#New Extender Setup

[constantvariations]

Am I too cynical or is Blake's declaration that saving Haven improved things for Mistral faunus unrealistic? People would focus far more on the faunus terrorists than the faunus saviors, right?

[fooltofancy]

i love my coworkers so much, but if i have to watch them set up any of the recorded events (streaming, broadcast records, physical records, literally anything) i will turn inside out.

[softgrungeprophet]

the independent fan on our thermostat won't turn on and i'm hoping it's because the wire isn't plugged in and not because there's no control panel board or some shit 💀

[tplnkextfi]

How to Fix Red Light Blinking on Wi-Fi Extender

To see the tp link extender red light blinking can be extremely frustrating, especially when an uninterrupted internet connection is needed to work on something or stream. This blinking red light usually stands for some kind of communication failure between the router and the extender.

The first thing you should check is the position of your extender. A common cause of the tp link extender red light is that it's placed too far from the router. Try to unplug it and plug it into an outlet halfway between the router and the dead zone.

Next up, make sure the router is doing well. If the internet is down at the source, the extender will never be able to connect. So, go ahead and restart first your router and then the extender. After a few minutes, check and see if the tp link extender red light blinking has changed to a solid green or blue.

During setup, make sure that you are also verifying the Wi-Fi password. This error, if any, could keep the extender forever stuck with the tp link extender red light.

If all else fails, do a factory reset using the tiny reset button. Keep it pressed for 10 seconds and then start following the setup again from the beginning.

The tp link extender red light blinking is a warning, but with a few simple tricks, you should have your network back on course, so you can continue enjoying uninterrupted internet access.

[rashid92786]

Redmi और Infinix के पसीने छुड़ाने आया Vivo का तगड़ा फ़ोन हुआ ग्लोबल लॉन्च, जानें कीमत

वीवो का नया धमाकेदार स्मार्टफोन, Vivo Y27s, ग्लोबल बाजार में लॉन्च होकर रेडमी और इनफिनिक्स की चुनौतियों को तेज़ी से बढ़ा रहा है। आकर्षक फीचर्स और जबरदस्त परफॉरमेंस के साथ, इस फोन की कीमत और स्पेसिफिकेशंस ने यूजर्स का ध्यान खींचा है। वीवो Y27s के लॉन्च की पूरी जानकारी और कीमत के लिए यहाँ पढ़ें। उल्लेखनीय बिंदु: यह तेज़ी से चार्जिंग की सुविधा के लिए 44वॉट की फास्ट चार्जिंग क्षमता से लैस है। वीवो…

[zillychu]

I’ve gotten a WAVE of asks about this AU, so I decided to flesh it out some more and answer some of those questions!

I’ll probably polish this extended summary up at some point and submit it to AO3. But for now, here’s a rundown of my thoughts–please feel free to send more questions! I’ll update this post if I get any more. But if you’re someone who wanted to write fic for it, don’t worry, you don’t need to take my headcanons as gospel. It’s a pretty basic AU honestly lol

Summary:

The portal accident results in a violent explosion that wipes out the whole block, and condemns all of Amity Park. Danny haunts the city for 100 years, before Sam and Tucker find him. 

Setup:

In the 1920’s, 19-year-old Danny went into the incomplete portal on his own, hoping to help out his parents. Ripping the portal open through unnatural means created a huge burst of energy that resulted in a massive explosion. A good portion of the Amity Park population died, many were injured, and the ones on the fringes relocated–Amity was quickly deemed too dangerous due to the excess ectoplasm in the area that attracted ghosts. 

While the disaster was in Amity, the fallout was seen around the globe. Before, natural portals were rare, short-lived, and rarely allowed ghosts to fully slip into our realm (the most severe cases being on par with poltergeists that most people didn’t believe in). Now, natural portals pop open frequently around the world, large enough to allow the entirety of a ghost into the physical plane. They’re more common the closer you get to Amity, but they happen enough elsewhere that this change was something of a small apocalypse before people settled back down and found out how to combat at least some of their new, permanent neighbors. 

Danny is unaware that he’s only half-dead, believing he’s a full ghost. He ends up sticking around Amity, unintentionally making it his haunt. His grief and guilt over causing the death of his loved ones (and many others) makes him isolate and avoid human contact. Though he has, at times, scared nosy people away from the city in a mix of territorial instinct–and to get them to leave before a less friendly ghost finds them. 

Ghosts are much more of an uncontested danger in this AU. Lesser ghosts are practically mindless, and while stronger ghosts are capable of reason, their interests are limited. They’re highly territorial, possessive, and often destructive. Most worrisome is that they also like to snack on the life force of anything alive. No one is sure what dictates a ghost’s propensity to attack or hunt the living for their life force since ghosts don’t exactly experience hunger. At least, not the way we do. If a human is rescued before their life force is fully drained, they can make a full recovery–though humanity has still not yet found what this “life force" is. 

And since the Fentons’ research died along with them, there aren’t many tools available to the public to protect them from ghosts. Most homes have standard ghost shields and some weapons are available on the market, but certified ghost hunters are required to take care of anything more powerful than your average spook. 

Sam and Tucker met in high school, and are now rooming together for college very close to the Amity border. Rent is surprisingly cheap when you’re a stone’s throw away from a condemned area crawling with ghosts. Sam is the one who drags Tucker along with her fascination over finding out more about the city, and its largely mysterious demise. Sam is aware of the danger, but feels ghosts have a place in this world just like everything else, and does exercise caution–like one would while foraging in the woods with a known tiger population. 

What she and Tucker weren’t expecting was to run into a ghost that felt almost human. One that hasn't hurt them, not for lack of trying–while being powerful enough to walk past ghost shields without so much as a flinch. The long white hair is familiar in the whispers of the ectobiologist community, but there’s no way it could be the rumored ghost king Phantom, right?

About Danny:

He has very long hair, claws, and black sclera. His hazmat suit is more torn and ragged, with exposed hands and feet that fade into a burnt black.

His hair tends to float a lot on its own. It can start morphing into fire under duress. 

He does still technically have gloves and boots, they've just charred and melted into his skin towards the ends. He can't take them off in his ghost form. His hands and feet have a leathery texture that's tougher than the rest of his skin.

The white of his hazmat suit is both supposed to look like flames, and also a battered look representing his more violent, explosive death.

Overall, he appears rather listless and sad, with an unnerving air of danger around him–even for a ghost. 

Danny’s “ghost sense” comes out as white smoke.

He does breathe black smoke at times, usually when agitated. 

He's already fought and defeated Pariah Dark by the time Sam and Tucker find him, technically making him the Ghost King. This is heavily speculated by ghost experts, despite there being no real proof beyond a massive battle that scarred Illinois. He has not donned the Ring or the Crown, and captured sentient ghosts are hesitant to answer questions surrounding him. Danny basically has the throne but doesn’t do anything with it, and finds it meaningless enough to routinely forget he has the title. He only fought Pariah because he knew otherwise, humanity would have perished. A lot of ghosts are scared of him because he's so hard to figure out, and he's strong. 

Danny is usually very quiet and speaks softly, because his lungs were damaged in the blaze that half-killed him. He's technically healed since becoming a ghost, so it's more of a compulsion due to the traumatic memory. That, and he’s just… very forlorn and distant, shy around humans who don’t seem to understand how dangerous it is to keep hanging around him.

His memories pre-accident are extremely fuzzy. He knows the very basics of who he was, but specifics have been muffled due to trauma and isolation. He routinely forgets human habits, etiquette, etc. and tends to act more like a full ghost with some odd quirks. 

He does try to scare Sam and Tucker off numerous times. Unfortunately for him, they realized they shouldn't have been able to escape a ghost that strong–but they did, because he let them. 

Sam and Tucker think he's mute at first! He doesn't speak a word to them until several encounters later, when he fumbles his whole scary act and saves them from another ghost. 

He’s still half-ghost, though he doesn’t figure this out until Sam and Tucker come along trying to unravel the mysteries behind the Amity catastrophe. Physically and emotionally, he’s been stuck for 100 years–so his human form is still 19. It’s unclear at this point if he can age normally like a human as long as he stays in human form, or if he’s immortal. 

Danny's family did not turn into ghosts, though he sometimes worries he'll find them in the afterlife as shells of their former selves. He doesn't know if it's better or worse that he's not sure he'd recognize them. 

(Danny also still has some living family. Take a guess.)

Yes, he knows how to Wail. Understandably, he very rarely uses it. You do not want to witness this.

Danny :) is not immune :) from the allure of eating a human's life force :)))

[faebled-stories]

Tangled In Bliss

Kinkvember Day 11: Suspension Play/Stuck

Le Sserafim Nakamura Kazuha x Male reader

6.5k words

AN: A little later than when I normally upload, I'm still recovering 😅

“And… finished.” The soft murmur of satisfaction filled the tranquil yoga room as Kazuha stepped back to admire her setup. The aerial yoga hammock hung from the ceiling, swaying gently, as though eagerly awaiting her first move. The silky fabric, a rich teal that shimmered in the afternoon light, looked both delicate and strong—inviting her to stretch and soar. She felt a surge of pride at how smoothly everything had come together, the setup a small victory of her own making.

Although this wasn’t her first experience with aerial yoga, Kazuha felt a renewed sense of excitement bubbling up inside. As a former ballerina, she’d always been curious about practices that allowed her to blend strength with grace. She’d tried aerial yoga a few times before but now had her own space to explore her incredible flexibility and strength. Today felt special, charged even—she had the entire afternoon to herself, with no one around but the soft hum of the house and the silky fabric swaying before her.

There was something thrilling, almost rebellious, about using the silks alone. You were at work, and the idea of surprising you with a new skill filled her with warmth. After all, it was your mutual love of fitness that brought you together. She wanted you to see this side of her—a little daring, unrestrained, pushing her limits in the privacy of her own space.

With a slight smile, Kazuha tied her hair back and glanced at her phone, where she’d queued up a progression of aerial yoga poses, each one more challenging than the last. Taking a steadying breath, she positioned herself on the soft mat, hands reaching for the silk. Her fingers brushed the cool, smooth fabric, and she allowed herself to pause for a moment, savoring the anticipation building in her chest.

In one fluid motion, she lifted herself into the hammock, her muscles tensing and releasing as she rose, letting her body find its center of gravity. Her abs tightened, her legs wrapped around the silk, and she hung in a graceful inversion, her body suspended in a beautiful arc. Her arms extended, fingertips barely grazing the air as she floated in silence, the room holding its breath alongside her.

Kazuha caught her reflection in the mirror across the room—a flash of her toned legs, toes perfectly pointed, abs taut and defined. The vibrant pink of her yoga pants hugged her curves, emphasizing the elegant lines of her body. She shifted gracefully into a split, her legs stretching outward, the silks framing her in an effortless display of flexibility. She felt strong and empowered, her body weightless, movements held by the silks that supported her like an invisible dance partner.

Feeling a surge of confidence, she moved to the next level. She consulted her phone, noting the series of poses that lay ahead, each promising to test her balance and strength. She twisted her torso, lifting one leg while keeping the other wrapped securely. Her muscles tensed as she held the position, a soft sigh of exertion escaping her lips. The strain was real, but she relished the challenge, her body responding eagerly to the test.

Glancing down at her phone, she saw the final, more advanced pose displayed—a daring inversion requiring a deep backbend with her legs pulled high above her head. Kazuha paused, her heart pounding with both excitement and nerves, but her determination won out. Carefully, she shifted her weight and positioned her legs. Her abs tightened, arms supporting her as she brought her legs up and over, stretching her torso into a breathtaking arch. The silks wound securely around her thighs, but just as she settled into the pose, something went wrong.

Her foot slipped from the silk, and before she could react, the hammock tightened abruptly around her thighs, pulling her legs higher. Her body jerked as the fabric constricted around her, her legs now awkwardly bent above her head. She tried to reposition, but the silks only seemed to tighten further, locking her in place.

“Wait… what?” she gasped, heat flooding her cheeks. She struggled, twisting and wriggling, but the more she moved, the more the silks seemed to bind her, trapping her in a suspended split. Her arms hung helplessly at her sides, unable to reach for leverage. She let out a frustrated sigh, her gaze falling to her phone just out of reach on the floor. If she could only swing herself closer, maybe she could grab it. Determined, she rocked her body, fingers stretching, trying to build momentum, but the hammock refused to budge, keeping her immobilized in an elegant, albeit precarious, pose.

As she swung slightly, her mind began to wander. The thought of you finding her like this—stuck and vulnerable—sent a strange thrill down her spine. Her cheeks warmed as she imagined your reaction. Part of her was frustrated, but another part, one she didn’t often acknowledge, felt a curious excitement.

Minutes ticked by, but to her, it felt like an eternity. With each passing second, her frustration grew, mingling with the anticipation she couldn’t quite shake. Her gaze drifted back to the door, half hoping, half dreading the moment you’d walk in.

Then, just as she was resigning herself to a lengthy wait, the sound of the front door opening shattered the quiet. Her heart leapt, caught between relief and sudden embarrassment, as your voice echoed through the house, warm and familiar.

“Zuha? My love, I’m home!”

She bit her lip, hesitating as she fought down the blush that threatened to rise again. Finally, she called out, her voice a little shaky, “Baaabe? Could you… come to my yoga room?”

As you entered the room, the scene before you was enough to make you pause, taking in every detail. There she was—suspended in the air, her legs folded above her head, arms helplessly dangling at her sides. Her cheeks were flushed, a hint of vulnerability in her usually confident gaze. Her body was wrapped in silk, held by the taut fabric, and despite her embarrassment, she looked breathtaking.

For a moment, your concern was visible, but as the situation fully registered, a grin crept across your face. Leaning against the doorway, you crossed your arms, unable to resist the teasing. “Well, well... what do we have here?” you murmured, eyebrow raised. “Zuha, how exactly did you manage this?”

Kazuha squirmed slightly, her face burning even brighter as she looked away, mumbling under her breath. “I was… trying a new position, and I lost my balance,” she muttered defensively. “Now I’m stuck. Could you just help me get down?”

You chuckled, stepping closer with a glint of mischief in your eye. Slowly, you traced a finger along the edge of the silks wrapped tightly around her thighs. She shivered at the soft touch, her breath catching as it quickened slightly. "Are you sure you're not hurt?" you asked, letting your voice dip, a note of seriousness slipping through.

She shook her head, biting her lip. “No, I’m fine,” she replied, her voice wavering just slightly. “Just… stuck and incredibly embarrassed.”

A soft smirk played at your lips as you leaned closer, your face just inches from hers. “Good,” you whispered, your breath grazing her ear. “Because you look surprisingly comfortable up there.” Her blush deepened, and you could see a flicker of something more in her eyes—an unspoken thrill.

Before she could respond, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, then brushing her lips with yours. She melted into the kiss, her shoulders relaxing as her breathing steadied, a subtle warmth spreading over her cheeks.

With a quiet chuckle, you took a step back, shrugging nonchalantly. "I'm going to freshen up. Long day at work, you know?" You added a playful push to the hammock, setting it into a gentle sway, and her gaze softened as she watched you move toward the hallway.

"Just hang tight," you called over your shoulder with a grin, leaving her nestled and content in the gentle sway.

“What?! Babe, don’t you dare—” she started, her voice rising in disbelief, but it was too late. You’d already disappeared down the hall, and the soft sound of the bathroom door closing echoed through the quiet house.

Suspended in the air, Kazuha let out an exasperated sigh, her face flushed with both frustration and something else she couldn’t quite define. She wriggled again, hoping to somehow loosen the silks, but the hammock’s hold remained firm. Her legs were trapped in an elevated split, the silks gripping her tightly, leaving her completely immobilized. Her phone was tantalizingly close on the floor below, but there was nothing she could do but wait.

A mix of emotions swirled inside her—embarrassment, irritation, and a spark of anticipation she hadn’t expected. She couldn’t help but wonder what you’d do when you returned. Being at your mercy, bound in the hammock and unable to move, filled her with a thrill she hadn’t felt before. Her mind raced, and despite herself, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

When you finally returned, your casual grin grew wider at the sight of her still suspended and completely helpless. “How's it hanging...Still stuck?” you teased, stepping closer, your eyes tracing the lines of her toned body. She glared at you, though her flustered expression and pink cheeks betrayed her mixed feelings. “Obviously,” she muttered, trying to sound irritated. “Are you going to help me down now?”

You held her gaze, your fingers lightly trailing up the silks that bound her thighs. “You look so graceful up there,” you mused, voice soft as your fingers traced the line of her legs, moving higher with tantalizing slowness. You stopped just shy of the waistband of her yoga pants, eyes darkening with a playful glint.

“I mean, I could let you down now,” you whispered, leaning in close enough that she could feel your breath on her skin, “but where’s the fun in that?”

Kazuha’s heart raced as she felt your touch move higher, stopping just shy of the waistband of her yoga pants. Your voice was low and teasing with eyes dark with playful intent.

"Tell me, How much did there cost you?" you murmured, your voice a low, sultry purr that seemed to resonate with the intimacy of the moment. Your fingers continued their dance along the fabric, each touch sending a ripple of anticipation through Kazuha's body.

Kazuha blinked, her long lashes fluttering against her flushed cheeks as she processed your question. "Uh... eighty dollars?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, a hint of confusion mingling with the growing desire in her eyes.

Your hand paused, and for a moment, your expression shifted to one of thoughtful contemplation. Then, as if a delightful idea had struck you, a mischievous grin spread across your face, transforming it into a portrait of playful intentions.

"Eighty dollars, huh?" You shrugged nonchalantly, the picture of confidence and control. "I can afford that."

Before Kazuha could utter another word, you gripped the fabric of her pants with a determined hand, right at the point where it covered her wet, eager folds. With a swift, forceful motion, you tore the pants open, the sound of the fabric ripping echoing through the room like a sharp, tantalizing prelude to the symphony of pleasure that was to come.

Kazuha gasped, the cool air rushing against her newly exposed skin, sending a shiver of delight mixed with shock coursing through her body. "B-Baby!" she stammered, her body tensing, her heart racing as she realized just how vulnerable and exposed she was to you in that moment.

Your smirk deepened, your eyes darkening with desire as you leaned in closer, your hand now trailing down to explore the slickness of her folds. "You're already soaked," you murmured, your voice low and teasing, the vibrations of your words adding to the sensation of your fingers as they grazed her wetness. "Were you hoping this would happen?"

Kazuha whimpered softly, her body trembling at your touch, her legs still suspended above her, held in place by the hammock's gentle embrace. She was completely at your mercy, her body aching with anticipation and need.

"You're the perfect height for this," you growled, the animalistic edge to your voice betraying your excitement. You positioned yourself between her legs, your eyes lingering on the sight before you—Kazuha, open and vulnerable, her body a canvas of desire. "I think I'm going to enjoy this."

With a wicked grin, you knelt on the thin yoga matt that covered the floor, placing yourself perfectly between Kazuha's legs. You began by kissing her inner thighs gently, your lips leaving a trail of warmth as you worked your way up slowly, teasing her with your breath, your intention clear. Kazuha squirmed slightly, her body aching with anticipation, but the hammock kept her perfectly still, leaving her completely exposed to your ministrations.

Your lips hovered just inches from her core, your breath hot against her sensitive skin. Kazuha's body trembled in response, a silent plea for more. You pressed a soft, lingering kiss against her pussy, a promise of the pleasure to come. Looking up at her with a teasing smirk, you held her gaze, the connection between you electric and unbreakable.

"You're so perfect, I'm the luckiest man in the world." you murmured, your voice low and filled with a longing that resonated in the stillness. "I could do this all day."

Kazuha's breath hitched, a staccato rhythm against the symphony of nature's chorus. Your words, a balm to her soul, sent shivers cascading through her body, electrifying every nerve ending. She had always reveled in the appreciation of her figure—a testament to her dedication and discipline. But when those words of adoration came from you, they pierced through her defenses, reaching depths she hadn't known existed within her.

Your gaze was a physical touch, locked onto her trembling form with an intensity that heightened her arousal to near-unbearable heights. You drank in the sight of her, the rise and fall of her chest, the flush that painted her skin, and the way her body responded to the timbre of your voice. She could feel herself throbbing, her core reacting with involuntary clenches, a silent plea for more. A soft whimper escaped her lips, a sound that seemed to reverberate through the very air around you.

You smiled, a knowing, predatory grin that acknowledged her body's betrayal of its own need. "You love that, don't you? The way I talk about you... I can see you your pussy quiver from every word." Your words were a velvet caress, wrapping around her, pulling her deeper into the web of your shared desire.

With a deliberate slowness that bordered on cruelty, your tongue flicked out, teasing her clit with a light touch that promised more. Then, with a feral hunger, you pressed your mouth fully against her, devouring her with deep, slow licks that sent shockwaves of pleasure through her suspended form. Kazuha gasped, her legs trembling within the silken embrace of the hammock as the pleasure shot through her core like a starburst. Her hips instinctively tried to buck, to meet the rhythm of your mouth, but the silks held her firmly in place, leaving her suspended and completely at your mercy.

You licked her deliberately, tracing her slick folds with your tongue as you worked her closer and closer to the precipice of ecstasy. Your hands, strong and sure, gripped her thighs, holding her in place as your mouth moved against her with expert precision. You kissed and sucked on her clit, each movement building her up, a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm her senses.

Kazuha's breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling as the pleasure intensified. Her abs, already flexed from the effort of maintaining balance within the hammock, tightened even more with every movement of your tongue. She could feel her muscles contracting, every inch of her body reacting to the sensations you were giving her, a dance of ecstasy that left her teetering on the edge.

"God, you taste so good," you groaned between kisses, your voice rough with lust. "I can't believe how beautiful and sexy you are. Your body’s amazing, baby." The compliments made Kazuha's core tighten even more, a coil winding ever tighter within her. Every word you spoke seemed to drive her wild, her pussy clenching involuntarily in response to your praise. She could feel her climax building, a tide that threatened to sweep her away. Her legs quivered in the hammock, her body tensing in delicious anticipation of the release that was sure to come.

You weren’t holding back. You pressed your mouth harder against her, your tongue flicking rapidly over her clit as you pushed her closer to the edge. You let go of her legs and pushed forward with your face, using gravity to press her pussy deeper into your mouth. The hammock’s tension added to the sensation, her own body weight pushing her harder against your lips and tongue, making every movement more intense.

Kazuha's voice, tremulous with need, pierced the air. "Oh god, You feel so fucking good!" she cried out, her desperation palpable. Her abdominal muscles contracted with such force that it bordered on pain, the tension in her core coiling like a spring as her body quivered on the brink of ecstasy.

Your voice, a dark melody of seduction, teased her mercilessly. "You're close, aren't you?" you murmured, looking up to meet her gaze, your eyes alight with mischief and desire. "I can feel how much you're throbbing. Cum for me, baby, I know you want to."

Her response was a whimper, a sound that seemed to be torn from the very depths of her being. Her legs, ensnared by the hammock's embrace, trembled as her climax loomed ever closer. You were relentless, your mouth working tirelessly to push her over the edge. The pleasure was building, a crescendo that threatened to consume her entirely.

Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, you pulled back slightly, your lips leaving her clit for just a moment before your hand came down in a sharp slap against her pussy.

Kazuha’s entire body jolted at the sudden sting, her back arching as the pain and pleasure mixed together. Her breath hitched, her abs contracting violently as her pussy throbbed in response. Before she could recover, you slapped her again, the sharp sensation sending her spiraling.

“Come on, Zuha,” you growled, your voice thick with desire. “I know, you love getting spanked.”

With one final, powerful slap, Kazuha’s body shattered.

Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her entire body convulsing in the hammock as her pussy clenched and pulsed uncontrollably. Her abs flexed so hard that every muscle in her core stood out, looking like it was chiseled from stone, her thighs trembling violently as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her. The force of her climax left her breathless, her cries filling the room as she came harder than ever before.

But you were not finished. You leaned forward once more, your mouth finding her again, your tongue laving her through the aftershocks. Your relentless attention to her overstimulated clit elicited another chorus of cries from Kazuha, her body shaking uncontrollably as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm her once more.

"Fuck, you truly are one of a kind, baby," you groaned against her, your own arousal evident in your voice. Your tongue continued to worship her sensitive flesh, each flick timed perfectly with the erratic beating of her heart. Her pussy responded in kind, clenching and releasing as her body rode the waves of her orgasm.

Spent and sated, Kazuha could only whimper softly, her body a boneless, contented weight in the hammock. Her legs, still gently swaying, twitched with the remnants of her climax as she struggled to catch her breath. 

You finally pulled back, your lips brushing softly over her trembling core one last time before you looked up at her. Your eyes, filled with satisfaction, met hers, which were clouded with the aftermath of her climax. "You're gorgeous," you whispered, your voice a symphony of admiration. "I could watch you cum all day."

Kazuha's body continued to shudder, her mind a haze of pleasure as she struggled to draw breath. Her toned abdomen still flexed, quivering from the intensity of her release, and her sensitive flesh throbbed with the sweet ache of overstimulation, her body twitching with every lingering touch.

You stood slowly, your hands tracing a path along her silken thighs before leaning in to press a soft, possessive kiss to her abdomen. "I'm not done with you yet," you murmured against her skin, a playful intent lacing your words.

Kazuha whimpered softly, her body deliciously spent yet still eager for more. She was completely at your mercy, surrendering to the vulnerability and reveling in every moment of it.

You took a step back, your gaze darkening with desire as it roamed over her trembling form. Your hands gripped her hips, adjusting her position in the hammock, pulling her just high enough that your hips aligned perfectly. You positioned yourself between her legs, the tip of your arousal brushing against her slick folds, teasing her with the promise of what was to come.

"I'm going to make you feel so good," you growled, your voice rough with anticipation as you locked eyes with her. "Look at you, dripping and so ready for me."

Without further ado, you thrust into her, your length filling her completely in one powerful motion. Kazuha gasped, her back arching as the hammock swayed beneath her, enhancing every movement. The gentle rocking, combined with the slow, deliberate rhythm of your thrusts, made every sensation more exquisite.

The angle was perfection—your hands gripping her hips tightly as you drove into her, each thrust deeper than the last. The hammock cradled her suspended at just the right height, her legs spread wide above her, offering herself to you entirely.

"Baby," you whispered against her ear, your voice thick with lust. "You feel so fucking good like this."

Kazuha could only moan in response, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the pleasure mounted rapidly. Her body trembled beneath you, every thrust propelling her closer to the precipice of another shattering release. The way you manipulated the hammock to control her movements, adjusting her height and angle, made each plunge feel impossibly deep.

Your grip on her hips tightened, pulling her down onto you with every motion. "You're mine," you asserted, your thrusts growing harder, more intense as you watched her body react to yours. "Completely mine."

Kazuha whimpered, her legs quivering in the hammock as the pleasure spiraled faster and faster. She could feel herself teetering on the edge of another orgasm, her entire being trembling as you relentlessly drove her toward the brink.

"I... I can't...hold on, I need to cum" Kazuha moaned, her voice shaky with the effort to articulate the overwhelming sensations coursing through her.

You smirked down at Kazuha, your eyes dark with the intensity of your longing. "Not yet," you growled, your thrusts slowing down just enough to keep her hanging on the brink. "Hold on longer for me." The playful yet commanding tone in your voice sent a shiver down her spine.

With a playful grin, you suddenly pushed her away slightly in the hammock, the fabric rocking her gently backwards. The momentum of the swing brought her body crashing back into yours, your length driving deeper inside her as the force of the motion sent shockwaves of pleasure through her.

Kazuha gasped, her breath catching in her throat as the hammock swung her back again, only to bring her crashing into your hips once more. Every swing sent you deeper, every impact more intense than the last, leaving her trembling and breathless.

Your hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements as you repeated the motion, pushing her away and letting her swing back into you, the hammock amplifying the force of every thrust. Kazuha's entire body trembled beneath you, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the pleasure became too much to bear.

"Oh god—please," she whimpered, her body swinging back into you again. The rhythm of the hammock and your powerful thrusts left her breathless, the force of each movement driving you deeper into her.

You grinned darkly, watching her unravel beneath you. "You feel that, Zuha?" you growled, your eyes dark with lust. "You're taking every inch of me."

As her body swung back into you again, your thrusts became harder, stronger, each one meeting her with an overwhelming intensity. Kazuha's breath came in ragged gasps, her entire body trembling in the silks as she was rocked back and forth, every movement sending you deeper inside her.

But then, Kazuha instinctively leaned forward slightly, using her weight to move toward you as she swung back into your hips. Your eyes glinted with desire as you took the opportunity, grabbing her weightless body mid-swing and slamming her back into you with even more force.

Kazuha's body jolted violently with the impact, her eyes fluttering closed as you began pounding into her harder and harder, your thrusts driving her deeper with each movement. You weren't holding back anymore, your hands gripping her hips tightly as you met each swing with a powerful thrust that sent you even impossibly deep inside her.

Kazuha gasped, her breath catching in her throat as the pleasure became overwhelming. Her legs trembled, her entire body quivering uncontrollably in the hammock as you drove into her relentlessly. Every thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through her core, the sensation so intense that she could barely breathe.

"You're mine," you growled, your voice rough with desire. "All mine, Zuha, say it."

"I-I'm yours," she panted, "all yours, every part of me is claimed by you."

The force of your thrusts, combined with the swinging motion of the hammock, left Kazuha on the verge of collapse. Her vision blurred, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps as the pleasure consumed her. She could feel herself losing control, her body trembling violently as you pounded into her with unrelenting force.

"Please, can I cum, it's so deep," Kazuha whimpered, her voice trembling as she teetered on the edge of consciousness. Her legs were shaking, her entire body quivering as the intense pleasure pushed her closer and closer to the breaking point.

In response to her desperate plea, you reached out, your hands finding purchase on her weightless, hanging body. With a surge of strength, you brought her hips to meet yours with an unbelievable pace, each thrust harder and faster than the last. The hammock swayed wildly, a pendulum of passion, as you drove her further into the abyss of pleasure.

The world around you faded into insignificance, leaving only the two of you locked in a dance as old as time. The rhythm of your bodies moving in harmony, the crescendo building with each passionate stroke, was all that mattered. Kazuha's body arched, her muscles tensing as she finally surrendered to the overwhelming force within her.

You could feel it too—her body trembling, her warmth clenching around you as you drove into her faster and harder. You leaned down, your breath hot against her skin as you groaned, "Cum for me, baby." and with a cervix kissing thrust, you buried yourself deep inside her, holding Kazuha in place as her body convulsed in your arms.

She let out an ear piercing scream, her entire body shuddering as another orgasm tore through her, even more intense than the previous. Her legs quivered, her pussy clenching and pulsing around you as the waves of pleasure overtook her. It was a sight to behold—her body, a temple of ecstasy, responding to your touch with such unbridled intensity.

You weren’t far behind. You groaned loudly, resuming the rhythmic jerking of your hips as your own climax hit you hard. You released her hips and let go completely, pulling out of her just in time to finish. The force of your release sent streams of your hot, creamy seed spraying across Kazuha’s trembling body.

Thick streams of your essence splattered onto her slick, trembling pussy, coating her toned abs. even slightly reaching her flushed face. Kazuha gasped softly as she felt the warm sensation spread across her skin, her entire body still quivering from the intensity of her second orgasm.

Her abs flexed involuntarily with each aftershock, her muscles taut and trembling as you stood above her, panting heavily. Your breath came in ragged gasps as you watched the last drops of your release drip down her body, mixing with the sheen of sweat on her skin. For a moment, you couldn’t move, mesmerized by the sight of Kazuha’s limp, weightless form hanging in the air, her body gently swinging back and forth as she lay dazed and spent.

Kazuha’s legs twitched slightly, her eyes half-lidded as she floated in and out of consciousness, the aftershocks still rippling through her core. Her entire body quivered, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as the hammock continued to sway gently beneath her. Her skin glistened in the low light, her muscles still trembling from the overwhelming intensity of it all.

Your chest rose and fell as you caught your breath, leaning over her slightly, captivated by the sight of her completely undone, quivering and dazed in the silks. You reached out, your fingers brushing softly over her slick abs, feeling the way her body twitched beneath your touch.

“Wow,” you whispered, your voice still rough from the exertion. “That was incredible.”

Kazuha let out a soft, tired moan, her head rolling slightly as her body swung gently, still too weak to move. She was completely spent, her body trembling uncontrollably as the last waves of pleasure washed over her. Your touch lingered on her skin, the weight of your hand grounding her as she floated in a haze of exhaustion and satisfaction.

You watched her carefully, your heart pounding as you took in the sight of her—dazed, quivering, and utterly at your mercy. You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her sweat-slicked forehead before pulling back, letting her swing gently in the hammock, her body still pulsing from the intensity of what you’d shared.

The room was filled with the soft creaking of the hammock and the quiet sound of your ragged breathing. Kazuha’s body still quivered, her legs trembling as she hung limply in the silks, completely spent and overwhelmed by the intensity of everything that had just happened. Her head tilted back, her breath coming in shallow gasps, but her eyes, wide and filled with emotion, glistened with unshed tears.

Her lips parted as she tried to speak, her voice shaky and fragmented. “I... I love you...” she whispered, her breath catching as tears welled up in her eyes. “I... can’t... believe... it... was so...good”

Kazuha, her body still resonating with the aftershocks of an intense climax, lay in the hammock, its soft sway a mere whisper against the tumultuous feelings coursing through her. The tears that welled in her eyes were not born of sorrow but of an overwhelming sense of love and awe, a testament to the profound connection that had just been shared.

Your heart, as the observer of her vulnerability, swelled with a tender affection. Seeing her so exposed, her body quivering and her eyes brimming with love, triggered an instinctive desire within you to care for her, to ensure her well-being amidst the emotional tempest.

"Shh, Zuha," you murmured, your voice a soothing balm as you drew nearer, your words infused with warmth and concern. "I've got you, love. I know... I know it was a lot."

Her breath caught as she attempted once more to voice her feelings, her words barely audible through the tears that escaped down her cheeks. "I... I love you... so much," she whispered, her voice fractured by the intensity of her emotions. "I've never... felt anything like that..."

Your heart ached with the love you held for her, prompting you to gently brush away the tears that threatened to overshadow her beauty. Aware of her delicate state, you leaned in, your voice soft and reassuring as you spoke words of love and admiration.

"You're amazing, Zuha," you whispered, your fingers tracing the contours of her face with a featherlight touch. "You did so well. You're perfect, and I love you so much."

The depth of her experience was etched in every tremble of her body, in every shaky breath she took. You remained by her side, your hands resting gently on her thighs, grounding her with your presence and steady voice.

Kazuha stirred, trying to sit up, her hands tugging slightly at the binds as if testing her strength, but her body, still tender and drained, struggled to obey. Determination flickered in her gaze, mingling with the vulnerability that softened her expression. Her movements were slight, every attempt revealing just how spent she truly was.

A gentle smile played across your lips as you reached out, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder to soothe her, grounding her in your warmth and presence. "Shh, don’t rush it, Kazuha," you murmured, your tone calm and soft, laced with love and assurance. "I’ll help you down once you’re ready. Just rest for a little while longer, okay?"

She looked up at you, her breath still coming in soft, uneven waves, as she relaxed back into the hammock, her body trusting your support. She nodded slowly, her gaze melting into yours, comforted by your words, letting go of the need to rise too soon.

"It's okay," you soothed, your thumb making slow, comforting circles on her leg. "Just relax now, love, let me know when your ready"

As time passed, her breathing slowed, the tremors subsiding as her muscles relaxed and the tension melted away. You continued your soft-spoken assurances, allowing her the space and time she needed to find her equilibrium once more, your presence steady and unwavering, giving her the peace to simply be.

Her eyelids fluttered, a sign that the intensity was waning, and her breath found a steadier rhythm, though the evidence of her tears still clung to her lashes. A tender smile graced your lips as you watched her, her body finally still, the remnants of her trembling fading with each peaceful breath.

The hammock’s gentle rocking gradually ceased, and in the newfound stillness, you whispered her name, a note of concern lacing your voice. “Zuha?”

There was no reply. Her body, once wracked with the power of her emotions, now lay completely at ease. Her eyes were closed, her expression serene, her breathing soft and regular.

“Zuha?” you called again, this time more softly, as you leaned in to check on her. It was then you realized she had succumbed to the overwhelming intensity of your shared experience, her body and mind surrendering to a state of unconsciousness.

For a moment, you simply watched her in the hammock, her body still weightless and suspended in the silks. Her legs, still folded above her, swayed ever so slightly, while her chest rose and fell with the soft rhythm of sleep. The sight of her, so completely at ease, filled you with an overwhelming sense of affection. You couldn’t help but wear a tender smile, recognizing the profound journey you’d taken her on—a place of such intensity that it had left her completely spent, needing the solace of sleep to recuperate.

With a reverence that bordered on the sacred, you reached up to free her from the silks. Your hands moved with deliberate care, untangling her limbs with a gentleness that left her repose undisturbed. Kazuha’s body remained pliant in your hands, her breathing a steady lullaby as you unraveled her from the hammock’s embrace. Once she was free, you carefully gathered her into your arms. She was a dead weight, her energy sapped by the evening’s events, yet even in sleep, a serene smile lingered on her lips—a silent acknowledgment of the trust and comfort she found in your presence.

You carried her to the bedroom, a sanctuary where you could care for her further. As you laid her on the bed, you noticed the torn fabric of her yoga leggings, a lingering reminder of the night’s passion. With a gentle touch, you peeled the material away, revealing the marks of your shared intensity. Her skin, still glistening with the evidence of your release, told a story of pleasure and surrender.

Taking a soft cloth, you began to clean her, your touch as light as a whisper. You wiped her abs, her inner thighs, and finally, her face, tenderly removing the physical traces of your lovemaking. As you carefully slid off her sports bra, revealing her completely, you couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty that lay before you, still adorned with the subtle glow of shared ecstasy.

With the task complete, you set the cloth aside and slipped into bed beside her. Gently, you pulled the covers over both of you, then wrapped your arms around her, drawing her close. Instinctively, she curled into you, her head finding its natural resting place on your chest. In her sleep, she sought your warmth, her body molding to yours as she sighed in contentment.

Looking down at her, your heart brimmed with love and a fierce sense of protection. “I love you so much.” you whispered, your words a gentle benediction.

She remained in a deep, peaceful sleep, her body in a state of perfect repose, but your words hung in the air, a silent vow that enveloped the room. You held her, a guardian in the quietude, feeling the soft, steady rhythm of her breathing as it matched your own. This moment, so intimate and tender, carried its own weight, its own significance, a quiet testament to the depth of your relationship.

As you lay together, the silence of the bedroom wrapped around you like a cocoon. The love you felt for her, magnified by the vulnerability and trust you’d both embraced, filled you with a profound sense of gratitude. The experiences you’d shared had woven your lives even closer, deepening a connection that felt boundless.

With Kazuha nestled safely in your arms, you closed your eyes, letting the warmth of your shared love settle around you. In this quiet, contented space, you drifted off to sleep, secure in the knowledge that what you shared was rare and precious. And in the sanctity of the night, the two of you rested, wrapped in the certainty of your love.

[jhyoos]

REBEL GIRL

Chapter 1: Player

rockstar! sevika x influencer! reader

summary: (y/n) is invited by her close friend, caitlyn to come to her band’s concert, giving her a backstage pass.

warning: modern au!, fame au!, and swearing

notes: y’all let me know what their band name should be! 🫶

chapters : one, two , three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten

The ring light cast a soft glow across your face as you adjusted the camera’s angle. The glow of the ring light softened the sharp angles of your decor—black walls adorned with band posters. Your desk was cluttered with makeup palettes, brushes, and a freshly arrived PR package.

“I’ve been waiting forever to get my hands on this,” you continued, holding up the box. “So let’s see what the hype is or if they’re playing us again.”

You flicked open the lid, showing off the dramatic reveal to the camera, giving a detailed breakdown of the products inside. As you swatched a deep crimson lipstick on your wrist, your phone buzzed on your desk.

“Oh…,” you muttered, leaning off camera to check.

Caitlyn 💙: Hey Y/N, I’ve decided to bless you with a backstage pass for tonight’s show. You in?

The message Caitlyn made you pause. You’d known her for a while now—first through a friend of a friend, then through a collaboration where you helped her band gain traction on your socials. That collab had been a turning point for them.

You : You better be blessed I cleared my schedule tonight!

Hours later, you found yourself standing at the back entrance of a packed venue. Fans swarmed the streets, their excitement practically vibrating in the air. You adjusted your leather jacket, feeling more like yourself among the edgy crowd.

Inside, a staff member escorted you through a maze of hallways until you reached the backstage area. The hum of guitars being tuned, the steady rhythm of drum checks, and the occasional burst of laughter created a vibrant, chaotic energy.

“Y/N!” Caitlyn’s voice called from a corner. You spotted her, dressed in her usual new variant of baggy ripped jeans and baby tee. Her face lit up when she saw you.

“There she is,” Caitlyn said, pulling you into a quick hug. “I’m glad you came.”

“You made it hard to say no,” you replied, looking around. “So this is where the magic happens, huh?”

Caitlyn laughed. “Yeah, it’s a mess, but it works. The band’s scattered right now—Vi’s finishing her guitar setup, Jinx is probably somewhere causing trouble, and Sevika...” She trailed off, smirking. “Well, Sevika’s being Sevika.”

“Which means?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Probably charming her way into trouble,” Caitlyn said, rolling her eyes. “You’ll see.”

As if on cue, a smooth, deep voice cut through the noise. “Speaking of trouble…”

You turned to find Sevika leaning against the doorway, her electric guitar slung across her shoulder. Her presence was magnetic—broad shoulders, tattoos winding down her arms, and a smirk that was as cocky as it was alluring.

“And who’s this?” Sevika asked, her eyes locking on you.

“Y/N,” Caitlyn said with a hint of warning in her voice. “A friend. So behave, Sev.”

Sevika ignored Caitlyn’s tone and stepped closer, extending a hand. “Sevika. Lead guitarist and part-time troublemaker.”

You shook her hand, her grip firm and deliberate. “Y/N. Influencer and part-time skeptic.”

That made her laugh—a deep, rich sound that you felt in your chest. “A skeptic, huh? We’ll see about that.”

You pulled your hand away, crossing your arms. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty,” Sevika said, her smirk widening.

Before you could respond, Vi appeared, slinging her own guitar over her shoulder. “Sev, don’t scare off Caitlyn’s friends before we even hit the stage,” she said, her tone light but commanding.

“I’m just being friendly,” Sevika said innocently, though the glint in her eye said otherwise.

You rolled your eyes and turned back to Caitlyn. “Let me guess—this happens a lot?”

Caitlyn sighed, giving you an apologetic smile. “Welcome to my life.”

As you followed Caitlyn toward her drum kit, you couldn’t help but feel Sevika’s gaze lingering on you. She was trouble, that much was obvious, but you weren’t about to let her get under your skin.

Not yet, anyway.

The smell of sweat, spilled beer, and raw anticipation filled the air as you stood near the edge of the VIP section. You adjusted your leather jacket, letting the buzz of the crowd settle into your skin. The venue felt alive—hundreds of fans pressed together, shouting and cheering, as the lights dimmed and the noise swelled into a roar.

A single spotlight pierced through the darkness, illuminating Vi as she strutted confidently toward the microphone, her guitar slung across her back. She grinned out at the audience, her energy magnetic, and the room fell silent in reverence.

“You ready for this?” Vi’s voice boomed, equal parts challenge and promise.

The crowd erupted, their screams shaking the walls as the first notes ripped through the air.

The band launched into their opening song with precision and fire. Vi commanded the stage effortlessly, her voice raw and powerful, blending perfectly with her sharp guitar riffs. Caitlyn, ever composed, added a melodic touch from the keyboard, her fingers dancing across the keys with a grace that seemed almost out of place in the chaos of the stage. Jinx, on the other hand, was a blur of wild energy behind the drum set, her movements erratic yet precise, her laughter audible even over the pounding rhythm she created.

And then there was Sevika.

She moved into the spotlight for her solo, her fingers flying across the strings of her guitar with a skill that left the crowd in awe. Her smirk was practically a permanent fixture, the glint in her eye daring anyone not to look at her. She had an ease about her, a confidence that screamed rockstar, and the fans ate it up.

Your eyes lingered on her longer than you meant to. There was no denying she was captivating—the tattoos curling around her arms, the way she poured everything into the music, the cocky tilt of her head when she glanced out at the screaming crowd.

But then your gaze drifted to the edge of the stage, where she seemed to lock eyes with someone in the front row. A girl—blonde, wide-eyed, clearly smitten. Sevika winked at her mid-solo, earning a squeal of delight.

The blonde wasn’t alone. Throughout the set, Sevika’s gaze darted to other fans, offering winks, smirks, and sly nods that made them swoon. You rolled your eyes. If there was one thing you could spot from a mile away, it was a player.

Still, it was hard to ignore how ridiculously good she was. The music, the stage presence, the way her guitar seemed like an extension of her body—it all left you equal parts impressed and annoyed.

When the final chord rang out and Vi shouted, “Thank you, everyone! We love you!” the venue exploded into applause. The band left the stage to thunderous cheers, and you followed a staff member toward the backstage area.

The energy there was different—no less chaotic, but tinged with satisfaction. Roadies darted around, packing up equipment, while the band members moved in different directions. Vi disappeared into a side room, and Caitlyn sat on a small couch, sipping water and scrolling through her phone.

“Y/N!” Caitlyn called, smiling as she saw you approach. She set her water aside and stood, still slightly out of breath.

“Well?” she asked, brushing her hair out of her face. “What’d you think?”

“They’re loud,” you teased, but your grin betrayed your real feelings. “Seriously, though, you were amazing. The keys? Perfect.”

Caitlyn beamed, her posture relaxing. “Thanks, but it’s not just me. We all pulled it off tonight. Thanks for coming—it means a lot.”

Before you could reply, you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. Sevika, leaning against the doorway, her guitar slung casually over her back, chatting with two fans who had somehow found their way backstage.

She was all charm—grinning, nodding, brushing her hand along her jaw in a way that screamed calculated. The fans giggled, hanging onto her every word.

“Does she ever stop?” you muttered, mostly to yourself.

Caitlyn followed your gaze and groaned. “That’s Sev for you. She doesn’t know the meaning of ‘off the clock.’”

“Clearly,” you said, rolling your eyes.

As if on cue, Sevika turned her attention from the fans and strolled toward you. Her smirk was as infuriating up close as it was on stage.

“And what about me?” Sevika asked, her voice low and smooth. “Did I kill it tonight?”

You crossed your arms, refusing to give her the reaction you knew she was fishing for. “You were fine.”

“Fine?” she echoed, placing a hand over her heart as if you’d wounded her. “That’s all I get?”

“I’m not one of your groupies,” you shot back, your tone flat.

Sevika chuckled, stepping closer. “No, you’re not. You’re… different.”

Her gaze lingered, intense and unrelenting, and for a moment, you felt your cheeks flush. Annoyed at your own reaction, you rolled your eyes.

“Keep working on it,” you said sharply, before pulling out your phone and seeing the time. It was pass midnight. Shit. You had a promotional event early in the morning.

“I’m sorry, Cait. But I’ve gotta go,” You say with a playful pout before giving her a goodbye hug.

“It’s okay. I’ll text you and most importantly text me when you get home,” Caitlyn says as she hugged you back.

You both pulled away “Yes mam. I will,” you say.

As you turn towards the door, Sevika steps into your way with a teasing smirk. “Leaving so soon?” she asked, her voice low.

“Some of us have responsibilities,” you replied coolly, slipping your phone into your pocket.

She leaned against a nearby wall, her eyes trailing over you in a way that felt deliberate. “What, no time for a drink? A little post-show celebration?”

You crossed your arms, tilting your head. “Do all your ‘post-show celebrations’ involve swooning fans and scribbled phone numbers, or do I get a special offer?”

Her grin widened, her gaze steady. “Depends. Are you interested in being special?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”

“Just calling it like I see it,” Sevika replied, stepping closer. “And I see someone who might enjoy a little fun if she let herself.”

You met her gaze, and for a moment, you let a sly smile tug at your lips. “You’re confident, I’ll give you that. But I’m not as easy to impress as your fan club.”

Sevika chuckled, the sound low and rich. “That’s what makes it interesting.”

You stepped closer, brushing past her shoulder as you made your way toward the exit. “Interesting’s a good start, but you’ll have to try harder than that.”

She turned, her smirk faltering for the first time, as if she hadn’t expected you to turn the tables.

Pausing at the doorway, you glanced back, your eyes meeting hers. “Good luck with the next one, rockstar. I’ve got places to be.”

And with that, you disappeared down the hallway, leaving her standing there, her smirk replaced by something more thoughtful.

As you made your way toward the exit, you allowed yourself a small smile. Flirting with Sevika was like playing with fire, but there was something undeniably satisfying about leaving her wondering.

Tomorrow would be busy, but tonight, you couldn’t help but savor the small victory.

mini taglist: @gracie-gloom @swordfemm4 @m00npjm 🎸❤️

[st4rbwrry]

𝒩𝒪𝒪𝒦𝐼𝐸.

⸝⸝ ౨ৎ :: suguru isn’t fond of the new gardener you hired who’s clearly flirting with you when he’s not home.

warnings ౨ৎ 2.7k. fem!reader, lowercase intended, cunninglingus/face riding, cottage core au? + suguru’s a farmer, missionary in da kitchen, praising ofc, exhibitionism, jealousy, possessiveness, suguru’s kinda rude, sub / dom dynamic, established relationship, rough play, m oral, impact play, unprotected, pet names ex. [ baby, sweetheart ], minors aren’t welcomed! comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡

suguru doesn’t appreciate that you aren’t greeting him with his usual kisses after you raise on your tippy toes to smooch him after he comes home from a long day of churning butter and tending to livestock. it doesn’t make him happy to know that you’re not tending to his attention and rather giving it to another man after he strolls through your large kitchen, that he built for you, to head into the back of your farmhouse to find you giggling and conversing with the new gardener. a gardener that you personally hired that he had yet to meet.

he could smell the pan of shepherd’s pie and cornbread in the oven, ignoring the way his stomach growls hungrily and it quickly being consumed with irritation. you’re wearing your cute pink apron with tiny patterns of sunflowers and bunnies as you hold a woven basket of freshly picked strawberries the man before you tossed into. having a conversation about fucking strawberries. he didn’t expect this man to be. . . of your type. tall, nice smile, good hair, makes you laugh a little too fucking hard. what about fruits could possibly be so fucking funny, [♡]?

“what a surprise,” suguru’s voice is laced with annoyance, deep and causing the two to go silent as he makes his way down the steps to stand directly next to you. you blink, knowing your husband very well and easily you could tell he’s off.

“hi, baby! this is matteo, he’s our new gardener! we were talking a lot about the new setup i plan on having!” the smile on your face is pure, looking back and forth between suguru and your gardener. “he just started today.”

“hey, man. nice to meet you. your wife told me all about you,” matteo remains professional, extending his hand for a handshake. you roll your lips in, waiting for your husband to comply with respect. it’s silent as you stare between both men, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck rise from anxiousness.

“mhm,” is all suguru can say, matteo taken aback by his approach. it’s extremely rude, and you blink excessively to keep your composure. taking a deep breath, you form a tight lipped smile towards your gardener.

“excuse me for a moment,” you speak, side eyeing suguru before pulling him to the side, matteo continuing his job by picking juicy fruits from their stems.

“what’s your deal? that was fucking rude,” you denounce, gawking up at him with a raised brow. suguru folds his bulky arms, not understanding how you’re acting dumb right now. you knew this would piss him off.

suguru leans down to get closer to you, lips inches from your ear. “who told you to hire somebody like this?"

"hire somebody like what?" the man retaliates, overhearing suguru’s weak attempt of whispering to you, taking offense. regardless, he spoke on his name when he was right there.

suguru turns his face only an inch or so, barely giving the man full attention. you swallow, his face nearly touching your own possessively, like an animal protecting it’s mate. suguru then switches his eyes fully, intensely staring at the man. "like someone she'd fuck."

his immature response causes you to step away from him with a look of disgust, brows pinched with anger. you couldn’t believe his mouth. you’re not sure what the fuck’s gotten into him, but it wasn’t cute. quite frankly, he looked stupid.

“you’re making a fucking fool of yourself,” you spat, eyes burning. knocking your head back in the sweet gardeners direction, you hold your hand over your heart apologetically. “i am truly sorry for my husband’s rudeness. please forgive me for this, but i think it’s best if you go. i will give you a call tomorrow. i’m sorry again.”

the man nods only once, keeping his focus solely on you, not even bothering to glance in your husband’s direction. his possessiveness a black cloud over the party. “it’s not a problem at all. have a great rest of your day, ma’am.”

the minute your gardener is out of view, that’s when you give suguru an irritated snarl, looking him up and down as if the man had no shame. which he didn’t, and that was the problem. “what is wrong with you?!”

suguru intakes air as you strut away angrily, heading back into your kitchen to adapt into the ignoring him bubble and completely tuning into your dinner prepping. since you have freshly picked strawberries, you decided to start a mixture for muffins you could sell to the neighborhood tomorrow morning. a festival was being held at the ranch a few blocks down, already promising a few ladies you’d whip something up sweet.

suguru follows behind, studying as you huff and puff to yourself while gathering eggs, milk and other things you needed.

“you didn’t answer my question.”

“because it’s fucking stupid. why’d i hire someone to help me out? oh my god, such a mystery.”

“you’re being immature.”

that causes you to stop all movements. holding onto the edges of the island and staring at him with disbelief, mouth actually drawn open as you scoff. “i’m immature? because you didn’t just disrespect that man for no reason. you know him or sum’?”

“don’t act slow. you hired that man ‘cause he’s someone you can eye fuck when i’m not home. don’t pretend you don’t find him attractive,” suguru grits his teeth.

you roll your eyes. “ohh, so it’s jealousy! why would i want to cheat on someone i’m in love with? you’re being extremely distrustful. take that shit out of my kitchen, getou.”

“say that again,” he’s approaching you now, suguru observing as you cross your arms and pretend to be unfazed by how much bigger he was compared to you. his bare feet thumps along the floor as he nears you, hands in the pockets of his dark washed jeans, shoulders broad as he stared down at you darkly. now your body’s pressed up against the kitchen counter, turning your head the opposite way to avoid eye contact.

“getou,” you stand on what you say, uncaring. your husband deviously grins.

suguru kisses his teeth smugly. you practically moan when his hand grips your jaw to bring your attention back, fingers denting into your cheeks to make your lips pout, head tilted back. “watch that mouth of yours. there’s no need to be bratty.”

teeth sink into your lips he gawks at for a split second before meeting your eyes again. a feeble noise comes from you as he swiftly pulls up your white sundress, hands on the backs of your thighs to spread you open, fingers pulling your pussy open. not surprised to see you weren't wearing underwear. really, that pisses him off even further. it’s windy out and you were engaging in conversation with that man knowing your pussy was bare. he wants to laugh, seeing how wet you are already. fucking nympho. even though you’re mad, you can’t ignore how hot his touch makes you. you gulp, holding onto the edge of the counter as your gut flips after he crouched on one knee.

his breath hits your clit, and instantly your thighs tremble, suguru slowly sticking his tongue out his mouth, wide, long, and slick with saliva. it hovers over your clit, barely touching it. part of you wants to grab his hair and shove him down, but the look in his eyes says not to try it. his fingers come up to your face, extending two of the long digits inside of your mouth. you suck obediently, moaning around them while rolling forward towards his, aching for it. his free hand smacks your inner thigh causing you to release his fingers and whimper, suguru wasting zero time and curling them deep into you, shaking them frivolously as his lips suction on your clit, kissing your pussy deeply, using so much saliva.

his stare is hard on you the entire time, wrist moving instantaneously as he fucks you with them. he’s having a ball watching you wither and roll your hips, squealing and raising your thighs higher to your chest, listening to his fingers slam into you, that gushing sound of your pussy coating his fingers.

"c-can’t. . .”

"shut up," briskly, he pulls his fingers out and spanks your clit with them, standing to his feet, towering over you. you rest your head back against the wall by the window, shifting your body since your ass hurt a little from being on a granite countertop.

most of his words are blocked out as you watch the sexually pent-up man drag his pants down until they sit at his waist, pussy clenching at the dark pubic hairs sticking out, lust in your eyes as his veiny, big hand fists his cock. the thick vein leading up to the crown leaking precum makes you smile hazily.

"look at me when i’m talking to you."

you're too fucking mesmerized by him. his slightly dirty white tshirt is hiked up now, godly sculpted abs enticing you to run your fingers over them with a giddy laugh. suguru tilts his head to the side, clenching his jaw.

"hey," he calls to you, snapping his fingers twice in your face, voice deeper than usual. you can see that he's not up for bullshit. he’s arched over you, hair sticking to his forehead as he places his right hand on your lower back, arching into him until your chest presses against his. "listen to me when i talk to you, woman.”

the smell of his skin is intoxicating, reaching your hands behind him to claw at his ass, open mouth on his chin, moaning as he slides deep into you, looking down at you with a groan escaping his throat, furrowing his thick brows. suguru tries not to lose it, because despite his frustration, there's no way he could deny just how fucking good you felt pulling him deep right now. you hold tight, eyes hazy as he pounds into you without another word, arm stretching over to press his palm on the cabinet above, balancing himself and dragging you to meet him thrust for thrust.

"pussy so needy for me. it fuckin’ better be.”

please shut up, is what you think. his voice is too damn addictive, and the way he fucks you, virulently, like he fucking despised you . . . you didn't know if you could take much more. the other half of your brain is the opposite, thanking him over and over.

"oh, look, princess. there’s your favorite man,” it doesn't register that the two of you are legit fucking near an open window where anyone could see. “let’s say hi, baby."

unsure why he came back, it only takes ten seconds for your sweet gardener to immediately be swept with trauma, catching a glimpse at the two of you, suguru’s dark eyes burning into him while yours are shut to hide the embarrassment, stomach still flipping with rouse. his fingers has your jaw locked still to keep your fucked out face in the direction of the man who’s nothing short of unimpressed. tasteless, he thinks. wasting no time and turning away to hop back inside of his truck, only coming because he forgot to give you back the key to your garage. his lips are by your ear now. "looks like we’ll have to hire someone else.”

"you’re s-so . . . mean,” it’s the only thing you can think of, trembling and yanking your face out of his grasp. you wanna say you hate him, but deep down you knew this is what you've been craving all along. he’s exactly how you wanted him to be; lecherous. "fuck, can’t stand you.”

"you love me, sweetheart,” he coed, you hiccup. sobbing as he throws one of your legs over his arm, angling his hips slightly to the right and hitting into you faster, rolling your neck back, listening to how viscous his skin claps with your own, and his breath fans over your face.

"awe," he pouts, giving your forehead a chaste kiss. "y‘not gonna say it back?”

“d’nt deserve it,” you’re slurring your words and it pisses you off how dumb he makes you. his hand is around your neck now, choking you until you feel the blood rushing to your skull, luring the back of your own hand to your lips, using it as some sort of blockage for how loud you were being. louder than usual.

inching his lips towards yours, he studies how desperate you are to latch your lips with his, only for him to snatch them away. “then you don’t deserve my kiss.”

a frustrated whine leaves your throat, suguru humming tauntingly, delicately skimming his bitten red lips over yours with a moan following along with a whispered ‘no’. tightening his lock around your neck, he rolls his hips deeper, your hand clutching his wrist with tears in your eyes. “not until you tell me you love me.”

you gently sink your teeth into the back of your hand, getou leaning closer before sloppily kissing at your palm where your lips rested, an evil stare painted his expression. he sucks, licks, and moans on your hand, knowing you were wishing he'd do that to your mouth instead. fuck, that was enough to get you to the breaking point. thighs trembling as you drop your mouth open, nothing coming out.

"wait, are you gonna cum?" his mouth upturns as he widens his eyes and mouth with fake surprise. "you’re cumming, aren't you? don’t cum. if you cum, i’ll stop."

"suguru, fucking stop—"

"stop what, huh? why you talkin' back?" shoving his thumb in your mouth, he fucks you harder, body jolting as your eyes roll back and your mouth drools, clutching his wrist harder to keep him there. "weren't you gonna cum?"

"yessss!" you wail, tears falling down your eyes. that coil in the pit of your stomach is ready to snap, suguru’s sadistic voice ringing in your ears as he praises you, hips ramming harder to get you to break, clutching the back of his neck and screaming into his chest, giving him the answer he wants, riding the wave. "love you. love you.”

“good girl, good girl,” he proceeds to fuck you through it, just enough until you're pushing at his stomach to stop, kissing up the side of his neck drunkenly. suguru slides out of you, holding back a moan before he's grabbing your hand and pulling you off the counter, holding your waist so you don't fall over.

"knees, now."

you're more than happy to lower to your knees, already knowing what to prepare for, lulled, teary eyes focusing on him and the slick coated cock stretching over your face. you hold onto the back of his thighs, widening your mouth and sticking your tongue out, suguru holding your head still before gliding his dick inside the cave of heat now inundating him, jaw dropping, using the other hand to hold the cabinet once more and mercilessly fucking your throat. his moans are coarse, grunting and throwing his head back, hips stuttering as he holds you still and shoots deep in your mouth, cursing thousands of times he nearly filled the dictionary.

"swallow it and show me," and you do, without hesitation, sticking your tongue out proudly and it makes suguru even prouder. "that’s my girl."

"whatever," you wipe the side of your mouth, suguru lifting you off the floor, legs still too weak to function.

“there’s that mouth again, sweetheart. cut it short before i fuck you harder,” oh, he’s serious. that darkness in his eyes telling you not to try it again.

“s-sorry, baby. love you,” you give him those pretty doe eyes he falls weak to, rubbing your hands over his waist while placing your chin on his chest. batting your lashes innocently.

suguru hums. “tell me that after you get rid of that fuckin’ gardener.”

© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡

[antimony-medusa]

But what do you MEAN this fic where blorbo gets mind controlled might be kinky?

So I am kind of famous for saying that this fandom has a lot of untagged kinks and I get people in my notes pretty regularly going YES I"M BEGGING YOU TAG IT or YOU"RE DERANGED THIS IS PLATONIC, etc. Lots of strong emotions. But I also get people who are going uh, I knew something was going on, but I couldn't really identify it— what do you mean exactly? What kinks are you seeing?

So, this post is breaking down things I've seen and how in some cases, they start to cross the line into kink territory. These are all things that were being done platonically— no dicks were out, everybody's clothes were on (in most cases, not always with the dehumanization tropes)— but the focus of the narrative started to place special weight on specific features, experiences, or concepts— there were extended paragraphs that served no narrative purpose except to dwell on something— in a way that I started to go "the point of this fic is the squiggly feeling the author or reader gets on reading about this specific setup— this is getting kinky". And that is fine, I am not placing any moral weight on engaging in kinks— people just get wired sometimes to really like the concept of bondage— but a) sometimes it would be nice to get a heads up as a reader, b) if you like these things— there are tags out there that are FULL of this concept, you might like to do it or search it out on purpose.

So I asked some friends what things have they found in platonic fics that they went "ah. yeah. something is happening here", and this post is the result. A lot of these things don't exist in the real world or people don't necessarily want them to happen in the real world/to them, so it's understandable that a person can miss how they'd started to morph and become something new. But when we talk about kink in fiction we're often talking about things that either can't or we don't want to happen in real life, it's just that reading about them/writing them scratches our brain.

And also, to be clear, in no way do I mean that if you've written these concepts then you definitely have been writing kink. There are vanilla ways to do all of these concepts, and sometimes the idea of dehumanization is interesting to you from a narrative standpoint, for example. You can also engage with them in a non-sexual way— many ace people are very kinky— so I'm not saying that you've secretly been writing porn OR writing something you have a real desire to happen to you. Just to make that clear. However, if you keep coming back to a specific setup for writing or reading, it might be worth investigating if certain things scratch your brain in a specific way.

So.

Blorbo gets mind controlled and there's a detailed breakdown of their descent into this altered state and then they're just so biddable and out of it and vulnerable and the narrative places weight either on someone taking advantage of them in this state, taking care of them, or their own subjective experience having lost control: this is hypnokink. Hypnokink or mind control— lots of ways to do it, but there is a thriving hypnosis or hypnokink scene that you might want to look into. Sometimes this is played for horror, but even the horror stuff can be kinky if played in a certain way. This falls under a larger umbrella of "altered states" that is very popular.

Blorbo gets drugged/intoxicated, often against their will, and heavy narrative weight is placed on their experience while drunk/drugged and unable to control themselves or conceptualize what is happening: this is intox kink. Another altered state— and again this is sometimes used for horror, but even the horror can give you the special tinglies if the dread is mixed with something.

Blorbo is turned into a vampire or taken by a vampire, gets drunk from or drinks blood, and there's specific narrative focus on how good the blood tastes, blood from a wound trickling down over someone's body and maybe being licked up, a hunger being sated— so vampires are a longstanding trope that can be done in a strictly horror way, but a LOT of vampire tropes are deeply kinky along the ideas of possession, loss of bodily autonomy, fear/desire, and consumption. This, for example, I have definitely read dipping into bloodplay or consumption kink. Sometimes blood drinking scenes are directly metaphorical for sex, including narrative tension building to a release where someone feels so good, but also there are other elements, such as a focus on blood that gets kinky.

Blorbo has wings that get preened, and it feels so good they can't hold back instinctive movements and sounds (maybe bird sounds) and they're so grateful and bond so much with the person doing it with them— This is wing kink. This is actually the first trope in this fandom that I identified that some things were happening with, because I was reading these fics that had been recommended to me as family fluff going— am I crazy or is something else happening here? Wingfic has been broadly used as a platonic/familial trope in this fandom, however, the structure of the scenes in which it is written about sometimes has heavy crossover with wingfic in other fandoms, where they are using it as a smut trope— the fic just didn't have anyone literally orgasm at the end. But if there's involuntary sounds or movement from the person with the wings, a focus on how pleasurable it feels, a feeling of release or rightness that someone gives the person with wings, and then they cuddle afterwards— yeah.

Blorbo is terrified and chased by a monster of some kind, with a heavy focus on how frightened they are, how inexorable the monster is, and something bad going to happen, and/or the monster chasing them enjoying their terror— this can just be horror. OR it can be fear play or predator/prey. Sometimes it's both.

Blorbo is confronted by monsters (perhaps giants or aliens) who are much bigger than them and the threat of being eaten by them is narratively focused on, either bitten or swallowed whole. Sometimes in the narrative the eating happens, either safely or to their death— this is vore. Being eaten alive is also a horror trope so it isn't always vore, but it is sometimes most certainly vore.

Aliens or monsters/hybrids much bigger than blorbo have them as family/friends/romantic partners/captives: this is giant/tiny. Sometimes just a science fiction au but if there's a lot of weight being placed on how big they are and how small blorbo is, this could be g/t. Borrower aus can frequently start to fall into this category. If they're not THAT big but there's focus on things like "oh they can span my waist with one hand", this can be size kink, instead. (Note that to my knowledge the platonic version is giant/tiny and sexual is micro/macro— there's a thriving platonic scene I sometimes see when I'm cruising tags, so if you like this you might want to check that out.)

Blorbo is non-consensually touched, cuddled, or modified, and narrative focus is placed on this as a violation/outrage/loss of bodily autonomy: again, this is something that can just be a horror trope, but there is often a larger or smaller strain of consent issues in it. If blorbo doesn't want it at first but eventually feels at home in the nest and feels good, that's dubcon (dubious consent), and if they are fighting it and raging against it and will never be part of your family, that starts to overlap with noncon (non-consent). Blorbo's bodily autonomy is being non-consentually violated, which would put it under the consent issues umbrella. I think many people writing these tropes are simply focusing on captivity and bad things happening to blorbo— when one is a prisoner they automatically lose bodily autonomy, and I don't think that every fic set in a dungeon requires a consent issues tag— and additionally many people are writing from family settings that include bodily autonomy being violated (being forced to hug your aunt you don't want to hug, for example, is an example that many of us have experienced). Not every example of non-consensual touching is always consent issues. However, when the narrative focus is on the outrage and betrayal of it all, the loss of control, and/or the helplessness, this can start to serve a different narrative function in a story than simply illustrating that a family is touchy. I have read scenes that structurally function as a thinly-veiled metaphor for sexual assault, including things like blorbo being held down while they fight against what is being done to their body. Some of these could have used additional tagging. Note: because this is such a hot button topic I should mention that if you like writing or reading this I do not think that means you are a fan of violence happening in the real world— a) reading a bad thing happening on the page makes it containable and controllable in a way that the real world does not, people also like to read about murder and dismemberment— b) simply the presence of a happy ending tag on a fic contextualizes that the bad thing is something to be passed through in a way that again, the real world does not offer. This is a similar thing to torture, suicide, or slavery, where sometimes you want to see blorbo have a bad fictional time specifically in things that would be terrible in real life, and in your real life you do not condone police brutality or want these things to happen. Again, sometimes people like to read about people being eaten alive, and it does not mean they condone wolves on the streets.

Blorbo is captured by alien/fae and kept as a pet, sometimes kept in a cage or collared, unable to communicate with the people holding them: this is often tagged as dehumanization and it is that, but it also starts to contain elements of pet play. If there is an emphasis on having to eat pet food, be "trained" by their owner, leashing/collaring/crating— this may be pet play.

Adult or near-adult blorbo is adopted and take care of by a new dad who knows everything to keep them safe and loves them and can take care of them and they can just let go and be their new sonboy because Dad's got them: Right. So this is sometimes just someone writing a "wouldn't it be nice to be taken care of" fantasy. Sometimes this is Daddy kink. This is almost never tagged and in some cases that I have read it certainly deserves an additional tag. An adult Daddy or Mommy figure taking care of their adult Little who can just be taken care of and not worry is a d/s trope. In some cases, where you have an established adult with a job who gets taken by magical means who then finds their true home as a powerful being's new child where they don't have to worry about their former life and they mentally find comfort in their new role as sonboy, this may also be Caregiver/Little. Direct age regression (often written by people who experience it) is usually tagged appropriately, but narrative elements that nod to that while not actually being age regression, such as an adult being now treated as a child and the narrative presenting that as good, are remarkably common and often entirely untagged in certain tags/circles. If someone could look at your fic and expect adult peers and then this happens, you should consider tagging or phrasing your summary differently.

Blorbo has hybrid instincts that overcome their cognitive functioning and make them revert to an instinctive form such that they can only be calmed/soothed by another hybrid of a different type: now this at this point is basically its own trope and I am fascinated to see if this trope expands out of MCYT as people move to new fandoms. However, it shares a startling amount of overlap with omegaverse. One of the primary draws of omegaverse for many people is the biologically determined altered states and the fated-mates aspect, and hybrids reverting to instincts and needing particular care from a perfect family is often beat for beat things I've read in omegaverse, just platonic. When you have a biologically determined "protector" figure and a biologically determined "runt" whose job is to be taken care of and to submit to the protector, and this is required to calm the protector, it also has strong overlap with BDSM aus.

Blorbo is captured or contained and tied up, and narrative emphasis is placed on their experience of being bound and struggling against restraints or just how impossible to escape from the restraints are: this is bondage. I have had friends who are into this mention that they used to tie up their barbies as children, so again, as with all of these, this can be perfectly platonic— but something about that concept just seems particularly satisfying to the writer, perhaps it is more than just set dressing.

Blorbo is captured and there is strong emphasis on them being hurt or the waves of pain rolling over them as they are tortured: this is just an honourable whump trope, but a lot of whump tropes if handled in a specific way have strong crossover with BDSM. Lack of ability to move or restriction of senses, loss of control— or, as with this, an emphasis on pain or inflicting pain, which can cover sadism or masochism depending on our POV.

Blorbo is overwhelmed and only finds comfort in submitting to the authority of someone who they completely trust, whether because of past trauma or because of hybrid instincts: this is d/s, or domination/submission. If there's specific emphasis on allowing someone to take control finally makes blorbo's head go quiet, that's subspace.

Blorbo is marked or indicated as belonging to someone, either through something like an earring or a brand/tattoo or a magical mark, so that anyone who looks at them will know that they belong to someone: again, this can just be horror, but especially if it's framed as a good/satisfying thing, it also can contain strong crossover with BDSM, especially master/slave elements.

Blorbo is transformed and corrupted, often being bodily changed into a new form by aliens or fae or mobs: this is obviously body horror, but this can also be transformation kink. This is a narrative trope in SF and horror so someone can approach this completely innocently, but when handled in less of a horror way, it can take on other undertones. If there is a strong emphasis on the innocence and unprepared nature of blorbo before being changed into what someone wants them to be, this can be corruption kink as well.

Blorbo dresses up for a fancy event and there's emphasis on how specifically they look, or maybe blorbo is looking at someone else and thinking about how THEY look in their formalwear: sometimes this is just description and/or the author likes textiles. I have also read things where I think the author would get a lot of joy out of pursuing the formalwear kink tag.

Blorbo finally gets told that they did a good job and everyone is complimentary or a specific trusted figure is complimentary, they're appreciated and loved and good: sometimes this is just someone writing a fantasy of blorbo being appreciated. Sometimes this is praise kink. If blorbo is being held by their parent or mentor or trusted elder sibling who is telling them that they're good, everyone is wrong about them, they know that they're good, this could be praise kink.

Touch-starved blorbo finally is given good touch and they are overwhelmed and don't know how to handle it and it feels so good: I did even know this was a thing until I asked for examples, but a friend let me know that this falls under the "touch sensitive" or "sensation play" umbrella. If you have spent time in a touch-starved tag, you have almost definitely seen this.

Blorbo is overwhelmed and bursts into tears and either cries a lot or heavy narrative weight is placed on them crying at important moments when it all becomes too much: this is not always, but can certainly be, dacryphilia.

Blorbo fucks up and is made fun of by all their peers, placed on centre stage and just mercilessly mocked: sometimes you are just whumping the character, and sometimes this can be humiliation kink.

Blorbo is tickled. That's the whole scene/fic. Okay so you actually may know this if you cruise character tags, but tickling is a kink and there are several blogs devoted to it on this website. If the whole point of this scene is the tickling, the character losing control and being overwhelmed, the person doing it to them having them at their control— this may be the kink.

Blorbo just keeps sneezing at inopportune times, they keep losing control and can't keep themselves from being overwhelmed by this: this can be sneeze kink.

Blorbo has finally made it to safety, maybe after a time of privation and starvation, and then there's whole scenes with an emphasis on how much they eat, how full and round they're getting, maybe them eating to the point of getting sick, maybe burping, maybe them having difficulty moving because of how much they've eaten. Food as part of recovery or safety can just be a healing trope, and food as a metaphor for love and community is a favoured tag of many of us in the fandom, but if the emphasis is especially on the eating and the getting full, how full the person feels, how much they can eat— this could be feederism.

Blorbo is injured or killed and there's a huge emphasis on the wounds, dismemberment, focus on gore and how bad it is and how much they're coming to pieces: this can be guro. If the person dies at the end of it and there's emphasis on that, this can also be snuff. Or maybe it's just gore/MCD, but some fics and some scenes dwell on it in such a way that you start to ask if this is intended to be horror or if something else is happening.

Blorbo is dressed up beautifully and looks so good in their new outfit, maybe to the point that the person who dressed them doesn't want them to move, just sit and be admired: this can be dollification, or kinking specifically on being dressed.

Blorbo is going through a medical examination and specific focus is placed on the impersonal aspect, being manhandled or examined by tools or gloved hands, they are the somewhat-dehumanized medical subject of professionals: this is sometimes horror or dehumanization, but it can also be medical kink.

Blorbo and blorbo's friend are ride or die beyond reason, they're a crew, they're found family (not biological), there is Two Of Them (or Five Of Them), they have each other's backs to the end. So loyalty is just a great character beat to hit that people have visited since time immemorial. You can also loyalty kink, when a person refusing to abandon their person(s) just hits just right. I'm not saying that everything under the found family umbrella falls under this, cause it doesn't, but if you have a particular attachment to works tagged [blorbo] & [blorbo] are best friends, or Loyalty, or crew as family, or [blorbo group] is a family but exploring nuclear-family aspects of this is not what makes a fic light up neon in your mind, it might might be worth considering if this is something you'd want to add to your list of likes.

Blorbo is really good at their job, and either respected for it and save the day with their skills or underestimated and show everybody by having the perfect skill at the right moment. More people are tangentially aware of this because of the TV show Leverage, which popularized the concept of "competence porn", or "non-sexual examples of scenes of people being very very good at their job but just makes you oooooo nice job", but if part of what draws you to a character is their niche skillset, or you enjoy stories that turn on characters being masters of their skills, competence kink might be something that resonates with you. Note, this sometimes just overlaps with power fantasies, because not everything in the BAMF [blorbo], tag is focused on competence per say, but if you really love your fave character being skillful, (or alternately, fics in which they are rendered powerless or pathetic tend to grate on you), you might want to explore the competence kink tag.

Blorbo is captured or pinned and rendered unable to breathe, and there is focus on pressure building in their chest, only being able to gasp for sips of air, or the person choking them having power over them, and this is presented as a narrative climax of a scene. This is choking kink, or breathplay. Also can be noted when there is particular narrative fascination with a character's hand at or on another's neck, even if pressure is not being applied.

Blorbo enters the narrative as a dude and is turned into a woman or treated as a woman, whether willingly or unwillingly, and finds this to be either a positive or negative experience. So this is sometimes a gender exploration that is deeply personal to the creator. Sometimes this is forcefem, or forced feminization. Sometimes it's both—exploring that tension between different gender paths can be both emotionally fulfilling and kinky for someone, and that's fine. And again, this can be played for horror or euphoria, but both aspects, if treated a certain way, can be kinky. This is related to a whole family of gender play concepts— for example if dude!blorbo is just dressed in traditionally feminine clothing but is not treated as a woman either by characters or the narrative, it could be crossdressing. If blorbo is a woman being turned into a man, it could be forcemasc. I want to emphasize again that breaking down gender lines is often something someone embarks on for their own gender reasons— AND it's a popular trope across many forms of media— so it's not always a kink. But it's useful to point this one out both because if you bring it up outside of circles where it's normalized, it may not be viewed as appropriate, because these are not the bog-standard ways that everyone approaches gender, presentation, identity, societal expectations, etc, and also because if someone out of the blue asks you for this trope, it's good to be aware that they might be, (whether knowingly or unknowingly), asking for fetish content.

__

So. As you can see. There are a lot of possible kinks that can be handled in a platonic way, but this doesn't mean they aren't kinky. This isn't even everything possible, this is just what came up when I asked the group chat what they personally have seen where they feel that a platonic fic could have used additional tagging.

I am not saying that any of this is wrong to be interested in these kinks, either. People get wired a lot of different ways and sometimes you just feel a certain way about formalwear. Or bondage. Or vore. Or tickling. My point is just that if any of this resonates with you, you might want to consider adding extra tags to your work (you don't even have to tag "humiliation kink," "humiliation" works just fine), and you also might want to consider checking out some tags, because there is probably a vibrant community of people who also like that and who would both love your work and would love to share their work with you.

That's it. Go with god. Now if people are going to be in my notes going HOW CAN SOMETHING PLATONIC BE KINKY I have something to link them.

[archivegyu]

masterlist

my uncle is a cool gamer

uncle! jeon wonwoo ll 6k words

: sweet like candy

The familiar hum of Wonwoo’s gaming setup filled his bedroom-turned-streaming-studio as he leaned back in his chair, stretching his fingers after an intense raid session. His chat was buzzing with the usual post-game excitement, viewers dissecting every play and asking about his next stream schedule.

“Okay, okay, I know you guys want to see me attempt that boss fight again, but I need a quick break,” Wonwoo said into his headset, his calm voice carrying a hint of amusement as he watched the chat flood with protests. “My wrists are crying for mercy, and I promised myself I’d stay hydrated today.”

He reached for his water bottle, scanning the rapidly moving messages on his secondary monitor. Just five more minutes!, You were so close to beating it!, Wonwoo fighting!, What’s for dinner?

“You guys are more concerned about my meals than my own father,” he chuckled, taking a long sip of water. “Speaking of which, I should probably figure out what to make later. I’ve got a very important guest staying with me this week.”

The chat immediately perked up with curiosity. Guest?, Girlfriend?, Is Wonwoo finally introducing someone?

“Not that kind of guest, you troublemakers,” Wonwoo rolled his eyes playfully. “My bestfriend Mingyu is on some architecture conference abroad, and his wife is on a business trip, so their daughter is staying with me for the week. She’s—”

“UNCLE WONWOO!”

The enthusiastic shout from down the hallway made Wonwoo pause mid-sentence, a fond smile immediately spreading across his face. The sound of tiny feet running on hardwood floors grew closer, accompanied by what sounded like a stuffed animal being dragged along the ground.

“And that would be her now,” he said to his chat, quickly muting his microphone as a small tornado of energy burst through his door.

Five-year-old Minhee stood in the doorway, her hair sticking up in at least three different directions from her afternoon nap, clutching a well-loved stuffed bunny by one ear. She was wearing a pink unicorn t-shirt that was definitely not the same outfit she’d been napping in, and mismatched socks—one with strawberries, one with dinosaurs.

“Uncle Wonwoo! I changed my clothes all by myself!” she announced proudly, doing a little twirl to show off her ensemble.

“I can see that,” Wonwoo said, trying not to laugh at the backwards shirt and the fact that she was apparently wearing two different shoes as well. “Very… creative fashion choices.”

Minhee beamed at what she clearly took as a compliment and skipped over to his chair, immediately fascinated by all the colorful lights on his gaming setup. “Wow! It’s like a rainbow computer!”

Wonwoo glanced at his chat, which had noticed his extended muting and was getting restless with curiosity. He unmuted briefly. “Sorry everyone, my niece just woke up from her nap and wanted to show me her new outfit. Give me just a moment.”

“Uncle, who are you talking to?” Minhee asked, finally noticing the headset and microphone setup.

“I’m talking to people who watch me play games on the computer,” Wonwoo explained patiently. “It’s my job. People like watching me play and we talk about the games together.”

Minhee’s eyes went wide. “People are watching you right now? Like, real people?”

“Yep, real people. See that little camera up there?” He pointed to the webcam mounted on his monitor. “They can see me through that.”

“Can they see me too?” she whispered, suddenly looking both excited and shy.

“They can if you want them to. Would you like to say hello?”

Minhee nodded eagerly but then hid halfway behind his chair, peeking out at the camera. Wonwoo couldn’t help but grin at her adorable shyness.

“Chat, I’d like you to meet my niece, Minhee,” he said, gently coaxing her to come closer. “She’s staying with me this week while her parents are away.”

The chat exploded with hearts and welcoming messages. OMG SO CUTE, Hello princess!, Uncle Wonwoo is so soft, She’s adorable!, Best guest ever!

“They’re all saying hello to you,” Wonwoo told her, pointing to the chat window where messages were flying by.

Minhee’s shyness evaporated instantly as she climbed onto his lap to get a better look at the screen. “There are so many words! What do they all say?”

“Well, this one says ‘hello princess,’ and this one says you’re cute, and this one…” Wonwoo paused as he read the next message, Adorable! “…this one is asking if you like games.”

“I LOVE games!” Minhee announced to the camera, suddenly animated. “Uncle Wonwoo, can I play the rainbow computer game?”

The chat went wild. Let her play!, Gaming prodigy incoming, Uncle-niece gaming stream when?

“Maybe we can play something together later,” Wonwoo said diplomatically. “But first, I think we should fix your shirt—it’s on backwards.”

Minhee looked down at herself and giggled. “I know! I did it on purpose because the unicorn was looking the wrong way, and now she can see where we’re going!”

Wonwoo blinked, then burst out laughing. “That’s… actually pretty logical.”

“Uncle Wonwoo, are you famous?” Minhee asked suddenly, waving at the camera as she watched more messages flood in.

“Sort of, I guess. People know me from my gaming streams.”

“Like Daddy! Daddy builds a lot of buildings!”

“That’s right, your dad is an architect. And your mom helps companies with their business, right?”

“Uh-huh! She wears pretty suits and talks to important people on her computer,” Minhee said, then leaned closer to the camera. “Hi important people! Uncle Wonwoo is the best uncle ever!”

The chat melted. PROTECT HER AT ALL COSTS, Wonwoo best uncle confirmed, This is the cutest thing ever, Can she be a regular guest?

“They all think you’re very sweet,” Wonwoo told her, reading through the messages. “And they agree that I’m a pretty good uncle.”

“You ARE the best uncle! You let me have ice cream for breakfast yesterday!”

Wonwoo’s eyes widened as he quickly looked at the camera. “That was supposed to be our secret, remember?”

Minhee clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oops!”

The chat was having a field day. Ice cream for breakfast GOALS, Uncle Wonwoo living his best life, Breaking all the rules I see, We won’t tell her parents

“Okay, okay, let’s not give away all my terrible babysitting secrets,” Wonwoo said, gently lifting Minhee off his lap. “How about we end the stream here for today? I think someone needs proper food that isn’t ice cream.”

“Aww, but I’m not hungry yet! Can’t we play the rainbow computer first?”

“Tell you what,” Wonwoo said, addressing both Minhee and his chat, “how about we make this interesting? Chat, should I teach Minhee how to play a simple game on stream tomorrow?”

The response was immediate and overwhelming. YES!, Do it!, Gaming niece-uncle duo!, We need this content!, Make it a series!

“Uncle Wonwoo,” Minhee whispered loudly, “what’s a ‘series’?”

“It means they want to see us play games together more than once,” he explained.

“Oh! Like how I watch the same cartoons over and over?”

“Exactly like that.”

Minhee turned to the camera with a huge grin. “Okay, bye-bye computer friends! Tomorrow Uncle Wonwoo will teach me how to beat the monsters!”

As Wonwoo ended the stream amid a flurry of hearts and goodbyes, Minhee was already bouncing excitedly around his chair.

“This is the best vacation ever! Can we call Daddy and tell him about the rainbow computer people?”

“Sure, but first let’s get you some actual food,” Wonwoo said, standing up and stretching. “What sounds good?”

“Hmm…” Minhee tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Can we make pancakes? But not regular pancakes—purple pancakes!”

“Purple pancakes aren’t really a thing, Minhee.”

“They could be! We could use… um…” she scrunched up her face in concentration. “Grape juice!”

Wonwoo stared at her for a moment, then shook his head with a laugh. “You know what? Let’s see if we can make purple pancakes work. But if they taste terrible, we’re ordering pizza.”

“Deal!” Minhee grabbed his hand and started pulling him toward the kitchen. “This is gonna be so cool! Wait until I tell Uncle Soonyoung and Uncle Chan about the purple pancakes!”

“Speaking of your other uncles, they’re coming over later to help me babysit—I mean, to hang out with us.”

“Really?! Uncle Soonyoung is gonna teach me more dance moves, and Uncle Chan promised to show me how to do a backflip!”

“A backflip?” Wonwoo stopped walking. “Minhee, you’re five years old.”

“Uncle Chan says I’m very ‘athletic’ and ‘coordinated,’” she said, clearly proud of the big words.

“Uncle Chan is going to give me a heart attack,” Wonwoo muttered under his breath.

In the kitchen, Wonwoo stared at his relatively bare cupboards, realizing he was woefully unprepared for feeding a creative five-year-old who wanted purple pancakes.

“Okay, so we have regular pancake mix, and we have…” he opened the fridge, “…absolutely no grape juice.”

“What about blueberries?” Minhee suggested, pointing to a container in the fridge.

“Blueberries could work,” Wonwoo agreed, pulling them out. “They might make the pancakes more blue-purple than pure purple, but close enough.”

“Perfect! And can we make them shaped like hearts?”

“Hearts?” Wonwoo looked at his regular round pan. “I don’t have a heart-shaped pan.”

Minhee looked thoughtful for a moment, then brightened. “We can make circles and then I’ll eat them in a heart shape!”

“That’s… actually not how eating works, but sure, we’ll go with that.”

As Wonwoo started mixing the pancake batter, Minhee climbed onto a chair to watch, providing running commentary on his technique.

“Uncle Wonwoo, you’re mixing it wrong. Mommy says you have to mix pancakes very gently or they get tough.”

“Oh really?” Wonwoo paused his vigorous whisking.

“Uh-huh. Like this,” Minhee demonstrated a gentle folding motion. “Soft like you’re petting a bunny.”

“Petting a bunny. Got it.” Wonwoo adjusted his mixing style, bemused by his niece’s culinary wisdom.

“And Daddy always makes them into funny shapes. One time he made one that looked like Uncle Soonyoung’s face!”

“How did he manage that?”

“The pancake had really big cheeks,” Minhee said seriously, which made Wonwoo snort with laughter.

They added the blueberries to the batter, which did indeed turn it a lovely purple color. Minhee clapped her hands in delight.

“It worked! We’re like kitchen scientists!”

“Kitchen scientists,” Wonwoo repeated, filing that phrase away for future use. “I like that.”

As the first pancake cooked, Minhee kept up a steady stream of chatter about everything from her favorite cartoons to her plans for teaching her stuffed bunny how to play video games.

“Uncle Wonwoo, do you think Mr. Hopscotch would be good at the rainbow computer games?” she asked, holding up her stuffed rabbit.

“Mr. Hopscotch, huh? Well, he’s got good reflexes—I’ve seen how fast he hops around your room.”

“That’s what I thought too! Maybe tomorrow he can help us play.”

The sound of the front door opening interrupted their cooking session, followed by familiar voices.

“Wonwoo! We brought reinforcements!” That was definitely Soonyoung’s voice.

“And by reinforcements, he means an unnecessary amount of junk food,” came Chan’s reply.

“UNCLE SOONYOUNG! UNCLE CHAN!” Minhee shrieked, abandoning her post at the stove to run toward the voices.

Wonwoo quickly flipped the pancake and followed her out to the living room, where she had already launched herself at Soonyoung, who caught her in a dramatic spinning hug.

“There’s my favorite dance partner!” Soonyoung said, setting her down. “Did you practice the moves I taught you last week?”

“Yes! Watch!” Minhee immediately launched into what could generously be called dance moves, but looked more like an enthusiastic interpretation of various gymnastics poses.

“Wow, you’ve really improved,” Chan said with a perfectly straight face, while Wonwoo tried not to laugh at what was clearly the same routine she’d been doing for months.

“We’re making purple pancakes!” Minhee announced. “Uncle Wonwoo let me be the kitchen scientist!”

“Purple pancakes?” Soonyoung raised an eyebrow at Wonwoo. “How very… creative.”

“Don’t ask,” Wonwoo said, heading back to the kitchen to prevent their experimental breakfast from burning.

The other two followed, with Minhee skipping ahead to show off the purple batter.

“This is actually pretty impressive,” Chan said, examining the mixture. “How’d you get it this color?”

“Blueberries,” Wonwoo said proudly, as if he’d invented the concept himself.

“Uncle Chan, guess what! Tomorrow Uncle Wonwoo is gonna teach me how to play games on the rainbow computer, and all his computer friends are gonna watch!”

“Computer friends?” Chan looked confused.

“She means my stream viewers,” Wonwoo explained. “They want to see her learn to play games.”

“Oh, this I have to see,” Soonyoung grinned. “Our little Minhee becoming a gaming sensation.”

“Speaking of which,” Wonwoo said, flipping another pancake, “you two are welcome to stick around for moral support. Something tells me I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Chan said. “Besides, someone needs to document Minhee’s first gaming stream for Mingyu.”

“Daddy’s gonna be so excited!” Minhee said. “He loves games too, but he’s not as good as Uncle Wonwoo.”

“Did you hear that?” Wonwoo said smugly to the other two. “I’m officially the gaming uncle.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Soonyoung laughed. “You’re also the uncle who gave her ice cream for breakfast.”

Minhee gasped and looked at Wonwoo with wide eyes. “You told!”

“I didn’t tell! You told my stream viewers, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” she giggled. “Oops!”

As they sat down to eat their purple pancakes (which were surprisingly delicious), Minhee regaled her uncles with stories about her week at Uncle Wonwoo’s house—from their late-night movie marathons to their attempts to teach Mr. Hopscotch various tricks.

“And then Uncle Wonwoo tried to make me take a nap yesterday, but I convinced him that quiet time with video games was basically the same thing,” Minhee said between bites.

“Minhee,” Wonwoo said in a warning tone.

“What? It worked! I was very quiet.”

Chan and Soonyoung exchanged amused looks. It was clear that five-year-old Minhee had completely wrapped her gaming uncle around her little finger.

“So what’s the plan for today?” Soonyoung asked. “More ‘quiet time’ video games?”

“Actually,” Wonwoo said, “I was thinking we could take her to that new arcade that opened downtown. Give her some hands-on gaming experience before tomorrow’s stream.”

“ARCADE?!” Minhee practically bounced out of her chair. “What’s an arcade?”

“It’s like a whole building full of different games you can play,” Chan explained.

“With prizes?”

“Some of them have prizes,” Wonwoo confirmed.

Minhee’s eyes lit up like Christmas morning. “Can Mr. Hopscotch come too?”

“Of course Mr. Hopscotch can come. He might need to help you win prizes.”

An hour later, they were walking through the brightly lit arcade, Minhee holding Wonwoo’s hand and clutching Mr. Hopscotch with the other, her head swiveling in every direction trying to take in all the sights and sounds.

“Uncle Wonwoo, this place is AMAZING!” she breathed, staring at a particularly colorful racing game.

“Which game do you want to try first?” Soonyoung asked.

Minhee walked around slowly, examining each game with the serious concentration of a seasoned gamer. Finally, she stopped in front of a whack-a-mole game.

“This one! The little moles are so cute!”

“Whack-a-mole it is,” Wonwoo said, feeding tokens into the machine.

What followed was perhaps the most enthusiastic round of whack-a-mole in arcade history. Instead of trying to hit the moles with the padded mallets, Minhee spent most of the time greeting each one as it popped up.

“Hi little mole! Oh, there’s another one! Hello there!”

“Minhee, you’re supposed to hit them,” Chan said gently.

“But they’re so cute! I don’t want to hit them!”

Wonwoo watched her happily chatting with the mechanical moles and realized this was going to be a very different kind of arcade experience than he’d expected.

“You know what?” he said, “I think you’re playing it exactly right.”

They moved from game to game, with Minhee providing her own unique interpretation of how each one should be played. The basketball game became “let’s see how many different ways we can throw the ball,” and the dance game became “let’s make up our own dance moves that have nothing to do with the arrows on the screen.”

“She’s got her own gaming philosophy,” Soonyoung observed as they watched Minhee attempt to high-five every character that appeared on a fighting game screen.

“I respect that,” Wonwoo said. “She’s not wrong—games should be fun first.”

At the prize counter, Minhee spent a full ten minutes examining every possible prize before finally settling on a small stuffed elephant.

“For Mr. Hopscotch,” she explained seriously. “He needs a friend for when I’m not around.”

“Very thoughtful,” Chan said, helping her carry her prizes.

On the drive home, Minhee fell asleep in her car seat, clutching both Mr. Hopscotch and the new elephant, a satisfied smile on her face.

“She’s going to sleep well tonight,” Soonyoung said quietly.

“Good,” Wonwoo replied. “Because tomorrow is going to be interesting. I have no idea how to teach gaming to someone who thinks whack-a-mole is a conversation starter.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what your viewers need to see,” Chan suggested. “Someone who approaches games with pure joy instead of competitiveness.”

“You might be right,” Wonwoo said, glancing in the rearview mirror at his peacefully sleeping niece. “She definitely has her own way of looking at things.”

That evening, after Minhee had been tucked into bed with both Mr. Hopscotch and her new elephant friend, the three uncles sat in Wonwoo’s living room planning the next day’s stream.

“What game are you thinking of starting her with?” Soonyoung asked.

“Something simple and colorful,” Wonwoo said. “Maybe that farming game where you just plant crops and collect cute animals.”

“Perfect for her,” Chan agreed. “No pressure, just fun.”

“That’s the goal,” Wonwoo said. “Though knowing Minhee, she’ll probably find a way to make it completely unexpected.”

They were interrupted by the sound of small feet padding down the hallway.

“Uncle Wonwoo?” Minhee appeared in the doorway, rubbing her eyes. “I can’t sleep. I’m too excited about tomorrow.”

“Come here, kiddo,” Wonwoo said, patting the couch beside him.

Minhee climbed up and immediately curled against his side. “What if I’m not good at the rainbow computer games?”

“Hey,” Wonwoo said gently, “remember what happened at the arcade today? You played every game exactly the way you wanted to, and you had fun, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That’s all that matters. Games are supposed to be fun. It doesn’t matter if you’re ‘good’ at them or not.”

“Really?”

“Really. Besides,” he added with a grin, “I have a feeling you’re going to surprise everyone tomorrow.”

Minhee smiled sleepily. “Can I stay here for a few more minutes?”

“Of course.”

As she dozed against his shoulder, Chan and Soonyoung exchanged knowing looks. It was clear that Wonwoo had completely embraced his role as the favorite uncle, and Minhee had found herself the perfect gaming mentor—someone who understood that the best part of playing games wasn’t winning or losing, but simply having fun.

“You know,” Soonyoung said quietly, “Mingyu is going to be so jealous when he sees how much fun she’s having here.”

“Good,” Wonwoo said with a small smile, carefully adjusting his position so Minhee could sleep more comfortably. “He can suffer a little bit for leaving me in charge of this adorable chaos.”

“Famous last words,” Chan laughed softly.

But as Wonwoo looked down at his sleeping niece, her face peaceful and content, he realized he wouldn’t trade this week for anything. Tomorrow’s stream was going to be completely unpredictable, probably a little chaotic, and absolutely perfect—just like Minhee herself.

“Best uncle ever,” she had called him. And sitting there with his niece asleep in his arms, surrounded by his closest friends, Wonwoo thought she might just be right.

[nyoomerr]

Luo Binghe Shimeji (Extended Version!)

a couple years ago, riladoo created an adorable binghe shime! he could be picked up and tossed around your computer screens, climb around on all your windows, multiply, and all the other cute things that come in the standard base shimeji set.

more recently, i reached out to riladoo with a commission request - more action sets for binghe! over the past couple months, riladoo has worked hard to make some adorable binghe art, and i've updated all the source code and config files to accommodate the new actions! 🎉

the extended action set includes: - a 'sit and eat' idle action - two 'head patting' actions when the mouse hovers over him - a 'fall and cry' action for when he falls from tall heights - a 'land nicely' action for when you place him down gently

the original binghe shime listing on riladoo's gumroad has been updated to have all these new actions, so go grab him now!! he's free / pay what you want! 🥰

i've put more details about the new action sets + general shimeji setup tips below the cut, but otherwise -- LET THE BINGHE COMPUTER INFECTION COMMENCE !!

**these extended actions only work on windows, not mac. sorry ;w; the original shime set has a mac version, though!

Extended Action Set Details

when you download the files from riladoo, you're looking for the .zip file labeled "Updated Shime code" !

sit and eat this is an idle action that will trigger randomly the same as any other idle action. if you want to trigger it manually, you can right click the shime -> 'set behavior' -> 'sit and eat'

head pats these are 'stay' actions that will trigger automatically when you hover your mouse over the shime. i recommend hovering your mouse over his head for maximum head-pat-effectiveness! unfortunately, this action won't play if the shime is actively climbing a wall/ceiling - maybe in the future this can be extended further, but for now there are only head patting actions for sitting and standing poses :>

falling variations (crying / default / land nicely) there are now a total of 3 'falling' actions. to see the 'fall and cry' action, allow binghe to fall from the top half of your monitor. to see the standard/original 'fall and trip' action, allow binghe to fall from the low-mid range portion of your monitor. to see the 'land nicely' action, gently place binghe down at the bottom of your monitor. this means you're rewarded for catching binghe when he falls off a window - if you catch him and set him down, he lands nicely, but if you let him fall normally, he'll start crying!! 🥰

Shimeji Installation Tips

if you've never had a shimeji before - don't worry, they're super easy to install! i recommend following this video tutorial created by the person who originally created the source code for shimeji. you can skip the parts about downloading the shimeji itself - you'll get that from riladoo's website :>

if you install everything but opening the shimeji executable does nothing, download jarfix to resolve this issue.

if you follow the tutorial and update the 'interactive windows' but the shime still doesn't stand/climb on the specified windows, restart your computer to resolve this issue. alternatively, make sure you don't have any 'unexpected' monitors plugged in - a friend of mine had their shime constantly falling down through their monitor onto their screen drawpad, which was confusing until it got figured out!

if you are on mac instead of windows.... i am so sorry i actually have no idea how to help 🙇‍♂️ the original/default binghe shimeji set DOES have a mac os folder in with the downloads, but i've never tested it (don't use mac), and even if it works, it won't include the extended actions (i didn't build an executable for mac with the new code).

More Questions???

feel free to hit me up! in the replies of this post / through DMs / send an ask - whatever is best for you. i'll tag any asks i get about the shime with #binghe shime chronicles so they get archived nicely. i got very familiar with all the source code / config files to get this lil guy set up with his extended actions, so hopefully i can answer any questions you have! 💪😤

that's all!! i am so happy w how the new actions turned out - the art riladoo did for them is SO cute! - and i hope y'all will be, too!

[rafeandonlyrafe]

yoga

words: 1.2k

warnings: sexual assault!! (not from rafe), established relationship, brief violence but its nothing more serious than a shove, rafe is a bit grumpy at first but hes a softie for his girl

“can't believe you're dragging me to this dumb shit.” rafe grumbles, both yoga mats tucked under his arm.

“oh come on, it's an intermediate class! it'll probably be challenging.” you enter into the room, spotting a good place for your mats near the back of the room as you navigate through the people who arrived even earlier than you.

“besides.” you hum. “it's good to stretch those big muscles of yours.” you poke rafes bicep with a sly smile on your face, getting on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.

rafe grumbles something under his breath, but the frown is gone from his lips as he lays out your mat and then his.

you both sit, arranging your other workout supplies, only one large water bottle shared between the two of you, rafe insists there's no need to bring two, liking when you're at the gym and have to come over to him to take a drink.

“people take their shoes off?” rafes face scrunches up as he looks around the room.

you can't help but giggle. “you don't have to if you don't want to, baby.”

“yeah, im definitely not.” rafe resists the urge to leave, call it quits on this class. he looks at you, reminding himself who he's doing this shit for.

“ive never taken this guy's class before, you know i always go to ashleys on tuesdays and thursdays.” you keep your voice lowered as the instructor walks into the room, greeting a few people before heading to the speakers to get the music for the class setup.

“yeah, i like ashley better than this guy.” rafe is extra thankful he agreed when you dragged him away from his weights. something about this guy already irks rafe.

you roll your eyes at rafe, chuckling softly.

“alright, hello everyone.” the instructor says, stepping to his mat at the front of the class. “i see some new faces so let me introduce myself. im christopher and this is intermediate yoga. if at any point a pose is too difficult for you, feel free to modify or drop into child's pose…”

he continues with his normal speal that you tune out, favoring to watch rafe in the reflection of the mirror, admiring your boyfriends handsome features.

“shit.” you mutter under your breath, too distracted to realize that the class had started as you quickly get into the first warm up poses.

the class flows naturally into the harder moves, the instructor walking around the room on occasion to double check no one is extending themselves too far or arching their back improperly when they're not supposed to.

you move into downward dog upon his instruction, your eyes flickering over to rafe as his shirt falls down his torso slightly, revealing his muscled abs.

you yell when a pair of hands suddenly grab your hips, pulling you a couple inches backwards.

“just correcting your form, dear.” christopher says.

you swallow harshly, feeling your cheeks heat in embarrassment at being so distracted and shouting out.

“you okay?” rafe asks, not caring that the instructor is still standing just a few feet away.

“yeah.” you quickly nod. you know rafe is probably resisting the urge to beat the shit out of him for touching you, not realizing it's quite normal in these classes, although ashley always asks your permission beforehand.

“now lower yourself onto your stomach.” the instructor comes to stand behind you again, so you make sure you're doing everything properly with the highest level of fluidity you can.

“and now spread your legs. sit back into your heels and lower your belly button to the earth. arms extend forward for wide childs pose.”

you can practically feel the instructors eyes still on you, and you know from the way rafes head is lifted that he's paying very close attention to his movements.

he leans down next to you and places his hands on your thighs, going to adjust your pose again, but you gasp when his hands don't slide to your hips and instead onto your butt.

rafe is onto his feet in a flash. “get your fucking hands off her.”

he doesn't wait for the instructor to react, pulling him off of you and pushing him into the wall. you flip to sit, as everyone else in the room does to watch the scene unfold.

“i was just correcting her form!” he quickly defends himself.

“as if.” rafe scoffs. “you were fucking groping her ass. get the fuck out of here and i never want to see you at this gym again, consider yourself fired.”

“fired?” christopher shrieks. he's not a small man, but he looks pewny next to rafe. “you can't fire me!”

“would you rather me call the police on you?” rafe grunts. “i prefer to handle shit on my own but if that's what you want…”

“you can't prove anything.” christopher says.

“i… i saw it too.” a woman next to you stands up, coming to your defense even though she doesn't look 100% sure about it.

“and he touched me inappropriately the other week.” another woman stands up. “i thought i was just being sensitive but if he's doing this to other women…”

the rest of the class nods in agreement, clearly this is a pattern with this creep.

“now get the fuck out.” rafe shoves christopher away. “and never touch another person without their permission ever again.”

everyone's eyes are on christopher as he leaves, fleeing in obvious fear.

“baby-” rafe drops down onto his knees, both his hands cupping your face. “are you okay?”

“i-” you bottom lip quivers before tears run down your cheeks. rafe moves quickly, scooping you into his lap and holding you tightly against him, letting your emotions run their course.

he watches as the other women and couple spread out guys collect their mats, understanding they aren't getting a full class today before they head out of the room.

“im so sorry, baby.” rafe coos softly. “he'll never touch you again. i won't let anyone hurt you.”

you sniffle into his shirt, grappling with what just happened. you tilt your head up to look at rafe, needing to see the softness in his eyes.

“i love you.” rafe says, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“i love you.” you tell him, moving quickly to press your lips together in an actual kiss, letting yourself find comfort in his mouth.

you pull away with a content sigh, wiping your face with your palms before you slide out of rafes arms. “im… im okay.” you say honestly, glad nothing further happened. “thanks to you.”

“come on.” rafe stands. “let's get our mats and get out of here. ice cream?”

“mhm.” you nod, knowing rafe is going to be doting over you for the rest of the week, keeping an even closer eye on you than usual.

you walk out of the yoga room and down the hallway into the lobby, seeing the crowd of people with mats tucked under their arm taking to the director of the gym.

“there he is!” the woman who spoke out about his inappropriate touching says. “there's our hero!”

you smile at rafe. your hero.

sfw taglist: @bejeweledreverie @winterrrnight @ethanthequeefqueen @ladyinbl00d

[authortelevision]

arthur frederick and the new producer: chapter 1 ₊˚⊹♡

words: 3,192 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆arthurtv slow burn, bach and arthur podcast

after lara leaves bach and arthur’s podcast, you become her replacement. after discovering that arthur hates change, it takes a lot for him to warm up to you and become friends. it also takes a lot for him to admit how he truly feels about you.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Chapter One ₊˚⊹♡

The building doesn’t exactly scream “successful podcast studio.” It surprisingly has a weathered brick exterior and rusted door number that makes you double-check the address on your phone. But this is it, according to the email, Bach & Arthur Podcast – Recording Studio 2.

You try the handle. Locked. After fishing through your bag, you find the key they sent you and slide it into the lock. It groans in protest, but after a sharp twist, the door swings open, revealing a narrow staircase that smells faintly of food.

The email didn’t mention a receptionist or anyone to meet you. It had, however, been clear about the time, 11 am. You’re determined not to be late on your first day.

At the top of the stairs, two doors face you. One has a taped-up sign reading Bach & Arthur Podcast in Comic Sans. You can’t help but smile to yourself. Professional. You knock, just in case, but the heavy door muffles any response.

Pushing it open, you step into a much larger, cluttered room. The recording setup is decent, microphones on boom arms, a grey sofa, with a blue curtain behind it. A black table, in front of the recording situation, is covered in half-eaten food, crumpled notes, and what looks like many cups of tea or coffee or whatever they have been drinking to get them ready.

“Hello?” you call, stepping carefully around an errant cable.

From behind a makeshift partition comes the sound of muffled voices, followed by a thud and a sharp “Ow!”

A moment later, two figures emerge. The first is tall, muscular, and bright-eyed, with a dark mullet that looks like it’s been perfectly combed through. He grins at you immediately, his energy warm and infectious.

“Hey! You must be the new producer!”

“That’s me,” you say, smiling as he approaches.

“I’m Isaac,” he says, offering a hand. “Welcome to our team.”

Behind him, the second figure appears, shorter and thinner but very toned, with brown hair and thick eyebrows. He hangs back for a moment, studying you intensely enough that makes you resist the urge to straighten your posture.

“You’re Lara’s replacement?” he questions, his tone polite but with a slight hesitation.

You state your name, stepping forward and shaking his hand when he finally extends it. His grip is firm, and his voice, when he speaks again, is softer.

“I’m Arthur. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you say. He nods but glances at Isaac almost immediately, murmuring something too low for you to catch. Isaac smirks but doesn’t reply, his gaze flicking back to you.

“We’ll miss Lara, obviously,” Arthur says after moment, meeting your eyes again. His tone is more formal this time, like he’s trying to smooth over something. “She was here from the beginning. But I’m sure you’ll be great.”

“Thanks,” you say, offering a small smile. You’re not sure what you’ve done to earn the slight edge in his voice, but you’re not going to let it rattle you.

Isaac claps his hands together, breaking the tension. “So, how are you with tech stuff? Mic levels, soundboards… all that fun stuff?”

“I can handle it,” you say, glancing at the recording setup. “I’ve been working on podcasts for a while now.”

Isaac grins. “Good answer. See, Arthur? We’re in capable hands.”

Arthur gives a tight smile, then leans toward Isaac and whispers something you can’t hear. This time, Isaac’s grin widens, and he shoots you a quick glance before whispering back.

You try not to read too much into it. People are allowed to have their doubts, it’s not your job to win everyone over on day one.

“Well,” Arthur says after a moment, more to Isaac than to you, “we’ve got a recording in twenty minutes.”

“You’re on it, right?” Isaac says, nudging you playfully. “Check the mics, make sure we’re not awkwardly out of frame, all that stuff?”

“Yes yes, of course,” you say, moving toward the desk.

Arthur watches you quietly as you adjust the boom arms and check the camera height and recording software. You can feel his gaze even when you’re not looking directly at him, and when he leans in to whisper something else to Isaac, you resist the urge to ask if they want you to leave the room.

But as you work, you catch something in Arthur’s expression that isn’t unkind, more cautious, like he isn’t quite sure how to fit you into their established rhythm. It isn’t hostility, just hesitation.

Isaac, on the other hand, seems determined to make you feel at home. “So, what’s the best podcast you’ve worked on?” he asks as you fiddle with the gain knobs.

“Probably Passing Notes,” you say, glancing up. “It’s all anonymous confessions. It’s like set in a classroom kinda thing, so you’d like pass notes secretly. I spent way too many late nights editing out overshares.”

Isaac laughs, the sound loud and easy. “That’s such a cool idea!”

Arthur offers a small, polite smile but doesn’t say much. As the recording time approaches, he leans over to you, his tone soft but unfortunately still professional.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he says. “We have a way of… winging things sometimes, but I’m usually good about staying on schedule.”

“Got it,” you say, meeting his deep brown eyes.

Arthur nods once, then moves to the filming sofa, his movements a bit rigid but calm.

As the recording starts, you settle in behind the controls, noting the interest in science between the two of them. Arthur’s laughter is quieter than Isaac’s, but genuine when it comes. And though he glances at you occasionally, it isn’t the skeptical look you feared.

It’s more like… curiosity. A guarded one, but curiosity still.

This isn’t going to be easy. But you’ve made it through worse.

After the recording wraps, the studio settles into a quieter hum. Arthur and Isaac stand from the sofa, their usual post-show energy fading into something less energetic. You busy yourself with jotting down notes from the session, cataloging timestamps for edits, and mentally prioritising what needs to be done before uploading the final cut.

Arthur is already rolling up a spare XLR cable when he looks over at you. “I think that went well,” he says. “Thanks for keeping us on track.”

“No problem,” you say, glancing up from the soundboard.

He nods and places the coiled cable neatly on the desk. “I’ve got an edit I have to send off tonight,” he says to Isaac, his voice softer now, almost apologetic. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Sure thing,” He replies, giving him a thumbs-up as Arthur grabs his coat from the back of a chair.

Arthur’s gaze flickers to you one last time. “See you next time,” he says, his words careful.

“You too,” you reply, watching as he disappears through the door.

The room feels lighter without him, though not necessarily in a bad way. Arthur carries a weight that seems to press on the space around him, a quiet intensity that isn’t unpleasant, just… noticeable.

Isaac turns to you as you shut down the software and begin powering down the equipment. He leans casually against the desk, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie.

“Hey,” he says after a moment, his tone quieter than it had been all morning. “I just wanted to say, uh, don’t take Arthur too seriously.”

You pause, glancing at him. “What do you mean?”

Isaac shifts his weight, his eyebrows slightly furrowed with a genuine look of concern. “I mean, he’s not trying to be rude or anything. He just… he’s kind of like that. Especially with new people. He’s not big on change, you know?”

You nod, turning back to unplug one of the microphones. “I got that impression.”

“It’s not personal,” Isaac says quickly. “I promise. He really liked Lara, and he’s probably just… figuring out how to adjust to not having her here.”

You hesitate, then smile faintly. “That makes sense. I wasn’t expecting him to roll out a red carpet or anything.”

Isaac laughs softly, the sound warm and reassuring. “Yeah, but I know how he can come off sometimes. He’s actually a good guy, I swear. It just takes him a minute to warm up to people.”

“Well,” you say, straightening up and meeting Isaac’s eyes, “I’m not in any rush. I’m just here to do my job and make the podcast sound good. If he comes around, great. If not, I’ll survive.”

Isaac grins. “That’s it man. Honestly, I think he’ll get there. He’s just— what’s the word? Particular. And maybe a little protective of the pod.”

“Protective, huh?” you say, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Isaac scratches the back of his head, looking sheepish. “This whole podcast thing was kind of his baby at first. I just showed up for the jokes. But Arthur? He’s all about the details. He’s, like, scary good at making things better, except when it comes to people.”

You laugh despite yourself. “Good to know.”

Isaac smiles, then gives the desk a light tap. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, seriously. It’s nice to have someone new around. Keeps things interesting.”

“Thanks,” you say, your voice softening. “That means a lot.”

“No problem.” Isaac pushes off the desk and stretches. “Anyway, I’ll let you finish up. First day down, how’re you feeling?”

You look around the now-empty studio, cables half-coiled, the faint smell of their breakfast still lingering in the air. “Good,” you say finally. “I think it’ll be a good fit.”

“Good answer,” Isaac says with a grin. “See you next time.”

“See you,” you say, watching as he slips out the door.

The quiet returns as you finish shutting everything down, your mind replaying the day. Arthur might have been a bit off, even a little distant, but Isaac’s reassurance reminds you it’s all okay.

This isn’t going to be easy. But, somehow, you feel a little more confident that it will work out.

The chill of the November air nips at your cheeks as you walk home, hands shoved deep into your coat pockets. The sun is already dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in muted shades of orange and gray. Your breath comes in small, visible puffs as you navigate the uneven pavement, your thoughts circling like restless birds.

Arthur doesn’t hate you. You’re almost sure of that. He’s been polite enough, friendly, even, in that formal way people are when they’re trying not to be unkind. But there’s something in the way he watches you, the quiet whispers to Isaac, the slight hesitations.

He’s not sold on you.

And that’s not a crime, of course. People don’t have to like you. You know that. You know that. But the thought still worms its way under your skin.

What if he doesn’t think you’re good enough? What if he thinks you’re messing up an important rhythm they’ve spent months building? You’ve stepped into something that’s already been established, something Arthur clearly cares about deeply, and now you’re supposed to make it better, or at least keep it from falling apart.

You adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder, kicking at a stray pebble on the pavement. You did your best today, and Isaac was kind, even reassuring. Still, the weight of Arthur’s cold interaction presses on you, and you can’t shake the gnawing feeling that you’re already letting someone down.

It’s not a long walk to your flat, but the cold makes it feel endless. By the time you reach the old brick building, your fingers are numb and your shoulders tense. You fumble with the keys, finally managing to push the door open and climb the creaky stairs to the second floor.

The familiar smell of tomato soup and bread greets you as you step inside. Your flatmate, Emma, is perched on the arm of the sofa, scrolling on her phone with a steaming mug in hand. She glances up as you enter, her light curls bouncing.

“You’re home,” she says lightly. “How was day one?”

You kick off your boots and shrug out of your coat, the warmth of the apartment already seeping into your frozen limbs. “It was… good,” you say, though the words come out slower than you intend.

Emma raises an eyebrow. “Good doesn’t sound convincing.”

You sigh, dropping your bag onto the floor and collapsing onto the sofa next to her. “I mean, I like the job. The studio’s fine, the setup’s fine, Isaac is nice. But…”

“But,” she prompts, her eyes narrowing.

“But I think Arthur doesn’t like me,” you admit, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“Arthur?”

“Co-host. The one people say is like lowkey autistic.” You rest your chin on your knees. “He wasn’t mean or anything. He was polite. But he wasn’t exactly warm, either. And I feel like… I don’t know, like I’m already not meeting whatever expectations he has.”

Emma tilts her head, looking at you. “So, you’re worried you’re not living up to the standards of a guy you just met, who might not even have an issue with you in the first place?”

You groan. “When you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” she says, setting her mug down. “You just care too much what people think. You’re, like, constitutionally incapable of being okay with someone not liking you.”

You shoot her a look. “That’s not true.”

“Name one person who doesn’t like you,” she challenges.

You open your mouth, then close it.

“Exactly.”

You bury your face in your hands. “I just don’t want to mess this up. It’s a good gig, and I don’t want to make things weird between them, or worse, feel like I’m ruining something Arthur obviously cares about.”

Emma leans back, crossing her legs. “Okay, real talk? You’re overthinking. It’s your first day. If you went in there, did your job, and didn’t, I don’t know, accidentally set the studio on fire, then you’re doing fine. Arthur will come around. Or he won’t. Either way, you’re not responsible for his feelings.”

“I know,” you mumble, though the knot in your stomach doesn’t quite loosen.

“You’re good at what you do,” she says, her voice firm. “And if they hired you, they obviously thought you’d be a good fit. Just give it some time.”

You look at her, her confidence in you unwavering, and manage a small smile. “Thanks, Emma.”

“Anytime,” she says, picking up her mug again. “Now, you want soup? You look like you just walked through a blizzard.”

“It felt like it,” you admit.

She grins. “Then sit tight. I’ll grab you a bowl.”

As Emma disappears into the kitchen, you let your head fall back against the sofa and close your eyes. She’s right, you’re overthinking. Probably.

Still, the memory of Arthur’s quiet glances lingers, and you can’t shake the feeling that winning him over might take more effort than you’d anticipated.

The room is quiet except for the faint hum of the radiator. You lie on your side, staring at your phone on the nightstand, its screen glowing faintly in the darkness. Sleep isn’t happening, not with your brain circling the same thought over and over: Did I mess up today?

Arthur’s neutral expression haunts you. Polite, sure, but distant. Detached. The whispering to Isaac. What were they saying? Are you just reading too much into it?

Frustrated, you grab your phone. Your thumb hovers over the screen. You haven’t texted Isaac before. Your correspondence has been strictly email so far, but he included his number ‘in case of emergencies.’ This isn’t an emergency, not technically, but maybe a quick message would help put your mind at ease.

You hesitate. What if you sound unprofessional? What if you’re overstepping? You chew your lip, then shake your head. Better to clarify now than let it eat away at you.

Taking a deep breath, you open the messaging app and type:

You: Hi, Isaac, it’s your new producer for the podcast. I just wanted to make sure this is the right number?

You hit send before you can overthink it. The message sends, and you stare at the screen, your heart beating a little faster than usual.

The reply comes quickly, too quickly for someone who should probably be asleep:

Isaac: Hey! Yep, this is me. What’s up?

You exhale a small breath of relief. One hurdle down. Now for the awkward part.

You: Thanks for confirming. I hope this isn’t weird to text, but I wanted to ask if there’s anything I can do to help make things feel less awkward with Arthur?

You stare at the screen after pressing send, your stomach twisting. Should you have phrased that differently? Should you have even asked? But before you can spiral too far, Isaac replies.

Isaac: Oh man, you’ve been thinking about that, huh?

You: Yeah a little, I guess. I just feel like there’s some tension, and I don’t want to mess up the dynamic you guys already have.

There’s a brief pause before Isaac’s next message comes through.

Isaac: Okay, first off, you’re not messing anything up. I promise. Arthur’s just Arthur.

You: That’s what you said earlier.

Isaac: Because it’s true. He’s like that with literally everyone at first. Even me.

You blink at your phone.

You: Really?

Isaac: Yeah. When we first started the podcast, it took him, like, three months to stop calling me Isaac during recordings. Said Bach ‘felt too informal’.

You laugh softly, the mental image of Arthur trying to keep things strictly professional easing some of your tension.

You: That’s actually hilarious.

Isaac: Right? It took forever, but he loosened up eventually. He always does.

You hesitate before typing your next question.

You: So, do you think there’s anything I can do to make it easier? Or should I just wait it out?

Isaac’s reply takes a little longer this time, but when it comes through, it’s warm and reassuring.

Isaac: Honestly, just keep being you. Do the job, don’t take his quietness personally, and give him time to adjust. If you try too hard, he’ll probably notice, and that’ll just make things weirder.

You: That’s fair.

Isaac: And hey, if he ever does cross a line, which I doubt, just let me know. I’ll handle it.

You smile at that, grateful for Isaac’s kindness and his willingness to smooth things over.

You: Thanks, Isaac. I really appreciate it.

Isaac: No problem. And don’t stress too much, okay? You’re already doing great. I can tell.

The reassurance settles something in your chest, and for the first time that night, you feel like maybe everything will be okay.

You: I’ll try. Thanks again. Goodnight!

Isaac: Night!

You set your phone down and roll onto your back, staring at the ceiling. The knot in your stomach is still there, but smaller now, less overwhelming. Isaac is right, you just need to focus on doing your job and let the rest work itself out.

With a sigh, you pull the blanket tighter around you and close your eyes, determined to get at least a little sleep before tomorrow.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Chapter Two

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

a/n: i hope you guys like the idea of a slow burn !! i’m really excited to continue this story !! they will come out in between my other fics !! LOVE U GUYS <33 and let me know if you want to be tagged in updates !!

[morebagels]

^ iterator projection tutorial!! ^

this post follows on from this one made by @prismsoup, intended to cover my slightly more extended process (including post-processing)

step -1 : pre-requisites

this tutorial is designed around clip studio paint for PC because its what i work with. its probable that whatever other program / platform you're using has these features but under different names

i use a rainworld typography font for text. find it here (or do it yourself)

i use scanline textures as a part of this. find them here

step 0 : select a base image

maps, blueprints and diagrams are favourable due to lots of detail without it derailing into noise. get experimental though, my favourite one came out from a picture of a nebula, and another from a friends factorio screenshot

step 1 : binarise & flip

this command can be found under edit > tonal correction (D) > binarization. this forces every pixel in the image to be either black or white. adjust its sensitivity to your liking

step 2 : remove background

add in a black layer below (not just paper layer, as will become important later). wand select the background colour and delete it. if the remaining colour is black, CTRL+I to invert it to white

step 3 : add details

replace any text with rainworld font or simply remove it. add in blueprints or other complex decals (drawingdatabase is a decent source). during importing remember to binarise (after resizing). for "lower layer" elements such as contour lines create outlines for higher layers to retain clarity

step 4 : add multiply layer(s)

if you want to have multiple colours, put everything in the "higher" layer into a folder and set the top multiply to clipping above it

step 6 : post processing setup

copy all existing layers, create a new folder on top, and paste into that folder. right click the folder and "merge selected layers" set the resultant layer to add(glow). copy+paste and hide duplicate for now. from filters > blur apply a guassian blur with a strength of 130-170 (this creates the base bloom layer). set opacity to ~50%

step 7 : chromatic abberation

unhide not-blurred layer. guassian blur with a strength of 2. duplicate again. select top layer and move 1px up and 1px left (with arrow keys). CTRL+U then change the hue by 30. select bottom layer and move 1px down and 1px right, CTRL+U then change hue by -30.

stronger chromatic abberation can come from stronger gaussian blur and more change in hue

step 8 : scanlines

add the scan lines on top, invert so that they're white and set to add(glow). copy a multiply layer over it and make sure clipping is on. decrease layer opacity to ~10%. if it does not cover the whole image initially, paste more in and merge them together into one layer

tada! you now have one iterator projection. if you want to give it an extra affect, re-import the final PNG and filter > distort > convert to panorama. set distortion to 10 and scale to 101 (note that this drastically blurs the image)

[reveryfics]

not scott this time. waaa

bucky x reader with a prosthetic ?

any reason why reader would have it is fine (born without said limb, military service?, or reader is a type of supersoldier aswell).

just fluff,, bonding because of it. maybe angst ? insecurities would definitely play in it. aaa

🪲 anon

Connections

Bucky Barnes x Male Reader

Summary: You knew Sam from your military service, a connection that persisted even after your discharge due to the loss of your arm. Now, he'd somehow persuaded you to meet his friend, convinced the introduction would be beneficial.

A/N: Way more dialog then planned, but enjoy.

TW: Fluff - Soft angst

The late afternoon hum within the coffee shop was a low, comforting drone, a stark contrast to the usual lunchtime rush. Sunlight slanted through the large front windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, thick with the rich, grounding aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the sweet, buttery scent of pastries just pulled from the oven. You had chosen a booth tucked away near the entrance, a strategic vantage point that allowed you to keep an eye on the door. The worn vinyl of the seat conformed to your posture as you cradled a lukewarm mug, the ceramic warming your hands. Your gaze, however, was fixed on the glowing screen of your phone, your thumb tracing and retracing the lines of Sam’s last text, a digital reassurance that his friend was indeed on his way.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, a quiet exhale of the anxiety that had been tightening its grip all afternoon. Almost unconsciously, your other hand tugged at the cuff of your jacket, smoothing the fabric down to completely conceal the cool, matte finish of the metal and composite of your prosthetic arm. A prickling sensation crawled across your skin, the unwelcome feeling of phantom eyes boring into you, of hushed whispers dissecting your difference. You shifted uncomfortably, the silence amplifying your self-consciousness, until the gentle chime of the bell above the door announced a new arrival.

Your head snapped up, a genuine, albeit small, smile blossoming on your face. There, framed in the doorway, was Bucky Barnes. He was instantly recognizable from Sam’s description – the broad shoulders, the intense gaze – though his hair was shorter than you’d pictured. A pleasant surprise, you thought, the neat cut suiting his strong features. You pushed yourself up from the booth, the lingering tension in your shoulders easing slightly as Bucky’s eyes scanned the room, finally locking onto yours. He offered a warm smile in return as he navigated the few steps towards your table.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a low, steady rumble, extending a hand in greeting.

“Hey,” you echoed, your own hand reaching out to meet his. The moment your hands met, a subtle awareness shifted in his eyes. His gaze flickered almost imperceptibly to the smooth, cool surface of your prosthetic where it met his palm. Understanding dawned in his expression, a quiet acknowledgment of something Sam had perhaps intentionally left unsaid. It clicked – the reason for this somewhat unconventional setup.

“Can I get you something to drink?” you offered, the words tumbling out a little faster than intended, a nervous energy propelling you. “My treat.”

“Oh, no, I can grab something,” Bucky replied, a polite refusal in his tone.

“It’s really no problem,” you insisted, needing the small task, the brief reprieve from the intensity of the initial meeting. He seemed to sense your underlying unease, the subtle tremor in your voice. Instead of arguing, a knowing look crossed his face.

“Alright,” he conceded gently. “I’ll take a coffee then. Black, if they have it.”

“Perfect,” you said, already turning towards the counter, the movement a welcome distraction. As you walked away, Bucky pulled out his phone, his thumb flying across the screen in a quick text to Sam: You uh… forgot to mention the arm.

The line at the counter was mercifully short. You ordered Bucky’s black coffee and impulsively asked for a refill of your own, the need for something to occupy your hands and calm the persistent flutter in your stomach overriding any concern about caffeine intake. Balancing the two steaming cups, you made your way back to the booth. You placed Bucky’s coffee in front of him and carefully set your fresh mug beside the nearly empty one you’d been nursing.

Bucky’s gaze fell on the discarded cup. “Sorry if I took too long,” he said, a hint of apology in his voice.

You waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, no, not at all. I was actually… incredibly early. Needed the caffeine to try and talk myself out of bolting.” A small, self-deprecating laugh escaped you.

Bucky let out a soft breath, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “Okay,” he said quietly. “That… that makes a lot more sense now. Sam can be… subtle. Look, I’m not going to force you to stay, or even talk about… anything you don’t want to.”

You hummed in response, leaning back against the worn upholstery of the booth. “I appreciate that,” you said, meeting his gaze briefly before looking down at your new cup. “Honestly? If you don’t mind, I wouldn’t mind just… sitting in silence for a bit. Enjoying the company, so to speak.”

Bucky didn’t reply verbally, but the faint, reassuring smile that touched his lips spoke volumes. The comfortable silence settled between you, punctuated only by the gentle clatter of mugs and the low murmur of conversations around you.

Eventually, Bucky’s voice, a low thrum that seemed to vibrate through the quiet hum of the coffee shop, cut through the stillness. “You were military?” he asked, his tone neutral, almost hesitant.

You looked up from the swirling dark liquid in your mug, surprised by the question. You hadn’t expected him to broach the topic, especially not so directly. “Yeah,” you replied, your voice a little rougher than you intended. “Yeah, I uh… I was.” It felt strange to say it aloud to a stranger, your military service a chapter you mostly kept closed, the focus having been on moving forward, on adapting to a life that was irrevocably changed. Only Sam knew the details, the stories you’d shared in the quiet intimacy of your friendship.

Bucky’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Sorry,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to his own cup. “I… I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

You shook your head, your hands coming up to rest on the tabletop, the cool ceramic a grounding presence beneath your fingertips. “It’s okay,” you said, meeting his eyes again. “I’m sure you had it way worse anyhow.” The words were out before you could fully process them, a reflexive attempt to deflect, to minimize your own experience in the face of his unspoken history.

A thoughtful silence fell between you. Bucky’s gaze was steady now, a quiet curiosity mingled with something akin to understanding. “The forties were… different,” he began, his voice low, almost a whisper. “No comparison to… whenever you served.”

You nodded, a small smile touching your lips as you thought back to your own boot camp experience. “Yeah, I can imagine. Though, some things are universal, I think. Like the sheer exhaustion. I remember meeting Sam… he was throwing up next to my bunk after our first full day of running in the desert heat. Looked like he was about to swear off physical activity for life.”

A genuine laugh rumbled in Bucky’s chest, a warm, unexpected sound that eased some of the remaining tension in the air. “Sounds about right,” he chuckled, a hint of amusement in his eyes. The shared moment of levity seemed to bridge a small gap between you.

The atmosphere shifted, becoming a little more comfortable, a little more open. Bucky’s expression turned slightly more serious. “Would you… would you be okay sharing what happened with your arm?” he asked, his voice gentle, respectful. “Only if you’re comfortable, of course.”

You hesitated for a moment, the question hanging in the air. It was still a raw subject, a constant reminder of a life irrevocably altered. But something about Bucky’s quiet sincerity, the unspoken understanding you sensed in him, made you nod. “Yeah,” you said softly. “Yeah, I can talk about it.”

You took a slow breath, the memory still vivid, still sharp despite the passage of time. “It was… deployment,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. The coffee shop noise seemed to fade into the background as the memory took hold. “We were on patrol, just outside the wire. Routine. That’s what they always said. Routine. And then… there was this deafening sound, a flash of light… and then… nothing. Just… pain. So much pain. When I woke up… it was gone.” Your voice cracked, the carefully constructed wall of composure momentarily crumbling. You could still feel the phantom ache, the ghost of a limb that was no longer there. The sterile white of the medical tent, the hollow, pitying stares of the medics, the crushing weight of the realization – it all flooded back. You swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump that had formed in your throat, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Just… gone.”

Bucky’s gaze was unwavering, filled with a profound empathy that mirrored the pain in your own heart. He knew that hollowness, that sudden, brutal absence. “I’m… I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice low and thick with emotion. “I understand… more than you know.”

You managed a weak smile, a watery acknowledgment of his words. “Yeah,” you said softly. “Yeah, I figured. I think… I think that’s why Sam set this up. We both… felt a little alone in it, you know?” A small, shaky laugh escaped you. “But… talking to you… it actually… it helps. It’s like… a weight has lifted, just a little.”

A genuine smile spread across Bucky’s face, softening the hard lines of his jaw. “I feel the same way,” he admitted, his eyes warm. He paused for a moment, a hopeful glint in his gaze. “Hey… would you maybe want to… go for a walk? Get some fresh air?”

A chuckle bubbled up from your chest, a lightness you hadn’t felt all day. “Yeah,” you said, pushing yourself up from the booth. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

The autumn air was crisp and cool against your skin as you stepped out onto the sidewalk. The late afternoon sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows that stretched and danced with each step. Leaves, in hues of fiery red, burnt orange, and golden yellow, crunched softly under your shoes as you and Bucky walked, an unspoken understanding guiding your aimless path. The sounds of the small town – the distant hum of traffic, the laughter of children playing in a nearby park – faded into a comfortable background noise. As dusk began to settle, painting the sky in shades of lavender and deep blue, you continued walking, the silence no longer charged with nervousness but filled with a quiet camaraderie.

Finally, Bucky broke the comfortable stillness. “I really enjoyed talking with you,” he said, turning his head slightly to meet your gaze. “Would you… would you want to do this again sometime?”

A genuine smile bloomed on your face. You turned to fully face him, the faint glow from a nearby streetlamp illuminating the warmth in your eyes. “I would love to,” you replied, the words honest and heartfelt.

A mutual smile lingered in the twilight between you, a silent agreement hanging in the cool evening air. The streetlights flickered to life, casting a soft, yellow glow on the sidewalk ahead. You fell back into a comfortable silence, the earlier anxieties replaced by a sense of unexpected ease. The crunch of fallen leaves beneath your feet became the soundtrack to your shared walk, each step in sync without conscious effort.

As you rounded a corner, the scent of woodsmoke hung faintly in the air, a nostalgic aroma that spoke of cozy evenings and crackling fireplaces. A gentle breeze rustled the remaining leaves on the trees, creating a soft, whispering sound. Bucky tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket, his gaze drifting towards the darkened windows of the houses you passed.

"It's beautiful here," he commented quietly, his voice a low murmur against the backdrop of the evening. "The colors of the leaves... it reminds me of a time I almost forgot."

You glanced at him, intrigued. "A good memory, I hope?"

A faint, melancholic smile touched his lips. "Complicated," he admitted. "But… yeah. There was a certain beauty to it, even then." He didn't elaborate, and you sensed it wasn't a story he was ready to share, and you respected that unspoken boundary. You knew what it was like to hold stories close, guarding them against the casual curiosity of the world.

You shifted the strap of your bag on your shoulder. "Autumn has always been my favorite," you said, your gaze drawn to the vibrant hues that still clung to some of the branches. "It feels like… a letting go, but also a promise of something new. A quiet kind of strength."

Bucky nodded slowly, his eyes thoughtful. "I can see that," he murmured.

You walked on in comfortable silence for a few more minutes, the rhythm of your steps a soothing presence. You noticed a small park ahead, the swings swaying gently in the breeze, the slide gleaming faintly under the streetlight.

"Do you want to maybe… sit for a bit?" you suggested, gesturing towards a nearby bench.

"Yeah, that sounds good," Bucky agreed.

You settled onto the cool metal of the bench, the night air a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the coffee shop. The park was deserted, lending a sense of peaceful solitude to the moment. The only sounds were the gentle creaking of the swings and the distant hum of the city.

Bucky leaned back against the bench, his gaze fixed on the star-dusted sky that was beginning to deepen into a velvety black. "You know," he said after a while, his voice soft, "Sam… he's a good friend."

"He is," you agreed, a warmth spreading through you at the thought of your steadfast companion. "Sometimes… a little too… enthusiastically helpful." A small smile played on your lips. "But always with the best intentions."

Bucky chuckled softly. "Yeah, I've gathered that. He can be… persistent."

"That's one word for it," you laughed quietly. "But I wouldn't trade him."

Another comfortable silence settled between you, this one feeling even more natural, more connected than before. You both seemed content to simply exist in each other's presence, sharing the quiet beauty of the autumn night.

After a while, Bucky turned to you, his expression earnest. "So," he began, a hint of a smile in his eyes, "about doing this again… are you thinking… coffee again? Or maybe something… less caffeinated?"

You met his gaze, a genuine warmth blossoming in your chest. "I'm open to suggestions," you replied, your smile mirroring his. "Though, I have to admit, your company was far more stimulating than the coffee."

A soft laugh escaped him, a genuine, unguarded sound that made your heart do a little flutter. "Well then," he said, his eyes twinkling slightly in the dim light, "how about we skip the coffee altogether next time? Maybe… dinner? If you're up for it."

The suggestion hung in the air, a tangible possibility that felt both exciting and surprisingly natural. You didn't hesitate.

"I'd like that very much, Bucky," you said, your voice sincere.

He smiled, a genuine, open smile that reached his eyes. "Great," he said, a sense of anticipation in his tone. "How about… Friday?"

"Friday sounds perfect," you agreed, a feeling of lightness washing over you. The loneliness that had been a constant companion for so long seemed to have receded, replaced by a flicker of something hopeful, something new. As you stood up from the bench, the cool night air no longer felt isolating, but rather, a shared space under the vast, star-filled sky. You walked back towards the main street with Bucky, the crunch of leaves under your feet a gentle reminder of the unexpected beauty that could be found in the quiet moments of connection.