#you also don’t have to tag your shit IN the post to reach the search tag

[broodpuff]

what makes tumblr so op and is the place i want to post things most often is the tags

it’s convenient to add additional information without making it a permanent part of the post, especially if it’s more niche in a generalized post and if you really need that original context you can just go and check the tags from both the op and other people.

also it’s like im whispering in your ear the additional information that either comes after i’ve typed out the post or isn’t relevant enough to include in the post itself

[urhoneycombwitch]

breathe in the air

eddie x reader x steve. part i

foreword: this is part one/set up for a fic I’ve been chewin’ on. cw is for both parts and will get updated- no actual smut in this first one but please heed the tags anyway. +18 mdni as always. (@somnambulic-thing you inspired me to write from Eddie’s pov! 💖)

cw: smoking (weed and nicotine), R’s hair is mentioned but unspecified texture/length, also wears Eddie’s shirt, R has breasts + V,  Eddie and Reader are both varying degrees of stoned while performing sex acts (please be safe IRL and don’t read if that makes you uncomfy!!), pt. ii will have: voyeurism (Eddie and R fool around and Steve watches), blow jobs, masturbation, both the boys being Down Bad™️

wc: 2.5k (part i)

_____

The sun has sunk low over Forest Hills, Eddie’s room cast in deep blue where the golden path of his bedside lamp doesn’t touch.

He’s lighting up a post-sex cigarette, one of the best things this shitty world has to offer, in his opinion- second only to feeling your warm body against his; writhing and wriggling with pleasure, neck craned to let him lick the sloping sweat from your skin- or times like now, when you’re calm and satiated, nude under the comfort of sheets and the weight of your head on his chest.

Casting a hand out to shuffle blindly through the bedside table, Eddie wraps his other arm around the sleepy length of you, pulling you tighter to himself; your response a wordless, happy little noise. His hand deep in the drawer catches on a stray cigarette, then around the hard plastic of a spare lighter. With a sigh of contentment, he kisses the top of your head before bringing the filter to his lips.

Sparks catch under his thumb, cherry of the cig burning red- like some sort of sleeper agent responding to the click, you sit up with a jolt, stealing the mess of sheets upwards, exposing Eddie’s lower half to the cool air.

Eddie swears, startled- thinking you were almost asleep, he’d been nearly careless with the open flame- tossing the lighter aside, he reaches towards your back that now faces him. “Jesus, babe. Give a guy some warning before you snap to attention like a damn general.”

Thumb pressed to the notches of your spine, palm wide around your lower back, Eddie can feel the quiet giggle that shakes through your ribs.

 “Sorry,” you whisper once you’re finished, still staring at the far wall like you're trying not to break a spell. Your arms are crossed, sheets bunching around your chest- “Had a thought.”

“Must’ve been a good one,” Eddie muses, thumb following the line of your spine down, like he’s petting an oversized cat.

In true feline fashion your back arches into his touch, encouraging his palm to sweep up again, to your shoulder blade this time as you murmur, “I wanna go swimming.”

“Okay.” Eddie’s immediately agreeable, taking a long drag from the cig, letting smoke fill out the hollows around his lungs. “We’ll go to Lover’s Lake tomorrow. Heard it’s gonna be a hot one.”

Hawkins is having a record heat wave for the second summer in a row- as if all the damn underground monster shit and horrific earthquakes of last year weren’t enough already: global warming to top it all off. The sun has been merciless these last few weeks, peaking midday, nothing for it but to lie in a heated daze on the kitchen tiles of whoever’s house is the least amount of bitch to get to.

Not that Eddie’s complaining about you being half-naked most of the time. He thinks this is the year you might actually kill him, now that he can touch you, call you his- every curve of upper calf in those short shorts, every soft slip of stomach peeking out from cropped tops- he’s got enough spank bank material to last until his deathbed. (Which he’s decidedly allowed to joke about, since, ya know, the whole almost-dying thing last spring.)

Eddie moves on haptic memory to set aside his cigarette, searching pinky-out for the lip of the ashtray (ceramic, with a poorly-drawn Snoopy, the ears far too big- you’d laughed until you cried over it at the thrift store; he was fifty cents poorer that day but rich and dizzy off your glee). 

“No, not the lake. And I wanna go swimming now.” There’s a hint of petulance in your voice, walking the thin line of childish whine that only appears these days after you’ve smoked, tongue and desires loosened and lax with the help of the finest hash stash in Hawkins. 

There’s a smile threatening to split Eddie’s face in two. He’s been working at that hard-won wall of your solitude for ages now, showing rather than telling you it’s okay to ask for things, that you’re safe to make requests and hell, even demands, from him. Eddie’s not sure what he wouldn’t do for you, at this point- hasn’t found that line yet. Probably doesn’t exist.

A monster of my own design, he thinks, fondly, sweeping the hair from your neck so he can see the outline of cheek and jawbone, reflective with lamplit glow. “Baby, there’s nowhere to swim right now- it’s dark and that’s not real safe. Tomorrow I’ll make us some sandwiches- we can drive out to the lake, you can get stoned and I’ll play lifeguard.”

It’s probably too much to hope you’ve swallowed this bitter pill of compromise in silence, but based on the lack of response, it’s certainly possible. Eddie presses his thumb into the muscle where your neck meets shoulder, massage a silent apology for saying no when you’d been so good to ask. 

Crickets chirp in chorus outside, sound dampened by the glass window- he needs to open it soon, get the hot air out and night breeze flowing (though he is loath to replace the heady smell of sex wrapped like a cozy blanket around his room).

He feels you shuffle under his hand, eyes popping open to watch- you’ve tucked your chin over the dip in your shoulder, looking down the slope of your own nose at him, an expression on your face that makes Eddie’s stomach flip (with nerves, fear, excitement, hard to pinpoint exactly).

Your voice is quiet but steady when you speak, Eddie’s massaging fingers freezing to a halt when you say, “I know a place, open right now, with a lit-up pool. And a lifeguard.”

A thin tendril of smoke from the ashtray floats into Eddie’s vision as he stares blankly at the ceiling for a moment. Then he sits up, crushing the cherry into Snoopy’s wavered outline (sorry, pal) before brushing arms with you, patient and stern with a headshake to match- “No way, sweetheart.”

“Why-y?” That petulance is back, Eddie’s heart kicking up in response; it’s your turn to give the physical affection, winding your arms in a closed loop around his neck, forehead bumping against his jaw as he works it back and forth. 

His stitched-tight resolve quickly unspools as the wet plush of your lips track a path across his throat; he clears it before squeezing at your side again, one last argument to try and stick like cooked spaghetti to a wall. “You’re high.”

You snort, puff of breath sending goosebumps across his skin, rapidly cooling from lack of your affection- “Yeah, and you’re not. So you can drive us there, and then smoke again with me before we go in, and Stevie boy will keep us safe in that nice, heated, well-lit pool of his.”

Even as you speak, Eddie’s shaking his head, but it’s more in disbelief of his own weakness (namely: you). He slips a hand to your cheek, pulling back to take you in- mischief shimmering like twin stars in your eyes as you lock onto his gaze, lips parting pliant when his thumb swipes at your bottom lip. 

“You gonna behave yourself?”

It’s less of a question and more of a check-in, the meaning behind the words an undulating variable, a riddle with a thousand different answers.

The one you do give is complimented by a wicked grin, punctuated with a quick kiss (awfully chaste, considering your bare front pressed against his), your mirthful delight at having won both unsettling and tantalizing.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.”

With a sudden push to his chest, Eddie goes down easy for you, hair spreading riotous across the pillow as you move with shocking fluidity to throw a leg over his hip. Your hands meet in the middle of his chest, just under the rippling ink of a crow in flight, settling your weight comfortably on his stomach. 

Eddie’s sure you can feel his pulse, jack-rabbit fast, as you dip to kiss beneath his jaw. His hands automatically settle on your hips, grip tightening with each loving kiss you scatter over his collarbones, his sternum.

He’s half-hard under the sheets by the time your lips find the hitch of his ribs, stuttering and expanding to meet your mouth- can’t be faulted, really, not when your bare chest gleams in the low light, the top of your head imploring for the warmth of his wide palm to rest. 

Just when Eddie thinks he’s in the clear, that the call of your needs (evident in the slickness pooling just under his navel where your naked cunt rests) will drive the call of your wants to distraction, you sit up again, using your planted hands as leverage to swing completely off and away.

The coldness of your absence is cruel and unusual punishment. Eddie groans, scrubbing a hand down his face, deciding right then that he won’t be above begging tonight- when you suddenly reappear with a clean beach towel in either arm, pulled from the bowels of his closet.

There’s youthful, honest enthusiasm to your movements- something that’s catching, apparently, ‘cuz Eddie’s tipping himself out of bed with a resigned sigh, pulling boxers over his flagging dick and answering your spree of questions about these new evening plans.

“Sure, bring a water bottle. No, babe, we don’t need sunscreen- it’s night. Yeah, I’ll bring more weed. How ‘bout you bring me that old shoulder bag and we can bring some stuff with us.”

As you work on digging through the mess of a combined closet to find something suitable for swimming, Eddie folds the two towels that you’d found along with a baggie of joints into the bag. You’re humming under your breath while getting dressed, and Eddie’s staring at all the leftover space- what does one pack for a nighttime high swim with one’s girlfriend and the guy you’ve both sort-of mentioned threesoming with?

He tosses in a well-loved edition of your favorite book of poems, figuring the Harrington abode will have plenty of snacks. Food for the mind, he thinks, then snorts at his own joke. 

“C’mon, snorty.” You beckon from the doorway, an old t-shirt of his just swishing past the dark strip of your bikini bottoms, van keys held aloft. 

At the front door, there’s a brief argument about coats (you think you’ll be fine without, Eddie disagrees vehemently) which Eddie wins, wrangling your arms into the sleeves of his oil-stained work jacket before locking the front door behind you both.

Eddie smiles, a secret, pure thrill watching you tiptoe gingerly across the gravel on bare feet (too stubborn to actually wear the sandals that hang from either hand). His coat is bunched up around your ears while your legs poke out like some sort of winterized bird with bare legs. 

There’s a bright pang of love that suddenly hits hits sideways, a dizzying urge to sink on denim knees to the ground, sharp rocks be damned, just to kiss the tender spot behind your knees, to feel the hill of your calf under his tongue…

Your giggle breaks his reverie, impatient and pointed jiggling of the locked passenger handle clunking out into the quiet park. “Quit staring, weirdo. You coming?”

Hope so, Eddie thinks, spinning the key ring in looping arcs around his pointer finger. He bypasses the porch steps completely, boots hitting the gravel with a satisfying crunch. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Your cheery mood is sustained during the short car ride as you chatter animatedly about some coworker drama that you forgot to catch him up on, Eddie’s hand drawn like a magnet to your upper thigh while he drives. 

But by the time he’s pulling the van next to Harrington’s beemer, your eagerness has waned, speech drifting off into silence once he’s parked. 

“Hey.” His voice draws you back to him, a bit, your eyes too wide and roving for his liking, coat sleeves clenched around opposing fists as you hang onto his words. “Sweetheart. We don’t have to go inside. Can go anywhere- diner for some food, back home, the damn trash heap for all I care. Just want you to feel safe.”

“I do,” you counter, earnest but chest still punching a fast rhythm. “I feel safe. I just… you think he’s even awake?”

There’s a yellow glow coming from one of the second-floor windows. Your fingers twist harshly around fabric in the dark, breath loud. 

Eddie nods, then kills the engine and grabs behind his seat for the Ziploc of pre-rolls, an offering held to you between two ringed fingers. “Want a bit of Green Courage before going in?”

The van windows are soon fuzzily obscured with a haze of smoke, sprinklers for the pristine lawn nearby hissing to an automated start at the turn of 11 PM. The weed coaxes your earlier state of relax to the forefront, this time with an added layer of giggles, which Eddie finds desperately cute. 

He’s sure he’s high now, too, ‘cuz he’s unintentionally focusing really hard on your lips as you speak, and you’re letting him, corner of your mouth quirking when you ask, “Gonna take me inside, Munson?”

“Uh huh.” An automatic response, just so he can keep staring- when you pop the handle of your door open Eddie reaches, faltering before landing on your face, cupping the tilt of your cheek- “Meant it. Earlier. Just say the word. Take you anywhere.”

Weed fragments his speech but you melt with understanding, leaning into his hand, your lashes sweeping sweetly at the bridge of his thumb as you whisper, “Okay.”

You’re out the door and he’s left scrambling in the wake, hauling the strap of the packed bag over one shoulder and snapping up your forgotten shoes from the footwell. He locks the doors (nevermind that this is a nice neighborhood, can’t trust rich people farther than he can throw ‘em and Eddie has always been better at running over shotput on field days) and hikes it across the grass to where you stand, a beacon of beauty under the porch light.

“Ready?” he asks.

Your bare foot- flecked with wet grass- trails up the back of your opposing leg, veins at the whites of your eyes spidering pink with anticipation (and the fresh joint) as you turn to smile at him. “Yeah. Bring it on.”

“Your wish, my command,” Eddie says, winking, knuckles pulled into a fist to rap at the front door of one Steve Harrington. 

___

[END: PART ONE]

[hiddenhearthwitch]

📚 Small Intro To Polytheism📚

One of the most frequent asks I receive is how and where to get started when it comes to polytheism. This is a fairly broad subject and I’ll try to be as general as I can for advice but I will include specific references for Norse polytheists as that’s my shit. This information can be used to help you find a pantheon or to help you pick deities to work with it. If you’d like to use it to pick a patron deity that’s super, if you want to worship 20 gods and not have a patron deity that’s cool too. You do you dude. Please keep in mind this is all reflective of my research and personal practice. 🌻

Picking A Pantheon/Deity

This really boils down to personal preference. You’ll read a lot of posts and books that tell you many different ways and it’s entirely up to you because it is your practice.  That being said, there’s a couple of different ways to go about it. 

Research! This is one of my favorite ways to delve in. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with reading the stories of multiple pantheons and picking on that calls to you. You can also talk to other devotees and see what they have to say about deities and their religions. It is important to keep in mind that some religions are closed so please do proper research!

For example, I wasn’t originally a Norse pagan. I read some stories and thought the Hellenic pantheon would best suit me. I reached out to Eros for a while but after feeling no real connection to the pantheon I continued my research! After reading up on the Norse pantheon I decided to reach out to them out. Obviously, I fucking loved it because here I am. Point being, you can pick a pantheon based on research and not some divine message or whatever. You are also more than welcome to try out a religion, decide it doesn’t suit you, and move on. 

Divination! You can use runes, a pendulum, tarot, etc.This can go a few different ways. You can write pantheon/deity names on separate pieces of paper, mix them up, and place them face down then ask the pendulum to pick. You can assign a deity/pantheon to each suit of cards or major arcana card or even do the same thing with runes. 

For example, this is how I found a devotion to Frigg and Hel. I asked if there were any deities who were interested in working with me and pulled the runes Hagalaz and Berkana which read as Hel and Frigg to me. I followed up with tarot cards and pulled Death(Hel) plus the Queen of Pentacles(Frigg).

Asking/waiting for a sign. This isn’t something I’ve personally done so I don’t have much to say on the subject. You can go about meditating, praying, doing a ritual, or whatever and essentially wait for a sign after. It can come via a dream, something you experience, symbols you see in your daily life, it’s pretty much up to your intuition to decipher it. If anyone has information they’d like me to add in here please let me know!

If there’s a god you’re curious about and don’t want to do any of the above it’s totally cool to just reach out and ask if they want to work with you. 

Idk How To Research

Same, tbh my keyword search game is weak. Anyways, good portion of us are looking up dead religions with little reliable resources. To give those curious about the Norse an easy head start here’s a compiled list of  books by yours truly(click me!!) . It’s important to take everything with a grain a salt of salt when doing research. In my experience a lot of the retold Norse sagas have been Christianized or written under heavy Wiccan influences. It’s a good idea to do research on the author before reading one of their books.

Other blogs! There are tons of great witches and pagans on tumblr that have information waiting for you. 💗 You can search their blog/tags for good references for books, websites, podcasts, etc. Plus lots of blogs are open to answer asks. If you don’t know where to start for searching it’s best to try things based around your interest like: “norse polytheist”, “hellenic witch”, “gaelic polytheism”, etc.

Media! How lucky are we that we live in the age of technology? Knowledge is right at our fingertips! There are countless documentaries, podcasts, and audiobooks on youtube full of information for different cultures and religions. I’d personally recommend almost anything by BBC, Myths & Legends, and World Mythology!

Books! I love starting on goodreads to find good books and trust worthy authors. They’ve had almost every book I looked up with bunches of different reviews so you can get varying perspectives. Check out your local library as well! A lot of city libraries have online databases now of all of their books so you can “check it out” online and read the PDF(personal fave). 

Feeling Lost Still?

That’s completely reasonable and your feelings are more than valid. It can be overwhelming and lot of information to soak up. Just do your best and take it at your own pace, there’s no rush to find a deity or pantheon. 💞 Below are a few other general concerns I hear a lot that I was hoping to address.

“I’m leaving a monotheistic(Christian, Catholic, Jewish, etc) religion and it’s giving me anxiety.” This is entirely common and almost expected in my opinion. I was raised Roman Catholic and my first year to two looking into polytheism riddled me with anxiety. I was constantly concerned that god would smite me down or I’d face an eternity in hell for worshiping false gods. While I can’t speak for everyone that fear was entirely erased for me when I found my gods. I’ve never felt so safe and strong and hopefully with time you can find the same in your gods!

It’s okay to want to learn more or to seek something more. I can’t tell you how to handle your anxiety but please know you’re not alone in that fear. There’s whole communities out there willing to support you and help you find your safe space(including me)!

“What’s UPG?” You’ll see a lot of posts, mine included, that mention UPG - UPG is Unverified Personal Gnosis. This is essentially someone’s personal thoughts and beliefs about a deity. For example, I associate Sif with hazelnuts. There’s nothing in the lore or any book that says that she likes hazelnuts; that’s just a personal opinion(aka a UPG).

“How do I reach out to the gods?” I have a lot of information on my blog about this topic although a lot of it is Norse specific. You can check out my beginner polytheist tag here and my beginner norse post/ask here.

Altar! This is my go to typically. Altars aren’t limited to the cookie cutter image that comes to mind(no hate though I have a few); one thing you can make a side blog dedicated to your pantheon/deity, make a small one in a tin can, or even make one in a video game like Minecraft or some shit. You can be as creative or as to the book as you want. It’s up to you.

Prayer! You can totally just sit down and be like, “Hey man wanna work on some shit together?”. While I’m not 100% that all gods would be down with you being that casual it’s still something you can try.😂 You can reach out to them by sitting down in a quiet space and meditating into prayer, praying in the car or in the shower, or just pray at the altar you set up if you did. Again, I can not reiterate this enough, it’s your practice, reach out to them as you please.

Do something personal! This is more like devotional work in my opinion. Let’s say you knit and you want to reach out to a creative or domestic deity, you can knit something as a devotional act to them and as a way to reach out. For example I pick up litter in honor of the Vanir and Jörð, or I play Skyrim for Thor and Týr.

Most importantly just be honest and up front with the god that you’re reaching out too. Considering that statement be honest with yourself as well. There’s no point going into a relationship with a god if you can’t be upfront, it’ll end up in nothing but grief.

“Can deities reach out through gods/signs?” They totally can. However, it is up to you and your intuition if a deity has and it’s not likely another witch will decipher that for you. Sounds, experiences, images, all have different meanings to each of us - they may show you something that’s very personal to you but would be mundane to someone else. Trust your instincts. However, please remember that not everything is magical, sometimes a raven is just a raven and not Odin.

✨Take everything you learn with a grain of salt. Including this post.✨

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[loaksky]

— 𝒊 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒕 | 𝒆. 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒎𝒔

collegefwb!ellie x fem college!reader, angst, hurt / minimal comfort, wc: 3.5k

synopsis: you and ellie were a disaster waiting to happen.

content warnings: language, unforgivably mean!ellie (like atrociously mean, this is a REAL warning), toxic situationships / past relationships, brief mentions of sex, side comment about slipandslide, reader experiences loss, internalized grief and mentions of drunk driving / car accidents. please let me know if i miss anything, this one might be a lot !

author’s note: re-posted this after noticing it wasn’t showing in tags! also noticed some of the tlou community requesting some angst gigglegiggle. perhaps this will lead to a second-chance romance expansion in the future…leave your thoughts heh <3 as always, not proofread well!

tagging @vigskrt, don’t hate me for no happy ending this time around </3 i have plans to build this into a full fic ;)

YOUR FRIENDS HAD WARNED YOU.

They’d told you that Ellie Williams wasn’t shit. She was damaged goods and you were willing to pay the price even if it meant a shattered heart broken into a million unmendable pieces.

You’d given her the benefit of the doubt, had held out hope for the first little while of whatever it was between the two of you. You liked to believe that Ellie was tamping down unprocessed emotions, but she’d been adamant that it was all just good fun.

And you were willing to let it go, willing to take it all in stride if it meant having her in any way she’d give herself to you, but you were splintering glass waiting to give any second.

You’ll never forget the night you crumble.

She says it so casually, like she’s making observations about the weather or the swathes of setting skies. You’re sitting on her couch, basking in whatever remnants of the afterglow remains. Because, frankly, if there’s one thing Ellie Williams is good at, it’s pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you.

She’s across the living room, finishing off the blunt you’d politely declined, watching the slow glide of her goldfish in the tank on her console.

“M’bored,” she says simply.

You shift on your side of the couch, watching as she flicks ash in the nearby ashtray.

“You wanna go out?” you offer, glancing at the sunset outside of her window. “We could—”

She huffs out a humorless laugh, takes an extra long pull before stubbing the roach out and turns to face you. Her black tank top is riding up and you blanche when you see the fresh hickey a little south of her belly button.

You definitely hadn’t given it to her, but you aren’t in the mood to argue at the moment.

“I’m bored,” she repeats. “Of this. Whatever this is.”

You breathe out at nervous laugh.

“Oh c’mon, Els.” You stand from the couch, try to close in on her, but she’s shrugging you off as your hands come out to reach for her.

“I’m serious,” she says, tone bland and gaze glazed, equal parts from disinterest and the high kicking in. “It was fun at first, but this is starting to feel like a chore.”

Your chest tightens, tongue drying as you search her face for any tell.

“I don’t understand,” you murmur. “Where’s this coming from?”

Ellie shrugs.

“I’m just bored and this isn’t doing it for me.”

You’ve been wondering why it seemed like she was anywhere else but present the last dozen moments you’ve spent with her. It was always her half-assed agreements of seeing you when you called. Or less than enthusiastic spans of time where she’d seemed annoyed when you weren’t sated after the first comedown and quietly begged for more.

“Is there… Is there someone else?” you swallow. “If there’s someone else, it’s okay. I’ll—”

Ellie barks a mean laugh.

“You’re naive if you think you’re the only one,” she says, and it’s a nasty confirmation of the suspicions you’d had the entirety of your situationship with the girl.

“Why are you doing this?” you whimper, fingers reaching to tangle with hers.

“Fuck, I’m not high enough for this,” Ellie grumbles to herself as she watches your threads unravel.

“You wanna stop seeing me because you’re bored?” you heave. “You wanna stop this ‘cause you’re bored? Ellie, what the fuck?”

“I said it twice already,” she bites, snatching her fingers from your grasp. “And honestly, I’m over all of this. I’m over the clinginess, the neediness, the hope.”

Your breath catches hard in your throat and Ellie’s eyes meet yours for the first time since her declaration.

“Your friends talk, you know?” she says simply. “They beg me to put you out of your misery, say that you’re a great girl for me.”

And you like to think you are. You like to think that Ellie’d learned to love you the way you loved her; unconditionally, passionately, and in her own fucked up way. But you’d obviously been grossly mistaken.

“Am I not?” you whisper. “You mean the world to me, Ellie. I’d do anything for you. I–I lo—”

“Don’t.” She cuts you off sharply. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

“Ellie, I love you.”

And the silence is palpable. Tag-teams the tears that choke you as you wear your heart on your sleeve.

She sighs deep, scrubs her palms down her face as she screws her eyes shut.

“God, why do you have to make things so fucking difficult?” she groans.

“Me?” you choke incredulously. “We’ve been dancing around these feelings for a year, Ellie! You turn a blind eye, act like we won’t work when all it’d take is just a leap of faith. Why can’t you have faith in me, Els?”

She rolls her eyes, crosses the living room into her bedroom to collect your clothes off her floor.

“This is why we wouldn’t work,” she’d grunts as she stuffs everything into your backpack. “Because you think you know me, think you know how I feel, what I think, what I want. You don’t know me. You know what I let you and we fuck. That’s it.”

Your body shakes hard with emotion, bones vibrating with unshed tears.

“You’re lying,” you accuse. “You’re fucking lying because you’re scared.”

“Oh, fuck off with the shit, ________, please,” Ellie scoffs, shoving your backpack in your arms.

“It’s okay to be scared,” you argue desperately, reaching for her again. “I get it, this is new for you and it’s a lot to process and—”

“We agreed that this was just a good time,” Ellie says, nudging your arm away. “And right now, this isn’t really feeling like a good time. This feels like you trying to fix me, but I’m not going to change. Not for anyone and especially not for you.”

It’s a brutal stab at your feelings and it makes you sick. Because Ellie’s always known. She’d entertained this whole endeavor knowing you were head over heels and there wasn’t a chance in hell she would reciprocate.

“We don’t have to stop seeing each other, Els,” you try, taking in a shuddering breath. “Just— Just give us a shot. We can work through it and—”

“What’s not fucking clicking?” Ellie cuts you off with a pinched expression. “You’re not my fuckin’ therapist, not my girlfriend, and definitely won’t be anything more than a decent lay. I’m not doing this shit with you anymore. Seriously. Have some self-respect.”

The look of annoyance that crosses her face makes you feel like your feelings are the ultimate burden. And the sob that wracks your body rattles you so hard you cough till you feel like your lungs will dissolve.

It’s absolutely fucking humiliating, the way that Ellie grimaces like this is the most inconveniencing thing in her life as of late.

“Dude, just go,” she says sharply, steering you towards the front door. “Block me, I don’t care, just please let this shit go.”

“You’re actually the biggest piece of shit I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing in my life.”

Ellie barely catches the statement, bulky headphones fitted over her auburn hair, but Dina’s brisk movements towards her catches her attention.

It’d be been a week since she’d last seen you, and quite frankly she’d been relatively surprised that you’d heeded her word about leaving her alone. She’d almost been home free. Almost.

“If this is about your friend—”

“Like hell it is,” Dina scoffs. “Are you serious? I can believe you said all that shit to her.”

“I mean, you warned her, didn’t you?” Ellie shrugs her shoulders, hooking her thumbs through her backpack straps. “Sounds like you should be bitching at her for not listening instead of me for keeping it pushing.”

And Ellie almost lets the irritation bubble over, but the look on Dina’s face has shifted, has her swallowing down whatever residual snark is concocting in the back of her brain.

“She’s devastated, Ellie.”

And it’s the same song and dance, Ellie knows it all too well, the bouts of sadness followed by the niggling feeling of numbness. She’s usually nonchalant, doesn’t feel any moral obligation to tie up any loose ends, but she feels the closest thing to guilt when she sees the genuine concern in your friend’s expression.

“Look, I’m sorry she got her feelings hurt, okay?” Ellie sighs defensively. “But everyone knew what this was going in and I can’t be the only asshole here for keeping it real.”

And of course she can’t take accountability, can’t admit that maybe she’d been too harsh on someone as sweet as you.

“Honestly, fuck you. I don’t know why I’m still fucking friends with you,” Dina whispers.

Ellie rolls her eyes.

“C’mon, D, you serious right now?”

“You hurt her so bad she won’t even eat,” Dina says quietly. “All she ever wanted was to make you happy, Ellie. The least you could’ve done was let her down easy.”

“This is fuckin’ bullshit,” she grunts to herself.

“No, Ellie, your attitude is fucking bullshit, your whole fucking outlook on life,” Dina says stonily, shrugging her shoulders and taking a step away. “But I guess you get hurt once, you hurt a hundred times, right?”

“D, don’t—”

“Whatever.” Dina waves her off. “Apologize, don’t apologize, I don’t fucking care.”

After nearly two weeks of trying to mend the wounds Ellie had left, you get the call. It’s during midterms and you feel like the world is splintering.

Your younger sister had been driving home on the way from her shift when she was struck. She’d been pronounced at the scene and you take the first flight back home.

And you don’t know how to feel. Don’t know how to sort through the nasty mix of emotions that threaten to peel you from the inside out and disintegrate you. Losing Ellie was one thing, losing your youngest sister is like cruel fate.

It doesn’t hit you until after the service. When you’re sitting in her bedroom, combing through her admittance letters and thumbing through old family albums. You land on a particularly devastating photograph. One where she’d finally surpassed you in height and she’d leaned down to kiss your cheek.

The tears are spilling as you turn the page and you see collages of holidays, birthdays, and vacations. The one that sends you over the edge is the most recent.

It’d been spring break and your family had gone tubing. The two of you had drifted off and your mother was able to capture the perfect photo of the two of you with your heads thrown back in laughter.

If you recall correctly, you’d confided in her about your troubles with Ellie and, in an attempt to make you feel better, she’d cracked a joke so funny it made you laugh like things could be okay.

In the first moment that every emotion hits you full force and your sister isn’t there to be your rock, she’s there to catch your falling pieces.

Abby Anderson’s a childhood friend, grew up in the same cul-de-sac and moved the opposite way for university. News of your sister’s death had her making the five hour drive and offering you some semblance of comfort in a familiar face.

The two of you sit in silence as you hold the photo album to your chest and cry until your throat is raw and your eyes are nearly swollen shut. Her palm is warm between your shoulder blades, a gentle anchor in the roiling storm.

Ellie’s stoned out of her mind when she pays your dorm a visit a couple of weeks later. The apology’s long overdue, but she’d been too busy sparking up and getting lost in other people to shake the claws you’ve seemingly sunk into her brain.

It’s half past midnight on a Tuesday when she delivers three hard raps against room 202. Another three when no one answers the first time around.

She finally hears shuffling after the third set and the door swings forcefully before the fourth. And it’s definitely not you.

“Y’know it’s almost one AM and a majority of this building has class in the morning, right?”

Ellie’s posture straightens.

“Hello?”

Ellie doesn’t recognize this girl at all, does a double take to make sure she’s got the right room.

“________,” she says. “She around?”

The girl’s face screws up.

“Who?”

Ellie repeats your name.

“Oh, her,” the girl mutters groggily. “She pulled out of school a couple of weeks ago. Whole floor was scrambling to get reassigned to her room.”

“She what?” Ellie balks.

“She dropped out, I guess, I dunno,” the girl shrugs. “All I know was that the school psych handed us pamphlets about mental health and shit after she left.”

If anyone has any information on you, they won’t budge. And Ellie realizes it’s equal parts for your protection and her punishment. She’d been a nervous fucking wreck the remainder of the semester, couldn’t stop searching every corner of the internet for you, but it seems like maybe that night really does click because she’s blocked on every single platform imaginable.

She’d started smoking more, started fucking less, actually showed up to class. Her brain was practically numb a majority of the time, anxiety eating away during her short bouts of sobriety.

And god, if she had to admit that she’d learned her fucking lesson, had to admit that losing you was agonizing, she would if it meant seeing you again. Even from a distance.

Because she’ll be honest for once in admitting that she fucking misses you. Misses you so much it’s disgusting. And she doesn’t miss the way you make her feel, or the sex, or any of the things you offer her, she misses you.

Craves to see your sunny smile, yearns to feel the way your body nestles perfectly against hers. And your laugh, god your laugh, boisterous and consuming. She’d always told you it was obnoxious, but nothing could crack a smile faster than you throwing your entire body away from her and cackling till you wheeze.

And this is more traumatizing than any previous relationship that made her swear off love altogether. Your disappearance and your absence makes her feel like she’s going insane, like she’s grasping at straws to keep it together.

Mercifully, the semester ends, but summer oozes like viscous torture. And when fall sem of senior year rolls around, she holds out on hope, just needs to tell you that she knows she fucked up and she’s sorry.

But fall is quiet. Winter is quieter and the holidays feel mundane even surrounded by her loved ones.

“Everything okay at school, kiddo?” Joel’s never been one to poke around, just a silent supporter in the midst of Ellie’s growing pains.

Ellie nods, leaning over the railing.

“S’alright,” she shrugs. “It’s school.”

Joel ponders for a moment, looks like he doesn’t want to pry, but his youngest is his soft spot.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” he drawls softly. “I know you better than you think. Know that something’s botherin’ you.”

Ellie hesitates, but decides to bite back her fears. It’s the least she could do for you.

“You ever hurt someone so bad you don’t know how to fix it?” she swallows.

Joel takes in a deep breath, then takes Ellie in.

“You want an honest answer?”

“Please,” she breathes.

“Sometimes you just have to deal with the repercussions of hurting somebody,” Joel says. “Closure is always nice but never guaranteed and the lack thereof is your punishment.”

It does feel an awful lot like punishment, Ellie thinks.

And Ellie learns that the universe can be unforgivable.

Learns as much when she catches a glimpse of you at the campus bookstore when all the students return from winter break.

She nearly drops her stack of books, scurries across the store in half as many strides before her fingers are wrapping around your bicep.

“Holy shit,” she whispers. “It’s actually you.”

You’d been caught so off guard, you barely process the emotions that begin to filter through you, especially when she engulfs you in a bone-crushing hug and rocks you like she’ll never let you go.

“I can’t breathe,” you squeak, hands snaking between your bodies to give her a gentle push.

“Sorry, fuck, I’m sorry,” Ellie blabbers. “For that, for everything, for—”

“It’s, uh, it’s fine,” you say cooly and Ellie’s staring like you’ve sprouted two heads.

Because it’s absolutely not fine. You’d left school for a year and returned looking like a whole new person. Your cheeks are hollow, eyebags prominent, lips chapped. It’s like the past eight months has sucked the life out of you.

“Christ, are you serious right now?” Ellie asks incredulously.

She doesn’t realize how many emotions she’d kept pent up until her vision is clouding and your expression is falling.

“I broke your fucking heart and you scared the shit out of me when you disappeared and I— I thought— I…”

Ellie’s chest is tightening and she feels like she’s gonna throw up when you let out a short breath.

“What, you thought I offed myself?” you ask with a hollow laugh.

“I don’t know what I fucking thought,” Ellie’s voice cracks, and it’s the most emotion you’ve seen from her in the time you’ve known her. “All I knew was that one minute I was seeing you almost everyday and then suddenly, you fell off the face of the Earth and I’d never missed someone so much in my life and I fucking hated every single moment—”

“My little sister passed,” you say simply.

And fuck, she doesn’t expect that.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “You definitely fucked me up but there was a lot more to me leaving.”

“Jesus, I’m so sorry, I—”

“Everything okay?” A tall, buff blonde interjects.

It’s subtle, the way the girl’s palm slides to gently fit between your shoulder blades and Ellie’s going rigid.

“Yeah,” you respond, smile soft and familiar.

Ellie’d been on the receiving end once upon a time, and she nearly retches when you shift closer to the girl.

“This is Ellie,” you introduce. “An old classmate.”

The girl gives Ellie a once over, then a pensive smile.

“You ready to check out?” she asks you.

Ellie watches as you give her the upper level philosophy textbook and thinks that it’s fitting, your area of study.

“I’ll be up in a second, just gonna say bye,” you assure her.

She’s gazing down at you for a moment too long, lips curling into a wider smile as she nods in understanding and Ellie has to stop herself from recoiling.

Old habits die hard because she’s picking a fight despite her better judgment.

“So, I’ve been worried fucking sick over you for the past year but you were with someone else this entire—”

“Don’t do that, Ellie,” you say softly. “We’re friends. She helped me a lot through losing Dev.”

“If you called—”

“If I called, what, Ellie?” you ask seriously, but not unkindly.

You’re fed up, frankly.

“I would’ve been there,” Ellie says firmly, then whispers, “I would’ve fucking been there.”

“Would you have really?” you breathe a short laugh through your nose. “Last time we spoke I told you I loved you and you told me to have some self-respect.”

Ellie winces.

“I’ve thought about it,” she swallows.

You only blink up at her.

“It’s all I could think about since last spring, but…” she trails off, searches your face for courage because she’s so fucking scared. “What you said, the last time we spoke.”

“I said a lot of things,” you reply candidly.

“That we could work through it if I gave us a shot,” Ellie murmurs, running her fingers through her overgrown hair. “And I know I’m late—”

“Yeah, no shit,” you say flatly and Ellie flinches.

“But I want us to work and—”

“No.”

And the wind’s knocked from her lungs, makes her stomach wrench.

“And it’s not because I don’t love you anymore,” you say gently. “But because losing Dev taught me to love myself more.”

Ellie’s throat bobs.

“I can’t keep cutting myself down to accept what you feel like giving me,” you say. “Because I won’t take you having me one hundred percent and deciding to give me 10 on the days when the going gets tough. And don’t say you won’t because we’ve already done that shit with no labels.”

Being absolutely read makes Ellie feel infinitely more like shit because she’s never heard such a sound declaration of your unbridled feelings.

“I’m not losing you again,” Ellie whispers vehemently.

“You don’t have to,” you say softly, visibly withdrawing from the conversation. “I’ll always be in your corner rooting for you. But I can’t give you anymore than that. I won’t.”

“Wait, please, I—”

“I gotta go,” you say, peeling away. “Abby’s waiting.”

“Babe, c’mon.”

“I’ll see you around, Ellie,” you bid her, sparing her one final glance. “Take care of yourself.”

neng©️2023

[honestsycrets]

omggg I would love to request a "are you really so oblivious?" with Miguel

❛ summary | you're not picking up on any of the signs Miguel is throwing. he's is desperate enough to ask your pupil pavitr for help.

❛ sy's notes | as requested! i will post dad!miguel drabble on wednesday.

❛ sy's tags | pupil pavitr, pavitr being a helpful bug, some anger, some violence, mostly just minor angst and some cuteness.

“She's pretty, no?" Pavitr sings, "You could just assssk her. ”

Miguel doesn’t know why he’s here. He doesn't know why he's still trying after the trainwreck that was February. He also doesn’t know why the kid insists that 'help' is bombing his dates just to whisper in his ear. Dates that he feels are dates but you don’t know are dates.

That's what happens when you want a woman who hasn't dated in years.

It’s not enough that he’s stuffed himself into clothes that he doesn’t like, like the black button-up that is a size too small, because that’s the largest size he could find. He leaves a button or two exposed because as Pavitr says, you love to comment on how soft he looks with just a little skin. He has to be soft, too.

As if being soft was ever a good thing for Miguel. It never failed. He gets soft, his life goes complete and utter shit. You’re nibbling a hunk of roti between your thumb and index finger, grinning behind your fingers. You might have heard it, but like many things, you’re not connecting the dots. You never connect the fucking dots.

“Hm, new girlfriend, Pav?”

“Me?” he peeped, his grin ear to ear. “No! Bhaiya has his eye on a girl. A pretty girl.”

The loud cafe was full of beautiful women with thick bangles, kohl-lined eyes, and playful smiles. They spoke about all kinds of things: family life, relationships, friendships, and school. Of every woman here, he finds himself aching to know what goes on behind your eyes, almost troubled with what Pavitr was saying.

“Mi Miguel?” you tilt your head, a set of your gilded earrings clinking as you moved. Pavitr suggested you dress up on purpose-- Despite the power that courses through his upper body, Miguel feels weak. "Not my Miguel."

My Miguel-- Mi Miguel, both sound gorgeous when they come your lips. He could get used to it.

“See, she said ‘mi’, that’s your chance,” he’s whispering in Miguel’s ear. He pinches his brow, rolling the skin between his fingertips. Whatever chance Pavitr thinks he has is slipping away. Miguel can’t be bothered to stop it. This kid can't possibly know how you feel.

“You have to be talking about someone else. All those Spiders in HQ and yet Miguel never goes after them, not one. Mira-- Pav. On San Valentín Miguel gave me flowers, rosas. Of all the girls!”

Fuck. Pav blinked, his gaze following Miguel in his seat. He doesn’t address his humiliation, just lets you chew on it. He closes his eyes, wishing that he could forget that awkward day. It was pathetic, the way he called you into his lab, a bundle of roses in his arms. Just for a kiss on the cheek that proceeded to torment him the rest of the month. Aw, how cute, Miggy.

All that... just to be called cute.

"Maybe he likes you! Did you get him anything?" Pav is trying here, but you’re not picking up on anything that he’s laying down. You laughed it off, awkward as you were.

“Me? No, Miguel-- he doesn't like me,” you clean your hands and lean in your chair. Your sultry eyes fall on Miguel, bidding him to lower his hand from his eyes. He catches your gaze as you ask, "Do you, Miggy?"

"No. You're making assumptions."

Your eyes scan Miguel over, searching for some sort of fault in Miguel's face. Solemn, playing as amused. You don't find any in his hard gaze. You come to the antithesis of what he meant, assuming that he was talking to Pavitr rather than you. Your gaze hardens, shutting him out from the depths of your emotions. Then, your mood turns. It's not like you.

“See? The day Miguel finds a woman is the day I'll find a man." You reach for your tea, lips churning in a frown. " Pero, since he has someone, I should start looking in Nueva York, hm?”

Pavitr grimaces.

“Damn it!” Miguel bites out. His hand slams on the flimsy table, snapping it in two. Your tea spills over your gold dress as Pavitr and you lurch to stabilize it. It didn’t help that there were countless sets of warm eyes boring at Miguel as he stormed through the tiny entrance of the shop to avoid more damage to the poor owner’s store.

Why did he try? He was entirely sick of it. Sick of trying to show how much damn work he was doing to get you to understand how he felt. Pavitr had not helped at all. If anything, he made it worse. At least before-- you weren't looking for someone. When you were alone, just with him, it could be the two of you. No one else mattered. Miguel regrets stomaching his pride just to ask the boy for help. What was he thinking-- asking a teenager about adult issues?

“Miggy!”

He hears your voice but dips into the busy crowd. He sticking out like a sore thumb with his excessive muscle tone and your quick steps, quicker with your spider abilities. If you were anyone else, he would have cut you out of his life. Instead, he’s just a bug stuck in your spider web.

You snatched his watch-clad wrist, whirling him around. He can’t fight your touch, he longs for it, craves it more than he’s craved anything in the past few months. You shove him into a shadowy alleyway. His back connects with the wall, head shifting to the sea of saris and rich color. He isn’t looking at you.

“Miguel O’Hara, look at me.”

“Go find that man you want so much,” he bit out, the words scratching out of his throat as if they had barbs.

“¿Qué? Miguel, you’re-- dios mío. Why are you acting so angry? You didn't want me!”

“Of course, I want you! But you are-- are you really so oblivious?” he shouted, his fist connecting with the wall beside him, A crater forms around his massive hand, shaking loose dust from the building. "Nothing I do is enough."

"Stop," you grasp his hand, bringing them to your hand for a slight kiss. His heart rips into his chest, suddenly unable to tear his eye away from the red stain of lipstick over his knuckles. His irritation cools like cold water meeting a roiling boil, tracking how you shift his large palm to your cheek.

“Perdóname. I thought--” you find yourself mumbling, “You… How could you like me?”

He watches your hand fall away from his, maintaining a hold on your cheek. Even now, he finds you beautiful, soaked in chai all over your gilded gown. He knows why you can’t understand. Since he’s known you, you rarely had a man pursue you because as a girlfriend. Aside from your shapely body, you were the sort of woman men didn’t usually pursue. He knows you don’t like his shouting, it shows in the way your eyes dart to the pebbles under his boots. He tapers down his tone.

“I just do.” He sets a small kiss on your forehead, his hand slipping around to collar your nape. Your fingers turn over his tawny exposed chest, almost shyly so. You could bring him to his knees touching him like that, a gentleness that he’s only longed for since he first fell for you. You’re so close-- yet, nothing is solidified. It could slip away. “¿Y tú?”

“I-- I do, I do too.”

Your cheeks flush. Moreso when he spots Pavitr peeking around the corner, gazing at his thumb stroking your cheek with the most aggravating smile ruptured across his face. Miguel releases a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, his tone becoming sharp, nearly heartless in the way he says them.

“Soooo, do you... need any more help, Bhaiya?”

“I think we can take it from here, Pav. Thank you for helping me.”

Helping you? Miguel snaps down to look at you. You gaze back into Miguel’s confused eyes with the warmth that he needs at that moment. Pavitr’s picking-- about asking you out, teasing him when you said you’d find someone else-- suddenly makes complete sense. Pav slides away, grinning like the idiot Miguel feels he is.

“What do you mean-- Helping you?”

“Well,” you smiled. “Miggy. He’s my kid. You couldn’t have really thought he’d help you.”

“No. Apparently not."

[vaaaaaiolet]

You move to the big city in search of bigger and better, so naturally, you get your first place.

You just don't anticipate the roommate that comes along with it.

f / m, strangers / enemies to lovers, slow burn, hijinks and shenanigans, leon is bad at feelings :( but don't worry because there will be so much fluff omg like a romcom, leon being a little shit to a sweetheart pipeline, and banter!! so much banter

inspired by the Japanese drama Good Morning Call!

catch up on earlier chapters // read on ao3

chapter 4: legalese, chimney sweeps, and a partridge in a pear tree

a/n: this is a REUPLOAD bc i've been told my first post didn't show up in tags 😭 thank you so much if you read the original upload, it means the world to me :,)

I KNOW I TOOK FOREVER but i was fighting to get this written omg. so many ideas. my head hurts. if you can find the spiderman scene we are now due for a spring wedding. andrew garfield peter parker >>> but as always, i love u LOTS!! enjoy <3

There are all kinds of upsides to having friends in high places, but when your connections are limited to the four walls of Wok and Roll Ramen Noodle, the best you’ve got is Hikaru Uehara: an unlikely junior-year friend, the owner’s son, and law student extraordinaire. Apron tied with a clumsy knot behind your back, you slip inside the tiny shop only to meet his sharp eyes across the bar. Oof.

Hikaru frowns. “You’re late again.”

“I know, I know, but I’ve actually got an excuse this time,” you try for a winning smile, peeking at the book he’s currently nose deep in. 

“It’s always something with you. Still house hunting?” He slides a bowl of kitsune udon across the bartop, “Number 43, table next to the creepy painting.”

He shoots, he scores! You catch the bowl and head off to the hungry patron.

“You know, my dad finished our basement yesterday and we’ve got an empty room now. I told him I’d ask you.” 

“Because you’re offering it free of rent, right?” 

A not-at-all-subtle grin pulls at the corner of his mouth. “What about an employee discount?”

“In your dreams, Uehara.”

43 asks for an extra pair of chopsticks, which you gladly deposit before taking the barstool opposite the shopkeeper’s son. It turns out he’s reading one of his textbooks for law class. Perfect. You roll up your sleeves and bust out your CEO face again. 

Here goes nothing. “I kind of got myself into a mess.”

“I don’t want to hear about the thing with your fern and the toilet again.”

“What? No, ew,” you wave all associated memories of that away, “no, seriously. I found a place, but I’m kind of…stuck in it. I need you go all Elle Woods and help me because I got scammed.” And also broken into, but you mentally plead the fifth and avoid self-incriminating yourself. “The lease is forcing me and this other guy to share the place and neither of us know how to get out.”

That gets his attention; Hikaru puts down his textbook. “Okay, maybe you do have an excuse this time. What the hell?”

The Sparknotes version is that you and Leon both filed for the same apartment within half an hour of each other.

Number 44: cold soba.

Your landlady’s as good as fled the country. Leon can’t reach his either. Hikaru sucks his teeth.

Number 45: miso soup.

You’ve both agreed to share the apartment for the three months of the lease considering the mini fortune of money blown on the deal.

“$6000? Really?” he gasps. “You do know how much this job pays you, right?”

“Then pay me more!” you shoot back, multitasking refills while balancing a full tray. 

45 again: miso soup on the house. Hikaru hands you a mop for your spill as you glare, but pulls out his laptop all the same.

“Well, if you’re fine with sharing the apartment for two more months…” he hums, typing away and whistling in approval as he finds your apartment listing, “your place isn’t bad at all considering the price. Plus, you can’t request to move back in just like that if we lodge a complaint and you win. What if this Leon turns out to be an alright roommate?”

His question irks you a little. Why would you want the apartment back with a weirdly cagey roommate who shotguns (emphasis on gun) the master bedroom? You’ve got reason enough to want a place of your own after the shitshow that was college last year. You wonder if you should lay out all Leon’s teen boy-esque rules about not touching his things, but Hikaru shakes his head the minute you open your mouth.

“I know it’s not what you want to hear, but maybe the best course of action is to wait the storm out.” 

He sounds sincere for once, turning the laptop screen around to show you a 37-page long document with your building’s name embellishing the top. His fingers just keep scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling, and dear God.

"That's the complaint form?" Your shriek rattles 45’s bowl worryingly.

“The first half, yes. Should I email you the second?”

Number 46 has the nerve to comment on your face looking more blanched than her bok choy.

That evening, you close the Wok and Roll with a heavy heart. Your phone pings as you double check the locks.

[Hikaru]: srsly ur best waiting out ur contract

Well damn, Hikaru. Friend of the year.

[Hikaru]: but since u asked (and rescued that last order)

[Hikaru]: i’ll still look for ways to get u out of there and on ur own

[Hikaru]: after finals tho

[Hikaru]: and once u start coming in on time!!

You pump your fist with a self-indulgent whoop outside the restaurant doors. Hikaru might be a pain to deal with sometimes, but he really did come through when he wanted to. Consider your now-thriving toilet fern that he put together a pot for, and soon with a little bit of luck, your eventual solo apartment life. 

You eagerly text back a thank you. Not even the winter air buffeting your face could put a damper on your mood as you skip back home to your apartment, and consequently, to Leon.

Or at least you thought you were. The apartment is lovely and warm and quiet when you unlock the front door. 

“Hello?” You call out for him, looping your scarf onto the wall hook.

No response. 

Leon’s bedroom door’s cracked open though, and the light looks off. It’s only 7 PM. Did he tell you he was going out? Crap, you realize how ill-prepared you’d been to not get his number or anything before you left. Rookie mistake. This roommate business is harder than you remember.

You toe off your boots and tiptoe toward the master bedroom. 

No messing in each other’s rooms, Leon’s phantom voice prods at the back of your head, but your concern for his wellbeing — okay fine, maybe you just want to peek at his stuff that’s so damn secret — takes over as you push his door open and slip into the darkness that’s making it impossible to see.

So you flick on the nearby lamp.

And then you scream. “What are you doing?”

Tucked in bed as snug as a bug and fully dressed, complete with shearling jacket, is Leon Kennedy with his face dirtied to high heaven. He blinks crossly as the lamp flickers to life. 

“Huh?” His voice is gruff with sleep.

“You’re sleeping…like that?”

He looks down as if registering himself for the first time. “I’m…yeah. Tired.”

“What happened to your face?” you ask, sounding reedy. “It’s filthy.”

“It is?”

You nod sharply.

“Oh? Oh yeah, yeah, I was cleaning the chimney.”

“We don’t have a chimney. Leon, we don’t even have a fireplace.” 

He fumbles out of his covers at your bug-eyed look. His room is absolutely freezing. “I have an explanation, I swear,” he starts as you back into the living room. Leon looks even grimier in the light: soot dusts his shoulders like powdered sugar, ages his hair salt-and-pepper, bruises the knees of his jeans. “Last night, I couldn’t sleep. There was something wrong with the heating so I went to check.”

Your room is perfectly warm. The house is perfectly warm.

He nods. “That’s cause I fixed the rest of the apartment, my room’s sti-” And then stops, narrowing his eyes. Whatever Leon did to fix the heating couldn’t have kept the temperature from dropping several degrees as he hisses, “You came into my room. We had a deal.”

“I had no idea you were even home!” 

“Doesn’t negate the fact that you broke the rule.”

Everything flips in a second; he’s glaring daggers, and the entire situation is so petulantly infuriating that you take his bait. The snow from your coat is making a melted mess on the carpet. Leon’s still in his stupid dirty jacket. The living room is half-unpacked from moving in literally the day before, and you’re already having your first argument with your roommate over stepping three feet into his bedroom.

“What is so goddamn important about the stuff in your room?” you finally explode. 

“You don’t get it.” 

“Leon,” you sound embarrassingly close to pleading now, “you wanted this – this whole sharing thing – but now you’re not giving me a chance?” You let your arms fall to your sides. 

Hikaru wanted to know if you could last three months. But as Leon stares at you, jaw working like he’s having a one-man argument inside his mouth, you wonder how you’ll tell your friend you couldn’t even last three nights. Frustrated tears prick at your eyes. You’ve never been good on the debate team back in high school. How long is it going to take for Leon to snap at you for that too?  

“It’s not you,” he says softly.

You smother a sniffle with your coat sleeve, making him sigh. 

“It’s not you,” he repeats, shaking his head to himself, “God, Hunnigan, you’re never this sloppy…” Shucking off his coat, he drops it on a box labeled Seasonal Decor #2 before heading back inside his room. He appears moments later with a box of tissues. “Take one before I get them covered in coal, yeah?” 

As you hesitatingly accept, you take in his form sans jacket. Leon is – alarmingly built, for one – covered in scratches. Bruises. Real ones. Fresh.

They’re littered along his muscled forearms, right up to the tops of his fitted black shirt sleeves. He’s so close to you that you even notice a silvery scar topping his right cheekbone.

“Are you…okay?”

Mystery swirls around your roommate like the soot he’s covered in. You ball up the tissue in your hand as his brow gradually smooths out, anger dissipating. 

“It’s my job,” Leon reveals. “Everything, this apartment, the stuff I’m keeping in my room, I…I work for the government, okay? This apartment was supposed to be home base for me. There’s stuff in there I can’t have anyone messing with. Stuff that could hurt you.” He pulls out a gleaming badge and lets you inspect it as your hand slowly flies over your mouth. “See?”

The gun in his pocket. The phone call. 

“But you’re not going to hurt me…right?” you dare to ask.

Leon’s eyes go wide, blond head shaking swiftly. “Never, I swear. Trying to do the opposite, actually, but that’s not going too great right now. I’m here to stop somebody from getting their hands on something that could hurt a lot of people.”

It’s a little surreal. Your once-burglar roommate turned government agent blinks at you like you’ll turn any moment, like you’re about to scream and run for the hills, so he can’t help but flinch as you reach for another tissue and whisper, “Can I?”

“Can you what? I can’t let you look at my things, again, I-” Leon tilts his head as you wrap the tissue around your index and middle fingers, and then rifle through the Seasonal Decor #2 box. “What are you doing?”

“Got it!”

You turn around, revealing a modest first aid kit in your hands.

“You keep that with your Christmas decorations?” He lets out a short laugh.

“I drop a lot of ornaments. Should really invest in plastic ones.” Fishing out a small bottle of ointment for Leon to see, you shoot him a redeeming grin. “So can I?”

He smiles. “You may,” Leon concedes, allowing you to settle him on the couch.

Leon’s bedroom seems to drop in temperature as the evening blends into night, falling to a bewildering 38 degrees while the rest of the apartment remains toasty. Ice might be frosting his windows, but thankfully, it only melts between you and Leon as you dab ointment into his cuts and he entertains you with sanitized anecdotes from his work around the world. The living room clock ticks to 10 o’clock as you two share the next best thing to dinner: a stash of rice crackers swiped from the back of the Wok and Roll. 

“There’s no way you’re sleeping with a jacket on.” You jut your chin towards his room, hissing in sympathy as he jerks from the alcohol sting. “It’s just as bad as sleeping outside in the snow.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” Leon munches. He holds out a cracker for you to bite, an oddly intimate gesture that he doesn’t seem to put as much thought into as you, “it’s plenty warm out here.”

“And have you spend the night on a lumpy sofa with a million bruises on your back? That’d be evil, Leon.”

He shrugs. “I’ve slept through worse.”

“Yeah, because you were probably halfway across the world in some random jungle!” 

“It was just the one mission, come on,” he protests, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

You shake your head. The tail end of his bandage tucks neatly under his arm as you finish patching him up. It’s been an eventful night, and with each genuine laugh you share with Leon, the more you feel like extending an olive branch for everything that’s happened so far. You even feel a little bad for the Lena thing.

“Sleep in my room for the night. Take the bed,” you suggest.

“It wouldn’t be very chivalrous of me.”

“And calling dibs on the master bedroom was?”

“I needed space for my equipment!”

You lift an unimpressed brow.

“Touché.” Leon gives in, chuckling.

So it’s settled. You pull out a mass of blankets from a box next to the fridge (Winter Camp Sophomore Year EMERGENCY SUPPLIES) which Leon insists on expertly fashioning into a nest beside your bed. It’s piled high with pillows from his own bed by the time you come back from brushing your teeth. 

“It makes me feel better about this whole thing,” he admits when you laugh at it. 

It’s either him or his pillows that make you feel warmer sleeping on the floor than you did in your bed last night. Leon's unexpected warmth might be your Christmas miracle to make up for this apartment fiasco. The stars twinkle outside your bedroom window as you drift off to sleep.

Deep in your dreams, you miss the twinkle of something else too. 

A ping to be specific.

[UNKNOWN NUMBER]: Hiding him from me already?

back to the chapter masterlist...

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

[shawtythatluvsurgut]

gunna have a video of me feeding my feedee up on my onlyfans soon. i’m thinking about starting it back up while i take a break from college because it was kind of empowering to get to own my kink in such a way. I also enjoy sharing that side of myself with all of you. subscription price will be between $8-$10/mo since my feedee is going to be collaborating with me on certain pieces of content. i will maybe begin gaining again once i get my health back in check, we’ll see. i want my muscle mommy build back, and to get that back i’ll have to pack on some weight. so we’ll see what happens with that. ;)

in the meantime and between-time, stay safe. especially on the internet. all of my old rules still apply for messaging me, but i will gradually get back to making regular content and posts. now that i am taking a break from school, i’m working more, but I also have free time on my hands when i’m not working. it feels really nice to get back into the swing of things. I’ve missed you all and I’ve missed the positive aspects of this community.

going forward, i’m just going to block people who talk shit to me or delete their comments (unless it’s of actual importance to discuss). i’m just done engaging with that shit. idk, i’m on new medication that seem to be actually working and i feel stable, so i feel ready to re-embrace this community with open arms.

a special thank you to everyone who continued engaging with me and communicating with me during my break. i appreciate all of your kind words more than you know, and if i didn’t respond to you it was because i didn’t want the answer to “hey how are you?” to be “i’m miserable. how are you?”. but I saw all of you - each and every message, comment, text, etc. - and i just want to say thank you. the people who still proceeded to message me with positivity are the reason I have decided I want to come back.

With all that being said, I hope you will all accept me back. I understand that some of you were upset that I left and didn’t understand my reasonings, but I hope we can reconcile our differences and i can gain your trust again. I’m not the angry person that I became when responding to hate messages, and that also influenced my time away. I could see that my demeanor on this hellsite was changing and I was getting more upset, angry and, honestly, afraid of going on here (let alone posting myself on here). However, that has changed. I’ve been working on being more optimistic and caring less about the negative opinions of others. Frankly, if someone doesn’t like me or my content they should just be an adult about it and either reach out to discuss that or ignore me. If they can’t do that, I believe they are childish and need to get a grip. There are some key things I’ve learned in life that I want to share with people who are as I described above:

- your comfort is not someone else’s responsibility. if it makes you uncomfortable, then don’t engage. It’s as simple as that.

- no one has to cater to your interests. everyone lives on their own agenda. your wants and desires do not take priority over the wants and desires of others. sure, there are some people who will cater to your every wish, but i’m definitely not one of them.

- similarly to above, your desires do not take priority over someone’s health. that includes both mental health and physical health. (death feedism is a thing if you are interested in someone wanting to gain while not caring about their health. this is not a death feedism page and i suggest you go search in the tags for that if it is what you are looking for. I do not want to kill my feedee, nor do I want him or I to gain enough weight to become immobile or at risk in any way. As hot as the idea is to me at times, we are both too active and work in active careers for that to be a realistic possibility for us. maybe someday i’ll get a stay at home job and get really big, or maybe someday he will. only time can tell. sorry for the length, i’m high. i’ll stfu now.

- people don’t care. no stranger online owes it to you to care that you don’t like their body, or that you don’t like this or that. it doesn’t matter because that person does not know you. there’s no point in wasting time caring about your negative comment unless it’s actually useful and constructive commentary.

So anyways, i’m back in business again. gonna post some FA art soon + start uploading to my OF again. I thank any of you who read this far and again I hope you can accept me back into the community.

Thanks,

Nico

[britcision]

Hey by the way Dungeon Meshi gang, I have noticed that we seem to be pretty heavily stuck in “people hit like instead of reblog” gang so I just wanna throw this out there

Hitting “like” on Tumblr is basically a nod across a crowded room to OP. It doesn’t share it, doesn’t increase reach, nobody is gonna see it from your likes

If you wanna actually boost a post and encourage OP to make more of the same, you gotta hit reblog, maybe go a little feral in the tags, maybe just hit the same tags the post had before

Cuz again: nothing happens when you hit “Like” except the heart turns red and it adds it to a list on your profile

(You cannot meaningfully search this list)

Now this has absolutely nothing to do with anything I post, because this is about fan artists! Because we have some goddamn INCREDIBLE artists blessing us every single day in this fandom

And every time I see and share some of this goddamn majestic pieces and see “3 reblogs 1500 likes” it makes my heart sad, both because the majestic art deserves so much more acclaim and also less of us will get to see and enjoy said art

This is a goddamn tragedy

Imagine if you just… never saw that absolutely bangin’ Laios-dragon with his tiddies out because you just… weren’t following the artist because you didn’t even know they did Dungeon Meshi art, or weren’t browsing the tags right when it was posted

And listen, I want you to feel encouraged to interact with every post you even vaguely feel like tagging with a key smash! Even if you don’t tag at all and just silently hit the reblog button!

But seriously guys you gotta reblog all the fanart and go full feral in the tags if you don’t want to go in the comments or hype it in a full post, because while I am a full proponent of “you gotta create for yourself”

We

We want them to share their creations, right? We want to see them on our tumblr?

So we gotta give them that good good dopamine on the tumblr

Cuz lemme tell you I’m sure as shit not gonna stop or even slow being feral and unhinged in the tags and text posts and shit posting, but I might not bother posting fic here first and just toss it on AO3 if only 3 people are gonna see it here

(I’m also not gonna stop or slow writing unhinged fic or sharing it all on AO3 it’s just… not gonna get posted here separately?

Cuz yeah for real hype your own stuff, reshare and gas yourself up and all that and keep tossing it out there for shits and giggles, but it does take extra time energy and effort for me to double post and I am a Lazy Bitch and perpetually busy on a new unhinged project

There’s no real number I’d look for, it’s more the near complete lack of reblogs even when something gets liked, it’s the ratio that’d tell me it’s worth it to y’all for me to put the work in)

And also if enough people reblog a post you get to see the super cool viral explosion of all of the reblog chains and where people saw it and they’re awesome

Go find a well noted post and check it out

[spot-the-antisemitism]

“pro-Pal” anon - I want to apologize for several things because I clearly communicated poorly

First, I didn’t mean to imply you aren’t Jewish or your perspective isnt! When I said “a Jewish perspective” on the slur usage, all I meant is that I’ve seen Jewish users talk about this as an issue too, not just others watching from the sidelines, and obviously you don’t know who I am so I didn’t want to go “Hi, just butting in with information which is irrelevant to jumblr!” bc I’ve first found these conversations amongst Jewish bloggers, but they haven’t had a gigantic amount of reach to where it’s still commonly used (which is why I’ve seen a couple jumblr blogs make PSAs about it).

Secondly, I also didn’t mean to imply ‘zio’ is 100% directly equivalent etc, and you’re completely right about all of the conspiratorial uses. It’s a horrible word, and nobody should be using it for any purpose, but I guess my phrasing made it come off as assuming you didn’t know that. Clearly you do, because you run this blog and experience this shit firsthand. I truly did not mean to denigrate your lived experience or expertise or imply you don’t know how slurs work or something. The purpose of the comparison was that you know exactly what you’re talking about when it comes to antisemitism (more than me clearly!) so I was trying to think how they’re used in similar ways sometimes (as you acknowledged).

Third, I’m swear not a hamasnik, and I’m not sending this randomly due to tag searching, or mass-asking (I mean; nobody else got that ask), I sent the ask because I’ve been following this enough with multiple people to see that your blog is fairly influential (I see you reblogged on my dash with some frequency), and I genuinely have encountered a fair number of people (of all backgrounds, not singling out Jewish ppl here) who didn’t realize there was a slur within the phrase and went “Oh ok I’ll use a different word.” I was trying to cover my bases in case you were unfamiliar—not with the issues at hand but with a very specific usage of a word used against Palestinians, which is not something tossed at you personally afaik—not to imply you were generally ignorant of racial hatred in some way. The whole point of this blog is that you’re not. If I thought you were it’d be pointless to try.

Thank you for your consideration about using ‘hamasnik’ as an alternative. I completely agree that the Western movement is not pro-Palestine, simply anti-Israel (often extending to anti-Jewish) and those two things are not equivalent. There’s no excuse for the way the ‘movement’ as such has treated and continues to treat Jews, nor for valorizing Hamas’s crimes against humanity.

I will push back on some things you claimed about me though because they are wrong: sending this had NOTHING to do with Sinwar’s death and accusing someone of terror apologia over an ask which did not mention him or Hamas is a big reach. He was a butcher of Israelis and Palestinians alike, a murderer, a rapist, a truly hateful man, and I am glad he can do no more harm in the world. And what it’s worth, I have been called several slurs with some frequency, including as threats of violence and rape said to my face. That I have no experience of oppression not a particularly kind assumption to make about me, and I’m kind of alarmed at how hostile and unnecessary it was to “call me out” as a non-oppressed person. I did not mean to cross such a line as to inspire that reaction, but I won’t lie, it did kind of make me feel like shit.

You obviously don’t have to post this if you don’t want to, all I want to say is I meant no harm, I do NOT support Hamas, but I do support the work you do calling out antisemitism, which is why I was even on your blog and seeing it on others—I genuinely wasn’t sure if you knew because I’ve met people who were surprised to learn it wasn’t just shorthand for “Palestinian” and without that context it sounds harmless. I’m sorry if I came off as condescending (I’ve been told my sentence structure sometimes does when I’m trying to word things very carefully but I’m still figuring out how to avoid it) or confrontational, and again thank you for acknowledging the slurs/their history in your post and for using ‘hamasnik’. The people (mainly white goyim) being antisemitic & racist themselves need to be called out and I’m glad you’re doing it. That said if I upset you enough that you’d like me to not interact with you or view/follow your blog, I will honor that, though I plan to keep following the other Jewish bloggers I do and continue keeping track of rising antisemitism as well as anti-Palestinian hatred. If I’m uneducated and ignorant, I’ll just have to learn more, but if this isn’t the place for me specifically to do it in your opinion, I’ll respect that.

Thanks for taking the time to read this, and again, I’m sorry.

Dear "pro-pal is a slur anon",

I have gravely misunderstood your intentions because you came off as very condescending

first, I am aware of what spacelazarwolf said, I follow spacelazarwolf, I had argued at the time it's not a slur when talking about non arab non palestineans. I now see I was wrong and apologize.

Second, thanks for realizing I know more about slurs than you but again I probably shouldn't have dissmissed the palestinean perspective and said I know better, anymore than you shouldn't consider you know. Zio is a slur even when used agaisnt gentiles, Pal/Pali is a slur even when used against non palestineans. We agree

I was already using hamasnik but yeah I should have switched to it sooner, honestly.

"I completely agree that the Western movement is not pro-Palestine, simply anti-Israel (often extending to anti-Jewish) and those two things are not equivalent. There’s no excuse for the way the ‘movement’ as such has treated and continues to treat Jews, nor for valorizing Hamas’s crimes against humanity."

^ this right here

Third, I assumed you weren't trying to reach me but actually condescend and scold me for wrongdoing to discredit me and not in good faith at all. you do not know how many times people claimed i have sexually harrased, abused their cat despite never meeting them that I was racist for "spade", that I could be dissmissed because I cannot spell so "pro-pal is a slur actually" sounded like another reason to discredit me and paint me as evil, racist and uninformed

"And what it’s worth, I have been called several slurs with some frequency, including as threats of violence and rape said to my face. That I have no experience of oppression not a particularly kind assumption to make about me, and I’m kind of alarmed at how hostile and unnecessary it was to “call me out” as a non-oppressed person. I did not mean to cross such a line as to inspire that reaction, but I won’t lie, it did kind of make me feel like shit."

No excuse for saying that.I really need to stop with "ooh you sound like you're not oppressed enough" it's deeply harmful to assume

Sorry for calling you supporter of hamas that was uncalled for. please forgive me. I like when people ask me to condemn Israel it is hypocritical of me to ask you to prove you don't support hamas

"That said if I upset you enough that you’d like me to not interact with you or view/follow your blog, I will honor that, though I plan to keep following the other Jewish bloggers I do and continue keeping track of rising antisemitism as well as anti-Palestinian hatred. If I’m uneducated and ignorant, I’ll just have to learn more,"

While you have deeply offended me and I you in turn, I honestly think if you want to learn, I think talking to me is beneficial to both of us and if you want to keep talking that's up to you

and why on EARTH would I not publish the post exonerating you?

thank you for pushing back,

Cecil

[qodlysinz]

Needs More Seasoning

Alastor - Hazbin Hotel

CW: blood, mentions of torn off limb, Alastor’s cannibalism 😭😭

Tags: pure crack, Lute’s torn off arm lmao

A/N: erm so I got this idea from a post on tiktok from a comment by someone saying “alastor would debate eating the arm” and I thought it was funny and was inspired to write this LMFAO let’s also ignore the fact that Al disappeared after the battle w the angels bc I couldnt find a logical way to implement him…

Angel Dust grunted as he pushed away the rubble, irritation and worry pricking at his mind as he searched for his beloved pig, Fat Nuggets. His jaw dropped at the sight of glowing angel blood oozing from a piece or cement, an arm crushed beneath it.

He backed away, yelping in disgust. “What the fuck?!” He exclaimed, kicking away as he had fallen back from surprise. Even in his days in the mafia had he been a bit put-off by things like this. Sure, he shot bitches and dumbasses who wronged his family, but a fucking limb?

“Angel? What’s—oh…” Charlie’s voice murmured, her nose scrunched up, slowly holding out her hand and reaching for his. “Vaggie, can you come here?” Charlie called out to her girlfriend. Vaggie walked over, wiping blood from her nose. “Uhhh…” the former exorcist hesitated.

“Whose arm is that?!” Angel pointed at it, “what is Fat Nuggets ate it? It’d upset his stomach!” He then remembered the pig, sighing in relief as Fat Nuggets ran to the sound of his voice and leaping into his lower set of arms. “It was Adam’s lieutenant’s. The psycho bitch must’ve pulled it off herself when the building fell on her.” Vaggie replied, “I’ll throw it off the side.” She added, poking it with her spear and holding it in front of her, nose wrinkled in annoyance.

Alastor appeared before the shorter, humming as he poked at the discarded arm. “Well, now! What’s this you have here?” He asked her, tilting his head to the side curiously. Vaggie groaned, “move it, Alastor! I need to throw this—thing out!”

“Haha! I’ll dispose of it if you wish, my dear.” He politely said, ignoring the blood dripping from his chest as he examined the arm closely. “Fine, whatever, I don’t want to… what are you doing?” She watched as Alastor plucked it from her spear, shifting the arm around and poking it with his free hand and sticking the finger to his tongue. “Oooh, tasty!” He enthusiastically sang. Charlie shuddered, “thank you… Alastor… I’ll go.. uh.. help my dad!” She quickly said, grabbing Vaggie’s hand and running away with her girlfriend, sparing a glance at the cannibalistic Radio Demon.

Angel stared at him, blinking at him weirdly. “You’re weird as shit, Al.” He mentioned, his eyes widening as his jaw dropped when Alastor bit into the arm. “Hmm, could use some seasoning. Do you have any recommendations?” Asked Alastor, wiping the golden blood from around his mouth with a handkerchief. Angel backed up, “yeah, don’t eat Fat Nuggets and use oregano, rosemary, sage, and garlic. I’m sure it’d… um.. satisfy your freakishness.” Mumbled the spider demon before rushing away, saying something about wanting to make sure his hidden drug stash (or sex toys, Alastor didn’t hear him very well) wasn’t destroyed, Alastor didn’t care and he continued to nibble on the arm.

[soullessjack]

Hello sorry for an ask. I am very sick, my asthma is at its maximum level, my nose freezes, I have no medicine or food. I am in bad shape financially, I am a black disabled, who uses multiple medications, I pay for my food and lodging

Unfortunately I do not have all the resources to keep me safe, that is why I need your help, whatever you can contribute to me will be of great help.

there’s no way you thought this would work when this is the second time you’ve tried your little loser scam on my blog you stupid fuck 💀

anyways folks there’s a very common pattern I’ve noticed in some of these scams that I’d now like to point out to y’all

1) they’re extremely recent. 1-5 days old at best. this one is a day old.

2) they have that tumblr-generated name that never makes any sense, and if they try to make another blog again, the name is usually related in some way

3) they’ll almost always have this pfp and header. Sometimes the pfp changes (usually stolen from real campaigns) but the header is always the same. I shit you not I’ve already seen it so many times before now

4) their fundraiser or PayPal links are always multi-colored?? For some fucking reason?? and the name given on their account is either completely different from the name given on their blog, or they just don’t have a name given. they also have extremely minimal or vague information given about their identity, health issues etc.

5) they’ve used those specific tags — artists on tumblr, donations, free Palestine, etc — before. I use cross tags for donation posts as well but for someone who gives zero indication of being Palestinian, that’s a weird fucking tag to use for reach.

6) they usually reblog something related to activism, especially posts related to Palestine currently, but there’s always something else completely unrelated in there — like this fanfic.

I won’t go on a spiel about how that’s also a normal thing for nearly all blogs to do and isn’t always indicative of a scam, but for ones that claim to be in an active and severe health or housing crisis (hence their asking for donations) it’s something to look out for

again, these are just patterns and signs I’ve noticed personally from scams that I’ve been sent, I’m not an expert on any of this stuff. honestly just searching their username or other common scams on tumblr is a quick way to figure them out before you go ahead with anything else. but remember to stay safe and cautious, and know how to distinguish these from people who are actually in need.

[maarriiii]

Simp (Part 2) | Wilbur Soot

A/N: Oh wow, thank you so much for all the love for the first chapter!!! It means a lot. Also, i have another fic called Happy (Sad) New Year if you’re interested in seeing. And another thing is that I might update this series weekly.

Summary: You might have a crush on Tommy’s cute tall friend with the glasses.

Pairing(s): CC!Wilbur Soot x gender neutral!reader, CC!Wilbur Soot x actor!reader.

Warning(s): None.

italics: streams

my masterlist :))

~~

After your Twitter interaction with TommyInnit, The same thing happened again, funnily enough, was with a friend of Tommy’s and fellow streamer. You recognized him from the first vlog you’ve watched of Tommy’s, the cute tall one with the glasses. Wilbur Soot was his name or at least that was what people called him. Again, your fans tagged you in various posts, moments caught from his stream. In one of those clips, he jokingly banged his fist on his desk.

“That was suppose to be me, chat! I like them first! It’s not fair. Tommy keeps rubbing it on my face.”

There was another one where he talked about when he first liked you.

“I found this soundtrack, right, chat. And it was from this movie. I searched it up, watched it and just immediately it became one of my favourite films. They played one of the characters in it and I found out they wrote a song from the soundtrack that coincidentally is my favourite.”

The thing that got you though was when he complimented your singing and writing in the song that you wrote. You remembered being scared shitless for that particular role for two reasons. One, you never sang in front of that many people before and it made you nervous. Two, although you loved writing songs—you have a journal filled with unfinished songs—you didn’t think you had the ability to write one that was vital to your character’s arc.

“They have a very good voice in my opinion, no, a great voice actually. And that specific song was quite relatable for me—I’m pouring my heart out here, chat, and here you are calling me a simp. Fine, go ahead, call me a simp. I don’t care. Maybe I am a simp. What about it, chat?”

You thought it was really sweet how he thinks of you and you couldn’t help the slight fluttering in your heart and the butterflies in your stomach when his fans tell him that he has a crush. Also his cute smile didn’t help at all with the sensation growing inside you. Honestly, you could just watch a video of him smiling over and over again.

For days, you keep thinking about him which was frustrating and exciting in some way. You felt like a teenager again, crushing on a boy that smiled at you in passing. You haven’t told anyone about it, knowing that everyone was going to tease you if they knew and would try to convince you to reach out to him. You wanted to, badly even, but life in the spotlight has its ups and downs. You don’t want the paparazzi to be crowding and violating this man’s private life just for the sole reason of trying to find out who you might be dating next.

You were scrolling down YouTube again, filling the time as you sat down in the hair and makeup trailer, when you came across a band. From experience, artists you found on YouTube most of the time was your cup of tea so you clicked on the video titled ‘Taunt’ by Lovejoy. The already enjoyable song got more enjoyable when you saw the familiar face that had been invading your mind. You eyes grew wide, your head no longer bopping, and finally that feeling in your heart returned.

“Don’t smile too much. I’m doing your powder.” One of the makeup artist spoke, moving a brush across your cheeks.

“Oh shit, sorry Sloane.” Yet, you smiled again as the video plays out.

Sloane smirked, looking at your phone screen. “Know one of ‘em? Is that why you’re smiling all of the sudden?”

“I know that tone.” You glared at the older woman beside you. “And yes, I do know one of them if you must know.”

“Which one?”

“The one with the glasses and the hat. The tall one.”

Sloane leaned closer. “He’s cute.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I can see why you’re into him.”

“I did not say that I like him.”

“You didn’t have to.” Sloane pointed the brush she was holding at your face. “Your smile already did.”

~~

When you realized Wilbur Soot have a band, the obvious choice was to go on a rabbit hole of listening to their entire discography. It took a few listens but their songs grew on you and eventually made their way into your various playlists—some grew annoyed listening to you repeating their songs. Now that you found a perfect opportunity to try and talk to Wilbur, the only thing that’s left was the execution. You didn’t want to make it too obvious that you’re trying to reach this guy. You could only imagine the article they would write about and you didn’t need to be ask about “a mystery guy” when doing press junkets later on.

“What are you scared of? You’re just posting about this band that you like. You’ve done it a million times.” You said, trying to calm yourself.

With one last inhale and exhale, you began typing. Your heart beating vigorously with each letter that you pressed. It was incredibly ridiculous how nervous you were. You kind of wished someone was there to give you some emotional support but alas you were alone in your trailer.

“Okay, that’s good enough, I think. Not too long, not too short. All that’s left to do is post it.”

Your thumb hovered over the button, still contemplating whether or not this was the right choice. Maybe you should’ve chosen the lowkey route. Just slide into his DM’s like many of your friends did. What if he doesn’t see it? What if he doesn’t interact with it the way his friend Tommy did? What if he turns out to be an absolute dick? The possibilities were endless.

When the waiting and the doing absolutely nothing began eating you out, you decided it’s now or never.

“Fuck it.” You closed your eyes, pressed the button and the deed was done.

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

I still cant believe you and your wack fans found a twitter account posting gross art that used tags specific to that wack fetish in a way that made it very clear what the art was going to be, then clicked on the blurred image anyway and acted all shocked. You then proceeded to SHARE THE LINK TO THE ART. you were legit like "smh i cant believe this guy would post something so depraved in a public space" despite the fact you exposed a much larger audience to it than the twitter account would have ever gotten. I would have literally never seen any of that shit if your stupid ass didn't post the link. I would have gone my whole life never seeing it because i dont actively search "necrophilic feral art" on twitter.

Im not going to debate the actual ethicality of agro's art, but from your perspective: if you genuinely thought the content was harmful why did you share it???

I wonder if theres a term for this type of blunder. Theres definitely "dead dove: do not open" and "👀girl what were YOU doing at the devil's sacrament" elements at play here, but i wonder if theres a term for when internet people share niche disturbing content only to accomplish exposing the content to a larger audience and not actually do any "justice".

Anon I don’t have a twitter, did not visit his twitter, did not link his twitter, and just reblogged a few screen shots that showed his posts and heavily censored pictures of his art. I explicitly avoided any call out that posted the uncensored versions because I didn’t want anyone to have to actually look at the graphic material themselves.

And I only saw it in the first place because people linked me a call out post made by someone who has me blocked and doesn’t even like my blog lol.

You’re reaching very hard to try to catch me in a “ohoho you MUST have LIKED that stuff or you would’ve never FOUND IT” as though Agro and I didn’t have a previous falling out that made it relevant enough that my followers kept sending me receipts. I don’t know how or why the pit bull blog found all of that. You’d have to ask them, not me, because my answer is that I received some ten asks within an hour about it as soon as the post made by someone I’m not affiliated with was circulating.

Idk, anon. You’re grasping at straws on this one. I have also never gone to twitter and searched “necrophilic feral art”. I doubt the pit bull blog did either, Agro has promoted his nsfw twitter in his main account in the past. I think that just might be a more likely explanation for people finding it and being disturbed by what he posted since they could have followed his main for normal furry and warrior cats art.

[dreamwatch]

WIP Wednesday Game

I got tagged in WIP Wednesday by @farahsamboolents- thank you! :D

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

File Names:

Like A Stone

Recovery & Aftermath

Dustin & Eddie

Eddie Hands One Shot

Steve & Eddie 90s

Prison Fic

Jesus, every time I do this there's another one to add to the list... and not a single finished fic. 😫

Ok, because I haven't done this for a bit, and because I have never shared a whole fic, I'm going to drop a decent size snip below from Like A Stone. This is part of a scene that I hate and I'm thinking of cutting, so I'll leave it here for posterity. Also, I think this falls under the realms of unreliable narrator...

****

“I didn’t really think you cared anymore, to be honest.”

Eddie stares open mouthed. “What? What do— of course— ” He reaches up and grabs Dustin’s wrist and pulls him back to sit on the bed. “Hey, look at me,” he says ducking his head to catch Dustin’s eyes. “Of course I fucking care, you asshole. Of course I care.”

“It doesn’t feel that way sometimes,” Dustin chokes out. “It doesn’t feel like it ever, actually. You’re never around anymore—”

“I work, man—”

“It’s not just work, Eddie, and it’s not just me. Whenever we call you’re out, and yet I know for a fact you don’t go anywhere. You haven’t spoken to Gareth in months. Out of all the people that left us, you’re the hardest to take, because you’re still fucking here.” 

And it’s like an arrow to the heart. Because of course Eddie cares about him, but he’s done nothing to show it. Dustin has been an inadvertent victim of Eddie’s spiral. All the things he’s done to himself this last year to protect himself, they had consequences he hadn’t quite understood.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’ve— fuck.” Eddie takes a steadying breath. “Look, I’ve been going through some shit, okay? I mean, I think you know that, right? I didn’t hide it very well at New Years,” he smiles wanly at Dustin who doesn’t return it. Eddie looks across the room, out of his bedroom, anywhere but at Dustin.

 “I haven’t felt… good, I guess, for a long time. And I haven’t dealt with that very well, and I hurt you and I didn’t mean to, I really didn’t mean to. I know it’s hard to understand but… it’s just really fucking hard to be around people right now.” He turns back to Dustin, who is staring at his shoes, nudges him with his knee to get his attention. “I’ll try to do better, okay?”

Dustin huffs, “Whatever man. I have to go.”

He watches as Dustin rides off through the trailer park and he feels like a piece of shit. How does he explain this to him? What this last year has done to him, how he’s not his Eddie anymore? He’s a broken bottle of a man, empty and sharp. 

That he’s having actual conversations with a dead girl now. Steve says Chrissy is sweet, but that was before, before he killed her, before she told him she wants him to die. Chrissy is different too, now. And if Eddie spends more time with his friends, more time with Dustin, then that means Chrissy would be closer to them, right? And she was sweet, once, but he doesn’t trust her anymore, doesn’t trust her near Dustin. 

So, he will try to do better, he will, but he has to be careful. He has to keep Chrissy away from his friends, and from Wayne. He deserves whatever she does to him, he deserves to be scared all the time, but they don’t. He couldn’t help her but he can keep them safe.

****

Oki Doki - tag time! As usual no pressure tags and I am so sorry if I miss anyone or if this is the 20th time you've been tagged this week - I think I need to make a list of who actually wants to be tagged for WIP Wednesday, and who wants me to fuck off!

@gravytape @devilyouwere @thisapplepielife @hbyrde36 @occasionaloverboy @cuips-not-cute

[tetsurouskuro]

Reunion

pairing: bokuto koutarou x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, smut, slight angst, breeding kink, unprotected sex, public sex, bokuto does the kabedon

word count: 5,006

a/n: this is my submission for the Haikyuu Headquarters second NSFW server collab! this time it’s the prompt “Guess I’ll just have to cum inside you.” you can find the masterlist HERE by the amazing @vixen-scribbles who is my queen so go give her a follow! 💖

thank you @deathcab4daddy​ & @gallickingun​ for beta reading, ily guys so much (go give them a follow if you aren’t already)! 💖

now enjoy; feedback is always appreciated! <3

tag list: @miamiya (message me if you want to be included)

Synopsis: Three years has passed since you got your heart broken by your one true love Bokuto Koutarou. A high school reunion is about to take place at Fukurodani Academy. What will happen when you finally meet your ex boyfriend? 

MASTERLIST!

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪

Your eyes scanned the invitation card from your high school. Reading every word that’s written. A high school reunion. The thought alone makes you think of him. Wondering how he’s doing. He may be your ex and the boy who broke your heart, but he was your first and still to this day, your only love, and you knew why he did it. He had his reasons.

He had talked you through it before you both graduated high school. He had told you that he wanted to focus on volleyball and that he was going to move away from Tokyo, and you were not the type to try and stop him. You wanted him to succeed. You also had to think about your future and what you wanted to achieve. Both of you went your separate ways, heartbroken that you could not be together anymore.

Bokuto succeeded in achieving his dream. He was playing in big arenas with huge crowds, on TV and he was a well-known volleyball player. The number 4 ace and captain from Fukurodani made it big, just like he promised you all those years ago.

You sighed and placed the card onto your fridge. There was still one week left until the reunion, and it wasn’t like Bokuto would show up. He was busy with volleyball, especially since a new season just started. 

You sigh and turn around to grab the warm coffee cup and head to your couch. Once seated you turn on Netflix and start a random show. Grabbing your phone, you go to the search bar on Facebook and search for your ex-boyfriend. Once the two of you had broken up you had unfriended him immediately. You knew it was going to be hard to get over him, so to save you from having to see his posts and face on Facebook, you removed him.

He’s the first one that pops up. You share mutual friends, so it isn’t that weird. You go to pictures and see him with all sorts of different people, smiling and laughing. Sometimes even looking, upset?

Sighing you close the application, lock your phone, and toss it next to you on the couch. Closing your eyes, you throw your head back against the headrest, hoping and praying that Bokuto doesn’t show up to the reunion.

≫ ----- ≪·•♕•·≫ ----- ≪

Wearing a black evening gown with a front slit, thin shoulder straps, and a pair of black heels you step into the big gymnasium where the rest of all the third years are gathered. A waitress walks up to you with a tray in hand, offering you a welcome drink, probably champagne. You take a glass and nod your thanks. Taking a sip, you sigh and take in your surroundings. People are standing in groups, chatting, and laughing. You see Yamato, Konoha, Haruki, Yukie, and Kaori in the middle. Konoha looks your way and you lock eyes. He smiles widely and waves you over. The rest of the gang turns around and sees you too, all of them start to yell at you to rush over.

You smile at them and head towards the squad.

“(y/n)! you’re here!” Yukie excitedly exclaims.

“Yes. Here I am,” you laugh. “How’s everyone? Haven’t seen you all in ages.”

 You stand there talking with everyone. You chug the rest of your glass and turn around to grab another just as a round of applause is heard. You follow everyone’s gaze and see someone enter the gymnasium.

“Hey, hey, heeeeeey!” The voice echoes. A familiar voice.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” You chant and shove your champagne glass to Yukie. “I need to use the loo.”

“Wait- (y/n)!” She yells after you, but you’re already headed for the door that leads you towards the nearest toilet.

Your heart is beating hard, you can feel your pulse rising. Adrenaline has kicked in and you feel nervous. You’re breathing heavily as you reach the door, turning around slightly to just peek at the man that has made you react this way.

He hasn’t spotted you yet. He’s surrounded by girls and boys, welcoming their former ace to the reunion. You stand there, the door slightly opened, your body halfway through the doorframe and take him in.

He’s wearing ripped black jeans, a matching black tee, black vans, and a light blue jean jacket. His hair is spiked the same way as usual and his golden eyes are filled with happiness. He laughs loudly and scans the room like he’s looking for someone and then his orbs land on you. The way he gazes at you makes your whole-body shiver and you feel like you can’t breathe. You stand still, watching him watch you for a second more until you turn your body back and go through the door and towards the ladies’ room.

Once inside you stand by the door, back against it, trying to control your breathing.

Okay (y/n), calm down! Act normal and don’t freak out!

After 5 minutes you turn around and push the door and walk out, walking back to the gymnasium. You pass a hallway when suddenly-

“(y/n)?”

“Jesus fucking christ!” You jump. “Don’t scare me like that.” You exclaim and turn around and are met with a pair of golden eyes.

“Ah sorry,” Bokuto speaks, his hand rubbing the back of his head. “I just wanted to see how you were feeling. You rushed out so fast.”

“I’m fine,” you sigh. “I just needed to use the toilet.”

“Oh. Okay.” There’s a long pause. Both of you are silent.

“Bokuto-kun!” A female voice yells out, interrupting the awkward silence and you turn around to see where the female is.

“I should head back. Yukie is probably waiting for me,” you lie. “It was nice seeing you Bokuto,” you smile at him and turn around to leave, but he grabs you by the forearm and pulls you towards him.

“Let’s take a walk around the school. I don’t wanna head back just yet.”

“Bokuto I-“

“Please (y/n)? I haven’t seen you in ages and I just wanna talk.”

“Fine,” you sigh.

“Great,” he smiles. “Let’s go then!” He grabbed your hand instead and intertwined his fingers with yours as he dragged you down the hallway and escaped the voice of the girl that was calling his name.

He suddenly stops outside of your old classroom and you both stand there, panting and trying to control each other’s breathing.

“Felt like a teenager doing that,” he laughs. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just need a moment.” Still panting, you stay silent, and watch his tall frame. You stand up straight and clear your throat. Bokuto turns his body sideways and looks at you.

“Do you think it’s open?”

“I don’t know, but what do you wanna talk about Bokuto?” You speak up, wanting to get away from this situation. “We broke up. We’re exes, we’re not supposed to be like this.”

The silence returns, Bokuto’s eyes never leaving yours. You watch him, still out of breath you feel an aching pain in your chest. You fist both of your hands beside your body, tears starting to form in your eyes.

“I- shit,” you curse and let out a small laugh. “I need to leave.” You’re just about to turn around when Bokuto’s right arm slams itself on the wall to your left, stopping you in your tracks. You press your back to the wall and raise your head so you can meet his gaze. His tall frame towering over you.

“Don’t,” he sighs. “Don’t leave.” You don’t listen to his plea and try to leave again but this time he slams his left arm on the wall, caging you in.

“Bokuto. Let me go!”

“No!”

“I- What?”

“I came to this reunion mainly so I could see you,” he pauses before continuing. “I made up my mind that if you came, I would try to get you back, ‘cause I still fucking love you.” His golden eyes stare right into yours. You can see the determination in them.

“The way we broke things off, I should never have ended it that way. We shouldn’t have ended it that way. If I could go back and change it, I would’ve made you come with me. I was stupid to let you go.”

“Bokuto, I-“

“And stop calling me Bokuto!” he fumes. “You never called me that while we were dating and-“

“We’re not dating now!” You respond, interrupting him.

“I know!” He slams his right fist on the wall, making you jump. You have never seen Bokuto this upset before, not even when you broke up.

“I’m sorry. Shit (y/n) I’m so sorry I don’t know what came over me. I-“

“It’s okay, Bo! It’s… fine,” you sigh out that last word. You let your head hang low, watching the ground, seeing how close his body is to you. You gulp, trying to contain your thoughts. You haven’t had any sexual contact with anyone for as long as you can remember, and seeing Bokuto now, here, this close makes you clench your thighs together. But you would not let your sexual desires over him take over. If he wanted you back, he had to tell you, and apologize.

“When I- We broke up I did it because I wanted to focus on volleyball.”

“Yeah, I know that.”

“Wait, let me finish.” You stay silent and let him continue.

“I wanted you to come with me, I wanted you with me so badly and I thought that I couldn’t let you come with me because I didn’t want you to stop chasing your dreams. Volleyball was my ambition, not yours.” He pauses for a second, collecting his thoughts and breathing before continuing. 

“But I was wrong and dumb. I didn’t ask what you wanted, I just assumed and chose for you. I should’ve talked it out with you, asked you if you wanted to come with me and I didn’t. I fucked up,” he takes a deep breath before yet again continuing talking, expressing his emotions.

“Over these past few years, I haven’t been able to let you go. You were always on my mind. You had taken over my head so bad that I started seeing things. Seeing you on the streets, in the audience while I was playing. I never stopped thinking about you. I even stalked your Facebook multiple times and-”

“You stalked my Facebook?” You look up, watching him. Your heart beating fast against your ribcage.

“Yeah, not my proudest moment but I did. I needed to see your face, needed to see what you were doing, and if you were seeing someone. If you were as miserable as I was,” he sighs, his eyes watching yours. “Please (y/n) I am desperate. I want you back. Give me a second chance. I need you back in my life. If you just give me a small chance, I will prove it to you that I will be one of the best decisions you’ll ever make.”

Bokuto sighs out loudly, like he was in pain, and places a kiss on top of your head before sinking so his eyes are in front of yours. His face just mere inches from yours.

“Just give me one chance. Just one so I can have you back. I want you (y/n). I want to be able to call you mine again. I just need one-“

You decide to instead of using words you crash your lips against his. Cutting him off mid-sentence, wrapping your arms around his neck. It only takes Bokuto a few seconds to respond by kissing you back, his body pressing itself close to yours, his forearms bracing him on the wall.  

You break off the kiss, bite your lip, and look into his golden shimmering eyes. “I never stopped loving you either.”

“Really? I expected you to have a boyfriend or fiancé by now.”

“No,” you groan. “I tried dating, but nobody compares to you.” He smiles widely at your words. Like a kid on Christmas morning.

“I’ll try to give you everything I can Bo, I’ll try-“

“Everything means nothing if I can’t have you (y/n)!” Blushing you look down, but Bokuto grabs your face in his hands and presses a kiss on your lips again. And again. You fist a handful of his shirt in your palms and press your body close to his, feeling his semi poking you and showing how much he wants you.

“You’re mine, (y/n). I love you so much,” he moans against your lips and then pushes his tongue inside of your mouth. His hands moving to grab your ass, pushing your pelvis against his. “I’m gonna prove it to you. I need you now. No time to waste.”

He pushes himself off you and turns around, trying to open your old classroom door and to his luck it does. His wide smile is back as he ushers you in.

“Wait- Bo! We can’t, not here.”

“Aww c’mon baby, it’ll be fun and besides,” he pauses, still looking at you as he undoes his belt. “I always wanted to fuck you in this classroom back in the day.”

His sentence makes you hurry inside, and you look around the now unfamiliar classroom. You hear Bokuto close and lock the door, the sound of his zipper being pulled down makes you turn around and face him. His pants are undone but still around his hips.

“Come here baby,” obeying, you take a few steps forward and stop once you’re in front of him. Both of his hands grab you by the waist and pull you forward, his lips instantly crashing to yours. His lips don’t stay on yours too long as they start to travel down the side of your neck towards your exposed collarbone. While his lips are giving your upper body some attention, his hands push your dress up, exposing your black lace thong to his fingertips.

Bokuto recognizes the material and stops his movements just so he can peek at your underwear. He grunts.

“Do you… like them?”

“I love them, baby. Jesus Christ.” Bokuto’s lips return to yours, his index and middle finger tracing the outline of your slit, making you squirm. He then removes them and ushers you to get up on one of the desks, and you do, but not before you remove your thong as sexy as you can, and throw it on the ground nearby.

“Babe, you’re gonna be the death of me!” he exclaims in a groan and hurries back to you. His body standing between your thighs. A slight breeze passes making you shudder, your nipples peek through your dress. Bokuto notices this and instantly with both of his hands, he pushes your dress down your arms and chest, making your breast spring free.

“Haven’t touched these girls in years,” he speaks while palming them both. “So beautiful.”

“Bo- I-“

“Shh love. It’s all about you now,” he removes his right hand just so he can tease your opening. Lubricating your core with your wetness before inserting a finger inside you, making you moan and throw your head back.

“Baby. Look at me,” he groans. You pull your head back and watch him. He removes his left hand and places it beside you, bracing all his weight on it while his other hand is occupied with your cunt. His finger going in and out of you, your walls clamping around him tightly. He snickers at how wet you feel around him and adds another finger, his middle and ring finger are fucking you slowly, too slow for your liking.

“Bokuto, please. I want more,” you moan.

“Easy now baby, I wanna savor this moment. Feeling your wet cunt around my fingers after such a long time,” he grunts. “God baby, you’re so wet.”

“I know, it’s all for you Bokuto.”

He licks his lips seductively and leans in closer to you, his breath hits your neck and makes your whole body shudder. His tongue comes out and licks you up from your collarbone to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe and making you let out a sigh in pleasure.

“Do you like that, hmm?” He snickers. “Do you like my fingers inside you (y/n)?”

“Y-Yes Bo, I-I love them,” you moan. He lets out a slight “fuck” as he rests his forehead on your shoulder and thrusts his digits harder inside your wet and aching core. Wanting you to cum so badly. He arches his fingers inside you, making them hit your g-spot.

“Bo, please. I’m so close,” you groan. “I want to cum so badly, please.” You keep on whining to him, the once familiar feeling returning to the pit of your stomach. The pressure in your lower abdomen is getting higher and higher. Your legs start to shake and in just a couple of seconds, you’re releasing yourself around his fingers, your right-hand wraps itself around his wrist, nails digging into his soft skin as you moan out loudly from orgasming. 

“Kou!” you scream, your walls clamping themselves around him, his fingers still going in and out of you, your legs shaking and your pelvis grinding itself on his hand. Eyes closed and mouth wide open and panting, trying to get your breathing under control.

After a minute, you open your eyes and are met by a smug smile as he removes his fingers and raises his hand to his lips, licking your juices off his fingers while still maintaining eye contact with you. 

“I missed the taste of you baby,” he groans. His long fingers going inside that beautiful mouth of his. A big smile on his lips, his excitement palpable. 

Once he has licked his fingers clean, he moves his hands to his pants and starts to pull them down his long legs along with his briefs, his cock springing free and colliding with his lower abdomen. Precum leaking from the tip. 

Your eyes are glued on his hard member. It’s as beautiful as you remember, two veins going around his shaft, the pink head craving attention. 

Your eyes never leave his crotch as his hand goes down and wraps itself around his hard cock, moving up and down slowly.

“You’re so eager, I love it baby, so sexy when you look at me like that,” his voice speaks, making you look up and meet his golden eyes. He takes a small step forward and with his hand that’s around his cock he traces your lips, mixing his precum with your wetness. 

“Wait Kou- Condom!” You moan. The fact that you managed to even utter those words surprised you, but you didn’t know who he’s been with.

“I didn’t bring one,” he answers. “Guess I’ll just have to cum inside you instead,” he groans and rams himself inside you. Your walls clenching around him tightly. Your heat making his cock twitch from excitement. 

“Fuck Kou, you- you feel amazing.”

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby. I can feel you pulsating around me.” He’s still for a moment, letting you get used to him. Had he gotten bigger since you last were with him? Or had it just been such a long time since you’ve had sex? It didn’t matter to you, you loved the feeling of him stretching your walls, making your tight cunt ache for him to move.

His hips backtrack only to force themself back to you, colliding and hitting your g-spot, making you throw your head back and grip the edge of the table hard. Your eyes are closed as you take in all the pleasure that he’s giving you. He repeats the same action, he grunts and you moan at the friction.

“Baby look at me,” he moans, his hand going to your cheek, holding it with his large palm. “I want you to look at me.”

You answer him by moaning, opening your (y/e/c) eyes looking at him, pleasure displayed on his handsome face as he starts to increase both his speed and the power of his thrusts. His hips colliding against yours with a strong force. The pleasure is displayed on your face, a lewd look as you’re loving the way he continues to ram himself inside of you.

“I’m gonna cum inside of that pretty cunt, baby. I’m gonna fill you up with my cum,” he moans loudly, not caring if anyone hears him. He loved the excitement of knowing you could get busted having sex in your old classroom but he didn’t care. He had craved you for 3 long years and he wasn’t going to let this moment pass up. 

“I want a future with you,” he continues. “I want to marry you. I want to get you pregnant.” 

This makes your cunt clench for him. Your walls clamping themselves tightly around him. Marrying him? Pregnant? 

"Oh, you'd like that baby? You want me to breed you, baby?" His thrust hits hard, his cock going deep into your core. His eyes travel down, watching his cock going and out of you. The wetness surrounding it like lube, making it easy for him to thrust in and out of you. His gaze is locked on where both of you connect, watching the way your cunt swallows him whole.

"Fuck baby. Beg for me to fill you, I know you love the feel of my cum inside you."

"Oh god Kou, please fill me with your cum. Breed me," you almost sing. Your voice is filled with all kinds of emotions, pleasure consuming you.

"You want me to breed you, baby? Fill you up with all my sperm," he moans, his hands holding your hips in place as his thrusts got deeper and deeper inside you. The tip of his cock grazing your g-spot viciously, the pressure in your abdomen getting stronger after each thrust. The thought of you swollen with his child made him even harder and closer to reaching his climax. 

"Cum for me baby, I want you to cum for me. Cum with me. I'm so close," his thrusts get sloppier and you know he is near his release. 

"Cum with me Koutarou. Let's do it together."

"Fuck (y/n)," his whole body stills as he ejaculates inside you. The warmth of his semen spurting in you, coating your walls and you follow him soon afterward. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you coat his cock with your release. 

Your body is shaking from the intense orgasm you just had, your teeth biting into your lower lip and you feel him move, his still hard cock going in and out of you. Bokuto is making sure that his cum doesn’t come out, to make sure you’re bred and hoping you get pregnant from this. 

"Mhm Kou," you moan. Your eyes glance up to his face. A big smile was plastered on his lips. 

"That was so hot baby. I want more."

"I don't think I can stand," you giggle. His eyes are watching you, the smile on your face making his heart squeeze harder and being filled with all his love for you. 

"What now?" Your tender voice asks. 

"I'm waiting."

"... On what?" 

"For you to calm down before I go for round two,” he smirks. 

“W-Wait. Hold on. Round two?”

“You didn’t think I was already finished with you, baby? I’m just getting started.” With that being said, he flips you over. The action making his cock get pulled out from your heat. 

You’re bent over and your front is pressed against the now warm desk. His hands start to caress your body, from the base of your neck to your naked ass. He gives your ass some attention before slapping each cheek, making you jump from the sudden action.

"I could just cum from the sight of you," he grunts. "I'm gonna cum inside you again, to make sure you're bred."

"Kou-tarou~," you moan as he enters you without warning, his cock rock hard and coated in both your juices and his semen. His hands holding your hips still as he thrusts deep inside you. Ramming his cock hard into your wet and tight core. His fingertips are digging hard into your flawless skin, leaving a mark but you don’t care. The only thing that’s going through your mind right now is the way his cock is pounding into your wet and swollen cunt.

"I won't stop until you're dripping with my cum, to be sure you're pregnant with my child," he almost screams. "Jesus fuck baby the way you clench around me is wonderful."

Your cunt clenches harder around his cock, the thought of being pregnant with his child makes you reach some kind of bliss that you never thought you could. The soft image pops up in your mind for a second, but it’s soon gone as one of his hands grabs your shoulder, his other following suit.

You can feel his semen leaking out as he continues to ram into you, and you know he notices it cause he lets out a snicker. 

"My cum is seeping out of your pussy, but I'll fill you up again baby. I'll fill you up again and again."

"Kou- I'm gonna cum again," you moan. Your left hand holding the edge of the desk while your right one is in front of you, trying to grab something and it does as Bokuto's right hand comes forward and intertwines with yours, clamping around it. His body pressed against yours. Feeling his breath on your neck.

"Say it, baby, say what I want to hear."

"P-Put a baby inside me Koutarou please."

"Fuck yes," he moans vocally, biting down on your neck as he fills your cunt with his cum, the feel of his cum inside you again makes you clench around him and you reach your climax. 

"Yeah, my cum makes you orgasm so fucking hard right baby?"

"Mhm," you answer, too worn out to even form your own words. 

You press the side of your face on the desk and close your eyes. You're breathing heavily, so is Bokuto. His warm breath hitting your neck, making goosebumps form on all of your body. 

"(y/n)?"

"Yeah?" 

"I'm getting soft."

"Oh my god!" You giggle. 

"Stop. You're making me fall out, stop it!" This makes you laugh out loud, this man who just minutes ago went all sex god on you is now filled with concern. 

"Are you alright though? I wasn't too hard? Or rough? Or-"

"Baby, you were perfect," you answer in a giggle, interrupting his worrying self. 

There's a comfortable silence surrounding you both, not a single word is uttered. The only sound is the sound of your breathing. 

Suddenly you feel him move and pull himself out of you. Bokuto is fast with tucking himself inside his briefs and pulling his pants up, buckling his belt too. While doing this, you feel his cum seeping out from your hole.

"Hold on I'm on it," his voice speaks and you can hear him look for something to clean you up with. "This will do."

He's back fast and with some paper towels that are not very nice to your lady parts, and he cleans you up. The feeling of the paper made you wince, both from being sensitive and roughly fucked by your ex and now boyfriend, but also from the paper not being soft enough for your liking. 

"I'm done, there," he softly speaks, his voice filled with tenderness but also worry, that it was hurting you. He wasn't. He was doing something so much more, and you loved him for that. 

Getting up and getting dressed was the part where it got uncomfortable for you, his eyes stared at you as you dressed, fixing both your gown and hair, making it not look like you’ve just been fucked. 

Your thoughts wander to what had just happened. Was this just some kind of roleplay or did he want to impregnate you? Not that it mattered for you, you couldn’t care less because you got what you had wanted for years. Him.

Once you’re done you turn around and see that Bokuto is already watching you, a big smile on his lips. 

"What?"

"Nothing. You’re just so beautiful I can stare at you all night.”

"I-" you blush. “Thank you.”

"Now,” he says as he takes a small step forward and grabs you by the waist, pulling you closer to him. His smile still there and you can see how his eyes are glowing. 

“I love you,” he kisses you. “I love you so much (y/n). You’re the love of my life.”

"Again."

"Huh?" He turns his head to the side, not knowing what you mean. 

"Say it again. I need to hear it again." With confidence, he grabs your face in his hands and holds you in place. His eyes watching yours and with the softest smile on his lips, he says: 

"I love you.”

"I love you too." You sigh in happiness and he seals your lips with a passionate kiss. Both of you smiling through the kiss in pure bliss. 

He pulls away and grabs your hand and starts to lead you out of the classroom and in the opposite direction of the party. Confusion consumes you as you speak.

"Kou, baby. The party is that way," you giggle and point down the other side of the hall. 

"I know. We're not returning."

"We're not?" You ask in confusion.

"No."

"Why not?" He stops in his tracks and you collide with his rock hardback. He turns around, smirking.

"We have 3 years of lovemaking to do and I want you in my bed when doing that." He returns and walks you out and into the parking lot, leading to his car and a future of you and him together again. Nothing could stop you now.

[gobbluthbutagirl]

ok so 1. this post was not supposed to blow up like this. i had no idea that was going to happen. if i had expected ANYBODY to reblog it i would have added sources. if i had known it would reach 22,000+ notes i simply never would have posted it at all. i post screenshots of news articles i happen to read all the time. none of them have ever blown up to this extent before and hopefully they never will again because this shit literally broke my activity tab yesterday.

2. the first person to add a link to the article in the reblogs did so at somewhere between 300 and 500 notes. the first person to question whether or not it was real did so at around 900 notes. meaning at no point could anyone who wasn’t sure if it was real not have simply clicked into the notes and found said link. the post gained somewhere in the neighborhood of 6,000 notes overnight, during which several MORE people added links in the reblogs. and yet people were still leaving tags and comments indicating that they didn’t know if it was real and/or they didn’t believe it was real. i don’t think anyone actually asked for a source. it was all “i don’t know if/think this is real.” it was at this point that i added the edit to the original post, because…

3. i get being skeptical of misinformation and not automatically trusting things you see online. but what do we do when that happens? we attempt to independently verify. if you have access to tumblr.com, you also have access to google.com. if you typed in “michael imperioli” in the google search bar at the time that i posted this, the variety article that i screenshotted would have been one of the first things to pop up. the variety article is not behind a paywall. michael imperioli’s instagram is public and can be viewed without an account. this is something that takes about two seconds to verify, and i rest my case that choosing to spend those two seconds instead leaving a comment/tag saying you don’t know if it’s real or not is indeed stupid.

4. literally why would i fake this? why would i go to all the effort of making a fake news headline and excerpt complete with a stock photo of michael imperioli and just slap a variety writer’s name on there? do you not think it’s more likely that i was simply reading the news and saw something i wanted to screenshot and post? we don’t need to assume EVERYTHING is misinformation just because it’s on the internet.

5. variety was the first source i saw reporting this story but it was FAR from the only source. people in the notes have also linked cnn and vanity fair. even fox news ran a story on it. it was in the apple news trending section for a while yesterday. if you are relying on MY blog, gob bluth but a girl dot tumblr dot com, as your main news outlet, then we have bigger problems here than whether or not i linked the full article when i first made the post. if you’re someone who actually reads the news on a regular basis, you will be able to tell whether or not my post is misinformation because you will see it somewhere else besides my blog.

6. you should not get your news from tumblr. if you do get your news from tumblr, i reserve the right to consider you stupid. again, EVERYTHING in those two screenshots is easily googleable! if you’re an adult in the united states or any other country where your access to information is not restricted by the government you need to be reading the actual news. there is no excuse not to! yes the new york times has a paywall but a whole bunch of sites do NOT. if you have an iphone you have access to the apple news app which will show you tons of articles from tons of sources for free! there is no excuse!

7. your comment is also not helpful. but hey, at least now you have context!

edit because some of you guys are stupid and don’t believe this is real for whatever reason: here is the variety article these screenshots came from & his instagram post itself