#this is like OLD old i completely forgot...

[iekeu]

❛ EYES CLOSED ✶ 제이크

⸺ IN WHICH you have a rommate who is a little particular when it comes to sleeping

﹙3611﹚ loser rommate ! sjy 𖹭 𝒻em. reader — fluff friends to ?? slowburn somnambulism skinship kissing just fiction ℳORE ❜ ᨳ inspired by "the first frost" drama.

you've been jake's roommate for about a year now.

it all started when your old roomie had to leave because she was going to live with his boyfriend. and you couldn't pay for the rent on your own, so she offered to get you a new roommate.

although she forgot to tell you that that roommate was a man.

and that man was a friend of hers that you knew. he was nice. but anyway, you were searching for a girl to live with you. but you didn't have success finding one, and the rent payment was around the corner. so he eventually moved in. and although at the beginning, the idea didn't like you that much, you two became closer friends as the months passed.

he's someone good who you can live with. but..

there he goes again.

he's in the middle of the kitchen, with his eyes closed, drinking a glass of water in the middle of the night. from behind, it seems like he's awake, but he isn't. he's completely asleep.

a couple of months before this would scared you, but now you're very used to him. almost.

the cause of this is all about the amount of stress the college and work give to him, or at least that was what the doctor said when he went the first time you screamed in the middle of the night, waking him up and making him fall with some box that was on the floor.

most of the time, he just comes here and drinks water. or sometimes he sits on the couch, stays there for a couple of minutes, and then goes back to his dorm. all in complete silence.

you blink a couple of times to adjust to the darkness. right now is 2:37 am. you came here to look up your phone charger, just to find jake in the kitchen.

“i'm used to this, but you scared me, tho” you whisper without looking at him, as you look for what you came for.

he just drinks his water and then leaves the glass there to head to his bedroom.

two, three, four steps, and he's in front of you. you stand up straight and furrow your brows, looking up at him. he did this just one time, a month ago; he stands up in front of you and then goes away.

but this time, he raises a hand, and—as you follow his movements, he rests it on top of your head. making you want to laugh. what's he doing?

his eyes are closed, his hair is a mess, and his shirt is all wrinkled. you look at him, curious.

“jake, i'm not layla..” you whisper again, smiling. he rests his hand there for a couple of seconds, almost like he's patting a pet, and then goes away.

you stare at his back until he closes the door behind him. then you go to sleep, shaking your head with a smile, thinking about how you're going to make fun of him the next morning.

when you wake up the next day is sunday noon, so you can sleep this much for today. so after brushing your teeth and washing your face, you come out of the bathroom and head to the kitchen. the smell of food makes you smile.

“morning..” you say as a yawn comes out of your mouth. jake turns to you with a tiny smile. he's wearing headphones, but either way, listen to you.

“hey, morning,” he greets you as a radiant smile grows on his lips, brightening up his face.

you walk to the table behind him, sitting on a chair. and as you stare at his back, the moment of the night before comes to your head, and a big smile appears on your lips. jake glances at you and then takes off the earphones as he turns off the stove.

“what?” he smiles too, now turning to look at you.

“oh, nothing..” you look to your side, trying not to laugh. he approaches. his lips unconsciously form a pout.

“whaat?” he insists, now standing at the other side of the table. you now look at him.

“last night..” his face drops immediately. his lips now forming a line.

“don't tell me that last night i..”

“i came here to look up for something, and i found you.. then you approached me and put your hand on top of my head.” you started laughing because of his face. “you thought i was layla?”

he groans as he puts a hand over his face, but you can see his red ears. your laugh doesn't help him when he starts to feel his face heat up.

“i don't even remember what i was dreaming about” you keep laughing at him. he turns around, clears his throat, and continues cooking, trying to ignore your giggles on his back.

from your place, you can see how the tips of his ears are still bright red.

“you're cute,” you say as you keep making fun of him. he doesn't turn around again, but a tiny smile grows between his lips.

today was a tiring day, and all you wanted to do was sleep for an entire week. all your body felt heavy, and your head hurt half the day.

it was around midnight when you arrived home. you told jake that you were gonna come back late, so he's completely asleep by now.

after coming back from your room fully changed with more comfortable clothes, you make your way to the kitchen, turning on just one light.

jake left you food so you could just heat it and eat it, so you were going to do that after going to sleep.

some minutes later, you heard a click coming from jake's dorm. he's awake or..

you turn off the stove and turn around, just to find jake there, who is standing a few meters away from the kitchen. he's asleep.

after the last time you made fun of him, he had just one episode more. and that was a month ago.

now you were expecting what ridiculous thing he would do now.

so you stay still, looking at him, expecting. then he starts to walk slowly in your direction. and just in a few steps, he is standing up just a few centimeters away from you. both hands by his sides. eyes shut, and furrowed brows.

you raise one brow, thinking about his next movement. but you gasp when he approaches his face close to you. you try to move away. your heart is racing in your chest.

but then he drops his forehead on your shoulder and stays there. your arms flew to his sides as a reflection, not touching him. but then you don't know what to do. this is new. so you stay in your place, frozen.

he exhales, and you feel his body relaxing. then breaths more slowly, calmer. just his forehead resting against you as he leans in your direction.

a couple of minutes later, he steps up properly and walks away in silence.

the next morning, when you wake up, he isn't at home anymore. but later, when you see him again, you don't mention what happened.

three days later, you two are bout to watch a movie. finally, you can watch it in peace since tomorrow, neither of you had to do something in the morning.

“i only agree to watch this movie because the last time i chose it..” he says as he looks at the screen with furrowed eyebrows, shaking his body dramatically, faking shivers.

“jake, it's a bunch of people with makeup,” you say, looking at the screen as you eat some popcorn he made minutes ago.

“whatever” he snorts and then extends his arm to grab some popcorn, too. “why are you so far away? i can't reach the food..” he complains before throwing it to his mouth and chewing it.

the couch isn't big, but either way, you're on the corner of it with the bowl of popcorn just for you. so you stand up, sigh dramatically and drop yourself next to his body, literally glued to him, brushing nothing off your shoulder, as if his touch bothered you, just to bother him. back but that it's useless because now he has a big satisfied smile on his face as he looks at you making himself comfortable.

“happy?” you look up at him, putting the bowl on your lap. he nods, grabbing more popcorn.

“yeah, thank you.” he puts some in his mouth and then smiles again. his cheeks full of food. you roll your eyes, turning your head to the screen, fighting back a smile.

half an hour later, the bowl is empty on the table in front of you two. and you're more conformable now, with your head resting against the sofa. meanwhile, jake is knocked out next to you since he fell asleep around fifteen minutes ago. his head is also resting on the couch, just a few centimeters away from yours.

a moment later, you look at him from the corner of your eye when he starts to move, frowning and murmuring something that you don't hear. then he comes closer to you and tries to make himself more conformable, resting his head on your shoulder and throwing almost all his body weight on you—in the process, making you fall to your side. you yelp, looking at him, waiting for his complaint or something.. but he's totally asleep.

chuckling, you do your best to accommodate him, but it's useless. so you surrender and move, slowly sitting again and letting his head rest on your lap. he doesn't even notice.

like that, you continue to watch the movie until the end.

when that happens, you look down at jake, who is peacefully breathing with his eyes closed. his lashes resting against his cheeks, hair messed up against his forehead and mouth mid-open, showing his teeth. this image makes you want to giggle because of how cute he looks.

but you have to wake him up so he can go to bed.

“jake,” you whisper, taping his shoulder. he doesn't move. “jake, wake up. you can't sleep here.”

“hmm..” it's all he says, still half asleep. you can't even get up because of his position.

“jake” now you shake his shoulder. and finally, he starts blinking, furrowing both brows.

“i.. fell asleep?” he asks with a sleepy voice, yawning. you nod, looking at him. then he stares back at you, now a little bit more awake. a smirk forming on his lips. “why am i in this position?” you smack his shoulder.

“what's that face?” you snap, rolling your eyes. “you were the one who threw himself over me.”

he grabs one of your hands and keeps staring at you, catching you by surprise, but you let him anyway, looking at your hands at then at him again. he plays with your fingers as he talks.

“maybe you pulled me to your side, and i ended up like this. and in theory.. i didn't walk” he jokes with a smirk, making you exhale through your nostrils as you look to the other side.

he slowly sits up, yawning again, as he lets go of your hand. his hair is a little messed up, and his puffy eyes are mid-open when he looks at you again.

“well, i think we should go to bed,” he says, looking at you. then he shakes his head, blinking rapidly. “i mean, i should go to bed. you can't stay if you want. i—”

“yeah, i'm going to sleep too” you chuckle and grab the control of the tv, turning off the screen. he closes his mouth after two seconds and then talks again.

“all right” nodding, he gets up. “good night.”

“good night, jake.” he smiles at you one more time and goes to his bedroom.

a week later, you're in front of an asleep jake again, who's standing up in the middle of the hallway, midway to your bedroom.

you were on the couch when he came out of his room and stayed outside his door for a couple of minutes. then he started walking towards your door room.

“jake, this isn't your room..” he tried one more time to keep walking, but you blocked his way, and he stayed in his place.

you put your hands on his shoulders and made him slowly turn around, and he did so. until he wanted to enter your room one more time.

“you're like this even when you're sleeping” you whine, still with your hands over his shoulders. then you try one more time to guide him to his door, bearly pushing him. and he starts walking, letting you guide him.

you let him go, and he kept walking towards his door. until he entered and closed it behind him.

you stare at the door closed, sighing.

the next morning, you two are eating breakfast together when he feels your stare.. well, for about five minutes now.

“what is it?” he doesn't look up at you. he just keeps chewing his food, staring at his plate.

“hm?” you blink, coming out of your mind. and then you start eating your food.

“you have been staring at me..” he finally looks up, grinning. now he is the one looking at you.

“no, it's nothing,” you answer as you chew some food. your eyes are fixed on the table, away from his.

“come on, tell me” he insists, looking at you with his shiny eyes. you raise your head, meeting them. and he immediately recognizes that look. “wait a minute.. don't tell me i did something again.”

“yeah, maybe.” he sighed loudly, leaving his fork to the side. “last night, you tried to walk into my room.” he choked on the food he was swallowing, coughing as he reached for the glass of water next to him, making you look at him concerned.

“w-what? you were sleeping?” his ears were red again. you shake your head. and he sighs, a little alleviated.

“no, i wasn't” you started chuckling because of his face. “it's fine, jake.. i have to say it's a little funny.” you confess before chewing a toast.

“i'ts so embarrassing” he whines, dropping his head on his hands, like throwing a tantrum. “what i'm gonna do next?” he says with furrowed eyebrows. eyes fixed on the table, zoning out.

“i fear i have to lock up in your room,” you say, pretending to be serious. you didn't want him to feel this bad, so you try to light the ambiance.

“yeah, that's a good idea.” he nods and looks up at you, totally agreeing with what you just said. his look makes you smile as you get up, grabbing your empty plate.

“you're like an animal or something?” you murmured, making him shake his head.

“i mean no, but i don't wanna bother you” he complains again. meanwhile, you wash your plate as you look at him struggling on the table.

“i'm not gonna lock you down, jake.” he quickly stands up, with a big smile on his lips. something came to his mind.

“then i'm gonna lock me down by myself.”

today is sunday morning, and the sun that is coming from the curtains makes you start blinking as you turn your head to the opposite, waking you up.

and you are about to stretch yourself in bed like you always do, but then you feel something that is stopping you from moving. more specifically a body.

blinking a couple of times, you look behind you. and there, between the white bed sheets, it's jake, completely asleep with his head peacefully resting against the pillow.

you immediately feel the racing of your heart as you gasp. so you turn again to stop looking at his face and notice his arms around your waist, stopping you from moving away. they are holding you like you are his personal teddy bear or something.

so, without waking him up, you try to take off his arms, but his grip is firm around your stomach. and after a few tries, you finally made yourself free from his hands. but when you were about to stand up, he pulled you against his chest again, making you yelp.

this was some habit he has, you thought.

you stay there with your face against the pillow for a couple of seconds. and then, finally, his grip slowly loosens.

“you're awake?” you murmur without moving. you don't want to look at him since you probably have your face completely red.

“hm..” he says and turns around, taking his hands away from you and making himself more comfortable against the pillow.

you sit up next to him and look at his body. he's still sleeping, with his arms now under the pillow.

“you sneaked up into my room while i was sleeping, maybe i should looked you down,” you said, looking at him from the corner of your eyes. he didn't say anything.

after a couple of minutes of complete silence, you get up and go to the bathroom.

and an hour later, while you are making breakfast, you see jake coming with slow steps. standing up next to you with his eyes glued on the floor. his arms stiff on his sides.

“ah, the sleeping beauty,” you grin, cutting some fruit. he stands up closer, finally making you look up at him with a raised brow.

“i sleep in your.. bed.” the murmur that slips out of his lips made you smile.

“yeah? i didn't notice” you answer finally laughing because of his face full of guilt.

“i'm really sorry.. i promise you that i locked my door. i even put two boxes in front.” he talks as he looks at you ashamed. his eyes shine with guilt.

“here.” you extend him a mug with coffee. he blinks, grabbing it in his hand. and with a mid-open mouth, he looks at you confused.

“why you're never mad at me when i do this type of thing?” he asks all of a sudden while you keep doing your thing without looking at him.

“it's not your fault,” you say before biting the inside of your cheek, eyes fixed on the fruit.

“yeah, but anyone would be mad or uncomfortable,” he refutes, searching for your eyes. you don't raise your head. “then why?”

“i don't know..” you walk to the fridge, shrinking. this is starting to make him feel nervous as he follows you with his eyes.

“are you not telling me something?”

you are grabbing some yogurt when you froze for a couple of seconds.

“what? no” you scoff, nervous. he puts the mug on the table, approaching you with slow steps.

“what is it?” his soft tone made you finally look at him.

“i don't mind those kinds of things, okay?” you finally say, letting the yogurt on the fridge again and closing it. jake stays there with a surprised face and a little confused. “that's the reason.”

“what does that mean?” he makes three more steps and is standing right in front of you.

“i don't know. i just like it when you're around me and.. stuff.” a smile starts to grow between his lips, finally understanding what you didn't, or didn't want to.

his smile grows wider as he stares at you, making you swallow.

“i like to be around you, too.” your heart is about to blow out of your chest when you hear him.

“good then.” you nod, avoiding his eyes again.

and now that you noticed you were trapped against the fridge and his frame in front of you.

“you're not good at expressing yourself when you aren't joking, aren't you?” he murmurs and tilts his head. he was almost towering you, making you look up a bit to look at his eyes.

“you realize that just now?” you ask ironically. he shakes his head with a grin.

his sudden confidence made you want to rip the smirk out of his face. you want to push him. you want to run away and hide because you're feeling exposed.

after a couple of seconds in silence, he speaks

“you haven't.. noticed yet?” his voice was sweet, and his eyes soft. you looked at him, waiting. “all this time, i liked you.”

you stare at him in shock. the voice didn't want to come out. then look to the floor, and then back at him, avoiding his eyes.

“we're.. i think we..” you were trying to search for the right words, but your mind was in a trance.

“we..” he moves his head a little lower, closer, making you unconsciously lean back, as you feel your face hot and your heart beating fast.

“i think.. we mutually like each other.” you finally lock eyes with him, and a smile appears again between his lips. from this distance, you can see all his features.

“mhm.” jake slowly nods.

his shiny eyes and big smile mesmerize you. and without thinking about it, you lean over and peck his lips.

he stays there with wide open eyes and mouth, his confidence from seconds ago falters, making you chuckle as you lean back. when he finally hears your laugh, he wraps his arms around you, capturing your arms, and shutting you up.

“that wasn't long enough,” he complains, squeezing your body against his without harming you as you smile.

“it was..” you answer with a chuckle. jake shakes his head in disagreement.

that definitely wasn't enough.

then he leans to you, giving you a longer kiss.

[rafeyssugar]

SWEET LIKE TROUBLE

bf!rafe cameron x bimbo reader

you were so annoying. like really. you were clingy and soft and always cold. you couldn��t open water bottles. you refused to learn how to put air in your tires. you cried when your lashes didn’t go on right. you had an entire separate bag just for your lip glosses and perfumes. and you made rafe stop walking every time you saw a flower on the ground that was “too cute to leave behind.”

you were the kind of girl that other girls got exhausted by. but rafe? rafe was in love.

like stupidly. sickly. head-over-heels obsessed.

not that he’d say all that. he’d just tell you to stop wearing skirts that short in public. and maybe he’d keep your strawberry perfume in his glove box. and maybe he’d never tell you no. ever. no matter how bratty you were being. he’d just groan and say “fuckin’ hell, babe…” like you were a burden. but he was already pulling out his wallet, already giving you his hoodie, already texting back where are you the second you left his sight.

“rafe,” you said, curling your legs into his lap as you laid back on the couch, your voice high and sweet and already getting him in a mood.

he didn’t look up from his phone. “hm?”

“what’s my middle name?”

his eyes flicked to you. “what?”

you pouted. “you forgot?”

he narrowed his eyes. “…no?”

you squinted. “then what is it.”

he paused. “…baby.”

you blinked. “wrong.”

“it is when you’re mine,” he smirked.

you groaned, throwing a throw pillow at him. “you’re so annoying!”

rafe caught it mid-air, laughing under his breath. “no, you’re annoying. you make me take selfies and look at your nail inspo board like i know the difference between baby pink and ballerina pink.”

you gasped. “they’re completely different!”

“sure, babe.”

you sat up on your knees, arms crossed, fake-pouting now. “you don’t take anything seriously.”

rafe put his phone down. his smile softened. “i take you seriously.”

you froze. then blinked at him.

“you do?”

“duh.” he reached over, tugging you into his lap like it was second nature. “you think i’d let just anyone cry in my car over lash glue and still kiss her forehead after?”

you giggled. “okay but that was literally a crisis.”

“you called me at 2am.”

“my lashes were lifting!”

he rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. not when you were straddling him, arms around his neck, smelling like something fruity and way too expensive. not when you kissed the corner of his jaw and whispered “love you, baby” like it was the easiest thing in the world.

he didn’t say it back. not with words.

just held you a little tighter. tilted your face toward his with both hands and kissed you slow. long. soft. like you were made of glass and pink clouds and sugar.

you hummed against his lips. then pulled back with a grin. “you’re blushing.”

“shut up.”

“you are,” you giggled, cupping his cheeks. “you get all red when i say your name. rafe.”

“stop.”

“rafe rafe rafe—”

he kissed you again just to shut you up.

and maybe because he missed the taste of your lip gloss already.

later, you were laying in his bed wearing one of his old t-shirts that hung off your body like a dress. your legs were cold, so rafe threw a blanket over you. you made him paint your nails (badly). he made you watch heat for the fourth time. you fell asleep on his chest halfway through. he pretended to hate it. but he didn’t move a muscle for hours.

you whispered something half-asleep into his shirt.

“what’d you say?” rafe murmured.

you blinked slowly, nose nuzzled into him. “said you’re my favorite.”

his heart thumped. he swallowed. “oh.”

“i’d pick you. every time.”

he blinked up at the ceiling.

“…even over strawberry acai?”

you paused. “mmm… close call.”

he laughed. “fuck you.”

you smiled against him. “love you too.”

he didn’t say it back. again.

but his hand stayed in your hair. his lips pressed against your forehead. and when you fell asleep for real, he whispered it into your skin like a prayer.

love you. love you. love you.

you never even noticed he said it. but he didn’t care.

he’d say it a thousand times if he had to.

[bittenbyenhypen]

message received (n.rk)

the message said it was urgent — but i never expected it to be him.

pairing: childhood friend!ni-ki (nishimura riki) x afab!reader (y/n)

wc: 7.4k

genre: smut = minors dni!

cw: babysitting!au, slight dubcon/noncon, manipulation/deception, “fake” texts, childhood friends, unseen desire, p in v, CNC, restraint, obsession, possessive behavior, explicit smut, overstimulation, creampie, dirty talk, corruption kink, degradation, light choking.

a/n: lowercase intentional // smut under the cut

this is a work of fiction. all characters, events, and situations are entirely fictional and created for storytelling purposes only. reader discretion is advised.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

i was halfway through washing my hair when my music silenced and my phone buzzed.

mrs. mura ⊹₊⟡⋆ | 10:02pm

emergency. can you watch the kids tonight? door’s unlocked — just come in. thank you, sweet girl.

i frowned. something about it felt weird. no emojis, no “thank you!! you’re a lifesaver 🤍” like she usually sent. i even opened our old thread and scrolled — yeah, this felt off. but maybe she was just stressed. traveling always made her anxious.

i texted back promptly~

me | 10:03pm

sure, everything okay?

no response.

weird. i could’ve sworn she told me they were going out of town this weekend. something about a beach wedding. but maybe plans changed. and besides… i wasn’t going to say no to her. she’d trusted me with her kids since i was fourteen.

i pulled on a hoodie and some sleep shorts, tied my hair up, grabbed my keys.

the whole drive over, something felt off.

i’ve known the nishimuras for as long as i can remember. their house was like a second home when i was growing up — warm, loud, always smelling like home-cooked food. riki was the middle child, a year older than me, sharp-tongued and always teasing, but never unkind. we went to school together, shared holiday dinners, fought over the remote like siblings. his mom trusted me, always had. when she and mr. nishimura started traveling more for work, she asked if i’d help out — watch the kids, water the plants, keep the house from falling apart while they were away. i said yes without thinking.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the street was quiet when i pulled into their driveway. no lights on inside. the house looked completely empty. the familiar weight of it settled on my shoulders — the porch swing, the faded welcome mat, the potted plants that always died when i forgot to water them.

i hesitated on the step. reaching for the door handle and gently twisting the knob.

“hello?” i called softly. “mrs. nishimura?”

silence.

the house was warm. not cold like an empty place usually is. too warm, like someone had been here just moments ago. i shut the door behind me, toes curling inside my shoes.

“kids?” i asked again, stepping further inside. “hello?”

i expected toys scattered on the floor. maybe a TV left on. instead, i found a clean living room, lights dimmed low. the kitchen sink was empty. the hallway smelled faintly like cologne — sharp, masculine.

i walked slower.

then i heard it. a footstep on the second floor.

my heart jumped. i turned toward the stairs, calling up, “is someone there?”

no answer.

more steps. slow. deliberate. coming down.

i backed up slightly, heart pounding, fingers gripping my phone in my pocket.

“hello—?”

and then i saw him.

riki.

barefoot. sweats hanging low on his hips. shirtless. his hair was messy, like he’d just gotten out of bed.

my mouth went dry. “riki…?”

he smirked, slow and unbothered, one hand running through his hair.

“hey, y/n.”

my brows pulled. “what—i thought your mom—?”

“she’s out of town,” he said simply. “left yesterday.”

i stared. “so the text…”

he shrugged. “guess my mom forgot she linked her number to multiple devices…”

my blood ran cold and hot all at once. “you sent it?”

his smile spread.

something in his gaze had changed — deeper, slower, more deliberate. like he wasn’t just happy to see me… like he planned this. like he was waiting for it.

i stepped back without meaning to. just once. barely noticeable. but he caught it.

“you look nervous,” riki said.

i laughed, tight and breathless. “well… you did just lure me here with your mom’s number.”

he tilted his head. “lure is such a loaded word.”

i didn’t answer. i couldn’t. my throat felt dry. everything in me buzzed — not in fear exactly, but in a strange, aching heat that started low in my stomach and coiled upward.

his eyes dropped down my body, slow.

“you still wear that perfume,” he murmured.

i blinked. “what?”

he stepped closer — not touching me, just close enough that i could feel the heat coming off his bare chest.

“the one you used to wear in high school. the one that used to drive me crazy.”

i swallowed hard. “you remember that?”

“i remember everything.”

his fingers brushed mine. gentle. testing.

i didn’t pull away.

“you look different,” he said. “grown up.”

i tried to keep my voice steady. “so do you.”

he smiled. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

i couldn’t look away from him. the soft light from the hallway caught his collarbone, the sharp line of his jaw. he looked older, harder. like a boy who’d been told “no” too many times and learned how to take “yes” by force.

he stepped around me slowly, walking into the kitchen. i followed without thinking.

he opened the fridge, pulled out a bottle of water, cracked the cap and drank. his throat bobbed with every swallow, and for some godforsaken reason, my mouth went dry again.

when he turned, he leaned against the counter and stared at me.

“you ever think about me?”

my stomach flipped. “what?”

“when i left.” he licked a drop of water from his lip. “did you think about me?”

“we were friends, riki. of course i—”

“not like that.”

his voice dropped a note lower.

i froze.

he smiled, soft but dangerous.

“i did.”

he took another step toward me. slow. calculated.

“i thought about you all the time. every time i came home for break. every time you’d wave from across the bakery when i came in with my mom. every time you hugged me goodbye like it didn’t burn me to let go.”

i couldn’t breathe.

“but you were always so good,” he said, voice warm and cruel at the same time. “so sweet. my mom’s favorite little helper. everyone’s innocent y/n.”

he brushed a strand of hair behind my ear.

“i wanted to see how innocent you still were.”

my whole body shivered.

he leaned in, lips just grazing the shell of my ear.

“i still can’t decide,” he whispered. “if i want to fuck the sweetness out of you… or if i want to see how long you’ll pretend you don’t want me to.”

my instincts screamed to turn and leave. this was insane. creepy. not okay.

but my legs didn’t move. and my skin—traitorously—lit up under his gaze.

riki leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “but i know you, y/n. i know you’ve wanted this for a long time.”

his fingers graced my skin under the hem of my shorts, quickly retreating, teasing.

“you’ve wanted me to take it.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

he didn’t touch me after that.

not right away.

he just stood there in the kitchen, drinking from his water bottle like he hadn’t just cracked something open inside me.

“you remember the camping trip?” he asked suddenly.

i blinked. “which one?”

“the one when you were, like… sixteen. we all went upstate with both our families. shared that weird old cabin.”

i nodded slowly. “yeah. why?”

he smiled. “you had that stupid unicorn pajama set. with the glitter on the pants.”

i flushed. “god, shut up. i loved those.”

“i know. you wore them every night. even when it was hot.”

he took a step closer again. the countertop was behind me now. i couldn’t step back.

“i used to stay up late just to watch you walk to the bathroom.”

my breath caught.

he tilted his head, pretending to think. “do you know how many nights i’d fake sleep? just to hear you pad across the floor? that tiny waistband riding up your hips—”

“riki—”

“you had no clue,” he said, voice low, amused. “you were so… untouched.”

his hand came to rest beside me on the counter. not touching. not yet.

“and then last summer,” he continued. “my mom’s birthday. remember?”

i nodded slowly. “you came back into town for the weekend.”

he smiled. “and you wore that little black dress. tight. short. i swear to god, you wore it just to torture me.”

i swallowed. “you barely looked at me that night.”

“exactly,” he said. “because if i did, i was gonna take you upstairs and fuck you during the cake cutting.”

my knees nearly buckled.

“you think i didn’t notice,” he whispered, leaning in. “how you kept watching me over your glass. how your thighs were pressed together under the table.”

“you’re imagining things.”

he laughed softly. “am i?”

his eyes dropped to my lips. then my neck. then lower.

“you don’t remember coming outside after everyone went to sleep?” he asked. “when you thought nobody was awake?”

my breath hitched.

oh.

“you sat on the porch swing,” he said. “bare legs. no bra. just that dress and a glass of wine. i watched you from my bedroom window, y/n.”

he leaned in closer, breath grazing my mouth.

“i fucking fisted my cock to the sight of you that night.”

i choked.

“you want to pretend you didn’t want this,” he whispered. “but you’ve been playing this game just as long as i have.”

he still didn’t touch me.

he didn’t have to.

his voice alone had my body betraying me — heat pooling between my thighs, chest heaving, skin flushed.

“you came here tonight,” he said, finally letting his fingers brush mine. “you could’ve called. could’ve double checked. but you didn’t. you wanted to walk into something you couldn’t undo.”

his hand grazed my hip.

“so now you’re here.”

his mouth hovered over mine, not kissing. not closing that final space.

“and i’m gonna make you beg.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

he didn’t steer me toward the stairs this time.

instead, he walked straight into the living room, barefoot and calm, like we were about to watch a movie. like he hadn’t just whispered years of filth into my ear and left me soaked.

i hesitated near the hallway, but he glanced back and crooked a finger.

“come here.”

i should’ve walked out the front door.

instead, i followed him like i always did — too curious, too hot in my own skin to resist. he flopped down on the couch, the same one we used to crash on after school, the same one we fell asleep on during horror movie marathons. i used to tuck my legs under his without thinking.

now he patted the cushion beside him like a dare.

“sit,” he said. “let’s catch up.”

my legs moved before my brain did. i sat.

too close.

not close enough.

the tv remote sat on the coffee table. his phone, too. black hoodie slung over the back of the couch. normal things. domestic things. the air between us felt anything but.

“so,” riki said, resting his arm across the back of the couch, fingers inches from my shoulder. “what’ve you been up to?”

i turned to look at him. he was already staring.

hard.

like i was something he was trying not to bite into too soon.

“really?” i asked. “you want small talk now?”

he smiled, slow. “humor me.”

“you lured me here, riki. not exactly a casual catch-up.”

“mm,” he hummed, shifting so his thigh pressed against mine. “maybe i just missed you.”

“bullshit.”

he leaned in, breath brushing my cheek.

“you’re right,” he murmured. “i didn’t miss you. i craved you.”

his fingers traced lightly over the curve of my knee. not enough to be considered touching. just enough to make my skin burn.

“you used to curl up right here,” he whispered, brushing my hair back. “head on my shoulder. remember that?”

i nodded.

“you always smelled like vanilla and bookstore paperbacks,” he said. “drove me fucking insane.”

“you never said anything.”

“of course not,” he chuckled. “you were still pretending you didn’t know.”

i swallowed.

his fingers finally grazed the inside of my thigh.

“but you did know,” he said. “didn’t you?”

i didn’t answer.

he leaned closer.

“the time you laid across my lap during that movie night. you weren’t wearing a bra.”

my pulse jumped.

“and you kept stretching, yawning, arching your back like you wanted me to see.”

i shook my head, whispering, “i didn’t—”

“you did,” he said firmly, fingers pressing into my thigh now. “you wanted me to see how soft you were. how easy.”

i bit my lip.

“say it,” he murmured. “say you liked teasing me.”

i couldn’t.

he reached for the throw blanket behind me — the same one we used to share. he unfolded it slowly and laid it across my lap, tucking it around my waist.

his hand slipped under it. rested on my bare thigh.

“say it,” he repeated, voice lower. “or i’ll make you sit here, legs open, while i rub your clit and tell you every single thing i imagined doing to you.”

my eyes fluttered shut.

“i liked it,” i whispered. “i liked teasing you.”

“good girl.”

his fingers slid higher, just barely grazing my soaked panties through the blanket.

“you wanna make this dirty, baby?” he whispered. “let’s make it dirty. right here. on the couch your mom watched movies with mine. on the cushions that still smell like childhood.”

i whimpered.

“let me show you what i thought about every night i slept down here,” he said, hand pressing harder.

“and then maybe…”

he leaned in close — lips brushing mine but not kissing.

“…i’ll let you earn what you came here for.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

his hand stayed under the blanket.

still.

warm.

too high on my thigh to be innocent.

but he didn’t move. not yet.

he just looked at me — really looked — like he was memorizing the exact moment my breathing started to change.

“you’re letting me touch you,” he said softly. “after all that. after i lied to you. tricked you. dragged you here.”

i swallowed. “you’re not touching me.”

his mouth twitched.

“not yet.”

he shifted slightly, his thigh pressing harder into mine.

“but you didn’t pull away,” he murmured. “you came in. you sat next to me. you’re letting me talk to you like this.”

his fingers barely traced higher, slipping under the hem of my shorts. skin to skin.

“you want to pretend you’re still a good girl?” he asked. “still the sweet little helper my mom trusted?”

his voice dropped.

“sweethearts don’t get wet when their childhood friend talks about stealing their underwear.”

my breath hitched.

“they don’t sit on the couch they used to nap on and let a man they used to trust talk about how many times he’s imagined fucking them in their sleep.”

he pressed his fingers higher. just barely brushing over where i wanted him.

i gasped.

his eyes stayed locked on mine.

“you were always so perfect around my family,” he whispered. “so polite. so helpful. but you were hiding something. i saw it. you think i didn’t notice the way your thighs would rub together when i was near you?”

i tried to shake my head, but he grabbed my chin.

“don’t lie.”

he forced my gaze to stay on his.

“you thought about it too,” he said. “being on your knees in this house. on this floor. while they slept upstairs.”

his thumb dragged across my bottom lip.

“you’ve always wanted someone to ruin you, haven’t you?”

i whimpered.

“someone who already knows you. someone who’s seen the cute, safe version of you… and wants the one underneath.”

his hand slipped further between my legs — not pushing, not teasing, just claiming the space.

i was trembling.

“if i started touching you now,” he whispered, “i wouldn’t stop. not even if you begged.”

i gasped.

his hand stilled.

“unless you wanted me to,” he added, tone lower now. “unless that’s what makes you wet.”

i blinked at him, lips parted.

“is that it?” he asked. “you like the idea of being used by someone who remembers your bedtime stories?”

he leaned in close. too close.

“you want to be nothing but a hole for me,” he whispered. “in the house where your mom thinks you’re safe.”

i let out a broken breath. “riki…”

“you like the way that sounds,” he said. “i can see it in your fucking eyes.”

his hand finally slid against the soaked cotton of my panties. slow. steady.

i moaned — quietly, desperately.

he smiled like he’d just won.

“we haven’t even started,” he said, voice low and dark. “and you’re already soaking my hand.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

his fingers didn’t move.

they just sat there, heavy on my soaked panties under the blanket, like he wasn’t even aware of what he was doing. like he could play this game all night and never break a sweat.

i was the one sweating.

shaking.

aching.

“do you know what i want from you?” he murmured, voice dark and unhurried. “really?”

i shook my head, too breathless to lie.

his hand flexed just slightly. not enough to satisfy. just enough to tease.

“i want to ruin every version of you they think they know.”

he leaned in again, breath hot on my neck.

“i want them to look at you and never guess what you let me do on this couch.”

i gasped.

he smirked.

“you like that, don’t you?”

“n-no—”

“you want to sit at sunday dinner with my mom, with my little brother asking if you baked those cookies again, and know you’re still sore from the night before.”

my whole body twitched.

“fuck,” he whispered, “i could make you wear a plug under that cute dress. have you shaking through the entire meal.”

“riki—”

“shhh,” he said, pressing a finger to my lips. “i’m not done.”

his tone dropped lower. colder.

“i could take you right now. here. make you strip while i sit back and watch. give you orders like you’re nothing but a fuckdoll for me.”

i whimpered.

“but you don’t get that yet,” he said, pulling back slightly, just to watch the way my thighs clenched. “not until you earn it.”

he shifted, letting his hand trail down slowly, dragging heat across my skin — only to stop again.

“i want to know how far you’ll go to be mine.”

i swallowed hard. “how far…?”

he tilted his head.

“would you beg in front of a camera?” he asked. “say my name like a prayer while i make you come so hard you cry?”

i whimpered.

“would you wear a collar if i told you to?” he asked. “crawl to me on hands and knees in the middle of the night?”

“riki—”

he grinned. sharp. knowing.

“or do you need me to show you what kind of girl you are?”

my thighs trembled. heat coiled in my stomach, low and tight.

“no one’s touched you like this before,” he murmured. “not really. not the way i will.”

he leaned in again — his mouth brushing the shell of my ear.

“no one’s ever trained you, have they?”

i gasped.

“you’ve just been waiting,” he said, “for someone to take it.”

he kissed just beneath my jaw. a single soft press of his mouth, like a promise.

“but not yet.”

his voice turned to gravel.

“you’ll beg first.”

then he stood.

left me there trembling.

still untouched. still soaked. still waiting.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

he just stood there, staring at me — the way you stare at something fragile you’ve already decided to break.

“stand up,” he said.

i hesitated. my legs shook when i obeyed.

he took a slow step forward. then another.

until the blanket fell from my lap and i was standing there in nothing but my tiny shorts and a trembling heartbeat.

his fingers found the waistband. soft. almost gentle.

“you ever been touched here?” he asked, voice low, cruelly tender.

i swallowed hard. “no.”

he nodded. like he already knew. like he’d known for years.

“fucking pathetic,” he whispered. “you let everyone think you’re so put together. so smart. so sweet.”

his fingers slipped beneath the band of my shorts, dragging them down my thighs. my panties went with them.

“but underneath all that?”

he looked up at me, eyes dark.

“you’re just a little untouched mess waiting for someone to claim it.”

i gasped — half in shock, half in heat. i couldn’t stop trembling.

his hand came up. cupped me.

bare.

skin to skin.

i whimpered.

“fuck,” he hissed, thumb sliding through the slickness. “so wet and i haven’t even fucked you yet.”

my hands curled into fists at my sides.

he pressed his fingers lower. testing my entrance. slow, cruel pressure without easing in.

“tight little virgin hole,” he muttered. “bet no one’s even dared to look at it.”

i blinked up at him, shivering.

“you saved this for me,” he whispered. “didn’t you?”

i shook my head.

“don’t lie,” he growled, suddenly grabbing my jaw. “no one else has touched it. no one else will.”

his thumb rolled over my clit and i gasped.

“you think i’m gonna be gentle with you?” he asked, voice low. “think i’m gonna lay you down sweet and soft?”

his other hand slipped behind me, grabbed a fistful of my ass, and pulled me closer.

“nah,” he said. “i’m gonna make it hurt.”

i moaned before i could stop myself.

“yeah,” he smirked. “i’m gonna make you cry and cum at the same time.”

his fingers slid deeper — slow, spreading, forcing me to take every inch.

“you’ll remember this every time you sit down,” he murmured. “every time you walk. every time someone thinks about getting close to you.”

i sobbed his name.

“they won’t matter,” he added. “they’ll never have what i just took.”

his hand worked faster now. rough. greedy. relentless.

“gonna stretch you open,” he panted. “get you ready for me. make you drip down my fingers until you’re begging to be bred.”

my knees buckled.

he caught me.

held me there.

“that’s right,” he whispered. “take it. just like a good little virgin should.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

he pushed me back onto the couch.

ripped my hoodie off. “no bra,” he smirked. “fuck, you wanted this.”

he shoved me onto the cushions, spread my legs, knelt between them like he was worshiping me.

and then his mouth was on me.

i screamed. his tongue worked me open, licking up everything, lips sealing around my clit. he moaned into me, like my taste was divine.

“stay still,” he growled when i tried to wriggle away. “you’re gonna cum on my tongue, and then i’m gonna fuck you so deep you forget your own name.”

“riki—” i sobbed. “i—fuck—i can’t—”

“you can.” he gripped my thighs, hard enough to bruise. “you will.”

he didn’t stop. didn’t let up. tongue flicking, curling, punishing.

i shattered. back arched. toes curled. cried out so loud the windows could’ve cracked.

and still—he didn’t stop.

“no more,” i whimpered, thighs shaking. “too much—”

“you think i care?” his voice was wicked, deep. “you tricked me for years. made me wait while you pretended we were just friends.”

his fingers slipped inside me, two at once, stretching me while his thumb teased my clit again.

“you don’t get to say no now.”

i whined. squirmed. came again.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

he didn’t give me a second to catch my breath.

riki stood up, yanked his sweats down in one swift motion, and stroked his cock once—long, thick, already dripping with slick pre-cum. my breath hitched at the sight.

“i should tie you up,” he muttered darkly, eyes burning with hunger. “fuck you with your hands behind your back so you finally understand what you’re mine for.”

i blinked up at him, dizzy and overwhelmed.

without warning, he grabbed my wrists, yanked the hoodie’s drawstring free, and wrapped it tight and rough around them, pulling me close enough to feel every rough edge of his touch.

“riki—”

“shut up.” his voice was cold, commanding.

he pushed me down to my knees and forced me to look up at him, that raw intensity swallowing me whole.

“open your mouth.”

i obeyed, heart pounding so loud i thought he’d hear it.

he slid his cock between my lips—deep, slow, testing me like i was fragile glass breaking under his touch.

“fuck, you’re so fucking pretty like this,” he groaned, voice thick with possessive need. “on your knees. drooling all over me. my virgin, finally mine.”

he fucked my mouth with slow precision, then faster, then slow again, watching my eyes water, watching me choke on him.

“you wanted this, didn’t you?” he whispered, thumb brushing away my tears. “wanted me to fuck that tight, untouched pussy of yours.”

i couldn’t find my voice.

he pulled out, saliva trailing between us, and roughly shoved me back onto the couch.

then, with no mercy, he pushed inside me—my first time—one brutal, deep thrust that stole my breath.

i screamed, nails digging into his back.

“tight as i fucking dreamed,” he growled, hips pistoning hard and deep. “made for me, virgin just for me.”

i sobbed his name, raw and desperate, as he fucked me relentlessly, my hands still bound, my body completely his.

“you’re mine,” he groaned against my ear. “all mine.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

my body clenched tight around him, every thrust sending jolts of fire through me. i was so fucking full, every inch of him claiming what was mine to give—and what he damn well wanted to take.

“you feel so fucking good,” riki growled, voice rough and low, like a predator savoring his prey. “virgin pussy all wrapped around me, soaking wet for only me.”

i whimpered, the shame and need twisting inside me like a live wire.

“you gonna cry for me, baby?” he taunted, hips snapping hard, cock deep and relentless.

“yes,” i gasped, fingers digging into the couch cushions. “riki, please—”

“that’s right,” he said, voice dripping with satisfaction. “cry for me, beg for me. you belong to me now.”

his hands slid under my thighs, lifting me higher as he fucked me harder, faster. my legs shook around his waist, breath ragged.

“i’m gonna fill you up,” he promised, voice dark and filthy. “make you mine in every way.”

he leaned down, mouth crushing mine, tongue forcing itself into my mouth, tasting me—claiming me.

“say it,” he demanded between kisses, “say you’re mine. say you’re my virgin to break.”

“i’m yours,” i choked out, tears mixing with sweat. “all yours.”

“fuck, yeah,” he groaned, thrusting deeper, harder. “you’re such a good girl. taking me so well.”

i lost myself in the heat of him, in the filthy words, in the cruel deliciousness of being his completely.

when he came—growling my name like a fucking mantra—it was like i exploded with him, every nerve ending lit on fire, every scream swallowed by his mouth against mine.

he collapsed on top of me, chest heaving, hands still gripping my hips possessively.

“mine,” he rasped, voice thick with satisfaction. “all mine.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

my body was still twitching when he pulled out — slow, deliberate — like he was savoring every second of ruining me.

his cum dripped out of me, warm and messy between my legs. i whimpered, trying to close my thighs, but he slapped the inside of one with a sharp flick of his fingers.

“don’t you fucking dare,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “i want to see it.”

his eyes dragged down between my legs, devouring the mess he left behind.

“look at you,” he murmured, thumb brushing my swollen clit, making me jolt. “fucking ruined. dripping. open.”

i squirmed, still tied, wrists raw and aching.

he leaned in, voice like velvet over a knife’s edge.

“i want to see how many times you can cum before you start crying again.”

“riki—” i gasped, but it was no use.

he was already between my legs again, licking up the mess he left inside me, tongue hot and unrelenting.

“tasted sweet before,” he said darkly, “but now? now it tastes like mine.”

his mouth latched onto my clit, and i sobbed. it was too much. too raw.

“gonna teach this little pussy what it’s for,” he growled. “not for you. not for anyone else. just for me to use. to stretch. to fill.”

“riki, i—please—”

“you think begging’s gonna save you?” he smirked, two fingers slipping into me with zero mercy. “you begged for my cock. begged me to take your virginity. now you’re gonna beg to be fucked stupid.”

he pressed harder, curling his fingers until i cried out.

“there she is,” he murmured, almost sweet. “my needy little cumdump. didn’t even know how much you needed it until i broke you open.”

my thighs trembled uncontrollably.

“you like being used, don’t you?” he purred. “all that innocence, all that good-girl act — but deep down, you wanted me to wreck you.”

“yes,” i whispered, humiliated by how much i meant it. “yes, riki.”

he laughed, dark and pleased.

“i could do anything to you right now, and you’d let me.”

his hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing just enough to make my vision blur around the edges.

“you’d let me fuck your throat ‘til you choke. tie you up in my bed like a toy. leave you shaking and stuffed full for hours.”

i moaned, hips lifting helplessly into his palm.

he smiled.

“say it,” he whispered. “say you’re my fucktoy.”

“i’m—i’m your fucktoy,” i gasped, pleasure and shame crashing through me in waves.

“good fucking girl.”

he let go of my throat, only to flip me over, pushing my face into the couch cushions.

“keep your ass up,” he ordered. “hands where i tied them. that’s how i want you.”

i felt his cock pressing at my entrance again, already hard, already ready to ruin me all over.

“this hole’s mine now,” he hissed. “this body. your voice. every fucking inch of you. i own it.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

my face was buried in the cushions, wrists bound, ass raised like he’d positioned me just to be used.

“don’t move,” riki growled behind me, voice ragged. “stay like that. stay exactly like that.”

i felt his cock press at my entrance again, still dripping with the mess he left in me. my cunt throbbed—sensitive, already sore—and i whimpered before he even pushed in.

“cry all you want,” he said low. “you’re gonna take it.”

he slammed into me with a brutal thrust.

i screamed, body jerking forward—but he grabbed my hips and yanked me back onto his cock, harder.

“shut up,” he spat. “you fucking love this.”

he was right. i hated him for being right.

the pain, the stretch, the filthy drag of his cock inside me—it was all too much and still not enough.

“you know how long i’ve waited to break you in?” he hissed. “sweet little y/n, always pretending you’re so innocent. always acting like you don’t see the way i look at you.”

he pulled out halfway and slammed back in. i cried out again.

“you saw. you fucking liked it.”

my moan was strangled in the cushions, too wrecked to deny it.

his hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back so he could spit on my cheek.

“say you’re my whore.”

i gasped. “i’m—fuck—”

his palm wrapped around my throat, squeezing just tight enough to make me dizzy.

“say it,” he growled against my ear. “say this pussy belongs to me.”

“it’s yours,” i cried. “riki—it’s yours, i’m yours—”

“fucking right you are.”

he let go of my throat only to slap my ass, the crack of it echoing through the room. then he grabbed my tied wrists and pulled them up, arching me into him.

“look at this body,” he murmured darkly, hips snapping into me with filthy rhythm. “fucked-out and dripping. you’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?”

“no—i can’t—please—”

“yes, you will.” he bit down on my shoulder. “i’m not stopping until you cum all over my cock like the desperate little slut you are.”

i was shaking. sobbing. every nerve fried. and still—my body betrayed me. pleasure coiled again in my gut like a slow burn set to detonate.

“riki—please—please—fuck—”

“cum for me,” he demanded, fucking me harder, deeper. “cum while i ruin this tight little cunt for good.”

i shattered.

my body convulsed, legs trembling so hard i collapsed under him, thighs soaked and slick. my moans turned to gasps, broken and raw, my walls clenching around him like i was trying to keep him inside forever.

“fuck yes,” riki snarled, thrusting wildly. “that’s it. milk my cock, you filthy fucking girl—”

he came with a groan, slamming into me one last time as he emptied himself inside.

we collapsed together. breathless. drenched in sweat. the room spinning.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

i thought he’d be done with me after that second orgasm. after he came inside me again, thick and hot, possessive. after he kissed my wrists and held me like i was something soft, something his.

but riki wasn’t done.

he never was.

i barely had time to catch my breath when he reached over the edge of the couch, grabbed his phone from the floor, and turned it on with a click.

my eyes widened.

“what—what are you doing?”

he didn’t answer at first. he just propped the phone up on the coffee table, the screen glowing in the low light, camera lens pointed straight at me — messy, naked, trembling, legs still parted and dripping with him.

then he looked at me. smirked.

“filming you.”

my heart dropped and slammed back up into my throat.

“riki—”

“shut up,” he said casually, eyes locked on mine. “you look too good like this not to be seen.”

he hit record.

the red light blinked.

i squirmed, instinctively reaching for something to cover myself, but he was already grabbing my wrists again, pinning them down.

“no hiding,” he murmured. “not from me. not from the camera.”

i gasped when he spread my thighs apart, two fingers slipping back into my ruined pussy, squelching softly.

“listen to that,” he said, voice dark and mocking. “fucking soaked. used. leaking. everyone’s gonna know what kind of girl you are.”

“don’t—” i whimpered, face burning, eyes flicking toward the recording screen.

he leaned in, grinning against my cheek.

“oh baby,” he whispered. “you like it.”

his fingers pumped deeper, rough and merciless. “you like the idea of people seeing you all fucked out, stuffed full of my cum. you want them to see how ruined you are. how good you take me.”

i moaned without meaning to. his grin widened.

“i should send this to our old classmates,” he growled. “let them all see what their sweet little honor student turned into. bet they’d never guess you were just my personal whore.”

i sobbed—wrecked, wet, shaking with shame and pure, dripping arousal.

“you’re disgusting,” i breathed.

he pulled his fingers out and shoved them into my mouth, making me gag.

“and you’re a fucking mess,” he hissed. “but you’re my mess.”

he shoved me down onto my back, the phone still recording, and lined his cock up again. i tried to turn my face from the lens, but he grabbed my jaw and forced me to look.

“look at it. look at yourself.”

then he pushed in.

one brutal, bone-deep thrust.

i screamed.

he started fucking me all over again — hard, relentless, eyes flicking between my face and the red blinking light.

“you’re mine,” he growled. “and now i have proof.”

he held the phone in one hand now, screen facing me, camera locked on my face.

his other hand was locked around my throat.

his cock slammed into me again and again, brutal and relentless, my legs trembling, my body flushed and wrecked and still begging for more.

“look at you,” riki panted, voice soaked in filth. “just fucking look at yourself.”

i tried to turn my head, but he forced me to face the screen.

there i was — mouth open, cheeks streaked with tears, throat bruised from his grip, tits bouncing with every savage thrust.

“say hi to the camera,” he growled.

“riki—”

he slapped my cheek lightly, just enough to make me gasp.

“say hi, or i’ll make you watch it on loop while i fuck your throat.”

i whimpered. “h-hi…”

he moaned. “fucking perfect. that’s my girl.”

he spat on my chest, rubbing it in with two fingers, then grabbed my jaw and forced it open.

“say what you are.”

i blinked at him, overwhelmed.

he thrust in deeper. my back arched off the couch.

“say. what. you. are.”

“i’m your—fuck—your slut,” i gasped. “your fucktoy. your personal little whore.”

he laughed darkly, phone still pointed at my face.

“and what do you let me do to you?”

“anything.”

“louder.”

“anything!” i cried out. “you can do anything to me—use me—fuck me however you want—i’m yours!”

his hand wrapped tighter around my throat, cutting off the rest of my breath, and he fucked into me even harder. i was drenched, overstimulated, stretched wide and helpless beneath him, twitching on every stroke.

“gonna cum for the camera?” he sneered. “gonna show everyone how messy you get when i ruin your little virgin hole?”

“yes,” i sobbed. “riki, i’m gonna—fuck—please, don’t stop—”

“that’s it,” he whispered. “cum for me. cum like the fucking toy you are.”

his thumb rubbed over my clit and i shattered. again.

i screamed — a raw, broken sound — as my body convulsed, every muscle locking up, pleasure crashing over me in brutal, dizzying waves.

he kept fucking me through it, drawing it out until i was nothing but shaking limbs and filthy moans and wet, ruined heat around his cock.

“you’re a mess,” he muttered, finally slowing. “all on camera. and you love it.”

“i do,” i breathed, dizzy. “i love it.”

“say it.”

“i love being your toy.”

he kissed me then — messy, possessive, breath-stealing.

and when he finally hit stop on the recording, he held the phone up, showed me the thumbnail.

“gonna keep this forever,” he murmured. “gonna watch it every night i can’t have you.”

then he leaned in close and whispered—

“next time, you’ll beg me to hit record.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“get on top of me,” he said, still breathless, eyes dark.

i blinked. “what?”

“ride me,” he growled, slapping my thigh. “i want to see what you look like using yourself on my cock.”

he laid back on the couch, one arm draped lazily behind his head — like he wasn’t wrecked, like he hadn’t just spent the last hour fucking me into a mattress.

his other hand? gripping his phone again. hitting record.

“riki,” i whispered, throat raw.

“go ahead, baby,” he said. “show the camera what a desperate little mess you are.”

my legs shook as i climbed over him, straddling his hips, breath catching when i saw how hard he still was.

he grabbed the base of his cock and held it in place.

“sit,” he said.

i sank down, slow, too slow for him. his teeth clenched.

“fuck,” he hissed. “tight even after i broke you open. your pussy’s never gonna forget me.”

i moaned, hips lowering until he was buried deep again — thick, stretching me so good i couldn’t breathe.

he aimed the phone up at me.

“hands on your tits,” he ordered.

i did. fingers trembling as i squeezed, my body on full display.

“now ride.”

i started moving — slow at first, rolling my hips, letting him watch the way his cock disappeared inside me again and again.

“look at you,” he muttered, watching through the screen. “so fucking cockdrunk. ruining yourself on me like it’s your purpose.”

his free hand came up, thumb brushing my clit.

i gasped, already so sensitive it made me jolt.

“don’t slow down,” he warned. “you don’t stop ‘til i say.”

i bounced harder, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the room, wet and obscene.

“you’re dripping down my balls,” he groaned. “gonna show this video to your future boyfriend someday. let him see what a stretched-out whore you were for me first.”

i choked on a moan. my thighs shook.

“he won’t want you after this,” riki said, sitting up suddenly to grab my face. “not after i show him how easy you were to break. how good you are at fucking yourself stupid on my cock.”

his mouth crushed mine, all teeth and spit and heat. i whimpered against him, grinding harder.

he pulled away just enough to whisper against my lips:

“cum like a good little bitch.”

i did.

i clenched around him so hard i nearly collapsed, crying out, legs locking up as the pleasure took me over again. i kept moving, hips still grinding, even as my body begged to stop.

he grabbed my throat, just tight enough.

“keep going.”

“riki—i c-can’t—”

“you fucking will.”

he was close. i could feel it in the way he jerked beneath me, the way his eyes snapped from my face to the phone screen to where our bodies were joined.

“gonna paint your insides again,” he muttered. “gonna cum so deep you taste it in your throat.”

with one final thrust up into me, he grabbed my hips and slammed me down.

he groaned — long, low, filthy — as he filled me up again, cock twitching inside me, fingers bruising my waist.

the phone still recorded.

i didn’t care.

i collapsed on his chest, skin burning, body twitching, unable to even pretend i wasn’t completely, totally owned.

he stopped the video. kissed the side of my head.

then whispered, “you’re gonna watch that with me later while i make you cum all over again.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

riki’s weight pressed into me, heavy and warm, breath ragged and voice low as he whispered, “you did so good baby.”

i was still trembling, hands freshly untied but resting limply on the couch cushion. my skin burned where the string had bitten, cheeks flushed from tears and pleasure and something darker i wasn’t ready to name.

his fingers traced slow circles on my back, rough nails scratching just enough to sting without pain. “don’t think you get to run off now,” he muttered, voice thick with satisfaction. “i want you right here.”

i swallowed hard, heart hammering. “riki, you’re disgusting.”

he chuckled, lips ghosting over mine. “disgusting enough to want you crawling back tomorrow, yeah?”

“maybe.”

he pulled me upright, hands sliding under my arms to haul me against his chest. i tasted salt and musk on his skin. his hands roamed possessively — over my ribs, down my waist, under my thighs — squeezing like he was marking me.

“my filthy girl,” he growled. “you’re mine.”

“not so sure you earned that,” i teased breathlessly, tipping my chin up to meet his gaze.

“i don’t have to earn what’s already mine.”

he kissed me hard, tongue dragging over my bottom lip, biting, tasting. his hand slid down between us, thumb flicking over my swollen clit. i gasped, arching into him despite myself.

“such a needy little brat,” he whispered, fingers slick and demanding. “you think you’re safe now? i’m just getting started.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the next night, i found myself standing outside his door again.

had i lost my goddamn mind?

the cool night air did nothing to calm the heat pooling low in my belly. my hoodie felt like a mask — half to hide how wrecked i was, half to hide how desperate.

riki opened the door before i could knock. that smirk—dangerous and lazy—spread across his face.

“thought i told you no sneaking around.”

“didn’t listen,” i said, stepping inside.

he grabbed my wrist, yanking me close enough to feel the rapid beat of his heart.

“good girl,” he murmured. “but you’re gonna get in trouble.”

“worth it.”

he dragged me into his room, shoving me against the wall. his mouth found mine—hard, claiming.

“you’re gonna beg me to punish you.”

“please,” i whispered, breathless.

“fuck, you’re filthy.” his hands roamed everywhere, ripping off my hoodie, yanking down my shorts. “always ready for me. always aching.”

he pushed me to the bed, hands wrapping around my wrists again, pinning me as he grinned against me hard and fast—dirty words spilling from his lips with every thrust.

“say it,” he demanded. “say who you belong to.”

“riki,” i moaned. “only you.”

“good girl.”

after, he held me close, fingers trailing over my skin like a promise — dirty, possessive, endless.

“message received?” he teased.

i smiled, still trembling. “message loud and clear.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

bittenbyenhypen 2025 ™

[borderlineex]

₊˚⊹౨ armed & adored ৎ ₊˚⊹

sam winchester x reader

It had been a long week—ghouls in Michigan, a haunted library in Ohio, and now, finally, a moment to breathe in a quiet motel just outside of Lebanon. Sam had suggested a break from hunting and a quiet night of research (classic Sam), and you happily agreed. It was rare to have downtime, especially with both Winchesters in one piece.

You sat cross-legged on the bed, scrolling through old lore books, surrounded by empty coffee cups and snack wrappers. The room smelled faintly of vanilla from your travel candle, and the hum of the A/C was a soothing background noise.

“Hey, Y/N, I think I found something…” Sam’s voice trailed off as he walked out of the bathroom, rubbing his towel-dried hair with one hand, completely unaware that your soul was about to leave your body. Because Sam was wearing a tank top. A gray, perfectly innocent, probably-soft cotton tank top.

But that tank top did things. It clung to him just enough to showcase those ridiculously toned arms, the curve of his shoulders, and the gentle dip of his collarbone. His skin still glistened slightly from the shower, and his hair—now loose and slightly wavy—framed his face like some sort of divine gift. You forgot how to read. How to breathe. How to function.

“...Y/N?” he asked, looking at you with soft, concerned eyes.

You blinked quickly. “Sorry, what?”

Sam tilted his head. “You okay? You were staring.”

“I was not!” you blurted out way too fast. “I was just… zoning out.”

A small smirk tugged at his lips. “Zoning out at my arms?”

Your face went nuclear.

“I mean, not on purpose!” you squeaked, trying to bury your face in your book and your shame.

Sam chuckled, low and fond, and sat down beside you on the bed, his ridiculously warm shoulder brushing yours. “You know, if you like them that much, you can just say so.”

You peeked at him from behind the book. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Very much.” He grinned, the dimple in his cheek making a surprise appearance. “But for the record…” He leaned in a little, voice lower now. “I think it’s cute.” Sam gave you a look that was so soft it made your chest ache. “You know... I think you’re the cutest thing I’ve seen in a long time.”

Silence stretched for a beat too long before you muttered, “Even cuter than your muscles?”

He laughed, a full, real laugh that made his eyes crinkle. “That’s a high bar… but yeah. Definitely.”

You tried to hide your face again, but Sam reached out, gently pulling the book away and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Next time,” he said, “maybe I’ll wear the tank top on purpose—just for you.”

You nodded, already a goner. “I think I’m okay with that.”

And just like that, the great tank top Incident became the beginning of something very good.

A few days after , things had almost gone back to normal. Except for one small problem: you couldn’t stop thinking about Sam’s arms. It wasn’t just the way they looked (though, let’s be real, wow), it was the way they moved when he carried heavy books, or swung a duffel over his shoulder, or absentmindedly scratched the back of his neck while reading lore. They were like works of art — functional and ridiculously attractive.

But the worst part? You still hadn’t touched them. You were dying. Dying. It wasn’t like you could just ask to cop a feel out of nowhere. You had dignity. You had restraint. You had—

“Hey, Y/N, can you give me a hand with this?” Sam called from across the bunker’s library.

You turned and nearly dropped your tea. He was wearing another tank top. This time, it was navy blue and even more offensive to your self-control than the last one. He was standing next to a stack of dusty boxes and looking like he just walked off the set of some lumberjack romance novel. You walked over, heart doing weird little flips, and helped him move a box of books. Your hand brushed his bicep by accident and holy crap.

“Everything okay?” he asked, noticing how you froze.

You cleared your throat. “Yep. Totally normal. Just... evaluating.”

His brow furrowed. “Evaluating?”

You sighed. “Okay, listen. This is going to sound weird, but… for scientific purposes—and only for science—I feel it’s important that I, um, touch your arm. Like... intentionally.”

Sam blinked. Then grinned. “Scientific purposes, huh?”

You nodded solemnly. “Peer-reviewed.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of science.”

With a slight chuckle, he flexed just the tiniest bit and held out his arm toward you, like some kind of Greek god volunteering for worship. You gulped and placed your hand gently on his bicep. Warm. Firm. Ridiculous. You squeezed lightly. Then again, just to be sure. You may have sighed audibly.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“I’ve concluded,” you said with all the seriousness you could muster, “that you are, in fact, built like a tree.”

Sam laughed so hard he had to sit down on the nearest chair. “A tree?”

“A big, stupidly handsome one. With very huggable branches.”

He was still chuckling when you sat next to him, letting your hand rest comfortably on his arm this time, no more hiding it. It felt... easy. Familiar. Safe.

“You know,” he said softly, voice quieter now, “you don’t need a scientific excuse to touch me.”

You smiled up at him. “Maybe not. But it helped.”

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “Next time, just say you want to cuddle.”

You leaned into his side, content and giddy. “Well, if we’re skipping the peer review, then I want both arms. Full wrap-around.”

Sam wrapped both arms around you instantly, warm and secure. “Happy to contribute to the research.”

[midnightquips]

That Old Feeling

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: It's been years since you've seen Bucky Barnes. You didn't plan to see him, but he definitely didn't look surprised to see you. Something's different, though. The looks. The heat. Maybe it's always been there. Maybe... you've just been too blind to see it before.

Themes: AU Thunderbolts, teasing officemates, possessive Bucky, friend's ex, Thunderbolts chaos (a consistent theme), friends-to-lovers, college crush so pining

🔴 MINORS DNI 🔴 Warnings: 18+ content, eventual smut, dirty talk, praise kink, soft aftercare, pwp, piv sex, unprotected sex

💫 That Old Feeling Masterlist 📌 Sign Up for TAGLIST

Chapter 2

Part III – What Are We Doing? 

You’re relieved that you managed to avoid Bucky for most of the day. You were almost successful. Until now.

You’re walking across the nearly empty parking lot, tote bag slung over one shoulder, head full of numbers from a late client call, when you spot him. Leaning against your car. Because of course he is.

“Seriously?” you mutter under your breath.

He hears you, then straightens up like he’s been waiting. Which, judging by the look on his face, he absolutely has.

“You stalking me now?” you call as you approach.

He shrugs, completely unbothered. “Saw you forgot your charger at your desk. Figured I’d bring it out. Do the chivalrous thing.”

You had been looking for your charger before you left and wondered where it was. How suspicious it was with him. You had a feeling he did this on purpose. But what bothered you more was how it actually didn’t bother you. 

You reach for it, but he doesn’t hand it over. He simply holds it up between two fingers like bait.

You narrow your eyes. “What do you want, Barnes?”

He pauses. Then: “Dinner.”

Your brain stutters. “What?”

He softens, the smile less cocky now. “Dinner. As in, let me take you to one.”

You blink. “Like… a date?”

“I mean, you kissed me like you might want to sit across from me for an hour and eat pasta.”

“That was…” You trail off, then try again. “That was just—”

“Tequila and nostalgia?”

You frown.

He grins. “I know what you’re gonna say. I just figured I’d ask politely instead of begging on my knees.”

You sigh and cross your arms. “Why?”

“Because I want to,” he says simply. “Because I think we missed something back then. And I’d like to see if we can get it right now.”

It’s annoyingly sincere. You hate how your stomach flips. “I don’t date coworkers.”

“You don’t date ex-roommates’ exes either,” he points out. “And yet...”

You scowl. “You’re really not gonna let that go, huh?”

“Not when I finally have a shot.”

The silence stretches. You shift your weight, glance at your car and finally back at him.

“Fine,” you say eventually. “Dinner. As colleagues. Reconnecting.”

His eyes sparkle. “Sure. Totally professional.”

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t get cocky.”

He smirks. “No promises.”

He hands you the charger and walks you to the driver’s side, like he’s worried the car might disappear if he looks away. You pause before unlocking it.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Not really.” He shrugs smugly

You shake your head, not able to keep the small smile from appearing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re gorgeous.”

You stare at him. His words catching you off-guard. 

His expression shifts and slows. “Can I say that?”

You swallow. “You just did.”

Suddenly, he steps in closer. It was just a few inches but you can feel the heat between you, the memory of his hands on your skin already creeping up your spine.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about last night,” he says, voice low. “The way you tasted. The way you moved.”

Your breath catches. “Bucky…”

“I know,” he says, raising his hands. “Not the time. Not the place. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say I want more of it.”

You try to keep your voice steady. “We said it was just a moment.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “But I want another one.”

You’re quiet. Too quiet. Because your brain is busy screaming danger and your body is saying please.

And then, before you can change your mind, before you can throw logic back in his face, he leans in. You think he’s going to kiss your cheek again. Polite. Safe. But his mouth lands right beside yours again. Like it did yesterday but this time on purpose. 

The kiss is on the edge of your lips. You shift just slightly. Just enough that suddenly it’s a kiss again.

This one’s different this time. Not frenzied. Not wild. Just slow. Deep. The kind of kiss that builds heat in your chest and travels down your spine like a fuse. 

He groans into it, low and quiet, like he’s been waiting all day for this exact moment. You part your lips, let him in, just once. He brings his hand to hold your face, sliding his tongue into your mouth. 

It makes your gasp. Then, you step back. Because if you don’t, you’re going to let him fuck you in the backseat of your car.

He’s breathing harder than before. Eyes hooded.

You lick your lips, but regret it instantly.

“Text me,” you say, unlocking the door. “If you still want to have dinner when your brain’s back online.”

He opens your door for you, still dazed. “I already do.”

You slide in. “Try not to camp out by my bumper tomorrow.”

“No promises.” 

You close the door before you can smile too much. But you see it in the mirror as you drive off. Bucky is standing there, watching you go, looking like he’s already planning what to wear.

Taglist: @enchantingwitchballoon @emilyswortwellen @tellybearryyyy @kiatjuddae @Luannastylinsonlupin @OtterlyCanadian @winchestert101 @bxtchboy69 @biggestfangirl @luannastylinsonlupin @Sebastians-love @fveapplestall @snhoe @ruexj283 @avengersfan25 @in-omn1a-paratus @avengemepercy

[yokedtablet]

'lucky you'

a sweet little abby/nora fic inspired by convos with @cinnamonstrr and @gardengnosticator contents: canon nora/abby, FLUFF, cuddling, weed smoking, jealousy over exes, owen mentioned (sorry), hickeys, suggestive content (smut will come later I promise) wc: 1k

They're curled on the couch under the bleachers—a long-forgotten hangout from Wolves past, and Nora’s favorite smoke spot. She has a joint dangling from her lips, pulling on it occasionally, while Abby drapes herself over Nora’s lap, head resting heavy in the crook of her hip. 

Two hits is pretty much all Abby needs to start to melt. Any more and she'll go spiraling into some out-of-body dissociative episode, and Nora prefers to avoid that—even if she's one of the only people who can talk her through it. 

She loves when Abby’s like this. Soft where she's usually hard, allowing herself the kind of touch she craves but never asks for. The constant, full-body kind, palms grazing Nora’s ribs, full weight settled onto her like a lap dog that doesn't know its size. 

They don’t talk about it much, whatever this is. The moment things turned from hard exteriors seeking comfort to two people tangled up completely with each other, Nora isn't sure. It was somewhere between the first time they came here, the desperate grabbing, rocking, frenzied need to get under clothes to skin as quickly as possible, somewhere between then and the quiet gestures… Abby leaving fresh coffee at the clinic while Nora was on break, knowing she was in for a late night. Crumpled notes with book recommendations—once, she even loaned Nora one of her prized paperbacks, all marked up and annotated like cryptic love notes. The moment it settled, though, was the ratty old sleep shirt with the worn-off graphic that Nora said she liked, just once, and then found it had mysteriously appeared (freshly washed) in her bedroom. 

Abby's thumbs glide under Nora’s sweatshirt and the thin t-shirt beneath, pleasantly rough. Spurred by finding uncovered skin, Abby pushes both layers of fabric upward—Nora shifts her hips to make this easier. 

Abby presses her lips to Nora’s abs. It’s a warm, lazy kind of touch that Nora can't imagine from anyone else. Not really looking for anything, not expecting, kissing just to kiss, just to feel, just because she wants to. 

When her teeth graze, it makes Nora shudder. Reminds her of the rougher moments between them, when they couldn’t quite figure out who was in control, neither ready to give it up just yet. Hard, needy bites along Abby’s throat that marked her for everyone else to see. Bruises on Nora’s hips from the way Abby ground her into her lap. Ripped threads of clothing discarded. 

It’s different now. Still fast and desperate sometimes, especially after patrol, especially when Abby looks too worn and too fucking tired for this world, when she needs something to remind her what she’s made of. When Scars hit their outposts and Nora watches soldier after soldier carted in, knowing she can’t help them. Because both of them are afraid of how close they are to losing something.

Nora lets herself sigh, the joint temporarily forgotten. Her fingers comb through Abby’s unbraided hair, and Abby feels them tighten. Looks up at her. Intuits what she wants. Those eyes turn from softly adoring to more determined, more needy. 

“Can I?” Abby's fingers are already working at her zipper. 

Nora just has to nod. Neither of them are huge talkers, and maybe that’s their downfall, not saying what they want. Finding it instead through layers of touch, small gestures that mean everything. 

Abby is slow and methodical, unzipping Nora’s jeans like a present. Then she pauses, sits back on her knees. It takes Nora a second to remember what she's looking at. 

“Is this a joke?”

“Oh, yeah.” Nora scoots herself upright, laugh crackling through her throat. “I forgot about that.”

Abby runs her fingers over the embroidery. ‘Lucky you,’ sewn into the inside fold of her jeans in white thread. 

“You did this yourself?” She sounds half-impressed.

“No,” she says cautiously, watching Abby's face. “An ex.”

There’s that hardening over, betrayed by the barely-there flush in her cheeks. Jealous. 

“Which one?”

“Do you actually want to know?” 

“Do I know her, at least?” Poor Abby. She doesn’t hide her insecurity well—as if Nora could look at anyone else now. Nora’s never said it, but the first time they actually kissed, she thought she might have dreamed the whole thing. Abby, combat boots and mountain of muscle, Abby going pink in the face when Nora offered her a joint, Abby gasping into her mouth like she was drowning. As if.

Nora clears her throat. “Maggie. She works in the kitchen.” And then, before Abby can argue: “You were with Owen.”

“Don’t remind me.” She settles back against Nora’s hip, this time more stiff, more distant, despite the heavy arm draped over Nora’s torso. After a few breaths, her fingers return to the embroidery. “You kept them, though.”

“Do you know how hard it is to find a pair of jeans that actually fits around here?” (When she finds work pants that actually give her enough breathing room, they’re usually several inches too long, and Nora resorts to rolling them above her ankles.)

“I do, actually.” When Abby laughs, it sends gentle puffs of warmth across her stomach. 

Nora unconsciously shifts closer, fingers tracing the edge of her jaw. “I’m sure I can find a seam ripper somewhere, if you hate it so much.”

“Ugh.” Abby lets out a low groan, vibrating through Nora’s core. “I don’t hate it.”

“You are lucky. You know that, right?”

“Shut up.” She presses a harder kiss into Nora’s hip, this time sucking in a little bruise until Nora whimpers. Then she soothes it over with her thumbs, admiring the mark. 

“You keep that up, I’ll give you one in a place you can’t hide.” 

“Hm. Maybe I’ll take you up on that.” Abby slides up her body, warm, wide palm replacing her lips on Nora’s stomach, and curls herself into Nora’s lips. 

(read on ao3)

------

Taglist: @gardengnosticator @smellslike-updyke @ellies-moth-to-a-flame @cinnamonstrr @elliemulate @arabellyn @abbysreal-wife @winestainedwhiskers @thenameissnix @enmauchimaki @rareanduselessbird @justanotherabbystan @glass-apothecary @hostileplanets (reply to be added or removed!)

[kingchroma]

Hey I loved your Gitae headcanons....

Can you please write Jichang kwak headcanons tooo

jichang kwak headcanons

࿇ pairing. jichang kwak x reader

࿇ disclaimer. might be ooc! mentions of trauma as well. i always put a disclaimer like this since some readers or fans of jichang may not like my headcanons or how i view him as. i’m always open for discussion (for any of the characters) though! thank you. i like learning about how you guys see your faves ࿇ author's note. sorry for posting late and thank you for your trust in my writing! to those reading this, requests are open as always (i don’t think i’ve closed it lmao) so you’re free to let me know what else you want to see me write!

masterlist. ࿇ requests.

IN GENERAL...

࿇ With Jichang, you have to acknowledge that he had gone through, what I feel like, all sorts of trauma during his time in Seoul.

࿇ Getting kicked out of the city by Gitae Kim, is in fact, a light testament of how the brute of a man had forcibly removed him from his position as king—swinging his axe haphazardly, but with the intent to inevitably get rid of Jichang not just from being the ruler of Seoul, but from the world in itself.

࿇ How he was beaten by James Lee twice to the point he had pitied him, not even bothering to remove a limb because he was just not worth it in the legend’s eyes.

࿇ How he was called weak not just by in losing fights, but in many different ways that had gone through his head.

࿇ I think it blew irreversible damage to his confidence and ego—especially if you think about how he felt during that time; how fresh it all feels for him.

࿇ How can the former King of Seoul be reduced to this?

࿇ I feel like it would take time for Jichang to heal from all of that, and while it doesn’t hurt as much as it did for him, it’s like a certain type of grief that lingers in his body, heart, and mind. There are reminders everywhere of what he had lost and what he had become, and so it will take a lot of patience with him.

࿇ Moving onto the lighter things, I want to take notice of how caring and loving he is towards his brothers. That one panel of him feeding them in Seoul and how he had advised Jinrang to break his shackles in order to protect his siblings—his pack—I feel like he greatly resonated with that, and that shows how much love he has for those who he truly cares about.

࿇ He’s strict—all business when needed be. And while I know that the Jichang from Seoul and the Jichang from Chungcheong are still somehow different, he still carries that with him.

࿇ I feel like he would be overprotective too given how he had ensured that Bakgu Noh was safe from the threats that possibly haunted the old man. While he did owe Bakgu Noh a lot of things (I forgot if anything was implied regarding this, please feel free to remind me), he’s protective still.

IN DATING...

࿇ Since I did mention that Jichang carries a lot of trauma from the past, basically demeaning himself from time to time, he’ll need reassurance from you.

࿇ In relationships, partners reassure their lovers that it’s completely okay that they get affected from their traumas—from situations that happened years ago—especially if it gets triggered on a random day, and you are that kind of person towards Jichang, but I feel like he also knows that he has to get better from this.

࿇ That he’s safer now here in Chungcheong surrounded by his loved ones, how he’s with someone as patient as you. How he knows that you love him, and that love will fuel his desire to become better and to heal from that.

࿇ Since the dangers never end, and despite the quietness that the province holds, he would make sure that you’re okay and that he knows where you are. That might seem overbearing, but it’s really just for your safety—and it eases his mind honestly.

࿇ He would be a real romantic though. I mean at first he would probably be a little nonchalant towards you, afraid to show affection or still hide behind his mask, but you’ll eventually break all that down and you’ll realize that there’s a man who loves you purely and softly despite how rough of a background he had.

࿇ I think he’d be a little insecure with handholding considering the state of his hands. It’s particularly messed up with marks from the past, and every time he sees them, he’s reminded that he uses these hands to hurt people and to protect.

࿇ But whenever you hold them without any complaint and in gentleness, he’s amazed. Jichang would probably think how you’re possibly just stomaching to hold his hand because that’s what couples do.

࿇ He’s an overthinker too, and so you will reassure him, calm him down that you’re not just holding it even though it’s mortifying to look at. You tell him that you’re holding it because you want to.

࿇ And he’s probably thinking oh, that’s possible?

࿇ Dating him also means that you get little spies—his brothers. And while Jibeom is the most normal about this, I feel like Jihan would be a little more mischievous. After all, he’s still a kid in his teens. God forbid he was curious about his hyung’s love life!

࿇ Jichang is the type to date to marry, so if he dated you.. sweetheart, you better be ready for a ring in the future.

࿇ Would probably call you darling, sweetheart, love… the likes.

࿇ He would be a good listener and the best person to go to if you need advice from life.

[miffyshu]

why do I feel hollow? | sylus qin

summary | in which sylus becomes her caim, providing comfort in the most uncertain times sheltering her hollow, fractured heart.

tags & warnings | sylus x non!mc, female oc, academic au, neurodivergent oc, angst, academic burnout, mild fluff, mentions of mental health. (n.) lit. a “sanctuary”; an invisible circle of protection, drawn around the body with the hand, that reminds you that you are safe and loved, even in the darkest of times.

word count: 1.07k (proofread!)

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The rain. for most people it brought peace and tranquillity calming the nerves, it brought sustenance and growth to saplings and plants. But for Minju, it was the complete opposite: it was noisy, and hellish. The constant thumping of the raindrops drove her mad, especially when she was trying to concentrate on her law essay; it was like a sledgehammer pummelling against her skull. Minju had tried every possible thing; white noise, earplugs, moving to a different room, nothing worked. Minju flopped on her bed like a flimsy pool noodle flailing on water. Everything was, pointless.

Drowning in expectations — the feeble cries for help were misunderstood and neglected. Until help came from the most unexpected place.

Sylus: Hey, sweetie. Is everything okay? You weren't in class today. I was thinking about you..

Her phone buzzed again, snapping her out of her reverie, as she focused on the task at hand before getting distracted again.

Sylus: Dear. Please open the door. I'm waiting for you outside and it's raining, please let me in before I catch a cold.

She almost choked on her saliva. Sylus? At her door? She shot a glance at the clock on her bedside table, which read: 12:35AM. Minju tossed herself into her upstairs manual wheelchair to the stairs so she could use her seated lift. Before she forgot again she shot him a quick text.

Minju: I'm on my way down.

Guilt churned in her stomach. He was worried about her. And now he was standing in the rain because of her. Carefully, she wobbled to the front door reaching as high as she possibly could, to touch and open the door. Curse having a 4’7 body.

Finally, the door clicked open; a broad, towering silhouette resembling a wet racoon stood in front of her in the drizzling rain; Sylus.

Seeing her dazed expression on her face, as fresh as a coat of paint, he snickered teasingly. “What's the matter, dove?” He perused, his lips failing to suppress the very palpable smirk plastered on his face. “You weren't expecting your oh-so-handsome knight in shining armour to come running to his damsel in distress?”

Minju guffawed. Pompous as always, “Yeaaah I'm in soooooo much trouble! Save me!” she mocked, rolling her eyes at him letting him in before he drowned in the buckets of water, being chucked from the sky.

The boy took off his drenched sneakers, placing them on the mat, before she sat back on the lift looking at him as she went up. “So…what brings you here? Besides, how did you know where I live?”

It suddenly dawned on her that this was the first impression of her house.“I was worried about you.” He was candid in his speech and posture - his behaviour became completely paradoxical as soon as he was posed with such a question. She puffed her cheeks in annoyance. What did he think she was? A five year old? Yeah, right! There's no way someone like him would bat an eyelid at her, let alone visit her at this supposed ‘scandalous hour’ under the veil of darkness. Tonight was going to be a looooong night.

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“Sylus, be honest with me.” Minju sat across from him, her eyes piercing his, arms crossed, nonplussed. “Why are you here, not that…I'm ungrateful it's just…”

“Just what?” Sylus echoed, a hint of mirth reflected in his eyes, a gleam - which could only mean one thing. Mischief. He laid relaxed on her bed, hugging her pillow, “I thought I made myself perfectly clear, sweetie, I'm here to see you…” He recited the exact words in his messages matter-of-factly, which only boiled her animosity towards him tenfold.

“Fine,” She retorted, swivelling in her chair, “You can stay there and ogle at me all you want, cos you're clearly bored - or shut up and get lost.” A veil of silence draped over them, truth be told - she didn't mean to sound as harsh as she did but she was at her wits end; her patience waning thin.

Hunger corroded her stomach. She hadn't eaten anything for the past few hours. Running on fumes and a string of feeble hopes and dreams. Her posture, slumped - something akin to a dead shrimp, her eyelids barely open like slits. Exhaustion crashed over her like waves against the shore, eroding any sliver of defence she had.

Of course, this didn't go unnoticed by Sylus, who had keenly been picking at her mannerisms. The way she would slump in her chair when she would get exhausted, not bothering with the teachers. Or how she wouldn't pay attention in class, especially maths. Or how these past few days, the light in her eyes seemed to slowly dwindle, till there was nothing but a feeble flicking ember.

Tentatively, he stood up, scooping her up in his arms as if she were a porcelain doll. He would often hear whispers, laments on how she saw herself as “imperfect.” & “fat” In Sylus' eyes she was nothing like that. She was just herself, nothing more nothing less. Like a levitating feather, he gently placed her on the bed, making sure the pillows adequately supported her to prevent any back pain. She groaned in her restless slumber tossing and turning, her stomach growled, a monster roaring demanding to be fed.

Sylus frowned, how long had she gone without eating? Did she even realise how dangerous it was? Knowing that rummaging through her kitchen wouldn't be very…‘gentlemanly,’ but he had to try to get her to eat something.

Carefully, he made his way to the kitchen, it smelt like a haven of aromatic spices all attacking his senses at once. She was definitely a foodie. ‘Cute.’ thought Sylus as he rifled through the cupboards to find the needed utensils.

Eventually, he decided on making egg fried rice. Easy, quick and filling. To avoid fucking up, because he didn't want to make something inedible and…(because he low-key wants to impress her) Sylus browsed through YouTube to find a recipe and found one called, “Uncle Roger's Egg Fried Rice,” He connected his earphones and played the video, “Hello, niece and nephew, welcome back to uncle Roger’s channel…”

Unbeknownst to him a small shadow stood behind the door, watching him too scared to see the signs or look him in the eyes. The question was would she allow him to help her before she completely destroyed herself?

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© miffyshu — 2025 | please do not copy or steal & absolutely no feeding to a.i

likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated! (๑ > ᴗ < ๑)

[shiftesque]

　　ℱASHION DESIGNER DR

　　　　　　　　　　　　introduction　to　rafa luciani.

　

I. The Coast Raised Me　　the sea was my first mirror. I saw myself in the shimmer — soft, flickering, bold when kissed by sunlight. I was born in amalfi, where the cliffs speak louder than people do and the lemons are sweeter than most first loves. there, the mornings smelled like salt and espresso, and the breeze knew all my secrets.

my childhood was stitched in linen and laughter. sketchbooks filled with crooked boys and divine silhouettes. jewelry I made from sea glass and wire. my nonna said I was born to dazzle — I think I was just bored of the ordinary. even as a boy, I knew beauty wasn’t optional. it was survival.

summers were everything: birthdays, sunburns, my cousins screaming over gelato, and the beginning of that flutter in my chest when I looked too long at beautiful boys.

　

II. Rome, Then Milan　　I left the sea like you leave a first love — with a suitcase full of guilt and every intention to make it worth it.

rome taught me spectacle. the loudness of design, the confidence of draping something impossible. I studied there first, in a crumbling old school that smelled like chalk and ambition. my professors said I was precocious. my classmates said I was dramatic. they were all right.

but milan- milan was the fire. that city didn’t care who I was. it cared what I made. at the institute, I bled beauty. fabrics, patterns, seams that told stories. they said I had a gift. I said I had a voto.

a vow: to make fashion not only wearable, but holy. to make it accessible, but unforgettable. to give the world something that shimmered in sun and shadow.

and when I launched my line back home, under that name, VOTO- I made sure it smelled like salt and lemon zest. like the promises I whispered to the sea.

　

III. A Promise in Silk　　it started as a sketch. a single line, curved like a wave. no label, no price tag- just motion. just feeling.

that sketch became my first dress. the dress became my vow. and the vow became VOTO.

I named the brand after the promise I made to my childhood self: create beauty, without cruelty. design clothes that feel like home, even if home is a memory. make softness fierce, and fierceness soft.

I built VOTO from the hemline up. couture, yes- but also linen shirts that flutter in the breeze, cropped jackets worn by poets and punks, jewelry that looks like it was pulled straight from the tidepool.

they called me the sun’s tailor. the sea’s stylist. a designer for those who feel too much, and still want to be seen.

and maybe that’s true. but to me, it’s just fashion the way it should be — not untouchable, but unforgettable.

　

IV. They Came To Flirt, Then Stayed To Stay　　it was supposed to be a quiet summer. home again in amalfi. sketchbook in one hand, gelato in the other, sand between my toes. a break from milan. a break from people.

then they showed up. three men. sunburnt, loud, wildly out of sync with each other, and even worse at flirting. they asked if I was single with the grace of a pack of stray dogs, and joost — god bless him — told me I “look like I pull.” whatever that means.

they were ridiculous. and they were perfect. jere was the first one I noticed — grinning like the world was made just for him, black eyeliner smudged from the heat, shirt unbuttoned and heart completely, terrifyingly open. he handed me a flower and forgot he was still holding his beer. I kept both. tommy was quieter at first. eyelashes like sins and the strangest, stillest kind of attention. he spoke like a poem someone left crumpled in their pocket. it took one glance at my sketchbook — open on a café table — for him to say, “you drew me.” I did. I had. I would again. and joost? joost was chaos incarnate. golden hair, mischief-bright eyes, and an emotional hurricane of affection. he found one of my doodles — tiny, secret, folded in a novel I was reading — and held it like it was a love letter. he never gave it back.

they were only meant to be summer. a flirtation. a fever dream. but when the season changed, they didn’t leave. they said I was the glue. the pulse. the one who turned “us” from a joke to a promise. I think they were always meant to stay.

　

V. The Designer’s Heart　　I am not subtle. I was never meant to be. I wear bracelets like memories and rings like warnings. painted nails, sun-warmed skin, perfume like lemon blossoms and clean cotton. every shirt I own is slightly sheer, perfectly draped, a little too low at the collar. I call it effortless. it takes three hours.

there is always something growing around me. wildflowers in my tote bag. sketches blooming across napkins, receipts, sun-faded pages. love, mostly. that’s the thing I grow best.

I fall in love easily — with clouds, with strangers, with the shape of someone’s hands. but when I love you, you’ll know. because I’ll dress you like a prayer. I’ll know your favorite color before you do. I’ll stitch little secrets into your lining. they say I’m bold, but I think I’m just brave enough to care.

I talk with my hands. I laugh too loudly. I blush all the time but you can’t tell- I’m too tan for it to show. (I’m grateful. It saves me from questions I’m not ready to answer.)

and my boys — my heart — they know every version of me. the dramatic genius. the barefoot beach flirt. the one who cries when the espresso’s too good. the one who falls asleep with his head on joost’s stomach, his fingers laced with jere’s, his ankle resting on tommy’s knee. they kiss me like they’re proud of me.

sometimes I think that’s what VOTO really stands for. a promise. a vow. a vow to stay soft. to stay sunlit. to stay mine.

　

[riteliso]

S01E04

Yeah, I get it, my girl's bed is WAY too soft

AND I MEAN MY REAL GIRFRIEND

I'M NOT CALLING ADORA MY GIRLFRIEND I'M NOT THAT KIND OF KINNIE

MY GIRLFRIEND IS REAL SHE GOES TO A DIFFERENT COUNTRY

MY GIRLFRIEND IS REAL AND SHE'S NOT A CARTOON CHARACTER

I'M THE CARTOON CHARACTER

LAUGH AT HER NOT ME

Why would a bed work this way

More parallels but I forgot this one happened so I don't have the first half where shadow weaver does her "don't disappoint me" bullshit

Also I appreciate the parallel and I appreciate that our Queen here has plenty of faults that have impacted her daughter negatively but the parallels kinda don't hit as hard when shadow weaver is so

And Queen Angella is so

WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU FUCKIGN LESBIANS

YOU FUCKIN WEIRDO

I HAVE TRIED TO DISSECT THIS SCENE SO MANY TIMES IN MY HEAD

DID CATRA JUST TELL HER THIS IS HOW FRIENDS SLEEP TOGETHER

WHAT IS WRONG WITH HER

WHAT'S WRONG WITH EITHER OF THEM

YOU FUCKIN FREAKS

GOD

Yeah, hi, you fuckin milquetoast headass

I love you too but you're boring

Come over for board game night all ready for some Oath or Arcs or Gloomhaven and they've got out TROUBLE

FUCKING TROUBLE

THAT'S NOT EVEN AS GOOD AS SORRY

They're lovely they're just old they remember 9/11 you know how it is

Put little nametags for where everyone's gonna sit :(

You set a dumbass up to fail :(

I feel like they almost kissed in spin the bottle or something and they're both still mad about it

They've just got a bad energy between them

He's actually really very nice

Prrow

^ :-) v

I can't get her ears right

Also nice pits, girl, we love tank-tops in this household

I got caught being bad so now I can't lie and pretend I wasn't being bad :(

Me forcing my friends to explain their fumbles until I can tell them to talk to her about beyblades and tamagotchis and hello kitty next time

Chicks are easy just be interested in stupid things

Picking up autistic chicks is a series of knowledge checks that ends with the kind of head where you stop being able to feel anything below your knees

She's literally so gay that people are confused about it

People I watch this show with repeatedly don't understand that she drew that

Now, why did she hang it up on her locker? I dunno

She clearly likes to

I feel like it's odd how she CONTINUOUSLY hangs things up on her locker and then gets embarrassed about them, but there's high school kids out there wearing ahegao hoodies so what the fuck do I know

What's important is she fought with her girlfriend then went home and did a shitty drawing of her beautiful girlfriend on that awful horse

and then was so gay she HUNG IT UP ON HER FUCKING LOCKER

DESPITE THE FACT HER GIRLFRIEND IS AN ENEMY OF THE FUCKING STATE

THAT'S VERY CUTE, KITTY, BUT IT'S ALSO MIND-BOGGLINGLY STUPID

Old homophobe is like "I knew I shouldn't have let you two listen to that band with the horrid name 'scissor sisters.' I knew you couldn't be trusted. Now she's gay and it's your fault and she ran away and it's because she's gay and not because I hate gay people. She wasn't gay before"

These losers would have loved "I Can't Decide" AMVs. Catra biting Adora's arm while Adora clicks over to "You're Gonna Go Far Kid - Nightcore" because it has ponies in it

Fuckin dweebs

WHAT ABOUT YOUR OUTLIER, LADY

I think it's kinda interesting and we'll talk about it later but Catra loves Adora and hates She-ra, which is kinda in opposition to a lot of the world that surrounds the two. Of course, part of Catra's arc is learning to love She-ra and the responsibilities and role her girlfriend plays in everything, but also to temper Adora's unhinged enthusiasm for constantly playing the selfless hero. She learns to respect Adora's desire to do good, to play a bigger role, without buying into the idea that Adora deserves anything less than complete happiness.

Catra also does something I have noticed that I do, where when I talk about superheroes I actually like, mainly spider-man, I refer to them by their secret identity name when I'm happy with them, and by their superhero name when I'm upset with them. It's a very specific thing that kinda shook me when I noticed we had it in common.

Yeah, she's pretty. Yeah. YEAH OKAY. YEAH SHE'S PRETTY OKAY. I forgot what I was originally gonna type

I kinda hate this bitch

NOT AS A CHARACTER

She's a great character

This is not a swift wind situation

I just know that if I met her I'd hate every second of it

Disagreeing with her would be a pain in the ass and the only thing worse would be AGREEING WITH HER

EVERYTHING YOU'RE RIGHT ABOUT YOU'RE RIGHT ABOUT IN THE WRONG WAY

FUCK YOU

Don't gas up a girl with anxiety she'll piss her pants and cry

You're the worst

Why are they all laid out the same

Why would they ever be

Also, counter-point,

NO THEY'RE FUCKING NOT

How much time passes over the course of this show

It doesn't make any sense for-- Adora JUST got here.

Like, IN this episode. It was her first time sleeping here.

ADORA WHY DO YOU HAVE SUCH AN OUT OF DATE CODE

YOU FUCKING IDIOT

Good early character establishing work. Bow is realistic, if not a BIT underconfident, and Sparkles can't wait to bite off more than she can chew and get her ass handed to her.

Ignore the data moshing MY EYES ARE UP HERE

You could have done this the whole fucking time and you didn't your people were starving for nothing

You suck

My first time watching it this is the line that shook the dust from my bones and made me realize that we weren't looking at your average lesbian sci fi fantasy

We were looking at that PRIMO sci fi TOXIC fantasy WESTERN YURI, BABY!!!!

Jokes aside, this is a line that really does do a good job illuminating the horde's suffocating grasp on these young women and how they're able to express themselves. Using homophobic language and homoerotic language in different situations to highlight these characters' struggles while within a different context is something extremely, EXTREMELY impressive and beautiful. I don't think it could have been executed better.

Kitty wants to bring her girl back into the closet and see how many minutes they can spend in heaven before they get dragged back out

Another good parallel

This is how Catra just genuinely feels due to her unyeilding adoration of Adora. Everyone loves Adora. She loves Adora even more than most. Of course it'd be easy to get frustrated growing up in that environment.

Oh right that's where it ends is on the first Best Friend Squad mention

ALRIGHT SO

Here's how we're doing things, right? We're gonna go one episode at a time, and I'm gonna give my thoughts whenever they come up. This is a train of thought type beat, alright? Unlike my usual grandstanding authorial and analytical self, this re-watch is purely for the rant factor. If you don't know me, and you just happened upon this thread because you like reading she-ra rewatches, hello. I'm a writer from Canada who found she-ra in 2025 and is currently on her sixth watch through. From that, hopefully you can discern that I like this show, even if I'm likely gonna criticize parts of it. We good to go? Good. We start with S01 E01.

RIGHT, THE SWORD PART 1! A zoom in, with an angelic singing being drowned out by digital bloopy fright zone vibes, and then Adora being a fuckin dweeb as her leitmotif plays in a decidedly crystiline synth-y tone.

Now, what do we learn from this? This, aside from one gripe I'll have more to speak on later, is an excellent introduction. With the music alone we're essentially taken from the beauty of the planet, the overwhelming dread of the fright zone, and then into a hopeful tune that isn't FREE from these sort of digital themes in the music, but is very defined and separate FROM them.

This isn't gonna be one of those things where I praise literally every single fuckin thing so keep your panties on, I'm not gonna full-on overanalyzing avatar this shit, but the most important parts of a story are the beginning and the ending.

Now, when I say that, I am speaking pragmatically. Every part of every story is important-- but when it comes to what people remember, what they love, what they never shut up about-- it's the start and the end. You need to nail the take-off and the landing, people will forget the turbulence from the rest of the trip.

Now, what does THIS bitch's intro tell us about her? Well, a lot, honestly. Most of what we know about Adora at this point is she plays by the rules, but she is a notably goofy person. She's goofy, but she's unwilling to goof-OFF too much.

And while we get a taste of the rivalry they have instantly, with "That's low, even for you." "You know nothing's too low for me~"

We instantly see that that is not the CORE of their relationship.

I'd like to praise the voice direction in this show for the first of many times here. The voice actors do amazing work in this, and the direction can be felt throughout.

"Come on, you look stupid hanging there" can obviously be a seen as a strange first line to show the warmth these two share, but the inflection from Catra's voice actor, AJ Mikalcha, makes it read as downright sweet.

Also don't get used to me using names of the crew besides ND Stevenson because I'm so awful with names I was still calling Catra Katara half the time on my second re-watch and I was like 90% of the way to realizing I kinned her at that point

Also don't make fun of me for kinning Catra there's no RESPONSE to people making fun of you for kinning Catra THAT DOESN'T MAKE YOU SEEM MORE LIKE FUCKING CATRA OKAY

Anyway, the following scene makes it clear that this is not a one-way dynamic. The two banter, and it's clear Adora knows how to get under Catra's skin and annoy her as well. This is notable in a few places MUCH further on, but it is a difference worth highlighting NOW.

Once Adora leaves, Catra's primary goal is still to get under her skin. She's angry about it, she's mean about it, but she's still just doing what she's always done. The relationship between the two doesn't actually change as much as the context does. I'd say the relationship itself doesn't change much until the final season, at a scene I'm sure I'll have a lot to say about.

On the flip-side, Adora's goal when it comes to Catra is simply to fight her off. But that's not all there is. At points, it's clear that Adora holds some sort of REVERENCE for Catra, and while Catra is very capable of very mean things, don't get me wrong, Adora sees Catra as more of a threat than she realistically is.

At a few moments I'll point out she also relishes in getting under Catra's skin, but admittedly those are few and far between.

People have gone over this introduction billions of times, so I won't BORE you to death with it, but Shadow weaver's introduction does hint at a lot of what we'll learn later. I think it's very notable that while Shadow weaver brings a dark gloom that encompasses both our leads, her vile tendrils only dare to touch Catra. We learn the specifics of the dynamic these three have later, but it is a very unique and terrible situation to be the least favourite of an abusive guardian. Especially if you are repeatedly reminded of that fact.

I'm not gonna go over all the body language shit I've seen other text posts about it there's plenty of them a lot of focus in this show goes into tiny details where characters are constantly reacting to the world around them, and very rarely do we get lame stretches where anyone's face is just frozen and unflinching while they listen to someone else.

with all due respect to the setting at this point in time the bright moon rebellion is so pathetically anemic it's the two teens, some movie night lesbians, an immortal princess queen, and a bunch of fucking trees.

And you'd think the one carrying the team would be THE IMMORTAL PRINCESS QUEEN, BUT NO, ITS THE FUCKING TREES DOING ALL THE GOD DAMNED WORK

This introduction is fine. I don't particularly like it, nor have any strong feelings about it. It establishes the relationship between glimmer and her mother, but besides that it doesn't honestly do much. And don't come at me with "Uh, all it needs to do is establish that relationship?" Yeah, no shit, but we just had a better introduction to our other lead characters. And yes, those are the MAIN leads, the sort of heart of the show, but that doesn't mean that the other characters are unimportant. Glimmer's development later on is truly interesting, and Bow becomes a massively inspiring character. Fun jokey times are fine or whatever to show that they're immature and don't know the first thing about war, in contrast to our full-blown child soldiers raised from birth in the fright zone, but we really don't learn anything particularly INTERESTING about our best friend squad compadres in their intro, nor do we really see any of it until episode 2, to be frank.

This is something we don't actually see much of-- Catra has this ideal of being a conqueror, but it's very clear that she doesn't want that. Her threats are vapid and aimless-- She can enjoy some chaos, sure, but a shit-stirrer isn't gonna use that feces to build brick shithouses that they never intend to fall.

I think this should have been elaborated on more, personally. Catra is comically terrible with authority, and her plan, as stated later, is to wait it out until her and Adora are the ones calling the shots. But we don't really see what she thinks conquering even looks like, and it's not clear whether that's that she hasn't even imagined it and just likes evil words, or if she genuinely wants to rule with Adora as her Queen.

I gravitate towards the first, but that's partially because I wake up and post shit like "I want to destroy the world and rule its dust" and then forget I posted it when someone likes it 5 minutes later. If she do, in fact, as studies point toward, "be just like me fr," then I fully understand. If not, then I'd like to understand.

aw :(

Fuckin dweeb pulling the "my mom doesn't want me hanging out with you anymore" card

HA! Ah, what a bitch. Anyway, she's lashing out, but it's also quite tragic. A lot of people seem to think Adora IS, in some way, a people pleaser, but in reality she just has such an ingrained and violent sense of justice that she wants to right every wrong she has ever and will ever come across. She believes her validity is tied to what she can provide to the world, and she's got a natural sense of charisma, so it's natural for someone who refuses to blend in and naturally tends to put people off like Catra to have this view of her.

In reality, Adora is just-- a good person. And people LIKE good people. She's not a good person with an asterisk-- a good person with terms and conditions-- someone who falls into the definition of a good person while feeling and being treated like something else. Catra is the "a tomato is a fruit" of good people. Adora is just, like, a 1 dollar costco hotdog of a woman. An inarguable good treading water on this earth, no matter how hard it tries to pull her under.

Imagine falling for a brat with mad hops, like a fucking 50 foot vertical, you say you're too tired to play their favourite board game and they go hang out on your neighbour's roof, couldn't be me. Get fucked I guess

Yeah this is sad. Empathy is very much a learned skill, and people who don't learn empathy don't GET happy FOR people. Catra's not a complete person yet. She's not ready to be. That doesn't happen for a really long time, during an exceptionally long manic spiral. We'll get there, calm down, don't think about how far away that is and how much I've already yammered on.

Anyway, if you find yourself getting jealous or annoyed instead of getting happy for people, consider empathy isn't what you thought it was, and that you might still need to work on yourself.

fucking porno framing. Immensely sexual image, really. These bitches violently gay I suppose, I think I'm picking up on that during this sixth re-watch.

Buddy you got no idea how many problems those two already have you literally lose your little tiara at some point I think it ends up in the middle of a tree in space or something it's kinda unclear

Adora elbows her square in the nose during this so to everyone accusing Catra of physical abuse I just want it to be clear that Adora started it :/

Actually I'd like to retract that joke immediately because I know how people get about these two

My feelings are that they are literally child soldiers who were likely raised sparring each-other.

I was raised sparring other children and I ended up fine! Not for war, for Karate. And I didn't end up fine. And neither did they. Anyway, my point isn't even specifically that because this is sci-fi fantasy it's ridiculous to hold real life standards to it, it's more-so that because it's sci-fi fantasy there's extenuating circumstances that are going to affect how these two characters treat each-other. I'll go into hotter takes later, I'm sure, and get people to send me plenty of death-threats, but I'm gonna go into the nuances of exactly what forms Catra's abuse takes, and how it differs given by the separate circumstances we're shown the two in throughout the show.

my girl when I'm tryna live my best life playing as blue toad in mario 3d world

also holy shit we're only like halfway through this I am an AGONIZING yapper jesus fuck

Okay, what to say about lighthope-- well, their first words are "balance must be restored," far before they say Adora's name, so it somewhat lays out their secret priorities for us there. Besides that, I dunno, they got circuits on them? I don't have particularly strong feelings about lighthope, nor their introduction. I think they serve the setting and are written well, I just subjectively am not a sucker for the way they be. Their friendship with Mara is cute tho

I was gonna point out this is cute and how often I do this exact brat tactic but instead we data moshin, nothin wrong with a little data moshin, I'm down

This is the only reason she even wears a ponytail I'd stake my fuckin life on it

Once she leaves the fright zone that thing's fucking vestigial like a tailbone or having "any pronouns" in your bio when it's pretty clear you're very much a "she/they" type of bitch by now

glimmer why don't your windows have glass

or alternatively

how the fuck do you open and close that window

you can absolutely fucking hear her from this distance what on earth are you trying to pull

you a pillow princess tho how many of those arrows are just hitatchi magic wands attatched to a stick with duct-tape after the series ends do you think

The fuck you mean BOTTOM drawer we lookin at left and right here

or is this similar to my pillow princess comment and she's just addressing him and giving him an order

"Bottom; drawer."

It's established later on that he's a tech wiz but at this point in time they don't really give us much to lead us to the fact that he made that fucking thing

she's a freak

yes it's very sweet that she sleeps this way but I don't think it's some bdsm powerplay thing or anything like that, which would honestly be more tolerable, I think she's just like that

like how the way I'd sit in high school was to get two chairs and face them toward each-other then sit cross-legged across both

even if there weren't enough chairs to go around

people would sit on the FLOOR because I wanted to sit criss-cross-applesauce across two chairs, they wouldn't even ask for one of my chairs

also since I was sitting, again, cross-legged, it would have made more sense for ME to sit on the floor

I mean I think I got asked ONCE for one of the chairs and I just said "fine" but besides that people just let me sit on my fuckin throne

She really is kinda dumb, though. Like I ain't complaining, it's a character trait, but like obviously even if just you get in trouble Catra's gonna get blamed, you've seen it like at least once a month for your whole entire life

Mind you, can't really have Catra for the next part, because Catra's reaction to Bow and Glimmer wouldn't be "just let me have the sword" it'd be murder

oh wow we hit the image limit looks like we're doing TWO SEPARATE POSTS FOR THE VERY FIRST EPISODE YEE-HAW!!!!! THIS IS GOING TO TAKE ME FUCKING FOREVER

[threepoint14art]

I forgot i didnt post thissss

he is very normal about being raised by spring, i dont know why you'd doubt me

[automatonknight]

roddy (he/him)

[l4tchk3y]

A messy page of Espio sketches. Many many Espios. Espio forever.<3

[arealtrashact]

Second Verse

Part 1

[koinotame]

idolatry

word count: 3.1K content warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamics, half self indulgent reader insert fanfiction half character study, unreality, religious undertones, possession is discussed abstractely, hypothetical harm to reader, the yandere is subtle but it's there

summary: you've somehow been reincarnated into a version of genshin impact where all the playable characters are self aware and seem besmitten with the player. the problem is that they can't make up their minds about whether you're their player or not...

a/n: aether vs your many fake fans

the flow of time has never felt steady to aether. despite how important it was to humans wherever he and his sister have traveled, there has always been a disconnect from it for him. You disappearing for months at a time is nothing out of the ordinary. time flows the same with or without You. like the sea's waves, it recedes and pushes. when he's used as a vessel by You, weeks can pass by in the blink of an eye and hours can feel like years spent in Your embrace. years have passed since You first started possessing them, and yet it's only been a couple of months at most. nothing moves forward in Your presence, nothing stays in stasis in Your absence.

so when he suddenly truly understands how humans experience the passage of time during another one of Your disappearances, aether immediately knows something is wrong. filled with dread and a harrowing heaviness deep in his gut that something has happened he can never take back, he finally understands what it means to be desperate for more time. have You abandoned him at last? has he not been enough, not quick enough to uncover this world's secrets and find his sister as You desired? finding you, clearly not from this world and trying to backtrack when you call him by his name—aether, his name, not Your sacred name he has been passing off as his own ever since Your arrival in teyvat—before any of Your other undeserving, fanatical vessels do seems nothing short of a miracle to him.

overjoyed at not having been abandoned after all, he clings to you and promises to protect and guide you through this foreign world—this time not as Your vessel, but as your first and most devoted follower. he doesn't need to be his own person, not when he can exist within the context of you.

paimon is less convinced. aether has turned even more immoderate and unnerving ever since your appearance, and she's not a fan. she… kind of understands. how important You are to aether, to the many others You've met through them during their journey. but does he—do any of them—really need to devote their entire being to You? she doesn't mind you, as a person, she really doesn't. but she doesn't like what You as a concept do to aether.

these days, she barely feels like she's part of the group, the one she formed with aether what seems so long ago, anymore. your arrival has completely overshadowed her presence. where she was previously part of a duo with her travel companion, she feels like little more than an afterthought now. she misses him. he calls her silly for it. she has only ever known him through Your command, so there isn't anything to miss. he's the same as he has always been. she just doesn't understand because You never graced her with Your embrace, and now that you have seemingly lost that ability perhaps she will never understand.

she says nothing, but she finds herself a little glad. better to never experience Your embrace, whatever that means, than lose herself completely in devotion to someone who clearly wants none of it.

the first archon they approach with you, venti, is apologetic but firm in the notion that aether is simply confused. he can understand how aether came to the conclusion, desperate and unused as he is following Your disappearance, but Your presence is simply unmistakable. he bids the two of you farewell amicably, but you find it impossible not to notice the difference in his demeanour afterwards when you run into him around the city. his smile is deftly crafted and practiced, his voice level and fingers steady as they pluck the strings of his lyre, but something about his eyes betray his own growing desperation.

if even aether is faltering like this, perhaps You really have abandoned them this time…? if he shows You how well mondstadt is faring, how much they've rebuilt and grown and thrived since You helped him quell dvalin's anguish, will You be proud of him and return? even if not to him, at least to the city? will You ever have Your vessels dance in the city square's fountain, or make the hike up the skyfrost nail to gaze upon the beauty of the unabating grey and white landscape again?

over time, even venti wavers and starts seeing what aether has seen in you. it is equal parts acceptance and desperation that drives him to you, to the one Your faithful traveler has placed his belief in, to feel Your embrace again, even if it can never be the same as it once was. he survived thousands of years without Your grace, to fold for it now that he knows what Your benevolence feels like is nothing short of shameful. the thought gnaws at him all the while until it has consumed him whole. in the end, he has not grown at all; still that little wind spirit desperate to not lose another he holds close. somehow, when you hold him, he can't seem to mind.

while the two of them have never discussed the matter of You explicitly, aether is perceptive enough to realise zhongli is one of the most reverent of the whole… of any of Your vessels. you called them cast without thinking the other day, whatever that meant. of Your cast. so he goes to him next, telling him that You've made Your way to this world permanently, that he's found You. his first instinct is anger, anger at your lying, anger that aether, who You have blessed with Your presence more than anyone else, who You picked as Your primary vessel, would fall for such mockery. aether was astute to not bring you along when he announced this, or perhaps you knew and chose not to yourself. it matters not. he knows he has proven himself to You, that the real You would never hesitate to reveal Yourself to him. instead of expression his righteous fury, he does his utmost to reign it in. if anything, this works in his favour. he almost feels sorry for aether, wrapped so tightly around the pinkie of a fraud.

upon meeting you properly, he realises perhaps he misunderstood the situation a little. zhongli isn't a fool (when he's not blinded by momentary rage, at least), he can see how uncomfortable you are with the whole situation. while you are not blameless for continuing this facade, aether has deluded himself and cast You aside entirely on his own—and when You finally grace them with Your real presence, zhongli is certain aether will be the first to fall from Your grace. that drunkard too, falling into temptation out of loneliness like that, will get what's coming to him.

until then, all he needs to do is keep his distance and stay as he is, as Your most loyal and dedicated devotee. until then, all he needs to do is send the two of you off. there is no need for him to get violent, not when Your punishment will hurt aether all the more. he thought he was long past such childish emotions, but he supposes that even now You breathe new vigor into him.

you shy either away from visiting inazuma entirely. seeing how the previous archons have reacted to you, you have little doubt that the raiden shogun would be the first to get violent. it's a dilemma you would rather avoid altogether, if possible. just in case. maybe your worry is misplaced, but… aether, of course, can never deny You, and the raiden shogun, of course, would meet your expectations without a proper thought.

the puppet has learned since, but much of the framework of logic she used to enact the vision hunt decree and rule over inazuma in the past several hundred years remains and is hard to completely make away with in such a short amount of time. imposing ei's will on a whole nation is wrong, but arresting and doing away with someone making a ridicule of You is a completely different thing. ei remains a little more hesitant, but even she cannot bring herself to completely disagree. You are the pinnacle of eternity, of control, of life—for some mere human to be impersonating You is unacceptable. hearing the traveler, Your closest companion, has put his trust in you would give her a bit of pause. he was right last time, so maybe this time as well… but then it was You who was right through him, not him in and of himself.

ultimately, your instincts would have turned out to be correct, and she buries herself in her plane once again, leaving the shogun to continue cleaning up inazuma. on her own, she imagines herself meeting You—the true You—and what it would be like to welcome you to her nation in earnest. she wonders if You would be proud of her.

nahida knows You immediately. she is the archon of wisdom, and weak as she may be, that title is not for nothing. your presence feels a bit differently from how it did when there was much more distance between You and her, but it pushes and pulls in a similar way. she doesn't feel she needs to, but should it come to it, she could always take a quick peek at your thoughts… and she would just get confirmation that she was right from the start. now that she's free—largely by virtue of You and the traveler—her word has much more weight than before. sumeru will always welcome You with open arms. if you prefer to live more privately, she understands that. but know that you can always come to her. for anything. she really, really means it.

it's only a small, selfish part of her, and she doesn't like thinking this way or how the other archons, the ones who should recognise You right away, are treating you, but a tiny part of her deep down finds herself feeling almost proud that she's the only one to recognise your grace. whenever you're around, she finds herself spending all of her free time with you. she wants to hear everything—your thoughts, your opinions, which weather or meal or nation you like better, your experiences, your home world, what it was like handling your vessels, everything and anything you deem fit to share with her. from how you indulge her, she's glad she also seems to bring you a similar comfort to the one You give her.

she wonders if Your embrace feels similar to when she possesses others' bodies. the warmth and absolute serenity that overtakes all of her senses when You control her can't compare to anything else. it's nice to be in at the helm of herself too, of course, especially with her newfound autonomy. but if You were to offer her that comfort permanently, she wouldn't be able to turn down Your offer.

when furina looks at you, she sees a reflection of herself. she might not recognise You, but she cannot bring herself to disdain someone in such a similar position to herself. she cannot imagine that You, kind and benevolent and goodhearted as You are, would want her to be cruel to you. whether that is her genuine belief or an attempt to redeem herself to You, after deceiving not only Your vessel but also You directly, does it matter?

Your presence has been a fairly recent entrance in her life, but she has been hearing about You for hundreds of years. she cannot remember a single conversation she ever had with her mirror self that did not feature You as a point of dialogue, of ambition. with only her and You to cling onto for hope for five hundred years, the only natural outcome was to develop such a strong faith and dependence on You. perhaps not as fervent as some of the other… archons, but not something that should be underestimated. Your presence in fontaine, even if through the traveler, had given her renewed hope at the time. as soon as she saw him for the first time, she knew.

your presence is… completely different. there's hints of You—likely residue You've left in the traveler—but not much else. she cannot believe in false idols, she tells the two of you, but she will see about providing some lodging for you. even if the traveler—even if aether is wrong about this, his service to fontaine deserves some merit, so she's sure this can be overlooked. it's what You would want, she hopes to herself. and if she finds herself seeking you out more and more, what difference does it make? when you smile so sweetly at her and praise her for holding on for so long, that you're proud of her, her resolve cracks.

neuvillette has always known of You. it is only when the traveler shows up in fontaine with Your presence in tow that he understands with certainty that You do exist, that he truly understands how wonderful Your warmth feels even at a distance and in these circumstances. You take Your leave for a while, and he thinks he is alright with that. even just knowing Your comfort so intimately (because this is already so much more than most are permitted), however brief, is enough for him. perhaps his returned authority also has an impact, but he is certain it would not have felt this invigorating without Your help.

and then You return, and he finds himself actually understanding what it means to be embraced. no sooner is he experiencing what it feels like to be whole for the first time before he finds himself in sumeru's desert, where he remains stranded for a week. Your presence fades until his punishment—for what, he remains uncertain—is complete, but Your hold on him does not, and something keeps him in place there the entire time. You do not use him much after that. he cannot deny Your judgement, even if he does not quite understand.

he learns of your arrival in teyvat through chance, by way of some opera gossip which happens to mention that furina has found herself a close friend. when he catches a glimpse of you… he cannot say he feels Your presence. none of you breathe a word about the subject to him, and it is only much later he learns of what you're hiding. if Your every loyal furina and Your first and most important vessel recognised You when he did not even so much as suspect it, where does that leave him?

of course childe would recognise You. that piece of the abyss that clawed its way into him so deeply it will never separate from him again would recognise You anywhere, even should ajax not. long before your current descent, he recognised Your strings of control much earlier than most of Your other vessels did. while he's never really given much thought to whether others have recognised You as well, he noticed the way Your presence lingered on aether in particular right away.

it's part of what drew him to the traveler in the first place—what's so special about him? why not childe? why did this outlander get to be Your vessel and he didn't? has he not proven himself enough for You? his mission aside, he felt a more personal disdain at the traveler. after he embarrassed himself in front of You and the truth came to light, he tries his hardest to redeem himself to the traveler. to You. so, naturally, when Your favourite little traveler comes to him with You in tow, he recognises You right away, as he always has. he's a little bitter, if anything—why did it take aether so long to come to him? does he not trust him? is he controlling You and Your actions? or—and he tries not to think about this too hard—is it You who doesn't trust him?

it doesn't matter. You're here now, and he's here for You now, and he'll do everything in his power to help You. You won't have to be alone any more, he promises, You won't have to hurt any more. nobody will harm You, ever again, not when he's here now. (he ignores how aether has easily stopped any harm from coming Your way so far without his help.)

it is you who thinks to approach albedo. the link is weak, but as soon as aether shows up at his makeshift lab in dragonspine with You in tow, he knows. it's as if he has no other option than to recognise You, however faint Your aura has become, as if there was never another possibility. it makes sense—after all, he was made for You. so were all the others, in a way, as was the whole world of teyvat, but not in the same way his master crafted him for You. to appeal to You. to be used by You. to find out the truth about You, though it's possible she just left him with that mission (to find out the truth about "the world"—You are the world) to keep him busy after she threw him away when he did not yield the results she was searching for. it doesn't matter. he's found You now, and he can't let you slip away. especially not to Your other, faulty vessels, those who couldn't recognise You at first glance.

thankfully, you seem fond of the area of the mountain and don't mind staying. you even take interest in his work, though you seem to not enjoy the constant sketches and pieces of art he produces of You for you as much. it's not the same as when You fill every molecule in his body and bend it to Your whim, but this is also nice.

one day you ask him about alice; she's been to different worlds, so you wonder if he could ask her about her methods. you seem hesitant, and you waited specifically until aether had left to collect some food for the next couple of days. it's a logical choice, Your favourite vessel would not take Your request well. albedo can't find it in himself to either. even if it's you asking, he cannot just let You leave, not after all this time. he promises you he will ask, but is honest when he tells you alice might take a long, long time to pass by mondstadt again, so… in the meantime, let him know if there's anything he could do to make Your stay here in teyvat more comfortable. anything at all. You're going to be here for some time, after all.

[arinmoss]

Miku ^_^