You yank it free with a wet squelch. “Just wait until I get my hands on you, you self-righteous—” another step, another struggle against the soaked earth. Your deep green skirts are heavy with water and mud, tangling around your legs as you fight tooth and nail to get closer. “Insufferable—” Yank. Step. “Maddenin' excuse for a man—”

Your last step is interrupted by him, stomping and angry and biting as he navigates the schoolyard like it’s nothing, his hands digging into your wet waist before he yanks you to him, crashing his mouth to yours. The kiss is so brutal, so possessive, and everything you’ve been fighting and craving all at once that your eyes roll into the back of your skull from the force.

Your boots slip against the ground as his mouth claims yours, teetering backward to fall, but his hands are there instantly—one tangling in your soppy curls while the other digs further into your waist, steadying you as he angles your mouth without having to ask.

How can you be so hypocritical right now? Why have you made such a mess of things? The wall that you need to erect between you is crumbling beneath weak weight, freely giving up any resistance as his lips slide against yours. You chastise yourself even as you twist your fingers into his transparent shirt, pulling him closer as thunder cracks overhead.

“They don’t know you,” Nanami hisses into your mouth when you break for air, rain streaming between the gaps of where you don’t touch. His grip at the base of your neck tightens, arousing licking to life as your core tingles in betrayal at the twinge of pain. You bite into his bottom lip, swallowing his groan that vibrates down your throat and into the muscles of your pelvis.

Nanami spins you—you stumble in the mud, flailing even though his strong arms reach under your thighs to yank you up. Your skirts stretch uncomfortably, legs begging for more room so you can wrap your thighs around his waist. But he has other plans, swallowing another whine as his lips take yours, the sound of his spurs rattling the jumbled space in your mind as he climbs the schoolhouse steps.

Your back crashes into your desk, more papers scattering and floating to the water-slicked floor. You’re both dripping everywhere—creating puddles beneath your feet, water running from his shirt to collect on the wood between you. His hands squeeze your waist, the strength permeating a thick pulse between your thighs as he lifts you onto your desk.

“Those men could learn about me,” you gasp, involuntarily bunching your skirts around your waist as Nanami crowds into the space between your legs.

His fingers reacquaint themselves with their hair at your nape, twisting and yanking your head back to expose your throat.

“He doesn’t get to learn a thing about you,” Nanami growls into your pulse point, dragging sharp teeth along the skin. You can’t help the whimper that breaks free, leaking past your lips. “Not how you sound.” A tongue to your neck that makes you arch, eyes shut tight as your cunt thrums in your panties. “Not how you taste.”

Your hands fly up to find purchase on the wet fabric of his shoulders, grabbing the muscles of his trapezius as he growls into your neck.

You have to stop, you have to. But when his hips press forward, the metal of his belt buckle grinding against you through sodden layers of fabric, all coherent thought vanishes.

You gasp at the feel of his hot hand trailing along your leg, up the canvas of your thighs, that part even more for him without thought. Calloused fingertips tease the edge of your panties, the touch electric enough to make your hips buck for more, a whine dying in your throat as you nod to his silent ask for permission.

“Tell me,” he demands, a seductively low timber against your mouth as he pulls your panties to the side, the cool air yanking a wanton moan from your throat. The touch of two fingers to your clit is enough to make you faint, your fingers digging into his shoulders to keep yourself from screaming. The hand in your hair squeezes, rewarding you for your sounds. “Tell me you don’t think about this.”

You do. You do. God, you do. You think about him exactly like this, skin to skin, reverent words of desire in your ear as he takes you higher and higher.

You bite his lip instead of answering, and the fingers on your clit begin to move in torturous circles that make you moan into the cool air. You were wet the minute he raised his voice, the minute you could taste his jealousy, the minute you smelled that leather and gunpowder from his skin. So your essence pools to the bottom of your panties now, embarrassingly wet and dripping as he circles your clit with a precision that makes you wary.

His fingers slide down your wet folds, teasing your entrance that clenches around nothing. The callous of one fingertip press inside, barely enough to do anything, and you pull against his resistant shoulders, whining desperately for more. A broken sound creaks from your lungs as he sinks in one finger and then the next inside of your pussy.

“Oh god,” you cry out in what feels like relief, your boots hitching on his hips, mud streaking the denim.

“No one else,” Nanami demands, setting a pace just shy of too slow within you. Water drips from his hair and catches on your collarbone before sliding down between the hint of cleavage of your bodice. His eyes are dark, mahogany depths gone as they take in every flicker of pleasure on your face. “No one else gets to see you like this.”

“I—” you gasp, swallowing around a dry throat parched from your guilt and building pleasure that tingles in your cunt against his fingers. You’re still shivering from the rain, but his touch burns, each stroke of his fingers devastating. Your head falls back as his fingers curl inside of you perfectly, brushing against the spongy wall of your pussy like he’s studied you for centuries and knows just how to pull you apart.

“Look at me,” he demands again, his grip tightening in your hair. When your eyes meet him, you flinch at the intensity of his gaze. There’s an unspoken danger there, a hint of untethered lust that barely overshadows the flickers of guilt he’s trying to keep at bay.

It’s the perfect opportunity for you to take charge of the situation, to pull away and agree that this needs to end now. To grab his wrist and tell him that you don’t need anymore. But—

“Tell me he’s not worthy of this.” His thumb finds your clit, stroking with fervor, fingers sinking deeper inside of you. “Tell me.”

“He’s not—” you choke, your orgasm rounding the corner sharp and fast. “He’s not worthy—oh please, please.”

You have no idea where the words are coming from—surely some deep cavern in your chest where you keep all your desires for him in the dark. But they rise freely now with every curl of his fingers and every desperate sound.

But even as ecstasy threatens to consume you, anguish claws at your heart. The reality of what you’ve done crashes over you in waves, each crest of pleasure tinged with the bitterness of your dishonesty. Nanami worships you with abandon, hypocritical in his touch, his lips whispering possession against yours while you hold back the very essence of who you are.

Another flash of lightning illuminates the room, a rivulet of water sliding down your lower back, a reminder of the storm that drove you to this moment.

“That’s it,” he growls against your mouth, watching as your orgasm begins to shake your body on your desk. “Show me what no one else gets to see.”

You’re so close—so, so close, tumbling on the edge of something that feels like falling and flying. The furrow of concentration between his brows, the raw hunger in his gaze as he watches you come undone—it’s too much. Tears prick at your eyes, blurring your vision as your orgasm builds to a devastating crescendo.

“Let go for me, Dove,” he whispers against your mouth, and that endearment, that tenderness when you’ve been so aggressive with each other—it’s what you finally need to vault over the edge. Your orgasm rips through you, blissful pleasure obliterating everything in its path. You cry out his name, whimpering into his mouth that he takes for a kiss, your body arching into him as release crashes over you in burning waves of fire.

As you slowly come down, you’re left gasping, trembling, utterly wrecked with your gaze locked on his. The magnitude of what’s transpired settles over you like a murky shroud, beautiful and terrible. You’ve never raised your voice at Nanami, just like he never has with you, but these fading moments were overwhelming, with hidden desires being shoved to the front without a barrier to guide them.

You use the feel of his wet shirt as a beacon to keep you rooted in the moment, doing whatever you can to push those guilty thoughts away that waste no time teasing you wickedly. Even now, dripping wet and breathing deeply against you, he’s devastating to look at.

You want to touch him, to make him feel what you just felt, to have the memory of the weight of him in your hands one time before you leave this town forever.

So you slide one hand from his shoulder to reach for his belt, but his fingers catch yours, impossibly gentle, as he stops you from going further. The softness of his touch hurts more than if he had smacked your hand away. It hurts because you see it clearly, so clearly that it makes your chest ache.

Even if you didn’t have another persona, even if you were just the schoolteacher in this town who bakes him pies and makes him smile, his want for you palpable in the air, he would never let himself have this. He would never let himself be completely yours.

The realization smacks you in the face, the flames of your rage that had been put out with his touch now roaring back to life. You’ve been handed yet another opportunity to right your wrongs, and this time you don’t hesitate to snatch it up.

You push him away, sliding off the desk on shaky legs as you yank your hand from his grip.

“This is never going to change, is it?” you ask, voice steady even as your heart stutters out of rhythm. “You’ll always push me away in the name of duty or nobility or whatever excuse helps you sleep at night.”

“I—“ he starts, reaching for you, but you push him away further, savoring the muscles of his chest one last time.

“Save it.” You swallow, squaring your shoulders for what feels like an impossible task. “After today…nothin' needs to happen between us. No more walks home, no more pies or acting like we know somethin' the other doesn’t.” You wrap your arms around yourself, cold and wet now that the heat of his skin is gone. “Because we both know we can’t be friends without wantin' more….and I won’t let you string me along any longer.”

He stands there, dripping, with hands hanging at his sides in defeat. He can’t argue with you, he has no right. And you use his dejection as fuel.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” your words cut like glass in your throat. “I don’t want to see you. You had every opportunity to take me as yours…splayed me on this desk until I had nothing left, and still you…I’ll find someone who isn’t afraid to want me completely. Like you said, it’s what I deserve.”

The muscle in his jaw jumps, but he stays silent. You hate how well you know him—how he’s retreating behind duty been now. That this pain is noble somehow. And you couldn’t agree more.

“I should go,” you whisper, deliberately formal, deliberately final.

The silence stretches between you like a chasm, punctuated only by the sound of rain and thunder outside and the water dripping from your clothes. You wait a moment longer—some foolish part of you hoping that he will fight for this, for you. But Nanami remains silent, his leather vest striking on his wet frame as he stands with rigid shoulders.

“Goodbye, Sheriff,” you mutter, turning away first and gathering what’s left of your dignity.

Your skirts are still heavy, clinging on cold legs that still tremble slightly from your orgasm. Each step feels like you’re traversing through the mud in front of your schoolhouse all over again.

Let him keep his duty. Let him wrap himself in nobility and righteousness while you finish up what’s left of your path in this dusty town.

The storm greets you again when you step outside, immediately soaking you as you make your way to Buttercup’s makeshift stable. The physical discomfort you feel as you gather her reins is nothing compared to the ache in your chest, the knowledge that even without your secrets, the outcome would have been the same.

He doesn’t come out of the schoolhouse. He doesn’t chase after you and drop to his knees for forgiveness. And the reality of it all makes your eyes blur with a fresh wave of tears.

As you race home on Buttercup’s saddle, the rain is harsh on your skin, and the clarity cuts through your emotional haze.

You know what you have to do.

The treasure.

You’ll gather it up, just as you’ve planned all along. But now, it’s not just about helping the town. That thought of freedom no longer seems wary. You’ll get the treasure, yes. You’ll distribute it to the town, giving them the help they need. One final good for the people you’ve grown fond of. And then… then you’ll leave. You’ll disappear, never to return to this place that’s become both heaven and hell to you.

The thought sends a fresh wave of pain through you, but you embrace it. Pain means you’re alive and that what you’ve experienced here matters. You’ll carry it with you, a bittersweet reminder of the life you’re choosing to leave behind.

As your house comes into view and you take it all in, soaked to the skin and shivering, the distant sound of Buttercup whinnying beneath you, you make a vow to yourself.

No more hesitation. No more torn loyalties.

The storm rages on when you finally close your front door, but inside your heart, a strange calm settles over you. You have a plan now. And soon, you’ll have your freedom. Even if it comes at the cost of everything – and everyone – you’ve grown to love.

Thanks for reading! Finale coming soon!

[jinogasux-fr]

Santae banned me without telling me why and won't unban me unless I send them my photo ID

Hey guys sorry for not posting in… forever? I just suck at social media lol. But you may have seen that I've reblogged some posts that advertise Santae in the past, but please disregard all that. I've since deleted those posts after learning how the site is managed and, after what happened to me a few days ago, I feel as though I should go public about this. Because boy did I just get fucked over.

Anyway, yeah, what it says in the title. On October 24th, around 10am EST, I was restocking my user shop when the entire webpage went white. I couldn't access the site at all and, when I tried to look for the Discord on my server list, it wasn't there. I knew what this had meant. I got banned from both the game, and the Discord - this is important to keep in mind for later.

I didn't receive any Discord DM or email notification about my ban, so after asking a mod what their support email was (and yes, I later verified that this is indeed their legitimate support email), I sent them this:

After a few hours, I get this back in response:

There's so much I'm confused about here. I think the one that screams out the most is that they're asking me to show them my photo ID so I can get unbanned. Absolutely not. I refuse to do this. This poses a massive security and privacy risk. They straight up banned my account, gave this half-baked explanation, and told me I need to send my personal information or... I stay banned?

Let me make something clear: The only personal thing they have on file about this account is the email address that I created my account with, which I've also used to contact them. My real name, date of birth, anything of that nature would not be connected because this was not asked for during account creation, therefore this wouldn't actually prove I'm the account holder. Theoretically speaking, I could show them any ID in the world and for all they know, that's my real information, because they have nothing else to go off of. They even say as much in their privacy page.

Secondly, "account has been compromised"? What does that mean? I think anyone's interpretation of this would be that my account got hacked. But if my account got hacked, why wasn't I informed of this? I had to reach out to support, they did not reach out to me first. That means my password, which I may share across other sites, would have been known to someone else and thus I should've been warned of this immediately, not roughly 5 hours after the fact.

Thirdly, what, was my Discord "compromised" too? If an automated system had flagged my account, does that system somehow interact with a Discord bot so they ban a user on both at the same time? How does that work? That makes no sense as to why they'd ban me on both the game and the Discord for something like this, which is why I'm calling bullshit.

Let me tell you what I think happened.

Recently, Santae has been in some really hot water with connections revealing their relation to an older petsite, Lurapets, which has a history of scamming and artist mistreatment, as well as proof coming out of them using AI art for their NPC art. You can find these posts on the @santae-salt blog if you want to see for yourself, but I'm also linking them throughout this post.

Once the post about them being directly related to Lurapets was released, several users that the Santae staff thought might be involved in the creation of the post got banned. As it turns out, I was banned at the same time as these users.

After speaking with the @santae-salt admin, we are both of the belief that I, a regular user, got caught up in this mess because they're assuming I'm an alt account of someone else and staff demanded to see my ID because they didn't think I was a different person. It may turn out to be wrong, and yeah that sounds a bit far-fetched, sure, but really, what else can I go off of here?? Santae staff has given me a very questionable and refutable explanation as to why I've been banned, and their radio silence after I refused to send them my ID is just making me believe they don't think I'm real. They don't want my photo ID to verify I'm the account holder, they want my photo ID to verify I'm not someone else.

This is unprecedented. I've never seen any petsite ask for a photo ID in any situation, and after asking around, not even those banned from Santae were asked for this. It's just me! This is an incredible attempted breach of privacy, and, with Santae now under doxxing allegations, I really don't feel confident they'd keep my personal information… well, personal.

I messaged back almost immediately after they responded to me where I told them I would not send my ID and I had asked if there were any other way I could verify myself to get my account unbanned. I've received no response so far, and after what I've learned, I feel like I'm not going to get one at all.

So, let this be a lesson to you: don't waste your time on Santae. You can be the most obedient player out there. You can abide by all their rules, be a nice and generous player, or just be minding your own business, but if they so much as think you're associated with someone who they think has wronged them, you'll be banned.

And they can't even be bothered to properly tell you why.

[spockandawe]

Double edit: actually, that's enough of that.

Edit: I was expecting maybe thirty notes tops. This is a surprise, and one that doesn't delight me. If I hear about any harassment stemming from this post, I'll be more pissed at the harasser than the person this is about.

God. Dammit.

I hate this, let's just out that out there! I'm unhappy that I'm talking about any of this, I'm unhappy there's an issue that's come up at the intersection of media preservation, respecting authors, and one of my favorite book series. And I'm unhappy that I've censored the names in the screenshots I'm about ti post! I'm not happy that I'm helping to slide consequences away from someone who thought this was an acceptable thing to do to a modern working author. But I'm even less happy this is something that happened in the first place, and I'm VERY unhappy the original post has been deleted without a whisper of accountability or apology.

And here's a partial screenshot of the IA page, which has since been removed. I get the excitement to share something you love with a new audience. This isn't the right way to go about it.

First, if Martha Wells' patreon is still in place, I encourage everyone in the strongest possible terms to go sign up for it. It'll charge you one dollar. I've been a member since probably 2018, and I mistakenly believed it was locked to new members (it's labeled 'Currently Closed To New Patrons') until I had reason to look it up last night, when I tripped across this reddit post from earlier this year.

Now. I was looking it up because of this sudden patreon message:

Even if the patreon goes away, I still recommend that people sign up. Explore the stories! They're very fun! Even though the patreon has been dormant for years, I've loved having that repository in place.

In fact, in the interest of full disclosure, what kept me from immediately reblogging last night is that I've felt the same archival urges! I bound a hard copy of these stories earlier this year, and let me quote my own words from that post:

I live in a state of perpetual low key stress over the impermanence of digital media and that goes extra for sites that aren’t designed to work well as archives. I hope, desperately, that someday Martha Wells publishes more raksura, maybe even including these stories! I will buy it immediately. No thoughts, wallet empty. I own all her other raksura books in literally three formats, fingers crossed that by printing this, I can actualize a formal official printing of these stories by the author 😂

So. Archiving, yes. But especially with a living, working author, I would never DREAM of posting a public free-for-all with IA and mediafire links. My most charitable interpretation is that OP thought it was fine since the stories were "free," even though the writeups acknowledge that access costs a dollar. Ao3 is also free. Reposting someone else's fic is still understood to be a dick move.

Last night i was left kind of stunned, and I was hoping to see some kind of response from op this morning taking responsibility, and was... disappointed to see that the post was just deleted. The IA listing was deleted too, and I hadn't actually looked up the mediafire post yet but I'm guessing it's also been nuked. Out of curiosity, I wanted to see if there was anything more in the comments, so I found a surviving reblog. And there was!

So I'm writing this post because I'm... frustrated. Taking down the files is a good step. Posting them publicly was a worse step, but hey. I still more than understand if Martha Wells still deletes her patreon. I don't understand what sending her files of her own stories is meant to accomplish, but whatever. Ascribing a profit-driven motive is driving me up a wall, though. She's financially stable. I read her email, and what i see is frustration that even though it only cost a dollar to access 62k of her work through her own chosen location, control of her writing is being forcibly removed from her. I'm sure that seeing copies sold by third parties wouldn't help, but I don't think that's the root issue.

This is a fandom-heavy website, I'm sure most of us have seen posts about not reposting art when you can share directly from the artist's blog. I've seen posts about stop copying your ao3 faves over to wattpad just because you like reading there better. At a fundamental level, I read the message from Martha Wells as a deep frustration at having no way to share her creative work without someone removing control of it from her hands. And I don't know if there's any way to really take back that damage.

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Down To Clown - M.YG

💦Who; Min Yoongi (BTS) x reader 💦What; Smut, producer/idol au/verse, friends to fuckers 💦Wordcount; 14kish 💦Warnings; they are both bi/pan, profanity, dirty talk, switch yoongi, switch reader, anal fingering(m), crying with pleasure, coming untouched, sex toys, lingerie, oral (m&f), marks, pegging, anal sex, multiple orgasms, oral fixation, biting, fingering, mentions of being infertile through choice, sex without a condom, penetrative sex, piv sex, cockwarming, somnophilia, choking, squirting, minor blood, mentions of knife play(it is not explored in this story)

Summary; You ask to finger one of your closest friends, he says yes and things get real fun after that.

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging/commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio. -2024 Masterlist- Ao3 link

A/N- this was actually started 3 years ago with an OC so that i could get out my fantasy of topping yoongles, which means this was extremely self-indulgent. I just want to make Yoongi cry okay I've edited to the best of my abilities to change it from an OC to reader but if I've missed any pieces, pretend otherwise, thanks <3 @wonuvs enjoy, sweetheart 💖

Edited 25/10/24 - just grammar, formatting etc

The dark-haired rapper looks over exasperatedly at the third call of his name. "What?" He huffs when you don't say anything from where you're sitting cross-legged on the couch and instead choose to hold his gaze with wide, round eyes that he would call innocent if he didn't know you better than that by now.

"You've been with guys, right?" You question slowly.

"Yeah?"

"And you've bottomed?"

"You already know this. Get to the point."

"I'm working on it," you pout, absently tracing your fingers over the strings of the guitar laid across your lap. "So, you've had fingers in your ass?"

"Jesus, what the fuck?" He sputters in genuine shock at your out-of-the-blue question.

"You said get to the point!"

"I didn't think it would be about my ass,"

"It's not, really, just...asses in general. The male ass. With fingers. Guys getting fingered."

"Were you watching porn while hanging out with me?" He deadpans unimpressed.

"No." He gives you a disbelieving look. "Well not intentionally. I was on Twitter minding my own business and suddenly, bam! There was a gif of a guy getting fingered."

"So, you decided to watch it?"

"Yes."

"Despite the fact that you claim to not watch porn?"

"I don't. Never been interested." You shrug, and as much as Yoongi wants to argue and point out that people who aren't interested in porn don't watch porn gifs, he can't because he can see that you are being entirely honest.

"Right, okay." He lets out a breath, it sounds suspiciously like an exasperated sigh. "So, you watched this gif and decided to bring up my sex life?"

"Well, I've always been curious about fingering a guy like, what it feels like and the prostate sounds interesting like can you actually feel it? It's wild, man."

"You want to finger a guy?" He gawps, surprised by the revelation. You just nod.  "Seriously?"

"Yeah. Originally, I just wanted to peg a guy, I wanna know if I'd be any good with a dick and something about fucking a guy is really hot."

"I don't even know what to say," he murmurs truthfully. You shrug and run your hands over the guitar again, which draws his attention. "Well...your nails are short at least," he comments quietly.

"Easier for playing guitar and with myself."

"Holy fuck, you can't just..." He exhales and rubs his hands over his face.

"Sorry. I'm frustrated and my filter always vanishes when I'm like this."

"Frustrated about wanting to finger a guy?" He questions, dropping his hands onto his thighs carelessly to look at you again.

"Well, yeah, I guess but I meant sexually frustrated, like horny."

"Fuck me," Yoongi murmurs softly, but due to the lack of activity going on in the room you hear it loud and clear.

"I don't have a strap-on," you reply with a frown that looks oddly genuine.

"A strap-on...wait, I wasn't like, asking," he rushes out, cheeks flushed as he understands what you mean.

"Oh," your frown turns further downwards. "I'd probably be bad anyway."

"I've seen you dance, you can move your hips," he admits gruffly.

"Oh...in that case, your loss. I'd make you cum really good."

"Shut up," Yoongi grunts and shuffles in his seat while diverting his gaze elsewhere.

"Sorry." You remove the guitar from your lap to prop it back on its stand beside the couch without even getting up. Then, you stretch out and slouch slightly so that you can rest your head on the back of the couch with your bare feet planted firmly on the floor, legs spread in a way that your mother always scolded you for as it is 'unlady like'. "It's for the best anyway, I don't want to get sexually involved with someone who would just be thinking of someone else the whole time, you know?"

"What? Why are you assuming I'd be doing that?" He squares his eyes almost accusingly at you while crossing his arms over his chest.

"Because you're not attracted to me like that," your response is simple, easy, as if it is common knowledge; a fact of the world you had learned a long time ago.

"Who says?" You raise a challenging eyebrow. "I'm not blind, you're hot as fuck."

"Doesn't mean you're down to clown though."

"Not if you keep talking like that," he huffs, sitting back further in his chair.

You straighten a little with hope beginning to sparkle in your eyes. "That sounds like you'd at least consider it if I used other phrasing."

Yoongi says nothing and keeps his lips pressed together. The smirk that lifts your lips tells him that he's about to meet a version of you that he has only seen in the dreams he will never admit to waking up hard from- sometimes even shaking and coming down from an orgasm.

You sit up until you're fully upright, though your legs remain spread and Yoongi hates how it does something for him, how much it does for him. He has never before experienced a cocky female who isn't afraid to hold herself in a stereotypical male way, and honestly, it's the best of both worlds for him.

"Yoongi, Yoonie, babyboy," you coo, and he scoffs at the final term if only to hide and deny the blush winding up his neck. "Will you let me fuck you? Can I put my fingers in that pretty, perky ass of yours until you cum? Fuck, I bet you'd look so good being edged, so overwhelmed that you can't help but cry and babble absolute fucking nonsense while begging to cum," you murmur out, dark eyes growing heavier by the second.

"Fuck," Yoongi whispers, dick twitching in his boxers.

You don't respond and simply lean your right elbow on the backrest to lean your head against your fist. You just watch him, waiting; so patient for a response.

Almost as if you're playing with him, taunting, teasing, offering him the best seat in the house if only he is brave enough to admit to wanting it, and taking the first step.

Part of him is certain that you aren't doing that at all, that you are genuinely just waiting for him to think it over. That you're not willing to rush him or put any pressure on him to answer in a particular way. But a brand new part of him doesn't have a fucking clue what you're capable of in the bedroom.

After a tense handful of moments where you simply hold each other's gaze while Yoongi's mind runs wild hidden safely behind his eyes, he turns back to his desk.

Even though you're disappointed, you had honestly expected as much, so you don't stop to sulk or pout and instead reach back towards the guitar. You barely have your hand around the neck when you hear a drawer close a little too forcefully, especially as it's by Yoongi's hand, so you look back up and find that his computer programs are closed and only a music app is open. You release your grasp on the instrument and settle back to watch curiously.

Yoongi finds a playlist that you two often listen to; something full of smooth beats and low voices.

As the first song starts, he gets up and turns. He has something in his hands but it's hidden, at least until he has crossed the small distance between you to toss it onto the couch seat on your right. You can't help but look down and find a little bottle of lube on the cushion.

"If you're serious about wanting to try, I'm down to clown," he speaks, drawing your attention back. He's nervous and embarrassed, it's obvious to you even if he's trying his best to hide it.

"Most definitely." You nod and straighten up even further before patting your lap firmly. "C'mere."

"You want me on you?"

"You have no idea," you almost snort with your amusement, but hold it back. You pat your thigh again with your left hand while your right picks up the bottle.

"Oh right, uh, okay. Uhm, lemme just..." He quickly unzips his jeans to shuffle out of them and kick them aside, before moving forward to press his left knee on the outside of your right thigh. "I'm heavier than I look," he warns while gingerly placing his right knee on the other side of your thighs, one hand pushed against the backrest beside your shoulder for stability.

You roll your eyes and grab his hips to pull his body onto your lap. Yoongi hiccups on an inhale in surprise at the sudden action which leaves him perched on your stable thighs with wide eyes. "I can handle it, don't worry."

"You should know," he rushes out quickly, causing your hands to halt where they have started to run over his thighs; curious to explore the skin you have never seen exposed on him before. "I already cleaned up, I do every shower-"

"I know."

"H-how?"

"You told me when drunk once that you like to always be prepared to get dicked down. I figured out the rest due to the length of your showers, babe."

"Oh...right..." He chews on his bottom lip, which almost matches the tint on his cheeks. "Oh well, I was going to say that you should always make sure your guy is cleaned first because you know...asshole."

"Yeah, I got it," you grin and squeeze his thigh supportively, which only makes him jolt. "Are you sure you want to do this, Yoongi? I really won't be offended if you don't. I don't want you to be uncomfortable or anything."

"No, no, I do. S'just...we've been friends for a while now and I never thought anything like this would happen between us. And I haven't been touched by anyone but myself in so long it kind of feels like the first time."

"I'll go slow."

"I know. I trust you. Wouldn't be doing this otherwise," he huffs out a small laugh.

"I'm glad. I trust you too." You smile at each other for a moment; allowing the moment to get used to what you're planning to do, even only a little. "So, Mr Min, you're in charge here, I've no fucking clue what I'm doing so you kind of need to lead me."

"Oh, right, yeah." He inhales, then pushes up a little to shimmy his boxers down under the crease where his ass meets his thighs, it allows him to keep his crotch hidden by the material just in case his t-shirt doesn't. He isn't quite prepared for one of his closest friends to see his flaccid dick, no matter what you're about to get up to.

When he settles back down, he's unable to look in your eyes but you don't make him knowing how shy he must feel right now.

"So uhm...you can start dry if you want, if you want to feel and get used to touching, just don't try and push in."

"You're okay with that?" He nods and takes the lube to fiddle with the bottle and free your right hand. You wait a second, just in case, before moving your hand around his body to curiously trail your fingers over his smooth ass, humming in approval at the lack of hair at all. "Smooth."

"Yeah I uhm, I shave," he admits.

"Must be awkward."

"A little." He sucks on his lip when your fingertip finds his rim and traces over it gently in an almost featherlight touch. "S'weird, right? Girls find it weird usually. For guys to be shaved."

"I don't like body hair on anyone regardless of gender. Wouldn't bother me much if you did have it, just that being hair-free is my preference."

"Does that mean you shave too?" He pointedly glances at your crotch.

"Wax, lasts longer."

"Oh." He swallows when your left hand leaves his thigh to pluck the bottle from his hands, giving him nothing to fiddle with. "I-I thought about trying but uh...seems hard to do alone."

"Yeah, kind of is," you admit, laughing softly and focusing on Yoongi's reactions to the sound of a cap opening and lube squirting out.

He lifts his right hand absently to chew on the skin beside his thumb; an anxiety fuelled habit he's working hard to quit.

"Hey." You lean forward to nudge the top of his head with your nose. He lifts it just enough to peer at you. "We can stop, seriously," you offer, tone genuine and soft.

He shakes his head and quickly lowers his hand to grasp your shirt as if he has only just realised what he's doing to his poor fingers. "I want to. Just nervous."

"What usually helps you relax with a partner?"

"Kissing."

"Do you want to kiss?" He blinks a few times before finding his eyes on your lips almost like he has never seen them before. "I'm more than happy to kiss you if it helps, baby."

"O-okay," He nods.

"No, not okay. Don't just agree with me, this won't work if you're not 100%, Yoongi."

"I am." He nods, firmer and more confidently. "I want to. Wanna kiss you."

"Alright," you agree with a short nod of your own. The syllables almost get sucked back into your throat when Yoongi suddenly surges forward to connect your mouths.

You wait for a few minutes until Yoongi is entirely absorbed in kissing before you press slick fingers against his rim. He jolts, and his mouth falters for a second before moving again; slower than before as if he's too busy focusing on what's about to happen compared to what he's doing. You don't blame him.

At first, you just circle his hole curiously until he squirms a little impatiently, and only then do you edge the tip of your index finger inside. Yoongi inhales sharply but doesn't jump or pull away. You wriggle your finger a little before pushing in further.

"You gotta let me know if I hurt you," you warn once your finger is in as far as possible. Yoongi nods in agreement and reconnects your lips by grabbing your face and pulling it back to his. You chuckle with amusement against his lips, though are more than happy to follow his wishes.

You start a gentle, curious rhythm of softly prodding around inside, punctuated with sliding your finger out then back in.

"M-more," he breathes out in no time at all, so you comply, pulling your finger out to return with another beside it. Yoongi lets out a soft moan at the barely there stretch, just a little more pressure at your knuckles that makes him sigh happily.

"It's okay?" You wonder.

"Y-yeah, can go a little faster if you want."

"Okay, baby," you agree, doing as asked knowing it's more of a request than a suggestion. He's too shy to ask for what he wants so you're going to have to read between the lines and you've already mentally prepared yourself for that.

You watch his reactions to your ministrations, his closed eyes and parted lips, as his hips take barely noticeable movements; which you follow to do the best you can for him.

Up until this point, you have entirely avoided his prostate. Yoongi assumes it's because you don't know where it is, that you are getting used to everything else first before trying to search for it. But you know where it is and haven't wanted to touch it yet. You want Yoongi to genuinely get used to your touch and enjoy it without his prostate being brought in.

When you pull your hand out and away entirely, his eyes open and he frowns at you with a little whine of complaint. "Why'd you stop? Are you finished?"

"No," you laugh and shuffle you both a little so that you can slide your arm in the gap between your spread thighs to reach underneath him and slide your fingers back inside. "This angle is better." You smirk and crook your fingers forward to press directly on his prostate. Yoongi's eyes roll back and he moans loudly. "Right?"

"F-fuck, I-I thought you didn't know..."

"What, where the prostate is?" You laugh as he wriggles on your hands at the attack of your fingertips relentlessly rubbing the sensitive patch. "I know exactly where it is, I've just never put it to use before."

"You su-sure?" His fingers knot in your hair when you wrap your free arm tight around his waist to hold him still, preventing his movements. "Shit, fuck."

"You like being held still?"

"Fuck off."

"Oh, really?" Suddenly, you stop your attack and pull out to lean back against the backrest with your elbows resting on the back. You lean your head on your left palm, the clean one, as the lube-slicked hand hangs limply.

"Wh-what?" Yoongi's eyes are wide with betrayal and desperation. "N-no, no, don't stop. Put your fingers back in my ass, come on," he whines, tugging at your arm, but you hold it firmly in place making him whine and bounce a little with frustration. "Please?"

"Good boy." Your right hand hovers between your bodies. "More lube."

He nods and obediently squirts out a fair amount of lube onto your waiting fingers. "Three now?"

"You want three?" You hum questioningly, sliding your arm back underneath to rub three fingers against his rim. He nods enthusiastically and tries to tilt his hips in a way to make them slide inside, yet you always move away with a grin.

"You're so mean."

"I am." He pouts cutely, making you giggle. "Okay, baby, I'll play nice." And you do; you slide two fingers back inside to stretch him out a bit more, then add the third. "That okay?" You ask, moving carefully to allow him time to get used to it.

"Y-yeah, s'good."

"Yeah?" He nods and circles his hips down against your hand. "Can you cum untouched?"

Yoongi falls still and opens his eyes to look at you; he honestly hadn't even realised that his eyes closed in the first place. "I've never tried," he admits.

"Can we try? I think it'd be really hot."

"Oh uh, okay," he agrees, cheeks flushing a little darker than the pleasure and slight exertion already has them.

"You can change your mind at any time, okay?"

"I know," he agrees, giving you a shy smile before leaning forward to return his lips to yours, so you straighten up and move your left arm from the back of the couch to wrap back around him.

You let him get used to the rhythm of your slow, deep kiss, which you've matched the movements of your fingers and he his hips to, before without warning, you push in harder and faster. Yoongi hiccups on a breath, which he doesn't have time to regulate before you pull out and repeat the action causing your hand to slap against his ass a little.

What follows is a string of whines and groans and swears from Yoongi's open mouth, head tipped back and hips bouncing. "So good, you're so good," he pants out, on the verge of mindlessness.

"I can be better," you promise. Yoongi's hole clenches at the thought, making you groan a little. "You're so fucking hot, Yoongi."

Yoongi gasps and bounces harder feeling his climax nearing. Your fingers curl and rub against his prostate with every thrust and his movements grow more desperate. Your left arm returns around his waist to hold him still and force him to just take it, which causes an almost sob to break from his throat.

"G-gonna cum," he announces, instinctively moving his hand between your bodies, but you remove your arm from around his waist to slap his hand away from where he almost has his cock in hand.

"Don't touch."

"Can't help it. Need it," he all but sobs while looking at you with wet, hooded eyes.

"No, you don't."

"But-" He reaches out again, and you huff in frustration before pulling your fingers out of his ass. "No! No! No! M'sorry! I'll be good!" He begs. "Don't stop, please."

"I won't, baby, it's okay, I'm going to make you cum," you assure soothingly and press a kiss to his lips while wiping the tears trickling down his ruddy cheeks. "But you're unable to not touch yourself so we need to move."

"M-move?" He sniffles.

"On your back." He nods and scrambles off of your lap to lay on his back on the couch. He kicks off his boxers and spreads his legs ready for you. You admire him for a moment, and only move when he wriggles self-consciously. "Sorry. You're so beautiful, you know that?"

"M'not," he huffs, looking away as you turn to settle between his thighs on your knees and lay his thighs over your own.

"You are, don't argue with me."

He pouts but doesn't argue further, which you find very interesting. He has essentially submitted to you and all it took was having his prostate touched.

For a moment, you stop to wonder if he's always that quick to submit or if it's because he trusts you and hasn't been touched by a hand except his own in so long.

After roaming your eyes over his pliant body under you, you decide that it's a thought for later though and wriggle a pillow behind his head to prop him up just a little into a more comfortable position against the armrest.

"Hands above your head, baby." He listens and lifts both arms to lay the backs of his hands against the armrest. When you lean over and cover his wrists with your left hand to pin them down, his eyes blow wide and a shiver runs through his body. "Oh, that is a very interesting reaction, sweetheart, we'll have to talk about it later but now." You slide your fingers back into him, loving the way his eyes immediately roll back and his back arches slightly as your fingertips drag over his prostate.

In this position, you can't stop Yoongi's hips jerking and doing their best to fuck himself back on your fingers that force consistent full moans from his open mouth that sound like they come from the bottom of his chest.

It's clear when Yoongi's teetering on the edge of his climax as his tone grows higher and his movements more desperate while his arms fight to be freed so that he can touch himself.

"Come on, baby, you can do it. Let me see how messy you can get without your cock being touched, huh? Gonna let me see what good boys can do, hm?" You encourage with your eyes darting all over him; stuck between watching his face, and the outline of his cock hidden underneath his t-shirt due to the fact neither of you had thought to move it. You really wish you had pushed it up because the thought of seeing Yoongi cum all over himself probably does a little too much for you to be able to admit.

"M'a good boy," he parrots mindlessly.

"Prove it. Cum for me."

He whines and his legs pull up towards his torso as his body curls in a little before a loud, long moan tears from his throat while his legs push out and his back arches, pushing his chest towards you with the force of his orgasm surging through his body. You remove the pressure on his prostate and slow your movements down enough to not overstimulate or hurt, yet still ride him through the pleasure with the slow drag.

When he slumps against the seat, chest shuddering with his heavy breaths, you gently remove your fingers making him shudder a little and whimper.

"It's okay, baby, you did so good for me. Such a good boy, thank you." You release his wrists, yet he makes no attempt to move, too tired from the most intense orgasm he has ever experienced. "I'm going to get some tissues from your desk, okay? I'll be right back." Yoongi frowns and pouts at the thought of being left, yet does nothing else, doesn't even open his eyes until you're back and gently wiping the lube from his ass. "Hey." You smile up at him when you notice he's more with it again, or at least enough to open his eyes. He pouts further. "What?"

"Kisses."

"Oh." You giggle and obligingly lean over him to press your lips to his.

The kiss is much slower and looser than any before; a clear reflection of how sated and lazy Yoongi feels, yet he still wants to kiss and softly lick into your mouth.

When you feel his movements get even slower, almost as if he's falling asleep while making out, you pull back. Yoongi whines and tries to chase your lips but he's back to not even bothering to open his eyes.

"Let me clean you up and then if you're still awake, we can kiss more, okay?" You reason.

"Hm, fine," He slurs sulkily, though stays almost motionless on the seat with hands still above his head as his face turns towards the back of the couch.

"Are you okay with me lifting your t-shirt?" He hums and nods a little, and you know that's the most you'll get from him, so you gently lift the t-shirt out of the drying mess to hold up and away. You don't even take a second to take in the mess on his skin or his flaccid dick, just quickly and carefully wipe him up as best as you can before tossing out the tissues and returning the bottle of lube to what you hope is the correct desk drawer.

You return to the couch with Yoongi's hoodie and are about to ask him to sit up to change out of the dirty top yet find him snoring softly already. Instead, you shuffle his boxers back up onto his body and settle them snugly against his hips before gently and painstakingly removing the soiled t-shirt.

You just about manage to get the hoody on his uncooperative body as he whines and tries to curl back against the cushions every time you almost accidentally rouse him out of his sleep.

Once you're done with your task, you admire his relaxed, sleeping features for a moment too long, and then settle up to his desk to watch some videos while he sleeps.

During a break in between episodes, you hear shuffling, so you remove the headphones and turn to find Yoongi shuffling to sit up while rubbing at his eyes. "Sleep well?" You ask softly.

He nods, and yawns for good measure, before stretching and then finally looking at you. "How long was I sleeping?"

"Couple hours."

"What?!" He baulks. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Didn't have the heart to, you were pretty fucking exhausted,"

"Oh, uhm…" He looks down at himself as the actions previous to his nap return to his mind. "So that happened...did you change me?" He tugs on his hoodie confused.

"Hm yeah, didn't think you'd appreciate waking up with a cum covered t-shirt."

"No yeah, right...thanks." He turns to sit properly and places his feet on the floor. "So uhm, are you sure you've never done that before?"

"Positive."

"But that was better than tops I've been with."

"Oh, really?" You beam proudly and he hums in confirmation with a nod. "Ah, well maybe it's because their intention isn't to make you feel good but to just get you ready so that they can stick their dicks in you," you suggest.

"Maybe." He shrugs and gets to his feet with a slight wince. "If this is how I feel with just your fingers, you'd destroy me with a dick," he comments while grabbing his jeans from the floor to wobble into.

You get up to help steady him so that he doesn't fall on his ass. "Would you let me?"

"What?"

"Fuck you, if I bought a strap-on?"

"Oh." He nods shyly.

"Words, baby, come on, you know the rules."

"Shut up." He huffs and bats you away while you snigger. You close down what you had been doing on the computer and return to the couch to flop down in a slouch. "Do you know where to buy one? A strap?" Yoongi glances at you as he buttons his jeans.

"Yep, the place I get my usual stuff from sells some interesting ones."

"I'm honestly concerned about what you mean by interesting."

"Look yourself." You get back up to sit at the desk and open up the adult toy store's website. "Sit." You pat your thighs invitingly. Yoongi only hesitates a moment before sitting on your lap so that you can look at the screen together.

"There is no way you're fucking me with that," he deadpans when you point out an honestly obnoxiously huge dildo with ridges.

"Oh, so I can fuck you then?"

"With a normal one, yes," he agrees, and moves your hand from the mouse to scroll himself. "Here look, normal." He points to a very basic-looking realistic dildo.

"Boo, boring. At least try a tentacle." He glares at you, making you laugh. "Joking. How big do you like?"

"Uhm just average is good."

"Bullshit, you scream size queen to me." Yoongi sputters but doesn't argue. "Find one that looks the best to you."

"This is embarrassing," he whines.

"No, it's not. Be a good boy and pick a cock to be fucked with, Yoongi," you hum against his neck, earning a shiver. Yoongi doesn't hesitate to begin intently looking at all the options. "Hm, good boy." You press an approving kiss against his skin and wrap your arms around his waist to squeeze a little. He jolts in surprise, but then shuffles a little to settle in your hold.

After a little while of careful consideration, Yoongi shyly points out the one he likes the best and wants to try with you.

"Okay, add it to the basket." So, he does. "And now find a smaller one."

"What?" He looks over his shoulder at you with a confused frown. "Why?"

"Because I've never done this before so I don't want to go in with that one first and hurt you. Start small and build up to it."

"Oh, okay, that's smart." He agrees and returns his attention to the computer. He doesn't take as long to find a smaller dildo and add it to the basket. "Need a harness now," he murmurs, clicking through to find the right section. "What kind do you want? There's underwear style ones with a connection on the front or ones that are essentially harnesses."

"I don't know. Maybe get one of each style to try?"

"Okay. What size?"

"I don't know, depends on their size guide. I haven't bought lingerie from this site so I don't know what their sizing is like."

"Lingerie?" Yoongi looks at you with interest. "You have lingerie?"

"Yeah."

"Oh...will you wear some for me?"

"You want me to?" He nods. "Okay. We can look on here too and see if there's anything in particular you'd like to see."

"Why didn't we do this earlier?" Yoongi groans, then leans over to kiss you for a moment. "You're the best."

"I know," you giggle and pat his thighs. "Find the size guide."

A few days later, Yoongi finds himself seated at the head of your bed with his back against the headrest watching you unpack the box in front of him.

The order had arrived that morning. You had excitedly texted Yoongi the moment it did, and he had immediately cleared his evening plans.

As soon as his work day ended, Yoongi rushed home to drop off his stuff and shower thoroughly ready, then quickly made his way to your apartment.

So here he is, both nerves and excitement running through his body knowing that soon, you will be fucking him.

As each item is placed on the bed, Yoongi fidgets more and more. Just seeing the picture of the dildo on the side of the box has his dick plumping up.

He doesn't know it, he’s too busy staring down at all the new items, but you notice his fidgeting and reactions; the pink of his cheeks and the increased frequency of his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Even though you've only had one session of sexual activity together, you're pretty confident that you've correctly read his body language as rapidly growing arousal.

For a few moments longer, you continue to unpack the large box but pay no attention to it and only watch Yoongi's intent, wide gaze on the items. His obvious arousal is making your own heat up under your skin.

Suddenly, you quickly repack almost everything making Yoongi jerk with concern and make a questioning noise.

"We can look at it after I've fucked you," you declare when Yoongi's confused eyes find your own darkening ones.

Yoongi swallows thickly and nods dumbly in agreement.

"Do you want me to put anything on?" You ask, motioning to the lingerie that you have left out. Yoongi looks at it, mouth open and genuinely considers it, whether he wants to see the lingerie or get fucked more. "If it helps, I'm wearing a set I already had under this." You point to your outfit of a zipped-up hoodie and basketball shorts. Yoongi swallows again and nods slowly. "What?"

"I wanna see that."

"Okay." You giggle and toss the lingerie from the mattress into the box before picking the whole thing up and moving it to the floor out of the way. "I want to try the harness one today, it matches what I'm wearing." You grin excitedly while picking up the box containing the wet-look-style strappy harness.

"Matches?" Yoongi mutters. You hum in confirmation. "Fuck."

You peer up at him through your eyelashes and giggle, before pressing one knee onto the mattress and leaning closer to him.

"You're going to ruin me, aren't you?" He realises in a mumble.

"I'm certainly going to try," you reply, a little breathless at the thought. You place your empty hand on his thigh to squeeze a little making his breath hitch and legs jolt, before you lift your hand only to slap his inner thigh gently and dart forward to place a disproportionately sweet peck on his lips. "I want you as naked as you're comfortable with by the time I get back from the bathroom."

"O-Okay," he agrees easily. You grin, then lower for a more thorough kiss; one that lingers even when you're out of the room, taking the harness and smaller dildo with you to clean thoroughly. "Fuck," Yoongi exhales and takes a second to gather his wits before getting up to quickly remove all of his clothing except for his boxers; a brand new set of tiny black shorts that do nothing to hide that his dick is hard and trying to escape from the waistband.

Yoongi feels very vulnerable and exposed as he sits there on the bed in nervous wait. He crosses and uncrosses his arms over his chest self-consciously a few times before reaching out to pick up the rather large bottle of anal lube left on the bed.

It's while he's reading the bottle to give himself something to do after removing the packaging so that it can actually be used, that you return sans shorts and with the unpackaged dildo in your hand.

You pause at the doorway and stare at him causing him to put the bottle down so that he can fold his arms over his bare chest again. "Shit, sorry, sorry, fuck, I didn't mean to make you feel self-conscious," you apologise while rushing over. You carefully place the dildo upright on the side table beside the lube bottle before climbing up onto the bed and gently laying your hands over his arms. "You're just so beautiful, Yoongi, my brain short-circuited seeing you waiting for me on my bed like this. Like holy fucking shit, what kind of saint did I save in a past life to get Min fucking Yoongi waiting on my bed?"

"You don't need to be so dramatic," he huffs, though his cheeks are hot with his blush and he allows you to tug his arms to his sides.

"I'm not." He gives you a disbelieving expression. "I'm not! I swear! I'd never tell you empty words, Yoongi, you mean too much to me for me to ever even consider betraying your trust like that."

Your words are so genuine that Yoongi can't help but believe them and accept the truth, making his body warm further understanding that you genuinely think of him in such a way.

"Good," he decides with a shy little nod. "Did you get the harness on okay?"

You hum and nod, leaning up onto your knees in front of him and lifting your hands to the zipper of your jumper. "Wanna see?"

"Of course, I wanna-" He cuts off with a choke when you abruptly open the zipper revealing a glimpse of a crisscross of straps across the revealed skin of your torso. He doesn't even have it in him to curse under his breath when you remove the jumper to toss aside carelessly.

If all of his blood hadn't rushed south and left no brain power behind, Yoongi would see that you definitely aren't as confident as you have been acting; your hands twitch at your sides and your teeth gently clamp on your bottom lip.

But Yoongi is too hypnotised by your body wrapped in intricate lengths of black, wet-look material that make you look like the present of his wet dreams.

"So?" You ask what feels to you like at least ten minutes later when Yoongi still hasn't done anything but stare jaw dropped at you.

To your relief, your sudden voice snaps Yoongi back to reality and makes him drag his lust-darkened eyes up to yours.

Without a word, he gets up until he's on his knees mirroring you, before taking your face into his hands to kiss heavily. The little noise you can't prevent from escaping your mouth makes Yoongi groan deeply and lower one hand so that he can wrap his arm around your waist and pull you closer while he moves too until you're pressed together.

Feeling the smooth latex under his hand has Yoongi's dick twitching back to life where it's pressed between your bodies. It makes you giggle upon feeling it, before pressing your body forward just enough to make Yoongi groan at the pressure.

"I assume that's a good reaction?" You hum breathlessly when the kiss breaks, and you motion to yourself to show that you mean his reaction to how you look.

"You have no idea how sexy you are to me," Yoongi replies a little dumbly, making you giggle through your blush. "I'm really fucking glad you got this harness and ignored my hesitation on the wet look. I never knew I was into it until now."

"I have a wet-look dress," you inform. "And I'm going to wear it when we next all go out, just to wind you up."

"Please don't make me get hard in public, I'm an idol," he whines. "I can't be caught with a boner."

"Guess you better learn to control your dick then." You grin and nudge him back. "Lay down, I really wanna get my hands on your ass as soon as possible; I've been thinking about this non-stop for four days."

"You have?" Yoongi replies while doing as told and moving backwards until he's laid down in the centre of the bed with his head on the pillows. You hum in confirmation while taking the chance to rake your eyes over his body hungrily.

It makes Yoongi's body warm to see how much you like his body, even though he doesn't think it is anything special at all. "M-me too," He admits, causing you to look up at his face and smile softly at him. He smiles back shyly, before bravely reaching down to hook his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers.

Your eyes at once snap down to watch as he slowly pushes his underwear down until he has to lift his hips up to slide them over his ass and to his thighs, where you take over and carefully remove the cloth entirely from his body to drop to the floor beside the bed.

And then you look at him to take him in in his fully nude state. Your cheeks visibly warm and your mouth drops open just enough for your tongue to poke out and prod your bottom lip. "Can I suck your dick?" You ask bluntly, licking your lips again.

"Really?" You nod and shuffle closer until Yoongi has to spread his legs to allow you to kneel between them with your hands on his smooth thighs. "Y-yeah," he agrees, nodding quickly even if you're entirely enraptured by his erection so don't see his action.

Without hesitation, you lower down onto your left elbow and wrap one hand loosely around his erection just to hold it up and allow you to slide it into your mouth enthusiastically. Yoongi's hips instinctively kick up at the sudden, wet warmth and he curses, reaching out to slide his fingers into your hair. You make a happy sound around his length and wiggle your hips as you work him in your mouth, which draws Yoongi's attention to your ass where it's stuck up in the air and showing off your curves in the straps.

"Jesus, fuck," he grunts. "Fucking-fuck-look at you," he breathes out, eyes dragging over your body and down to where your lips are wrapped around his dick, eyes up on him. He swears again. "You need to stop or I'm going to cum," he warns.

You heed his warning and pull off with a soft laugh. "I was there for like ten seconds," you point out amusedly.

He shrugs and looks away embarrassed, only to look back with a gasp when you attach your mouth to his inner thigh to suck a bruise into. "Shit," he chokes, legs shaking a little.

Suddenly overcome with desperation, he reaches out to grab the lube and shove it against your shoulder.

"Hm, okay, baby," you agree while sitting up on your knees again so that you can take the bottle and pump some of the contents onto your fingers. "Do you want it like this or a different position?" You ask, putting the bottle aside on the mattress for when you need it again.

"This," he answers, grabbing a spare pillow to wiggle under his hips. "Wanna see you."

"Okay." Your smile is happy and you lean down over him to press your lips to his.

Yoongi lifts both hands to gently hold your face as you kiss slowly and deeply.

His breath hitches as your wet fingers touch his rim, though he doesn't stop kissing you. A little whimper leaves his throat as one finger slowly edges in. You make a curious sound at the much less resistance compared to the last time you had your fingers inside of Yoongi yet say nothing and add a second.

"Did you already finger yourself?" You ask, unable to stop yourself when you can already add a third.

"Y-yeah," he confirms. "Is that okay? Are you upset?"

"I mean, usually I would definitely like to prep you myself; your ass is the eighth wonder of the world-" He rolls his eyes, making you laugh. "But I honestly think it's best to not get me that turned on today so that I can have at least some self-control when fucking you for the first time."

"Fingering me turns you on?" You nod. "Oh, I didn't realise, you seemed normal last time."

"I wanted to focus on you too much to pay attention to it. But after, jeez, I had to watch a very dry show to calm myself back down," you snigger with amusement at the memory.

"M'sorry."

You frown confusedly down at him and remove your fingers from his ass. He's about to complain but notices you're reaching for the dildo so instead presses his lips together.

"For what?" You wonder.

"What?"

"You apologised. Why?"

"I fell asleep."

"Yeah?" Your head tilts down as you look at the harness so that you can attach the dildo properly.

"I didn't get you off." You laugh a little. "What?" He frowns. "Why's that funny?"

"All I wanted was to finger you, I didn't want you to do anything but cum yourself and you definitely did that so I was more than happy with your involvement, Yoon, there was nothing else I wanted from that experience."

"So, you didn't want to cum?" He looks at you disbelievingly until you lift your head having successfully attached the toy after a little fiddling.

"It wasn't the plan, no."

"But did you want to?"

"I mean, I haven't been that turned on in a long time, well until now. But if I wanted to cum, I could've gone and taken care of it while you were asleep. Just because I made you cum, it doesn't mean you owe me one, that's not how this works, Yoon."

"I know," he mumbles, running his hands down your body to finger the harness until he locates the dildo and can wrap his hand around it and tug, forcing you to get closer between his spread-wide thighs. "But I want to. Wanna make you feel good."

"You do, trust me, you do," you assure, before pressing a sweet, short kiss to his lips. "Can I fuck you now?"

"Definitely." He nods, eyes wide with anticipation.

With excitement in your eyes, you reach down to knock Yoongi's hand from the dildo so that you can apply more than enough lube. Yoongi is staring at you questioningly when you look back up at him.

"What? I like it messy," you giggle shyly, and look back down so that you can watch as you guide the toy to Yoongi's awaiting hole.

"You do?" You nod. "Me too." You grin brightly up at him, happy at the shared interest, before slowly pushing your hips forward. Yoongi's eyes widen a little and his lips part as he's breached by the toy.

"Okay?" You worry.

"Yeah, keep going," he confirms, looping his fingers into the straps over your hips to pull you towards him at a speed quicker than you would've moved yourself, but if anyone knows Yoongi's limits, it's Yoongi himself, so you let him.

In no time at all, your hips are pressed flush to him and he's breathing a little heavier at being full.

"Fuck me, come on, fuck me," he breathes out encouragingly, removing his fingers from the straps to give you control back and instead press his palms to your waist.

"Okay, baby," you hum and press a kiss to his chest, before leaning up onto your haunches and use your hands to press Yoongi's thighs open further.

Yoongi swallows thickly and knows he will never come back from this the same and you haven't even moved yet. And then you do, slowly dragging back before shoving forward and knocking a moan from Yoongi that he wasn't aware he could produce. You smirk at him before tightening your hold and repeating the action.

"F-fuck," he stammers, gripping the bedding beneath him in an attempt to ground himself. You've only thrust twice and he's already leaking on his stomach.

"Okay?" He nods madly. "Hm, let's get that better." The look on your face is a little dark and very determined, and Yoongi keens before you've even pulled back out.

This time, you adjust your position a little to get yourself better leverage to essentially pull back, and then pound into Yoongi while simultaneously rolling your hips and causing Yoongi's back to arch and his eyes to roll back. He's not going to last at all.

It's not even a minute of the unbelievably good fucking later that Yoongi wraps a shaking hand around his cock to tug at it desperately for only a few seconds before his body pulls tight and he comes all over his torso.

You watch the whole ordeal with hooded eyes and an open mouth as you pant from exertion and arousal. Not knowing if Yoongi gets overstimulated quickly and not wanting to hurt him, you quickly slow your movements and stop when his hand falls from his cock.

While Yoongi lays there breathing heavily with his chest heaving and eyes closed, you pull out and remove the dripping toy from the harness.

Without a word, you get up and move to the bathroom to rinse off the toy and leave it on the counter to wash properly later, and then you grab a washcloth to dampen it and return to Yoongi. He blinks his eyes open when you clamber back onto the bed and start to clean him up.

By the time you've finished cleaning his chest and ass up, Yoongi's breathing is back to normal and he's watching you, looking more satisfied than you've ever seen him.

"Hey." You smile as you settle beside him, washcloth on the side table behind you. He purses his lips at you, so you lean forward to kiss him slowly. When you pull back, you remain on your side propped up with your head on your left hand. "How you feeling? I didn't go too hard, did I?"

"I'm pretty sure how quick I came answers that," he huffs, pouting at the ceiling. "Swear I'm not usually that quick."

"It was hot, I don't mind the time frame," you reply honestly, and lean down to kiss his shoulder. "I knew you'd look good coming on yourself," you hum against his skin. "Wish I had photographic memory so I never forget a moment of that sight."

"Shut up."

"I'm being serious!" You lift up and pout at him. "I'm sad that I won't forever remember it that well."

"Well...it's not like that's the only chance you'll get to see it." He shrugs, turning onto his right side to face you, so you lower to lay down too. "I can't get over how good you are at these sexual things you've never done before."

"I'm naturally gifted."

Yoongi chuckles and nods. "Yeah, you are. I'm both scared and excited to see how much better you'll get with practice. You're going to own my ass in no time, I won't be able to fuck anyone else because they won't be as good as you. Fucking Pavlov me."

"Don't think that's the right term but I'll take it." He doesn't respond and instead shuffles closer to kiss you.

Yoongi's left hand travels down to hold onto one of the strips of material over your ribs. "How hard is this to get off?"

"A lot." He groans. "Why?"

"Wanna eat you out." Your eyes blow wide in shock. "I can't tell what that look means."

"No one's said that to me before," you admit softly.

"What?" Yoongi's frown is beyond offended. "How could no one say that to you?" He huffs and leans up while nudging you onto your back. You go willingly with a shrug. "Well, I really want to. Can I?" You nod and reach down to unclasp the buckles of the harness. Yoongi shuffles down the bed so that he can pull it off your legs once you've opened it. "How do we-" he cuts off when he looks up and realises that the straps of the lingerie have been designed to leave your crotch entirely bare. "Fuck."

Immediately, Yoongi lowers down onto his stomach between your thighs and presses them wider to stare at where you're glistening with arousal.

"How is all of you so fucking perfect?" Even though it's a question, he's really talking to himself, his voice low and thick with arousal.

Yet even if he is talking to you and expects a response, you wouldn't be able to form one, your voice is stuck in your throat with nerves.

"Tell me if I do something you don't like, okay?" He speaks, leaning up enough to make eye contact with you. You just nod, cheeks flushed pink and your bottom lip sucked nervously between your teeth. Yoongi shoots you a gentle smile, then lowers to press a soft kiss to your hip.

You watch intently as Yoongi trails soft kisses across your skin and over the shiny fabric digging slightly into your thigh due to your legs being spread by Yoongi's hands. He stops at your inner thigh in between two straps, seemingly entranced by the little bulge caused by the material.

As if he doesn't have any control, Yoongi opens his mouth a little wider and clamps down making you gasp. The noise brings him back to reality and he almost pulls off but as he's releasing his jaw, your gasp fully registers and he realises that it wasn't a bad gasp at all.

Instead of continuing to open his jaw, he closes it further and fights down his own groan feeling his teeth press into the giving flesh before he sucks a little harsher than he normally starts off, yet you whimper and your left hand flutters atop his head in a way that feels as if you want to grasp but aren't brave enough. So, Yoongi sucks harder, borderline painfully, and is rewarded with fingers in his hair and grasping securely, encouragingly.

Yoongi suckles the spot for a moment longer before pulling off with a pop.

You both eye the bright red mark and admire the indents left by his teeth before Yoongi suddenly darts down again.

You had expected him to attach to the mirrored spot on your other thigh but he shocks you by suctioning to the soft, smooth flesh over your pubic bone, so close to your clit that it makes it tingle.

You're so caught off guard that the moan of pleasure escapes your mouth before you can stop it. You loosen your right hand from the sheets with every intention of lifting it to cover your mouth in embarrassment; it was too loud of a noise for such a small act in your mind.

It seems that Yoongi knows you too well though, despite never having done anything like this together before, as his left hand quickly darts up and grabs your wrist causing you to fall still.

You blink down at him and find his dark eyes on you warningly. Your arm twitches upwards and his grip tightens even as his mouth neither moves to detach or do anything more.

Yoongi's eyes square a little; a silent command, and although you don't really listen to anyone usually regardless of circumstance, you nod obediently and relax your arm. Yoongi's gaze relaxes and he directs your hand to your own thigh just so that he can link your fingers together while also allowing him to still keep pressure on your thighs to have them remain open for him.

Really, Yoongi would've loved to take advantage of the fact that you're the first person to seem to like the rougher biting his gums always ache for, but he was determined to give you the best head you'll ever have before his oral fixation kicked in, and now he's reminded of that upon seeing the way you actually submitted to him, even a little.

He decides that you definitely deserve a reward for that alone.

Only a little reluctantly, Yoongi slowly releases his suction and pulls back just enough to allow the sight of the forming bruise to shoot a lick of arousal into his stomach, before he lowers even further to softly trail his tongue up your folds, carefully avoiding your hole and clit not wanting to jump in too fast for you on your first time receiving oral.

A fact that honestly makes him kind of angry; how could no one have offered to go down on you? It's vile and selfish in his mind, and he wants to give you the best experience he possibly can.

You don't make any noise in response, so he doesn't know if you like it, but at the very least, you don't try to remove either of you from the situation, so you're willing to let him continue.

For a few minutes, Yoongi keeps his actions relatively soft everywhere he touches, yet he still doesn't gain much of a response from you. You're breathing a little heavier and he can see that your eyes are closed; you do look like you're enjoying yourself but you're quiet.

If he hadn't heard a moan moments before, he would assume that you're just quiet in general during sex, but he had and he wants more. You sounded so good that he honestly wants to record you to replay back when he's alone with a hand in his pants. Maybe you're just not that into oral.

Not wanting to be a letdown, Yoongi carefully tugs his hand free from your grasp and presses your own palm to your thigh. When he sees your fingers curve a little to hold your thigh, he smiles to himself and presses a finger to your hole lightly; a warning of what's to come. You don't pull away, so he slowly presses in, watching entranced as you swallow him up with no issue.

Feeling you ready to take another, he pulls out and adds another finger alongside the first and watches all the same as soft, wet heat envelops them both happily. Although there isn't much resistance per se due to how wet you are, there's definitely more pressure on his fingers, especially around his second knuckle. He looks up to watch your reaction as he pushes in, in case any sign of discomfort appears.

Your eyebrows furrow the tiniest amount, and your mouth drops open a little wider as a stuttered breath leaves. Your hips push down slightly, shyly almost, and all worry leaves Yoongi. You like it and want more.

So, he gives it to you, pushing his fingers in completely, only slightly faster than his original pace but you immediately react and suck in a breath.

Suddenly, it hits Yoongi that you had reacted so strongly enough to moan when he was being harsh and rough. You like the borderline pain and firmer actions, not the soft gentle touches he has been trying thinking it will be the best move for your first time.

With this revelation, Yoongi attaches his mouth directly to your clit and sucks while pulling his fingers out just to the second knuckle where they're widest and using that girth to stimulate your opening. Immediately, you gasp and moan breathily, tightening your fingers in his hair enough to make him moan around your clit.

The pace Yoongi takes up fucking his fingers into you is fast and just a level below hard considering he isn't left-handed and the angle isn't the easiest to navigate while he's toying endlessly with your clit with his mouth; teeth included making his own body sing with arousal.

He's definitely hard and leaking between the mattress and his stomach.

Yoongi can't believe how worked up he's getting so quickly. Sure, he always loves giving oral, especially if it means he also had his fingers in a wet, warm hole, but he never gets hard from it after already being fucked so well. But you react so well to his rough actions, and you seem to love the intensity of his oral fixation allowing him to really suction and bite as much as he wants.

Honestly, if he couldn't feel you tightening around his fingers and your hips shaking with the effort of keeping still, Yoongi would be certain that he's much more into the activity than you are. But your approaching orgasm is clear, especially with your frequent little moans growing closer together and higher in pitch. Though he does kind of wish you wouldn't control yourself like that, he kind of really most definitely wants you to fuck his face.

Maybe he'll have to ask you to sit on his face one day, and preferably very soon.

"Yoon," you warn with a gasp, eyes flying open to stare down at him, but his eyes are closed and focused, though he does squeeze your thigh a little to show that he heard and understands. You let your eyes close again and your head tips back as the pleasure teeters right on the edge.

One more run of Yoongi's teeth over your swollen clit sends you tumbling over, cursing as the orgasm shoots through your body quickly.

Usually, it'd be over as quick as that, but Yoongi hasn't stopped his movements; if anything, he seems more eager to lap around his fingers and fuck into you. He even curls his fingers up into that spot he's found but not yet focused on, to now zero in on it and apply an almost torturous amount of pleasure that's borderline painful with the orgasm barely even over.

"Oh, fuck," you whine, curling your fingers tight enough into your thigh that your short, blunt nails dig in sharply.

A second orgasm hits out of nowhere, and you gasp deeply, curving your back at the intensity and lose all control of your hips. Yoongi moans deeply as he's forced face-first into your pussy where he happily attaches his mouth to suck yet another bruise harshly.

As soon as you've mostly come down from the second orgasm to the point that you're mentally back on Earth, you tighten your grip in Yoongi's hair to tug him up while he makes a noise of complaint at being pulled away from eating you out, so that you can kiss him heavily, careless of your taste on his tongue and lower face that's glistening with your own arousal.

That at least stops his complaints and he quickly settles into the kiss, lowering down his top half, yet keeping his hips up so that his naked erection doesn't touch you. You realise what he's doing and hook your legs over his hips to tug him down, making him groan deeply as his erection slips against your slick skin.

"Can't believe you got me hard already," he grunts, lowering his head to kiss down your neck. You turn your head to give him better access. and when he starts to suck, you grind your hips up against him. "Fuck," he pants.

"Want you to fuck me," you admit a little breathlessly.

"Seriously?" You nod and whine a little while grinding harder and feeling his hard length rub firmly over your clit. "Shit, okay, condom?" You shake your head making him sigh. "Then-"

"I'm clean and got my tubes tied," you inform, turning your head to him when he pulls back to look down at you.

"Me too; clean and vasectomy," he mumbles in disbelief. Your eyes light up with excitement that reflects in his. "So, we're both free of transmittable diseases and infertile," he summarises.

"Which means you can fill me up and make a mess."

"Fuck."

With no reason to hesitate, or the will to, Yoongi reaches down to grip his erection and line up with your entrance. Your legs drop to the mattress to spread wide and Yoongi pushes in.

"Ah, fuck," you whimper as he pushes in, your eyes fluttering closed and hands gripping his sides.

"You okay?" You nod rapidly. "Doesn't hurt?"

"Feels good."

"Y-yeah," he agrees, lowering his gaze to watch as his cock fills your pussy and leaves his vision, buried snugly in your warmth. "Fuck, feel so good, baby." Your eyes blink open at the petname to look at him in surprise. "What?"

"Baby?"

He's genuinely puzzled for a second, before he recalls that he just called you that without thought and his cheeks warm with embarrassment. "Sorry, didn't realise."

"I'm not opposed, like at all, fucking love petnames," you admit easily, and lift your arms to wrap around his neck loosely while a mischievous glint appears in your eyes.

Before Yoongi can question what exactly that means, you rock your hips, making him suck in a sudden inhale and shudder at the unexpected friction on his cock.

You burst into laughter at his reaction and flop down onto the mattress. "Did you get possessed?"

"Shut up," he huffs while his cheeks burn with embarrassment. "You surprise attacked me."

"Surprise attacked," you cackle, your hands cupping your own cheeks and fingers pressing into where your cheeks bunch the highest.

Yoongi pouts at you, which only makes you giggle; a different kind of laugh, one more adoring for his cute expression, but it still isn't what he wants and he's feeling petty.

Without warning he pulls back his hips, then slams forward, punching a strangled gasp of pleasure from your mouth as your hands fly up to brace against the wooden poles of the ornate headboard. Yoongi smirks at your wide-eyed and open-mouthed expression, then reaches up to brace himself with one hand against the flat of the headboard while his other slides under your lower back until he can wrap his arm around you enough to hold your body still. And then, he wastes no more time and starts almost brutally fucking you.

It's intense and pleasurable in a way you're not used to; of course, you have been fucked hard before, but it was never like this. Not because people haven't tried but they simply can't pull the pleasure from your very soul like Yoongi seems to be doing.

Even if you want to, you wouldn't be able to stop the stream of pleasured sounds from leaving your open mouth, but you don't even want to; don't feel like hiding as you aren't the only one who seems unable to clamp their own vocals. Yoongi is just as loud as you are and it honestly only turns you on even more.

Usually, both you and Yoongi like to talk to your partners; check in and praise them, talk dirty and tease, yet neither of you has it in you to do it. You couldn't even talk if you try, not past the occasional swear or utter of the other's name or a petname.

Yoongi quickly takes up calling you princess and you have to admit, you really fucking like how it sounds from his lips. Others have tried to use the petname with you before but you could never take it seriously and tended to laugh or to fuck off, depending on the situation. Yet with Yoongi, it sends warmth to your chest that trickles into your stomach and lower to add to the quickly-growing impending orgasm.

Yoongi has no idea how he's keeping up the pace; his chest is heaving and his thighs are burning, and he's certain he's so close to getting a cramp in his left ass cheek somehow, but he can't give any mind to it; it's all on you and how fucking good you feel wrapped around his cock.

You keep sporadically squeezing him and he doesn't know if it's a sign of a nearing orgasm or just how you feel pleasure but either way, it feels beyond fucking words and he both never wants it to end and is chasing his orgasm desperately. He wants to fill you up and then watch his cum spill out from your pussy afterwards.

Fuck, maybe you'll even let him fuck it out of you, perhaps in the shower once he has his strength back after a much-needed nap.

When you remove one hand from the headboard and shove it down between your bodies to play with your clit roughly, Yoongi makes certain to keep his movement the same to not ruin your pleasure.

Watching you touch yourself all but shoves him headfirst over the edge and his hips jerk unintentionally as his orgasm hits, spilling cum into you with a few breathless moans of your name. Your breath hitches in response, before you're squeezing him tight, earning more pleasured curses to fall from his mouth as he feels your orgasm in the rhythmic tightening of your walls pulsating around his cock.

Slowly, you both fall still with closed eyes and heavy breathing as you ride out the aftershocks and last dregs of pleasure.

"Jesus fuck," Yoongi's the first to speak some minutes later when he finally has his head screwed on relatively straight and is only panting a little. You laugh at his comment, but it's definitely an agreeing sound.

Jesus fuck indeed.

"I'm not sure who is gonna Pavlov who here," you muse, reaching out to cup his face in both hands. "C'mere."

Yoongi goes willingly, lowering down and wincing a little as he feels his soft dick slipping out, but neither of you comment on it, you’re both too interested in kissing; happy and sated, and kind of lazy, but it's good.

When the kiss breaks, Yoongi clambers off of you and drops down at your side, sinking on his right side comfortably against the pillow and letting his body relax. "I need a nap," he mutters, earning an amused giggle while you turn onto your left side to face him. "Actually no, fuck a nap, need a coma."

"You're ridiculous."

"If you tell me you still have the energy to fuck, you're insane."

"I mean...give me like ten minutes to get a drink and yeah, I probably could."

"Fucking hell, you're going to kill me," he groans, turning his head into the pillow, but the noise isn't exactly one of argument.

"Good way to go though, right?" You grin, and he looks back at you with a chuckle.

"Definitely." He reaches out with a heavy arm to tug on the straps over your stomach. "C'mere, wanna spoon my princess."

"Are you trying to get fucked?" You comment, making him snort out a tired laugh. Instead of going to him, you roll out of bed making him whine and pout in complaint. "I'll be right back, I really do need a drink."

"Hurry," he mumbles, letting his eyes flutter close.

You hobble to the kitchen as quickly as you can so that you can gulp down as much cool water as possible without making yourself sick and then you refill your glass.

You're about to fill a glass for Yoongi too but considering how tired he is, you know he won't sit up even to drink if his mouth is dry. So, you find a bottle with a straw that you hope won't spill if on its side and fill that with cold water instead.

You return to your bedroom and place your glass down before tucking the bottle by Yoongi and guiding the straw into his open mouth. He's pretty much asleep but the touch wakes him, and although he doesn't know what's going on in his sleep-addled mind, when you tell him to drink and tap the straw on his lip, he wraps his lips around it to do as told and gropes around until he finds the bottle to hold steady without opening his eyes.

You take the chance to struggle your way out of the lingerie on your body and toss it aside to deal with later.

By the time you clamber back onto the bed, Yoongi's fallen asleep again, bottle still held and straw to his lips. You giggle amusedly and remove the item, making him snuffle awake again. Once the bottle is beside your glass, you shuffle down with your back to him and pull his arm over your waist.

Yoongi hums happily and shuffles closer until you're pressed together and his face is in your neck. He inhales deeply and tightens his arm around your waist, tucking his hand up by your chest, and that's when he suddenly realises that he can feel nothing but skin against his own. He jolts up a little onto his right elbow and peers blearily down at you. You watch his expression from over your shoulder; you see the fatigue slip away and his tongue wet his lips as he notices that for the first time, you're completely naked.

"You're naked," he mumbles, tracing his left hand over your waist and hip, watching the trail his touch takes. You just hum in confirmation and allow him to touch all the new skin he can see. "Beautiful," he sighs out, and then lowers back down to curl around your back.

You can feel his dick against your ass and it has definitely plumped up a little in the past moments, and, of course, you just have to tilt your hips back to brush your ass against it.

He nips your shoulder in retaliation, earning a giggle from you. "I'm too fucking tired right now, baby."

"I like cock warming." You pout, grinding back against him. "Don't you wanna be all snug as you sleep?"

"You're fucking ridiculous," he huffs, amusement in his tone, before pressing his hips forward against you. "Go on then, you get me hard, you can warm me as much as you want while we sleep."

"What if I can't sleep?" He makes a curious sound. "I usually can sleep no problem with a cock in me but something about you brings out the deviant in me so...what's your stance on somnophilia?"

"The fuck's that?"

"Sleep sex."

"You want to have sex while we sleep?"

"I'd be awake if I can't sleep, dumbass."

"Shut up, m'tired." He bites your shoulder a little harder this time, but that just makes you curve into him and press your ass harder against his gradually hardening dick. "Fuckin-" He inhales and purposely moves his mouth away from your skin so that he won't give in to temptation again; he's pretty sure if he does bite you again, you'll definitely wind up going for another intense round and he's certain he cannot physically handle that until he wakes up again. He's never been so exhausted from sex alone.

"So?" You prompt when he stays quiet behind you. "I'm personally into it either way."

"Mm, I dunno, just go to sleep for now, baby."

"Okay, Yoonie," you agree and pull your hips away from him, giving his dick space to breathe and soften without your touch. Yoongi hums appreciatively and curls his arm back around your waist, though makes sure to keep his hand away from your chest; he knows that if he feels your breasts he will not be able to get to sleep until he has sufficiently played with them.

When you're almost asleep, Yoongi speaks up in a low rough tone, close to sleep himself. "If you wake up and I'm hard, do what you want."

"Yeah?"

"Mm, just try not to wake me."

"Okay.” You smile to yourself and snuggle in close, smiling a little more at the kiss that gets pressed to your head.

To your absolute joy, when you wake a little under an hour later, you and Yoongi are pressed so close together that his dick has hardened in his sleep.

You grin to yourself, and although you're barely awake, you know what you want. So, you painstakingly move into a better position so that when you reach behind yourself and carefully hold Yoongi's erection, you can guide it into yourself, making you sigh in happiness. You really do like being full.

You peer over your shoulder to make sure you haven't woken Yoongi, then shuffle again, sliding further onto his length until you're pressed tight up against him. You watch Yoongi's face contort and little huffs of breath escape his lips from the pleasure, but he doesn't wake, so you settle back down and are soon back asleep.

You aren't surprised to have a sex dream, though you are surprised by just how vivid it is. You've had similar kinds of dreams before where you're actively seeking pleasure in a lucid-dreaming kind of way, but you usually wake up before achieving your orgasm goal. But this time, you wake up with the force of the dream orgasm that turns out to be real.

"Fuck," Yoongi curses roughly behind you, one hand on your hip as he rocks into you.

"Yoonie?" You mumble sleepily while looking over at him, cheeks warm with the pleasure but eyes barely open.

"Hi princess," he greets with a smile tilting towards a smirk. You whine and push back against him. "You want more?" He asks, his own cheeks slightly pinkened from fucking you as you slept without moving your position to not wake you.

You nod and reach down to move his left hand from your hip and place it on your sternum instead.

"Alright, whatever my princess wants," he agrees, leaning forward to press a kiss to your jaw while moving his hand to cup your left breast. "Didn't know your tits are so big," he comments lowly as he returns to rocking into you slow and deep. "Hide 'em so well."

"H-have to, get looks oth-" Yoongi hits a real good spot with that thrust, making you cut off with a whine as your eyes roll back. "Yoon," you plead.

"Alright, fuck." He shuffles closer and lays his palm flat on the top of your chest to hold you back against him before rabbiting into you while barely pulling out, meaning he keeps hitting that same spot rapidly making you whine and writhe and gasp out his name. "Good girl."

The tingle in his teeth returns as he stares at the mostly faded teeth marks on your shoulder from before sleep. He knows those marks will be soon gone with no evidence, no bruise left behind and that doesn't sit well with him.

Yoongi leans down to attach his mouth harshly over the same spot. You jerk in response, and automatically his hand lifts to restrain you and wrap around your throat. You instantly fall still as your walls squeeze him tight.

Yoongi gasps against your shoulder and removes his hand, but you whine in serious complaint, locking your grasp on his arm. "Are you sure?" He asks as you lead his hand back to your throat. You nod madly. "Words, please, baby, I need verbal confirmation to do this. It's dangerous and-"

"Yes, yes, I want it, choke me, Yoongi, please," you plead, turning your head just enough that your wet gaze meets his and he can see the truth and desperation in your eyes. "Please?"

"Fuck, okay, kick me if it's too much or you need a break or change your mind or-"

"I won't." You sound so certain that Yoongi can only nod and curl his fingers to show that he's more than willing. There's practically no pressure to his touch yet you still gasp and slump against the pillow as your eyes flutter shut.

Yoongi licks his lips and takes a second to compose himself, before he applies a little pressure. Your mouth opens in a silent gasp but otherwise, you're practically boneless on the mattress, entirely trusting your vulnerability to him; submitting to him in a way nobody ever has before.

Yoongi growls a little and doesn't even have it in him to question himself there, before he returns to fucking you; rougher than before with longer strokes, yet still successfully pulling moans from your parted lips.

He waits a little before squeezing harder, hard enough to make breathing hard for you, but you fucking love it, clamping down tight on his cock and making no attempt to free yourself.

Yoongi's cock throbs and as much as he wants to keep going he knows he can't and removes the pressure to allow you to suck in some ragged breaths.

He takes the chance to readjust his position so that he can once again mouth at your skin and work on another mark, slowing his hips enough that he doesn't jostle your body as much. But that makes you whine in complaint.

If you can whine, you have enough breath is Yoongi's thought, and then he's constricting your airflow again and angling his hips to try and find that spot inside you again. When he finds it, you choke so he releases his pressure and focuses on once again battering that spot with short quick thrusts that make you moan endlessly through heaving for breath.

With his hand resting on your throat, your walls dripping and tight as hell around his cock, and his mouth suctioned to the crook of your neck, Yoongi is so fucking close to an orgasm. You're so fucking tight around him, tight like pre-orgasm tight, but he has no idea if you can orgasm without clitoral stimulation. He's vaguely concerned that he will cum while you suffer without your clit being touched, but he himself physically can't and you're too far gone to seem to register that it's something you can actually do.

Too close and desperate to stop, Yoongi decides he can make you cum once he has himself and once again tightens his hold on your throat. To his surprise, your back immediately curves and your pussy spasms around him as wetness suddenly increases, and he's hit with the possible fact that you just squirted with your orgasm.

Yoongi's orgasm hits him like a truck. He doesn't mean to bite down harder and doesn't even register the metallic taste on his tongue until the post-orgasm fuzz leaves his brain. He gasps in shocked horror and leans back, glad that he had moved his hand from your throat and not also choked you out in a non-sexy way in his mindlessness.

The bite mark is pretty vicious looking; bruised deeply from his sucking and ringed by tooth-shaped indents, all of which are bleeding a little. Luckily, none are particularly deep but still, he's horrified; partly by what he's done, and partly at the fact the sight sends arousal flitting teasingly through his body.

"Yoonie?" Your soft voice snaps him back to reality to find you blinking concernedly at him over your shoulder. "It's okay," you assure, reaching your left hand back to lay on his thigh and rub soothingly. "Really, don't look so scared, I'm not mad."

"I fucking bit you!" He squeaks. "You're bleeding!"

"Yes, I see," you muse, gaze dropping to his lips pointedly. He quickly rubs his hand over his mouth roughly to remove the blood. "I'm not new to bleeding during sex."

He opens his mouth to respond, once again planning to berate himself, but then he registers your words and blinks dumbly at you. "What?"

"I have experimented a lot, Yoon and not always with the best people to try potentially dangerous things with."

He sighs your name out worriedly. "Please don't tell me you've let someone hold a knife to your skin during sex. I know you joked about it before but I seriously thought it was just a joke."

"I haven't," you assure before grinning a little awkwardly. "Yet."

"I'm not letting you do knife play with some asshole, don't be ridiculous."

"You're not an asshole."

He blinks at you a few times. "Me?" You hum in confirmation. "You want me to put a knife to your skin?"

"I want to try it and you're the only person I trust like that." You shrug and turn your head back away, both because the angle is hurting your neck, and because you suddenly feel honestly kind of like a freak for even suggesting it. Knife play is no joke and something most people don't even know exists, and even fewer actually think is a good idea. "I'll forget about it, you seem scared enough just biting me hard enough to draw blood, it was stupid to suggest."

"Wait, wait, wait," he huffs, and shuffles backwards to create the space to turn you onto your back so that you can look at one another. "I don't want you to feel bad, that's not a look I see on you, stop it."

"It was stupid to suggest though." You frown. "I'm sorry-"

"No, stop, it-" He takes a breath, and then drops down onto his back beside you as he only then realises how much his right shoulder hurts. He reaches up to rub it, only for you to roll over and bat his hand away so that you can massage it yourself.

Yoongi watches your concentration for a few minutes with a fond smile, before he reaches out to tilt your face to him and leans up to gently kiss you. You hum, surprised but very pleased and kiss him back, leaning forward so that he can lower back onto the pillow and not hurt his neck.

When you pull apart, he keeps his hand on your cheek and strokes his thumb over your skin softly. "I was scared that I hurt you; I didn't mean to and it scared me how easily I could accidentally do serious damage if I'm not careful." You make a noise of understanding. "But I was also scared that I liked it." Your eyebrows lift in genuine surprise. "I saw what I had done and I fucking- I liked it, like it turned me on a little."

"Really?" He nods. Despite the conversation, the way your eyes light up with joy and excitement makes him chuckle fondly. "So would you consider knife play?"

"I... I think I can consider it, yeah," he confirms, earning a bright smile, followed by a very thorough kiss.

You can't say for sure what your future relationship with Yoongi holds, but you're real fucking excited to find out.

[does-it-introject]

... is an account dedicated to introjects, fictives, factives, faitives, songtives, ... tives!

Here's the basic idea: Each post includes a source and a poll; if your system has someone from the source you go 'YES', if not you go 'NO'. If you're not plural you go 'RESULTS'.

Why? Because I think this is fun. Don't take it serious! Don't think too hard about it! You can even use it to find source mates if you want? All up to you!

"Oh but [NAME] what counts as "from the source"?" "Do fictionkin count?" "Does ... count?" YES. Everything counts, if you want. Don't think! Just press little buttons and clarify or don't clarify in your reblog if you want! I'm not gonna limit your button pressing experience!

Is there a DNI? No! It's a poll account. Who cares about who interacts. Just don't go around being an asshole and we're fine!

Requests are always open! Unless they're closed!

Yes, the profile is the fictive flag, but this account is for all of you tiny beings; I just really love this flag so... yea man!

Curious about the Queue: Check This Out!!!

Small, growing QNA below the cut!!

"Can you add a button for 'unsure' / 'used to' / 'maybe' / 'not interacted with source'?" - I appreciate the questions, but I'd prefer to keep the polls limited to these options! I get the frustration though. Just click whichever option feels right to you, and if neither feels right you can always click 'RESULTS'.

"How many requests can we send it?" - Go crazy! Go wild! Send 100 requests in one ask or 100 requests in 100 single asks! I don't mind either way!

"Are there any requesting rules?" - My only condition is: do NOT expect me to know what "TIAEOWNTDLOL" means as an acronym. Write the full name, I beg of you, my oh so dear requester. I had to delete three asks because I had no idea what the letters meant. Extra Note: I give you a cookie if you write (game / show / band) in your request.

"Are there any forbidden sources?" - No, where's the fun in that? Request whichever! Also, yes, factive sources are absolutely welcome and appreciated here as well! Adult sources are okay as well, but will be tagged accordingly to keep the younger people safe!

"Do you respond to asks?" *- Not directly no! It's easier for me to keep track of which requests I have done and which not. Usually theres multiple folks sending in the same questions, so they'll be answer here; so make sure to check this regularly! It would also just spam my account if I answered every single one whoops!

"Can I request a source you already made a poll about?" - Yes, if the original poll is atleast a month old! I will let it rerun if people want it!

"Can singlet fictionkin / IRLs / ... vote in the polls?" - Sure, if you want! You guys are just as cool as everyone else so go ahead and press that little button!

"Can you post more polls a day?" - People keep asking this, actually! So: I upped it, from 2 to 4. Please be patient with your requests! I do not want to spam the tags with polls that not everyone might want to see. 4 is the maximum posts a day. Okay? Yea!

"Can you please update queue?" - I try my best to update it every weekend! I barely have time during the week and I get atleast 30 requests a day so it's hard to keep track of everything! I'm working on a new way to keep track of queue though so please be patient! If you're unsure if your request has sent, feel free to send it again, and again and again! I'm bound to see it at some point!

[yurislotusgarden]

Unplanned makeup

ʚїɞ Nakahara Chuuya x Gn!Reader

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ word count: 333

ʚїɞ Tw’s: nothing

ʚїɞ This was meant for his bday... In short, school is fucking me over, I forgot this was in my drafts and now idk how to end this🤷‍♀️

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

“Chuu, stop moving.”

“I'm not moving.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Proof?”

“Your face.”

Chuuya was, quite honestly, having the time of his life the whole day. From breakfast in bed (that was delicious and he made sure to voice it out), the small surprise from the few people he could call friends, and a little date with you that led to the present moment.

You somehow got him to agree (it wasn't as bad as you first thought because he's a simp) to let you put some makeup on his face, which you started on eagerly soon after. However, he decided that he wanted to be a little bit of a menace which resulted in him moving slightly, or doing little things that made the whole process take longer than necessary. (He just wants you to stay on his lap longer)

Opening his eyes way too often when you were putting on eyeshadow, he refused for the longest time to let the mascara anywhere near his eye, or tilting his face wrong which resulted in your hand on his jaw (exactly what he wanted).

“What’s wrong with my face?” He asked, confused since he thought everything was alright as he hadn’t seen himself in a mirror yet.

“It's a mess because you don't let me do things correctly.” You sighed softly as you applied a small amount of blush to his cheekbones.

“It tickles, that's why I move.” That was a lie and you both knew it.

“You barely flinch at the rare time you get stabbed, the hell do you mean that you move away because it tickles?” You teased lightly as you looked over the lipstick options beside the two of you.

“You wouldn't understand, doll.” He had to shut up with those pet names if he didn't want you to kiss him right there and then.

“Of course I wouldn't, I never got stabbed, love.”

“You better.”

“Yes yes, now shut your pretty mouth up and let me put this on.”

Notes, comments, reblogs and anything else is greatly appreciated

[adventuringblind]

If you’re still taking requests, can you please write a wolff!reader x charles leclerc fic? And they’re secretly engaged and in love and toto finds out and he doesn’t want them together and tries to break them up. Maybe they break up for toto and then he sees how sad they are w/o each other and how happy they were together? Angst to fluff and happy ending please 😭💕💕 Tysmmm i love your work sm

Romeo and Juliet

Charles Leclerc X Wolff!Reader

Genre: ANGST lots of it but a happy fluffy ending

Request: yes, and forbidden love? Yes please! Sorry if this is darker then you were thinking… I got a little carried away 😅. I am open for requests! Mainly for Max, Charles, Oscar, Lando, Daniel, and George.

Summary: Reader and Charles are in love. Unfortunately for them, Toto is determined to keep them apart.

Warnings: Angry Toto, sad reader, Charles trying to problem solve. MENTIONS OF SH but not description of it, MENTIONS OF SUICIDAL IDEATION but again nothing descriptive, bullying and toxic media.

Notes: written in third person. Please like, comment, and reblog. I like to hear from y'all. It makes me feel like a celebrity 🥹.

Also, I've sent up my account to let tips be enabled. I was debating whether or not to say this because i dont want to sound like im begging, but frankly, people opinions do not matter me me. If you like my writing and want to support me, please consider tipping my posts or my blog. I put a lot of effort into my writing, and it would mean the world to me. Obviously, I won't have my feelings hurt if you ignor this, but I wanted to put it out there.

Masterlist

She’d never been quite sure how it happened. How she managed to find her soulmate. The two are meant for each other. The only downside is that she is living a Romeo and Juliet parody.

Being a Wolff meant spending majority of her time around the race track or at the factory. From the time she was little, she was following her dad around.

Toto never had any hard and fast rules regarding being friends with people from other teams. He couldn’t stop her from being friends with those she spent majority of her time around. He did, however, have rules about dating. Mainly not to date a driver and if she was then he would allow a Mercedes driver.

So her options were Lewis and George. She liked both, but not in any romantic way. They are her brothers. She annoys them and them tease her and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Her and Charles had been friends since he first started with AlfaRomeo. The two clicked instantly and talked constantly. She was the first person he looked for after a good race or a bad one. He was her everything and she was his.

Four years later they started dating. Secretly, of course, because she didn’t want her dad smashing anymore headphones. They made it work and were willing to do what it took.

It helped that she already lived in Monaco since that’s where majority of her friends lived. It made sense why they would ‘run into each other’ so often since they live in a small place.

George found out by accident right before a race. He’d found her phone in the ground. It had fallen out of her pocket and she’d not noticed. When she had noted it’s disappearance, she tried to locate it by calling it with Charles phone.

George took one look at the caller ID and knew. The less then friendly contact name, mix of heart emoji’s, and Charles contact photo gave it away. He answered anyways. If Charles knew where she was then at least he could give her phone back.

“Hello, this is George.” He only got silence in return. “Hello…?”

“Please tell me you didn’t see the called name.” Came her voice from the other end. The desperation in your voice making him chuckle. He was never going to let her live this down.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Now can you please come get your phone.”

The two lovebirds were able to make more things work after. Being able to have George cover form them helped immensely. Dates became more frequent. Places they wouldn’t normally go were suddenly a possibility.

Lewis caught on eventually. He saw right past the sheepish smiles of George and Y/N. While she was sneaking back in the garage through George’s driver room.

Between George and Lewis the teasing only escalated, but the two of them were the best possible wingmen she could have asked for. They managed to distract her father away when she was cutting things close.

It didn’t last forever though. The ending of Romeo and Juliet isn’t a happy one.

Someone had managed to take a picture of them kissing. It was a cute picture. Charles kissing her on what was supposed to be a private beach during the sunset. A picture that she woke up to circling the medial faster that the cars on race day.

Charles woke up to her rapid breathing. Her phone lighting up the dark room with constant notifications. Charles wrapped his arms around her. “It’s alright amour. We’ll figure this out on day at a time.

Things were weird after that. She clung to Charles as she was ripped to shred by the media, the fans, and her father.

She was being called a traitor to her fathers team. Her father had labeled her disrespectful. It was an utter nightmare.

The two Mercedes boys stood protectively behind her. Toto’s voice getting louder by the second. She was still sitting in the chair opposite his. Her eyes downcast to the lightly colored desk.

“I don’t understand why you chose him. A rival team! How do I know your not telling him everything about our operations?” Toto’s voice was laced with venom. This arms waving around to exaggerate his point.

“Because I love him. And I would never do that to you.” She wanted to stay strong, but the tears were threatening to spill over.

“I don’t want to see you back here until you two are broken up.” He turned his back to her.

She quickly exited, George following close behind her. Lewis remained in the office.

“I think you’re being too hard on her.” Lewis pointed out. Still leaning in the wall close to the door. His arms crossed over his chest, staring at the team principal he holds immense respect for.

“Aren’t you concerned at all?”

“No, she loves her family to much to do anything like that.” Then he left. Finding the girl he considered his sister clinging to George’s shirt.

Both of them had seen the comments. Both had been asked about it during interviews. Both had told their fans to leave her alone. It hurt both of them to see how people were treating her. The names they felt no remorse for spewing. It made them sick.

Charles’ fans were not any better. He hated seeing them tell her nasty things. Spreading rumors they knew nothing about.

He’d tried reassuring her constantly that she is his everything, but he knew she was losing her family. The last thing he wanted to happen. He wanted to protect her from this. Guilt wracking his body because he felt powerless to do anything.

When he found her that day, sobs wracking her body as she went to find him, he knew how he could help her. The last option either of them wanted.

“I love you so much.” He said, cupping her cheek gently, letting the tears roll down his cheeks and attempting to wipe away hers. “But I don’t want you to lose your family because of me.”

Charles called George that day to tell him want he was going to do. George having understood his actions and promised to be there for her. So when the broken girl showed up at his house that night, eyes red and puffy, he’d already been ready for her. Carmen making sure that she had extra clothes for her in case she ended up staying awhile.

Charles’ next stop was to see Toto. The older man hardly sparing him a glance as he walked into the office. “I’m sorry for any inconvenience I may have caused you.” He started. Toto still faced the wall, refusing to look at him. Something Charles was grateful for. “Me and your daughter have parted ways. So, I’ll hope you’ll allow her to stay with her family. Neither of us wanted things to happen this way. But I’d rather lose her then watch her lose everything she’s grown up with and worked for.”

Charles waited a moment to see if he’d get a response before turning around and ducking out of the office.

He stayed with Pierre that night. Broken and defeated. His heart heavy with the sadness and longing to be with the woman he loved so dearly.

The media didn’t stop though. The news around them still trending. People still feeling the need to voice their disgusting comments.

Toto had tried to connect with his daughter, but received no response. In fact, nobody had. She hadn’t been to a race in months. Both George and Lewis had tried calling and texting her only to receive nothing in return. She hadn’t even read their messages.

Charles was hurting as well. He didn’t want to cause her anymore pain. So he distanced himself from everything that related to her. Carlos and Pierre had been watching his behavior. His head clearly not in a good place mentally. They were running out of ideas in how to help him.

Lewis was the one who caved first. He’d given her enough space, now it was time to invade it. He dragged George with him to her apartment in Monaco one morning. Determined to see proof that she was at least breathing.

When they got no answer, they searched for the spare key. The one she hid in the light above her front door. Relief flooding them both as George managed to locate it.

When they finally got the door open, they were greeted with the dark apartment. It looked like no one lived there. The fridge was empty and the cupboards almost mirrored it, aside from the open box of your favorite cereal.

There was broken glass along the counters and floor. Pictures had been taken off the walls. A few empty bottles of alcohol lay strewn along flat surfaces.

The woman they’d been looking for was wrapped in a blanket on the couch. Her chest slowly rising and falling.

George went to gently try and pull her from her sleep without scaring her.

Lewis on the other hand, went to investigate the rest of the rooms. Terrified at what he’d discovered.

He lightly jogged back to George, who didn’t want to pull her from her peaceful slumber, and tapped his shoulder. Motioning for the younger Brit to follow him.

Their first stop was the bedroom. Everything that reminded her of Charles had been stripped away. leaving only the mattress in the center of the room. The long mirror hanging next to the closet had been shattered. The glass that had fallen out of it scattered around the base word they’d seen people calling her written in thick black marker now divided by cracks.

Next, Lewis led them to the bathroom. The sight of it making George want to vomit. The bathroom mirror had also been cracked. Towels stained red line the countertop. Pills litter the bathroom floor. And the knife she’d been gifted by her father for her 18th birthday lay on the edge of the sink. 

Who is obviously what had happened here recently.

George who was struggling to look at the scene went back to trying to coax the woman, his sister, out of her slumber. Lewis making an attempt to at lease get the area safe. Their hearts hurt for her. They knew she was hurting but neither knew it had gotten so bad.

Charles was her soulmate. Both her and Charles knew it. They had envisioned their life together. A life that she saw every time she closed her eyes.

She tried to separate herself from his memory. Tried to distract herself. But she couldn’t get her mind away from him. How he made her smile. How he listened even to the pettiest things she complained about. She wanted that back.

If her family didn’t want her for it and Charles couldn’t stand to see her hurting, then she would get back there on her own.

If their story was like Romeo and Juliet’s, why shouldn’t it end in tragedy as well?

But their story keeps going. Because they are meant for each other. So they will find away even if they don’t know it yet.

The gentle touches of Charles ghosted over her bare arms. Her mind trying to hold into the feeling even if he wasn’t here.

She cracked her eyes open to the dark room. Her body revolting as she tries to sit up. Her dehydration finally getting to her. Her head pounding from last night events.

She’s had a few episodes like this and knows she needs to get help. She doesn’t know where to start though.

She hadn’t really eaten much the last sixth months. Even food reminded her of him. How was she ever going to move in at this rate?

Then she noticed the sounds of breathing beside her. The familiar face of George greeting her, though his eyes are sad.

She immediately sits up. The horrible scene that is her apartment now clearly seen by one of the last people she wanted to know she’d sunk this far.

“George?” Her voice merely a quiet rasp.

“It’s okay now, we’re gonna help you. Okay?” His voice cracked. The male is clear distress.

Lewis came around the corner upon hearing voices. Relieved that she’d woken up. “I think we need to talk.”

~

Charles hadn’t been staying at his apartment. He knew he wasn’t in a good place mentally, so he went back home. His mother welcomed him with open arms, sad to hear the news of the two splitting.

He’d talked to Lewis and George about her during race weekends. Their lack of knowledge causing his concern to grow more with each passing week.

He’d tried for sixth months to force himself to move on but he knew it was in vain. She was made for him and he belonged to her. How was he supposed to move on from that?

Pascale had struggled watching her middle child. He struggled to eat, struggled to sleep, to the point it was affecting his performance.

“You should talk to her.” She suggested.

“I’ll only hurt her more.”

“I’ve been looking in social media for her. The things people are saying is terrible.” She sighs, the situation itself only getting worse. “She needs you.”

~

Toto knew he messed up. As soon as he’d made her choose, he knew. Only to have it confirmed when he heard the waver in Charles voice. When he didn’t see his daughter for moths. As he watched Charles performance fall.

He’d tried to contact her. Susie had encouraged him to call her the night everything happened. He’d received no response for sixth months. He’d asked Lewis about her only to be met with his sigh and sad eyes.

It’s like she disappeared from the planet. Everyone worried about her. But they collectively decided that maybe she needed space.

He knew she and Charles were happy together. He’d seen how big her smile was when she was with him. Even when he thought they were just friends. The two of them had been contagiously happy.

~

The next race came around quickly. At least for Charles that’s how it felt as he strode to the Mercedes paddock.

He spotted Lewis and George and weaved his way towards them. Everyone trying to get one roared for the weekend. Exactly what he should be doing.

“Charles! Listen mate-“ George had started. But Charles cut him off with the urgent need to speak with Toto before he could get in his head. “I need Toto. I need to see her again.” He was ready to break.

“He’s in his office.”

Charles didn’t waist any time making his way there. The older man a bit startled at the sudden appearance. “I love your daughter. I am begging you to not make her choose.” He was pleading but he didn’t care.

“I’m sorry.” Toto looked pained. Charles is taken off guard by it. His reaction the last thing the monegasque was expecting. “I should have never made her choose. She was happy with you. So when you go get her back, tell her I’m sorry and that I want her to come home.”

Charles fumbled around with his words. Gesturing wildly with his hands but for some reason his voice was stuck in his throat. Eventually he just nodded his head, attempting to get across his thanks.

Lewis and George were still talking. So he did the only logical thing and tackled then both in a hug. “I need to know where she is. He’s not going to make her choose.” The smile on his face so big it might fall off. “Please tell me where she’s been staying.”

Lewis and George shared a look. One that didn’t go unnoticed. “We need to talk.”

~

They’d told him about her state. About what she’d been going through. How they found her that morning, alone and so far into her head they didn’t know if she was going to come out.

His heart shattered listening to them. The two were connected deeper then anything he could’ve imagined. He’s upset that he didn’t get the courage to fight for her sooner.

She’d been spending her time since they found her with either if the boys. Neither wanted to leave her alone after that. So they made sure she wasn’t alone after that.

Her apartment was still mildly wrecked but they weren’t worried about it. They just wanted to get her out of her head.

Now he had a chance. They had brought her with them. She didn’t want to come to the track so she was back at the hotel. Tucked away from the world.

Now Charles was speeding to her location. Lewis’ key card in hand. Determination filling his veins. He needed to see her, desperately. His heart ached the last six months. He didn’t want to never see her again. Charles loved her with his entire being.

The trip was a blur for him. Not even realizing he was at the door until he had no more steps left to take.

He decided to knock first. He wanted to be respectful. He’d use the key as his last resort.

He got nervous when the handle turned. What was he going to say? He didn’t have time to think about it as the door swung open. Revealing the love of his life. Still as beautiful as when he last saw her. Though his heart dropped at the sight.

Bags under eyes, her body smaller then he remembered. Then there was the white bandages running up her arms. She was wearing a tank top and sweats, obviously not expecting him to show up.

They stared at each other for a moment. Then the tears started. She was in his arms in a second. Clutching him like he would disappear if she let go.

He breathed her in. “I’m here, I got you, and I’m never letting you go again.”

[rabbidbunwy]

BABY.MY...BABIES?

Synopsis:Geto with is baby daughter

Contents:Geto x Anon! reader-cute-fluff-

i'm no english native so sorry for some mistakes

please reblog 🔁 and like❤️

P.s: i will stransfer here my writing since my other account its filled with fandom stuff lol

@muzansslxt @candy69gurl @kiwicopia @satorkive

: ・ෆ・┈・┈・ᕱ⑅ᕱ・┈・┈・ෆ・ :: ・ෆ・┈・┈・ᕱ⑅ᕱ・┈・┈・

Suguru looked down at his daughter in his arms, her tiny hand wrapped around his finger. The baby looked up at him with the same eyes he had, and he couldn’t help but smile gently. Rukia was only six months old, but she meant the world to him.

“She’s awake again” someone said, and Suguru looked up to see you standing there.

“Sorry, did she wake you?” He asked. You shook your head, a smile on your face. “No, I couldn’t sleep. How’s she doing?”

Suguru chuckled. “She’s doing perfect. Couldn’t be better.” As if to prove his point, Rukia made a soft noise and squeezed his finger. He gently traced his thumb over her soft cheek.

Suguru looked at you as he spoke. Even though you’d given birth to her almost six months ago, it still took a lot out of you. He couldn’t even imagine how exhausting it was.

“You should rest.” He carefully shifted Rukia to one arm and grabbed your pillows, placing them behind you. “Lay back down.”

You protested, insisting that you were awake now and you wanted to see her, but Suguru wouldn’t have it. He was as stubborn as a mule, and you could tell by the determination in his eyes that he wouldn’t fold.

“Love, please. Just lay down. You need to rest.”

You finally gave in with a sigh, laying back down in bed. You watched him as he sat on the edge, cradling Rukia in his arms and gently rocking her. She cooed and made soft noises, clearly enjoying the attention from her father.

Suguru smiled at her, the same gentle smile he gave you. “There’s my sweet baby girl.”

He looked up at you. “She gets that from you, y’know” he said quietly. “The way she knows she’s going to get what she wants no matter what.”

He chuckled, holding Rukia close. “You used to give me the same look when you wanted me to do something.”

"Like wanting your dick in that time during the fireworks festival?" you grinned teasing

Suguru’s cheeks went red. “Don’t say that in front of her” he chided, gently covering Rukia’s ears. His hand was big enough to cover her entire head, and it was almost comical how tiny she looked in his arms.

He glared at you, though his eyes were still fond. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” "well if it wasn't for that now Rukia wouldn't be here" you cooed. Suguru’s face was still flushed pink. Even after all this time, he still sometimes got embarrassed when you teased him.

“Y-Yes, well… I know that.” He said with a small pout. But he couldn’t help it, that night was a very fond memory to him. He wouldn’t change it for the world.

He gently kissed the top of Rukia’s head, smiling. The baby girl yawned, letting out a soft baby noise with her big eyes drifting closed. Suguru slowly laid her back in the bassinet next to your bed.

“Looks like it’s about time for her to go back to sleep” he said quietly. He sat back down on the edge of the bed, taking your hand in his. His thumb rubbed over your knuckles.

He moved closer, shifting to lean on his side and rest his head on his hand. His free hand moved to caress your cheek, his thumb gently brushing over your skin.

“You know, six months ago…” he paused, swallowing hard. “When I found out you were pregnant, I honestly had no idea how to react.”

“Never in a million years did I think I was going to be a dad. And now…”

He trailed off again, his eyes shifting to the bassinet next to the bed. Rukia was fast asleep, her tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. Suguru’s face softened.

“And now I can’t imagine my life without her.” "Just wait when her sibling comes" you revelead cooing

Suguru’s eyes widened, his head snapping back to look at you in surprise. “Sibling?” He repeated. He thought for a moment, a smirk slowly spreading across his face. “Are you telling me you’re pregnant again?” you nodded “Already?” He reached out and placed a hand on your stomach. “I mean, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised with how much we… yknow” he chuckled.

He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your stomach, as if to greet the baby who wasn’t even there yet. He looked back up at you with a smirk. “I guess I need to be more careful when you’re not on the pill, huh?”

You smacked his arm lightly, blushing a little at his words. Even after years together, he could still make you flustered with ease.

Suguru chuckled. “I’m just saying, I knew there was gonna be consequences to our… activities.”

He snickered lightly, still gently rubbing your stomach. “I never thought in a million years I’d have children. And yet here I am, with a gorgeous wife, a beautiful daughter, and another one on the way.”

He leaned back up and shifted closer to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, placing a gentle kiss on the skin there.

“I love you” he murmured, his hands running over your back. "love u too" you cooed snuggling closer to him.

Suguru held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you. He inhaled, breathing in your scent. It was one of his favorite things to do, and sometimes he still couldn’t believe that he finally had you.

He had everything he never thought he’d have. A loving family, a home, a purpose. Even though he was still doing things that weren’t exactly good, he felt a sense of fulfillment now.

And that was all thanks to you.

: ・ෆ・┈・┈・ᕱ⑅ᕱ・┈・┈・ෆ・ :

© rabbidbunwy all rights reserved. do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my work without my permission. thank you for reading and supporting my work

[bleep-bloop-boo]

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hihihihihihhihihi WELCOME TO MY VERY AMAZING AND TOTALY NOT CHAOTIC MESS OF A BLOG :DD IM PRETTY FRIENDLY, COME SAY HI!!! OPEN TO ALL appropriate ASKS AND DMS!!! This is a big mess of all my interests hehe Reblog heavyyy i love making friends so plss flood my DMs, i love meeting ppl (i will act weird tho, this is a warning) esp to give me recs for books/shows/media in general I thrive on chaos. PLEASE GIVE ME RANDOM ASKS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEEE spam me MY DMS ARE ALWAYS OPEN IF ANYONE WANTS TO VENT!!! (i may not be the best at comforting but I can listen <33)

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Matching banners with @gay--gh0st THEYRE SO TALENTEDD, THEY DREW ITT go follow em, right now, they're awesome :DD Also, I did not draw my own pfp unfortunately :(( It was my irl friend who's tumblr I do not know....... yet >:)

MY OTHER ACCOUNTS:

@that-dam-heartstopper-fan convinced me to make a pjo rp account! if i followed a rp account, its meant to be from @delilah-isnt-dead-yett

follow @evilforestcult for my chaotic ADHD with @fairyycoffin godly mysteries AND @i-eat-so-much-grass gremlin vibes

i also have a Mitchell blog (from pjo)!! its for a rp group with me, @that-dam-heartstopper-fan and @boba-pearl. GO FOLLOW @the-forgotten-son-of-aphrodite

𖦹‧☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ ⋆｡𖦹°‧ ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧ ★‧°𖦹｡⋆☆ ‧°𖦹｡⋆ ★‧°𖦹｡⋆☆‧𖦹

☁︎ You can call me Honey! Or any other nicknames! I LOVE NAMES THAT MAKE NO SENSE <333 (@graysonhawthorneswife has declared its Honey Honeyington) ☁︎ Pronouns: she/her ☁︎ Age: I'm a minor (no being weird okay?) and heading to 10th grade! ☁︎ Time Zone: PST (im a california gurl, yes, i am ✨magical✨)

🎧★ 𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𖤣𓋼 MUSIC 𓋼𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼 ★ 🎧

✰ CAVETOWN <33 ✰ PENELOPE SCOTT ✰ MADILYN MEI ✰ Taylor Swiftt hehe ✰ Olivia Rodrigo ✰ musical soundtracks 𖦹 SIX the musical 𖦹 hamilton 𖦹 HEATHERS <333 𖦹 the lightning thief 𖦹 EPIC the musical GIMME RECS FOR GOOD ROCK/INDIE MUSIC TO LISTEN TO PLEASEEEE, LIKE FLOOD MY INBOX WITH SONGS

★ 𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𖤣𓋼 FANDOMS 𓋼𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼 ★

✰ Percy Jackson (Books) ✰ School Bus Graveyard (Webtoon) ✰ Owl House (Show) ✰ Your Turn to Die (Video Game) ✰ Gravity Falls (Show) ✰ Avatar the Last Airbender (Show) ✰ Hunger Games (Books) ✰ Miraculous Ladybug (Show) ✰ Homesick (Webtoon) ✰ Doki-Doki Literature Club (Video Game) ✰Jackson's Diary (Webtoon) IF YOU KNOW/LIKE ANY OF THEM SCREAM AT ME PLEASE, ILL SCREAM BACK PROLLY!!! WE CAN BE A BUNCH OF SQUAWKING CROWS TOGETHER!!!

★ 𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𖥧 MORE ABOUT ME :DD 𖥧 𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼 ★

I'm an ENFP (mbti nerd hehe)

Hufflepuff <33

Can't spell... Good luck figuring out what im saying!

very deranged when prompted

MENTAL HEALTH ADVOCATE (abelists, pls DNI)

GIANT ALLY (homophobes/transphobes, pls DNI)

Hyperactive and very random! (lemme know if you're overwhelmed by that sorta stuff, ill try to tone it down :) )

Chatterbox! Love talking, just can't start conversations! DM or send me asks though!

very very curious, love talking to ppl about studies and fun facts

Character my friends associate me with and I relate to the most: Luz Noceda from the Owl House

My vibes are all over the place- (im emo, cutesy, and chaotic)

I MISS TONS OF SOCIAL CUESS!!! I'm trying to work on it but if i ever overstep my boundaries or make you uncomfy, pleasee let me know <33 im just a bit oblivious sometimes

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My amazing moots! You all make me so happy :DD (pleaseee remind me to add you or take you off <33 ) @ashthenerdtheythem @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @whyamionthisgodforsakensite @queen-of-weird-girl-nation @boredcoldandhungry @nosanehumanallowed @roselandsrl @apollocabinrep @mybedroomceilingsbored @gay--gh0st @catinasink @redmegarex @chaoticgremlin-1 @totalcharliespringsimp @cabin-7-bitch @lunarcat982 @chriscrosswallflower-blog @obsessingoverl @pretentious-media @small-giggle @rose-bug-bear @aheartstopperfan @dandelionsarenotweeds @rookhuntt @i-eat-so-much-grass @justafrogghost @fairyycoffin @th3-st4r-gur1 @brains-out-rn @arsenic-laced-tums @dracosleftarsecheek @boba-pearl @tarantulaluv @rainydaywithcats @touslin @gay-little-isopod @ali-da-demon @kairos-in-space @thebookshelflord

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Okieeee I THINK THATS IT :OO i am done aesthicifyingfjhjjendndjfgh my into post!! I have no tagging system so uhhhhh my blog is pretty much the equivalent of screaming into the void :)) Have fun in my little corner of chaos and pleaseeeeeeee say hi, i love talking with ppl and making friends!!!

Thanks for reading! (its a lot, ik, i blabber, i tried to bold key parts) Boop! Bye <33

[janeuary-month]

FAQs for Janeuary 2025

Janeuary 2025 is coming soon! Here are answers to some questions I’ve gotten or that you may be wondering about before participating in the event:

Can I join?

Yes! This is an open event with no sign-ups. You don’t need to notify me or get my permission. Everyone is welcome.

Do I have to do something for every one of the prompts?

No! Just one is fine. You can do more if you wish, or multiple works for the same prompt, but none of this is necessary. The list of prompts is here.

Can I combine prompts?

Sure! Just please note in your post all the prompts you’re using. If possible, post your work on the earliest day for the prompts shown in it, and we’ll reblog it on that day, but we’ll tag it with all the days/prompts you used. For instance, if you write a fic about characters staying in an inn (day 5) in London (day 15), post on day 5 and state in your post that it’s meant for both prompts.

Do I have to create my art/fic/whatever on the day itself?

No! That would be super hard to do—I’m not that mean! Create it now, and just hold off on posting it until the day of the prompt you used.

Does my fic/art need to take place in Regency England, or are AUs allowed?

As long as you have at least one Austen-work or Austen-adaptation character, you can stick them in whatever universe you wish. However, if you want to use all non-Austen characters, they need to be in an Austen universe. So, for day 11 “card playing,” you could draw Sonic the Hedgehog playing whist in a Regency drawing room OR you could draw Darcy and Elizabeth playing poker in modern-day Las Vegas, and either of these would be totally acceptable.

Completely canon-compliant works are of course also allowed!

Can I include non-Austen characters in my creations?

Sure! As long as you have at least one Austen-work or Austen-adaptation character, OR place your work in an Austen AU, you can include whatever other characters you wish. Characters from other media, OCs, reader inserts, they’re all fine. 

And remember that there is no bashing of others’ characters or ships! Accounts that do so will get blocked. Review the full list of rules here.

What does it mean that the work has to be new?

Basically, it can’t have been posted anywhere before. BUT this means that a new chapter on an old fic is totally valid! So is taking an old line drawing and coloring it and then posting the new colored version. That sort of thing.

And the work doesn’t have to be completed before the end of the month either, so if you have a long-running fic that has been going for years already and is going to keep going far after next January, you can still participate by working the prompts into a chapter or two during the month and then carrying on as you like afterwards.

Can I make [fill in the blank fanwork]?

Yep. Any type of fanwork you can dream up is welcome, not just fic and art. Crochet a bonnet for day 23 and post a pic of it, make a photo montage of yourself doing Emma cosplay, edit together a Bride and Prejudice music video, we love it all!

Is NSFW allowed?

Yes, with any sort of content and kink you like, but since there may be minors following this account, please tag it appropriately. If posting mature content directly on Tumblr rather than AO3, also use its community labels function and/or hide the content under a “keep reading” link. And minors—do not engage with content that is not meant for you.

Is AI allowed?

Absolutely not. This account will not reblog or include in the AO3 collection anything that was made with AI involved to any degree. Even if you just use AI to make a banner to go along with your fic that you manually wrote, we will not reblog it. Review the full list of rules here.

How do I post my work so it gets included?

You must tag the @janeuary-month account in your Tumblr post for us to see it and reblog it from this account. Also, state which day/prompt you’re following and use the hashtag #janeuary and/or #janeuary 2025. Full posting instructions are coming soon.

Should I post my fic on AO3 or Tumblr?

Whatever you prefer. If you post it on AO3 and also make a Tumblr post to link to it, we will reblog the Tumblr post. If you only post to the AO3 collection, we will have nothing to reblog, but it will still be in the collection for others to find that way.

I don’t post my art on Tumblr; can I still participate?

You’re welcome to post your creation wherever you like, but without a Tumblr post, we have nothing to reblog to make it officially part of the event. But, if you post elsewhere (Instagram, Twitter, DeviantArt, etc.), you can also post a link to your own work on your own Tumblr, and then we can reblog your Tumblr post.

I don’t write in English; can I still participate?

Yes! All languages are welcome—just make sure to clearly mark the day/prompt so that we can still easily reblog.

I’m not going to get my work done on time; can I still participate?

Please do! We’re happy to accept late entries! We understand that life happens, so just tag us when you’ve posted it and we’ll reblog it, even weeks later. The AO3 collection (link coming soon) will remain open indefinitely.

Also, remember that the work doesn’t have to be completed before the end of the event, just the portion of it that’s connected to the prompt. For instance, you can start a fic on day 31 for the manners prompt by just posting that one completed chapter, and then after the month is over keep adding more chapters to it.

How can I connect with the other people participating in this event?

Building personal connections between those in our fandom community is the best part of events like this, so while there’s no Discord server specifically for this event, there is the very active and positive “Jane Austen” Discord server where we can connect. Even if that sort of thing is not for you, please do your part to foster community by reblogging and commenting on people’s work!

Did I miss any questions that you still have? If so, please reply to this post, send me an ask, or send me a DM.

[enteroctopusdarkysilis]

✨Bionicle crab !✨

It was, originally, meant to be just another arthropod. However, someone reblogged my previous rahi, along with this comment :

Well, guess what ? Yes, absolutely. I’m glad I saw it because it gave me the inspiration for this monstrosity (and it made me laugh more than I would admit, too). Thanks.

I must recognise that if I compare my rahis, there is a clear pipeline. I don’t think it can go much further in this direction.

Anyways, details/closeups/weird illegal technic I just found out, below the cut !

Front (smol Visorak for scale) :

Because it’s really big. It’s also a good excuse to show off my really fancy and glittery Kanohi. No clue where it comes from but it’s beautiful !

I’m really happy with how mean this things looks, overall. It’s most definitely the bad guy for Toas to fight. It has a really good scale to work with my larger customer Toas [here], but it could also act as a really large rahi for my smaller space-based Toas [here]. Why a large crab stealing Kanohis in space, you may ask ? No idea. I’d have to actually think out a lore for that.

I started the conception with the frame (which does make sense, in theory), then the legs, and finally the shell. This was only partially smart, because that meant I did not account for the shell's mass when building the legs. Essentially, this poor thing can't stand on it's own, so I'm using two technic bars underneath to keep it up right (which are hidden in editing, of course).

Top/Hind (shell) :

I think the shell was pretty decent. I tried to use as little pieces as possible to keep it light, but it's still a lot. Among these pieces can be found one Visorak claw and three Mantax feet, which have a nice texture for organic feet. There is also another foot at the front which comes from an Inika set which I can't seem to find. I'm also using some of these large technic panels, which cover a lot of surface without being too much of a pain to set up (still quite a lot, since they're connected to the feet at at an angle, feet which which are also connected to the frame at an odd angle...) Speaking of Mantax, I alsu used the black-pearl shells, because these, too, have a really organic vibe, and it gave a small touch of pearl which was missing on the body.

I tried to keep the back relatively slick, to avoid something similar to an abdomen since it's not a spider. Still I had to extend it a little bit using the rounded cubical cover, to hide some socket joints, but it's okay-ish.

Neath :

Truly a mess, I must admit. As I started with each side separately, I tried to somehow connect them with the large grey technic frame (in the middle). On either sides, I have a whole bunch of axle connectors, both standard and angled, which allow for the thing to appear rounder than it could have been. The two leg sockets peices at the front are used for the eyes, and the pieces abov (barley visible) is a classic Bionicle shoulders piece clipped backward as a base for the pincers arms.

Pincer :

Or mandatory unusual feet usage. These really works well as any kind of claw or armor, in my opinion. The black arm pieces used here (Hordika leg piece) were particularly good for the job as they technic pin holes in there allowed me to add ad additional socket practically at the same level at the original one (even if I would rather have used black technic bars instead of the light grey ones, but i couldn't find any in my supplies... It's likely the Space station's fault.

Legs :

Or equally mandatory foot out of not foot pieces. Here is a cursed homebrew way to make legs : one Bohrok head part (bricklink call these shoulders ?) to display the piston-like element and serve as structure, linked with Toa Metru legs (which slots above nicely. And then comes the magic trick, for the Rahkshi shells (silveragain, because I have many of these) have a small attachment point toward the end, that is meant to hold the back blades in place; but it also perfectly fits right on the small ledge in the middle of the leg piece ! Granted, it's not a very secure connection, but these two pieces don't need anything else but that to hold. I actually loved this one so much, you can notice two additional Rahkshi shells held similarly on the tope of the crab's shell.

In order to connect the legs individually to the frame, I am using Vahki legs for the exterior limbs, and Pihraka arms for the central ones (these arms have the particular property of having the restrictive sockets on either sides, which makes it good to keep the leg's shape.

The middle sections are made using two simple axle-socket pieces connected by old plates, usually found in technic sets predating the Bionicle them.

…And obviously, I had to make another makeshift studio (I actually really like this one). Have a look at all these terribly assembled elements !

[skys-archive]

Hello fellow psychotic people and those who experience delusions and paranoia, please read to keep yourself safe /gen

I saw this post, but the screenshots were not described and I felt there were too many of them for me to describe myself in a way that would be helpful. (I'm not completely sure how image id'ing works on here)

I wanted to put in plain text for any visually impaired/blind people who also suffer with psychosis.

There is an account on here, @top-secret-replier who is spreading ominous replies, reblogs, and posts. It's meant to just be strange and fun for people during spooky season, but this can be unsafe for those struggling with psychosis.

The message typically reads something along the lines of, "hello, I am a top secret finder! You WILL see this message again. The Spread™ has begun".

I understand that this started as fun and games, but for those dealing with psychosis this can be incredibly dangerous. The implications of an unknown threat can really set off paranoia or psychotic episodes, and many of us are threats to ourselves and/or others when this happens.

Yes, this is just supposed to be silly. But it is very, VERY difficult to filter this out of our feed. There is not a universal tag, and this person is not the only one doing it so blocking them is also not helpful.

The op of the post I linked, @halo-fourteen reached out to the person who started this and tried to explain, but they were very dismissive and did not take it seriously.

Please spread this to keep psychotic people safe this Halloween season, and maybe send them an ask yourself. Maybe if enough people express concern they will stop.

For my fellow psychotic people, I understand this can be incredibly difficult, and sometimes no amount of telling you that it's just a stupid prank will keep you from spiraling. But for all of you, do everything you can to keep yourself safe, self soothe, distract, whatever helps you the most. I'm wishing all of you the best 💜

[kkoffin]

Regarding your second to last reblog, did you see that person's last reblog of that post? And if so, do you still think she doesn't have the right to hate her mother and any woman who does what her mother did? I agree that the original post sounds misogynistic, but when put into perspective, doesn't she have the right to be resentful? It's always the man's fault first and foremost, that's not up for debate, but I'm asking if you think hating women who deliberately allow male violence to happen is still misogynistic.

This is not meant as an attack in any way, I just value your opinion so I'm curious. Your love for women is admirable, I'm simply wondering if it comes before anything else, including holding people accountable for their own actions.

I don't really want to pick apart and criticize other people's traumas in any way but essentially yes, she's absolutely allowed to hate her mother for that. I won't tell an abused individual whether or not they can hate their individual abuser - that's insane. But there's such a MASSIVE difference between a child begging her mother to stop her husband raping her and the mother ignoring it, and your average happy family, where either the father simply doesn't do that or he hides it so incredibly well that the mother doesn't have a clue. This kind of thing is not happening in vast vast vast majority of households or to vast majority of children. My mother raised me as a single mother, she went through many boyfriends. Nothing of the sort happened to me, and my mother protected me from the risk. There was one point which my mother could not protect me from, but I've chosen to forgiven her, and I'm aware this is not majority of cases. Her mother was a horrible women, but not all women, and all het-partnered mothers (almost all mothers) are anything like that.

Yes. for sure. you can hate women who let their children be raped. But that doesn't justify calling ALL het-partnered women "dick suckers" "moid worshippers" "inhuman roaches", telling them to die and telling them they're all to blame for what other men do. It's clear more of her rage lies with women than with male rapists. That is not acceptable, and if she wants to call herself a feminist, it's something she needs to work on. Again, I'm sorry for what happened to her, but when you see an article about a male rapist and you are more angry at a woman than the rapist, and you go on to sexually insult and berate this woman, there's a fucking issue, and that sexual berating and blaming of the woman is anti-feminist.

Ted Bundy was also abused by women, but that doesn't justify misogyny in any capacity. Maybe it gives context, but it doesn't excuse it, and you shouldn't be calling yourself a feminist if you are held back by resentment against women to this degree. Resent doesn't excuse misogyny against vast majority of women.