#/slaps brain 'this baby can fit so much self confidence in it'

[bitegore]

being able to catch your fucked up mentol eelness thoughts when they happen not being able to tell that they're fucked up except from an outsider pov is so genuinely weird. like, i'm used to them being from shit like anxiety or depression or random hallucinations which i thought were normal until like last year and those all have a particular flavor, that like. makes them wrong. you know? like you can tell something is wrong.

i got really upset with a friend the other day and was talking to someone else about it, not shit talking them, just. talking, you know? to get the feelings out, because i knew it was in confidence and i didn't particularly want it to go anywhere and it was that or spit my brain on tumblr or twitter the way i do. and midway through my friend was like "uh dude these statements make no sense" and like. i blinked and went oh yeah okay that was deeply uncharitable. maybe true, maybe not, but uncharitable. and like it wasn't even true, honestly, after i sat for a while it didn't really make that much sense, and my friend also pointed that out, but like- i spent quite a while sitting on the bpd dsm-5 page going "well shit, i do all of this but the splitting, huh" and nope! no, i apparently very much do do that! i just literally can't tell because it just feels like being annoyed and uncharitable, and then when i'm back to baseline i am like "wow i was really pissed off and uncharitable earlier but now i'm good and that was incorrect" and like. huh

how am i supposed to stop doing something i can't even tell i'm doing?

[foxxgirlvibes]

He gets jealous of your friend

Characters: atsumu, sakusa, kuroo, tendou

Summary: your boyfriend feels a bit left out whenever your best friend comes into the picture

』 ATSUMU

Probably the most obvious about his jealousy

Feels like every time your bestie shows up he’s second place :(

Doesn’t even try to hide it he complains to your face

Your friend definitely amps up the affection to annoy him

Atsumu huffed loudly as your best friend arrived at the park. He turned his back to them ready to flop into your lap when suddenly you were standing and running away from the picnic blanket.

“Y/N!!!!”

“B/F/N!!!!” You fell into a fit of giggles as the two of you collided in a hug. Leading them to the blanket, you sat between them and your boyfriend.

“Why dontcha hug me like that doll?” Atsumu whined as he pulled you closer to him while glaring at your friend.

You turned to him, eyebrow raised, “we live together tsumu, I hug you all the time.” You offered him a bite of the cookie in your hand, “and you could hug me like that, yet you don’t.” He accepted your cookie, pout still etched on his face.

While you were distracted by your phone, b/f/n sent atsumu a smug smile and picked up a strawberry. They poked you on the thigh, “hey, y/n,” you looked up at them curiously, “the strawberries are so sweet, open your mouth and I’ll feed you this one.” Smiling you leaned over and let them feed you the strawberry.

Atsumu was glaring holes into their head, “jeez b/f/n, don’t ya got yer own s/o to feed huh?”

You and your best friend let out a laugh at his blatant jealousy. “See y/n, I told you he was jealous of me, you owe me $20” Rolling your eyes you took out your wallet, slapping the money in their hands.

Turning to your gawking boyfriend, you sighed, “couldn’t you at least be subtle about it.” He sputtered out nonsense, face turning red, you waved him off. “And you,” you glared at you friend who was still laughing, “feeding me is basically cheating, we both know that was gonna set him off”

Your boyfriend draped his chin on your shoulder, “doll yer not playin fair” he whined. “Why would ya play wit my emotions like that”

Running your hand over his cheek you placed a kiss on the top of his head, “it’s funny to watch because you know b/f/n and I are only friends.” You tilt his chin up to place a chaste kiss on his lips, “you’re the one I’m dating dummy, I love you”

The grin that you love so much returned to his face as he kissed you again, “I love ya too, even though yer mean.” You rolled your eyes and flicked his forehead, your best friend made gagging noises from their side of the blanket.

』 Sakusa

The hardest to tell he’s jealous

Doesn’t want you to know, he thinks it’s embarrassing

Gets upset when you ignore him for your bff

Literally will deny it to the day he dies

You had been texting your best friend for the past hour and a half. There was drama going on in your friend group and the two of you were going from the group chat to sharing your opinions with each other. Normally this wouldn’t have been an issue, but unlike most Friday nights, your boyfriend was home.

Sakusa was sitting on the bed next to you, he had been silent ever since you started tapping constantly at your phone. MSBY practice had been cancelled and he had been looking forward to spending the day with you. Which he technically was, but not in the way he wanted.

His eyes left the show he had put on as you let out a gasp and the tapping increased in speed. He wanted to lay on your lap and have you run your hand through his curls, but he couldn’t be certain you would stop texting to indulge him. He let out a soft sigh, “are you and b/f/n still going?” You nodded without looking up at him. His lips moved into a slight pout as he turned back to the tv, “oh.”

He startled as you let out a sudden string of giggles. Tilting your head up at him in what felt like the first time you showed him your screen, “look what b/f/n just said, they’re so funny I love them.”

He starred blankly at your screen, “yeah, they’re hilarious.” Lips pursed he pointedly looked away from you, to the tv. Sakusa was incredibly annoyed that you had ignored him for so long only to speak to him when complimenting your best friend.

You texted your friend you were gonna dip for a bit. Turn your phone off you looked at the grumpy man next to you. “Omi what’s got your boxers in a bunch?”

“Me and my boxers are just fine y/n.”

“Omg omi, your pants are on fire!!” You snickered as he gave you a deadpan state.

He rolled his eyes at you and crossed his arms, “there’s nothing wrong, go back to your texting.”

That’s when it clicked for you, he was jealous of the attention you were giving to your friend. Cooing lightly, you reached for him, pulling him down on top of you. “I’m sorry for ignoring you baby, there’s no need to be jealous.”

He huffed and pulled your hand towards his hair, snuggling into you as you began playing with it, “‘m not jealous, that’s a stupid suggestion.”

You smiled down at your boyfriend knowing that you were absolutely right.

』 Kuroo

Another obvious one, but not as whiney as Atsumu

Tries to impress you to get your attention

Will embarrass you with his attempts to prove he’s better

Your friend doesn’t know if they should be amused or embarrassed

You and Kuroo had been invited out to watch your best friend play a gig at your local bar. They’re band had landed they’re first performance and you had been excited to support them.

Running up to the stage, you waved eagerly at you friend. They smiled and and reached a hand down to pull you up on the stage. You gave a friendly greeting to the other band mates before giving your friend a bear hug.

“B/f/n I’m so happy for you!!! This is sooo cool.” At this point you were gushing and singing their praises. Your friend matched your enthusiasm walking you around the stage and explaining the set up.

Your boyfriend huffed from the bottom of the stage as you and your friend walked back over. He reached for your hand to help you off and pull you back towards him. “Congrats on the gig b/f/n, can I have my s/o back now?”

Rolling their eyes they turned to you, “hey, cheer extra loud when we play your song.” They smiled as you nodded eagerly. “There now you can take your precious s/o,” b/f/n gave Kuroo a smug smile before heading back to their band mates.

“You know if you wanted a song I can serenade you at karaoke when their set is over.”

Eyes widening you ignored his suggestion before pulling Kuroo over to the table that had been reserved for you. Sure you loved him, but he couldn’t sing for shit.

The performance was going great, then the music changed and you squealed recognizing it as your favourite. Kuroo glanced over at you as you grinned and waved up at b/f/n. What was so great about them? So what they were in a band, you played this song enough he knew all the words. If you wanted it sung to you he could do it.

And do it he did.

You looked up at your boyfriend as he stood from his seat, “babe what are you doing?” The only response he gave you was a lazy smile before he started belting out the lyrics to your favourite song, terribly off pitch and loudly.

B/f/n stifled a laugh at the scene as you glared daggers at them and your boyfriend. Kuroo kept singing his heart out as you face planted into the table, praying the lights were dim enough that no one would be able to see you. After what felt like an eternity the song finished and Kuroo sat back down next to you.

“See, wasn’t that better than whatever b/f/n had going on up there. I’ll sing for you whenever you want baby.” He slung his arm over you shoulder looking very pleased with himself.

You peaked out at him from your arms, “Who lied to you and told you that you were the next Micheal Jackson?” He whined in protest as you continued, “Out of all the ways to process your jealousy you do this.” Waving a quick goodbye to your friend, you dragged Kuroo out of the bar and headed home.

』 Tendou

Not vocal about it but you can see it in his body language

Would hate for you to think that he wants to control who you hang out with

Once you realize he’ll reluctantly admit to it but feels bad

Just needs some reassurance

Tendou sighed as he watched your story again. It was of you and your best friend at the club for their birthday, an outing which you had excitedly rambled to him about for the past few days. He knows that he shouldn’t be bothered, the two of you have been friends for longer than he’s known you. But that doesn’t help the pit in his stomach seeing you dancing on them.

The sinking feeling hasn’t left him since your best friend had arrived at the door and whisked you away with little more than a quick acknowledgment. The both of you in coordinating outfits, telling him not to wait up.

You love him, he knows that, yet his heart squeezes terribly at every new addition to your story. He shook the thought from his mind and turned his phone off, dropping his head into his hands. He was being ridiculous, if you wanted to date your best friend you wouldn’t have moved in with him.

As he wallowed in self doubt, he missed the sound of the door opening as you slipped into your apartment quietly, to ensure you wouldn’t wake him if he was asleep. You were shocked to see your boyfriend on the couch gripping his hair. “‘Tori?” you approach him carefully, “what happened sweetheart?”

He tensed suddenly before looking up at you with a shaky smile, “hi love, how was the club?” He reached out and grabbed your hands.

You fixed him with a stern look, “satori, you can’t lie to me.” Hands still intertwined, you reached up to cup his cheek, stroking it with your thumb. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

Sighing he closed his eyes and leaned into your hand. He was silent for a moment before speaking softly, “it’s stupid,” you shook your head and smiled up at him, giving him the confidence to continue, “I dunno... I just- felt kinda upset seeing you have so much fun with b/f/n. You guys are just friends and you love me, I know that, but you always just look so happy with them and I don’t know if I make you feel like that.”

You looked at him for a minute before peppering kisses on his face, “I love you both but I would rather eat dirt than date that idiot, we’re so close they’re like a sibling to me.” He gave you a watery smile as you continued, “and you can ask b/f/n yourself if you don’t believe me, but you make me so happy. You’re literally my favourite person ever.”

He tackled you onto the couch with a hug, “you’re my favourite person ever too y/n!!”

You laughed, running your hands through his hair, “you wanna cuddle and watch a movie?” He nodded enthusiastically as you handed him the remote, placing a kiss on his hair.

This is my first preference so hoping it’s okay. As someone who had an ex be jealous of my best friend I thought this would be fun to write.

Have a wonderful day!!!

[runby2]

HLVRAI kin guide, by Juice

If you’re kin with Dr. Coomer: You were the class clown. You have ADHD and have learned exactly what to say to make people laugh so that they don’t leave you. You eventually learned not to care and adapted to referring to yourself as having “no brain cells.” You’re impulsive and you love to slap things like a wrapped turkey in the cold foods freezer section at Walmart. During winter you wear shorts because change is stressful. You’d eat pizza every night if you could, and when you eat an apple you feel like you’re connected to nature. One time you punched yourself to see if you could take it. You could.

If you’re Kin with Dr. Bubby: You never think before you speak ever. You’re the crazy uncle friend who people come to in hopes for advice but receive a meme and a “left on read.” Your friends forgive you though because they know you’re going through a lot. You love the Pokémon franchise, and collect shiny rocks. People beg you to stop talking sometimes and you just keep talking and make things worse. You’re cursed but people can still party with you. When you were a kid you grew the little figures that get puffy in water, and left one in the cup for too long just to see what would happen.

If you’re kin with Tommy: You’re soft, and because of that you’re not taken seriously. You’re sick of it, but keep kinning soft characters because you project that aspect of yourself onto them. Just because you’re mentally ill doesn’t mean you’re a baby, and people don’t get that. Then when your friends say that character is cute you silently think to yourself ‘yeah I’m cute but’ and then your thoughts stop there. You love dog memes, and own many stuffed animals that you refuse to part with from your childhood. You can’t look at a golden retriever catching a frisbee without crying. You stim a lot, and considered purchasing slime but you never knew if it would be worth it because it would probably just sit on a shelf. You get stressed easily, but know that one day you’ll be a fashion king so it’s all going to be okay.

If you’re kin with Gordon: you’re the dad friend. You have anxiety and depression but you’re still trying your best to hold a steady job. You keep your friend group as tame as possible, and try to lead them when you play online games. You’re easily frustrated but your patience is strong enough to tolerate a lot. You’ve been through a lot, and you know how to deal with pretty much anything at this point. In Minecraft you like to go exploring the best, and end up bringing home so many resources that your friends can’t make enough furnaces to burn your stupid large amount of iron. In the shower you wash your hair and think every time about if you should be applying the shampoo first or if it’s supposed to be the conditioner first. You overthink at all times.

If you’re kin with Benrey: you’re traumatized and LGBT+. You’re on meds but you forget to take them sometimes. In your friend group you get talked over a lot, but occasionally you’ll say something funny and everyone will laugh. That makes everything worth it. You’re a bastard, and love to cheat any game you can. Your Shiny Pokémon collection is made entirely out of Wonder Trade luck. You’re pissed off that when caterpillars hatch into butterflies you’re never there to see it. Milk is a drink you appreciate but hate drinking. Cool colors remind you of ice, and then ice makes you want to eat something. No one would trust you with a weapon, but you know deep down your whole comedic goof identity is an act and you would never actually hurt anyone because what if they leave?

If you’re kin with Darnold: you’re really sensitive to loud noises, but enjoy exploring whenever you go out to places. You’re an introvert, but that’s okay. Most of your friends are online. You have a lot of games you’d love to play but you don’t want to spend money on them so you just watch YouTube playthroughs. You’ve considered being a YouTuber because you’re confident in your people skills despite being antisocial. If you could wear a flower crown every day, you would. Pasta is your favorite, and at restuaunts it’s your go to if you don’t know what to order.

If you’re kin with G Man : You’re very gentle with everything. You have big plans for your future and yourself. You’ve considered getting a tattoo but what if you regret it? You have identity issues, so choosing a tattoo that would fit your identity would be super hard. You love to take warm baths, but when you shower you’re more proud of yourself. You’ve had nightmares that have left you in deja vu more than once in real life. If you could, you’d take all your friends to Disney land.

If you’re kin with Forzen: You have no sense of self. Religion doesn’t matter. No one can contain you. Nothing you do has any sort of meaning because you just do it because you think you have to. Your body runs on auto pilot. You wanted to work as a barista at one point but it would be too hard to get up in the morning. If it’s foggy out, you wave your hand up and down through it. You pick up any frogs you happen to see without thinking about the consequences first. When you get down on all fours you’re reminded of the days you did gymnastics as a child. Then you consider showing off for your friends. Then you wonder if you even remember how to do that weird tumble that you did when you were 6.

[krypticss]

LATE NIGHT CONFESSIONS — Finan.

Finan x Reader

PROMPT: Finan loves making fun of his friends. Until it backfires on him and leads him to knock on the reader’s door in the middle of the night.

WORDS: 1,375

WARNINGS: none

The men burst out in fits of laughter at the old hall in Coccham. They reminisced about old tales of their adventures across the country. As usual, Finan would delight them with new jokes about monks, not so much because he believed them to be funny but more to annoy Osferth. Unfortunately, the drunker the monk got, the harder it was to pester him. To Finan’s misfortune, tonight his humor backfired on him after his comment on the boy with women. 

Osferth’s big eyes shot up to meet Finan’s across the table, and the words were voiced in a slur before anyone could stop him, “Well, what about you, Finan? When are you going to have a woman?”

The Irish man took it in stride, “I have a lot of women, baby monk.”

“I mean an actual woman,” insisted Osferth, “Like (Y/N).”

A taunting smile spread on Uhtred’s lips. They all shared a knowing look. Finan was unaware of what said knowledge was. Uhtred quirked an eyebrow, “He has a point.”

Finan was baffled by the comments, “(Y/N)?! No.”

“Why not?” commented Sihtric, “You are already in her bed every night.”

“Am not!”

Truth be told, it was almost every night. As long as they were settled in Coccham, he would choose your bed above any other. It had been months now, that you did… whatever it was you two were doing. Whenever the you were together, Finan was his best self. He was happy. The outside world could be washed away only with the sound of your laughter. The thought of making you his had crossed his mind countless times, and each time his heart burned as if it had been sent to the deepest depths of hell. He would never admit it, but it made him nervous.

You were a free woman, and you enjoyed your freedom. You thrived in it. In many conversations, you had told him so. And despite his act, with that big smile that transpired confidence, he was scared of losing you. He had waited too long to the point where he could no longer imagine not walking across Coccham day and night to see you.

While you had welcomed him in your warm bed, never had you displayed signs of wanting any more commitment.

“It’s your choice,” dismissed Uhtred, “and there is nothing wrong with it. But wait too long and you will miss your chance.”

“Amen,” Osferth finished his last gulp of ale.

“It’s not…” Finan passed a hand down his face, “You are wrong. All of you.”

They laughed through his exasperation, and the subject was changed. But the thought didn’t leave his brain. He could not bring himself to stop thinking about it. So after they called it a night and dispersed, Finan crossed the small town of Coccham to knock on your door.

The door opened to reveal a very sleepy face. You squinted your eyes through the dark until you recognized him, “Finan?”

He frowned, “I didn’t realize how late it was.”

“No, it’s okay,” You reassured with a warm smile, “I fell asleep waiting for you.”

There it was. The warm feeling in the pit of his gut that grew all the way up to his chest. He pushed it back.

“It’s rude to keep a lady waiting,” smirked Finan, “I apologize.”

You were able to push the drowsiness away just enough, “Are you drunk?”

“No.” He lied.

You watched him with amusement. Your hand stretched out to him, “Come to bed.”

His smirk only widened with the mischief that should not come from a holy man like him.

“To sleep.”

His face fell, “Oh.”

“Unless you would rather walk back to your home and sleep alone?”

“I would not,” He took your hand and was led inside. Finan sat down on your bed as you helped him take off his armor, starting by his gauntlets. The man sighed, like a child, “Osferth made fun of me today.”

“Did he, now?” You feigned surprise. You liked Osferth. He was kind, gentle. Very different from the other men that protected Coccham. And you had watched him be treated as the youngest sibling would be treated in a family. You had guessed it was only a matter of time until he took his own stand.

“Yes,” Finan continued. You proceeded to untie his leather chest piece. “He asked when I would get a woman.”

Your hands froze for a split second before continuing, “What did you tell him?”

Finan was quiet, which seemed like a miracle. It worried you. But then he slapped your hands away and held you by the waist. You stood between his legs as he perched on the edge of your small bed. Finan looked up at you through his lashes like you were the miracle.

“You are the only one I can think about,” He blurted out, “I didn’t want to say it, because I didn’t know how you felt. But I don’t care.”

You were paralyzed, torn between accusing him of drinking too much or falling on his lap.

“You are…” Finan pursed his lips, “Fantastic in bed.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. He was quick to correct himself.

“But it’s not just about that,” He assured, “You’re… beautiful. Inside and out. Your heart is just…”

He tried to gesture it with hands, but failed.

“Enormous.”

Well, this was getting colorful.

“My point is, I want you, (Y/N),” The words slurred out of his mouth, “All of you. And I hope you want me too.”

You were quiet while you took in the drunken love confession that had unraveled in your face. His eyes glistened with hope and fear. Your hands caressed his cheeks, a welcomed touch.

“Are you only saying this to hump me tonight?”

“No,” He sounded offended. “Why, would it work?”

“Finan—“

“Marry me.” Finan whispered. He took your hands in his and kissed them, “I mean it. I want to have babies with you. Lots of babies.”

You laughed, the mere idea brought joy to you. You had never rushed to find someone or get married. The idea wasn’t so appealing to you. Maybe because you had yet to meet the right person.

But the day Finan came to Coccham with his beautiful face and revitalizing personality, deep down your heart, something sparked. Maybe just interest, but after he left your bed for the first time one morning and you felt his cold absence in the sheets, you knew he would be coming back for a while.

Soon, his visits were more frequent, until he would be away for weeks fighting for his lord. But when home, he would never miss the chance to be by your side, and you wouldn’t either.

As the visits got more frequent, so did your talks. Laying underneath the bed sheets you would ask him about his adventures and he would tell you everything you wanted and more. Each time, he held back his promises to take you with him one day, for he knew he should not make such promises to you.

In that moment, he wanted to promise you the whole of England and more.

“How could I ever say no to you?” You sighed. Never, in years, had anyone seen such a genuine smile on the man’s face.

“We are getting married?” Finan asked.

You nodded, “Of course we are.”

In one soft motion he took you in lap so you were sitting on his thigh. He smelled to smoke and ale, but you couldn’t complain. There was something oddly comforting about it all. He brought you in by the nape of your neck into an open mouthed kiss. Your lips moved with perfection against each other. The burning feeling in the pit of your stomach only grew. Your toes curled underneath you as you gently bit his bottom lip before pulling away.

Finan’s whisper was throaty, the edge of a growl, “I think we should celebrate.”

Your laughter was music to his ears. You spoke the truth, you could never say no to him.

[bnha-almost-a-hero]

now you’ll never leave me

kinktober but it’s no nut november. not like anyone’s going to nut to my shit smut.

day five to eleven of kinktober featuring the CHAD shigaraki, the VIRGIN reader and a whole bunch of kinks to make up for my days of inactivity.

warnings and shizz: smut (minors better stay away), loss of virginity, impreg, unsafe sex, obsessive shigaraki, me writing in the third person for once (it feels like i’m doing it wrong), female reader (i’m sorry), this is FILTH

this is gon’ be wild

prompts ― dress up, virginity, impreg / breeding, loving sex, (light) spit play & food play (i’m so sorry)

character ― tomura shigaraki

Do you ever go into a sexual encounter and think “I have no fucking clue what I am doing”?

Yes?

No?

For ( f/n ) ( l/n ), this was a startling reality―her worst fear realized. She was frankly inexperienced in nearly everything that came with sex and general relationships. For years she’d hung on to the lines “I’m saving it for the right person,” or “I’m focusing more on my studies,” whenever the topic came up in conversation yet, now, she was finally ready.

To say she had everything planned out was an understatement. She’d gotten two bottles of lube―figuring she couldn’t be too sure―a pack of pre-lubricated condoms, a box of premium chocolates, a couple bottles of whiskey and, of course, a schoolgirl costume that she’d ordered from a high-quality sex store. All this for one man...

Tomura Shigaraki.

Her boyfriend of two years.

And one of the most wanted men in Japan.

( f/n ) figured, for their second anniversary, she’d surprise him. As a regular at the hideout, she knew that he and the rest of the League of Villains―excluding Kurogiri―were out on a team reconnaissance mission and would return in the evening. In that time, ( f/n ) had completely overhauled his room.

She knew better not to touch his gaming set-up, lest he freak out on her, so she mostly decorated the area around his bed. A black, gossamer canopy was labouriously set up around the bed; candles filled the air with cinnamon and caramel; and rose petals―rather clichély―littered the carpets leading up to the bed.

Behind the canopy, sat ( f/n ), dressed in the aforementioned form-fitting schoolgirl costume―modelled after the classic seifuku uniforms yet with a few ‘reductions’ to the fabric. A few small candles of incense crackled next to her, lulling her spiking nerves to rest. Letting out a nervous sigh, she closed her      ( e/c ) eyes, reciting the sultry lines she had planned out.

She placed a piece of chocolate into her mouth, humming happily as the sugary treat melted in the warmth of her lips. I can do this, she reassured herself, cracking her knuckles. 

An idle buzz sounded from her phone. Tomura ❤️💕 was calling. ( f/n )’s heart seized up, now worried that something had gone awry during the mission. She immediately snatched up the phone, pressed the ‘accept’ button and pressed the phone to her ear.

“W―What’s wrong?” ( f/n ) asked softly. “Are you okay? Are the others―.”

“I’m fine,” Tomura rasped out, voice slightly muffled as if he were trying to hide his conversation from someone. “The rest of ‘em are okay too... Sadly...”

“Oh,” She chuckled. “Don’t be horrible.”

“I can’t wait to get back to you,” Tomura murmured. “Spending the day with these idiots has fried my brain cells.”

“Oh, well, um, I’ve got a―uh―little surprise for you when you get back, okay?” She smiled. “So hurry back!”

“Sure,” He said then paused for a moment. “Toga says ‘bye-bye’.”

“Aww, tell her I said bye too.” She pulled down her skimpy skirt as she waited for him to come back onto the line. “Bye, Tomu-kun.”

“Bye, Player Two,” Tomura replied before he hung up. ( f/n )’s smile only grew. Tomura probably expected the surprise to be a new game or maybe a new gaming console but what he was getting would be much, much different.

The League of Villains arrived back at half-past seven. ( f/n )’s heart leapt as she heard movement downstairs; disjointed conversations sparking then simmering down; and then finally footsteps climbing up the stairs only accessible through the backroom of the bar and then across onto the floorboards. 

He was here.

The woman shuddered expectantly, letting out a heated breath as her heart thrummed inside her chest. The door cracked open followed by a small gasp.  ( f/n ) breathed in then out before she extended a stocking-clad foot out to spread the gauzy canopy apart.

“Tomu-kun, honey,” She batted her eyes even though she knew he couldn’t fully see her past the beautifully woven layers of butterfly silk. “Come closer, I’ve been waiting~”

Tomura hesitated, stiffening at this unexpected surprise before he stepped forward. He could barely see ( f/n ) through the thin material that had been draped over his modest, black bed but he could see from the rose petals laid out on the floor and the sensual beckoning he’d received that he was finally getting some.

He parted the canopy with both hands and what he saw before him awed him.

His woman, ( f/n ), wearing a tight-fitting sailor-style school uniform with various exaggerated adjustments including a midriff exposing top and a mid-thigh length skirt to make it more appealing to the erotic form. 

She sheepishly grinned at him, reaching forward and dragging him towards her. Adjusting him into a kneeling position, she crawled forward, all the while pulling at his black pants. Their eyes met, blazing fires kindling inside each other. 

“I love you,” She murmured, pressing a kiss to the erection tenting through his dark underwear. “This is for our anniversary.”

And, with that, she tugged down his boxers, taking his erect dick into her soft hand. She leaned down, licking his tip tentatively―savouring the salty, overpowering pre-cum that oozed from his bubbling urethra. For a few moments, she tip-toed between enjoying the taste or tolerating it before deciding it wasn’t half bad and leaning her head down further to fully swallow his cock.

His veins throbbed inside of her luscious mouth. A moan left his parted lips as he rocked back and forth, inadvertently fucking the woman’s throat with his slow movements. Gagging slightly but not deterred, ( f/n ) bobbed her head up and down, swaying her hips from side-to-side and staring up at him with a look that positively screamed: “Fuck my throat up, I can take it~”

( f/n ) licked from the tip downwards as far as she could manage, humming and moaning in bliss as she closed her eyes and leaned back. By this point, Tomura had fully grasped his role in all this, placing four fingers on the back of her head and pushing her forward gently.

A chorus of moans and muffled hums filled the room, accompanied by a riveting melody of gags and the wet ‘slap, slap, slap’ of Shigaraki’s balls against ( f/n )’s chin. Drool poured from her lips, splashing down onto Tomura’s thighs and onto the luscious duvet that had been laid out earlier. 

This sensation was so strange... Her core burned expectantly, already soaking wet before Tomura had arrived. Every so often, ( f/n )’s luscious, lower lips would spasm and throb, engorging with steaming blood as it begged her to indulge in her reproductive instincts...

We can have a child, her mind prompted her, I can take care while he’s off on League business. 

Their age nor their financial stability didn’t cross their minds as they became willing victims to the whims of their primal, vestigial urges. Both pairs of eyes met; dull electricity sparking behind their dilated pupils. Tomura pulled back out of her warm, drooling mouth.

“We can―.” He began, but paused, almost unsure of himself.

“Have a baby.” She smiled up at him. “But, first, let’s try something...”

( f/n ) ducked under the canopy, stumbling towards the sleek vanity adorned with various bottles of expensive exotic liquors and chocolates. Forgoing the liquor, she grabbed a box of premium chocolates before crawling back into bed. Placing it off to the side, for now, she looked up at her lover through hazy, full eyelashes.

She reached a hand up to tug at the ribbon of her seifuku, smiling up at Tomura as she pretended to fumble with the tie. She pouted, “I―I don’t suppose you could help me, Tomu―kun?”

He stared at her, jaw open, before closing it and tugging her closer, whispering in her ear, “That’s Player One to you.” 

“Of course, Tomu-kun, you’ll always be my Player One.”

He hummed at her approvingly, placing a hesitant hand on her top, crumbling it to dust. ( f/n ) let out an airy sigh as the dust slid down her body, caressing her silky skin as it weaved its way down to her skirt. She lied back onto the bed, grabbing the delicately-wrapped box of chocolates and handing it to Tomura. He grasped it with two fingers.

“It’s always been a fantasy of mine,” She began, biting her lip idly. “To have you lick chocolate off of my―.” Despite trying to stay in character as a self-confident temptress, she could hardly muster the courage to say that word. So, instead, she motioned to her puffy, hardened nipples. “Please―. Please indulge me for today...”

It wasn’t as if he needed convincing. Before she had even finished speaking, he had already thrown the top of the chocolate box off onto the floor and was plucking them out one by one to place onto her nipples; trailing them down further down her chest, down to her stomach and navel, finally ending at the apex of her thighs once he ran out of chocolates.

“Are you―?” He asked, staring up at her with an insecure look―as if he was certain she was making a mistake.

( f/n ) grasped his cheek as he lay over her, rubbing the blushing flesh under her thumb. “I’ve never been more certain.” And that wasn’t the self-confident temptress she was playing, that was all her speaking. She truly wanted this. The proof was her sopping, frustrated cunt. “Take me, my Player One.”

Tomura smiled at that, placing a hand on her skirt, deteriorating it into cold dust. His last barrier from fully taking her was the silken underwear she had chosen to wear, stained through with her slick. He pressed his weeping tip to her spasming cunt, rubbing his urethra up against her clit. 

“Ahhh~” She moaned out, closing her eyes as she felt her body heat up. “Fu―Fuck, Tomu-kun―. Player One―. My King―. Take me, take me!”

He pushed into her slowly, careful of her hymen. Yet, unlike all the horror stories she had read online, there was no pain. Just a slight sting and then nothing but pleasure. Tomura’s index reached down to play with her throbbing clit, rolling it around in figure eights as she sobbed with joy at the overstimulation. 

She moaned loudly, not realizing in the haze of sex-filled euphoria that there were people downstairs, throwing her head back as she beckoned Tomura downwards with her hand. He leaned down and, with melting chocolates pressed between them, kissed him with as much fervour and passion as she could muster. He rocked inside of her, thrusting his tongue further into her mouth. 

They separated only so she could speak, “I was―ah~. I was seri―serious about that baby thing...” She rasped breathlessly, as she felt the chocolate melt and fuse to her skin. “I’ll be a good, hah~. I’ll be a good mom and you―you―you can continue―.”

“A Shimura,” He murmured, licking at your chocolate-covered skin. She rasped, confused as to what a ‘Shimura’ was. His name was Tomura Shigaraki, right? Right? “I’ll put a Shimura in you. An―And you’ll carry it yourself... It’ll be a sign of our love, w―won’t it? And then―And then you’ll never leave me, right?”

( f/n ) nodded enthusiastically, finding she could barely formulate words as he thrust into her, continuously battering her fleshy G-spot repeatedly. Moans and incoherent mutterings as to how she’d be a ‘good mommy’ were all that escaped her silken lips as her eyes flickered up into her skull. 

“’M gonna cum,” He murmured, finishing lathering her once chocolate-covered stomach with his spit. “I’ll knock you up right here, right now.”

“Pl―Please!” She managed to stutter out, ecstatic at the thought of her swelling stomach; her puffy, milky tits; the little waddle she’d be reduced to due to the size of her pregnant belly. “Impregnate me, Player One!”

With a final buck of his hips, he spurted his hot, thick cum into her fertile womb, laying there until he was sure he’d poured everything he had into her before collapsing to the side. He hummed, tracing circles into her stomach, “And now you’ll never leave me.”

[chiseler]

Glad Rags: Fashion and the Great Depression

Some years ago, in a breathtaking lapse of taste, The New Yorker published a fashion spread that aped iconic photographs of Dust Bowl migrants. I was as appalled as the next right-thinking person by the pouting models in $400 distressed cardigans pretending to thumb rides along desert highways. But if the charge is infatuation with the aesthetics of the Great Depression, I am guilty, guilty, guilty. Throw me in the clink—just so long as it resembles the hoosegow that Barbara Stanwyck saunters around in Ladies They Talk About (1932).

Why was everything, from automats to automobiles, from nightclubs to radios, from skyscrapers to bus stations, from cocktail shakers to the battered hats on homeless men, so elegant in the thirties? Why did bums back then look better than bankers today? Why are the movies and music, the clothes and every aspect of design from typefaces to elevator panels, so intoxicatingly stylish?

The easy answer is that art deco glamour was a form of escapism, a consolation to the down-and-out, and an expression of irrational optimism. Cruise ships, trains, office towers, mechanized restaurants: art deco was all about speed and modernity, the thrill of zooming into the future. (Then why does deco still look modern and alluring, while the space-age design of the sixties just looks dated and silly?) If cynicism was society’s ballast during the Depression, style was the kite-string tugging upward, the flag that kept flying.

It’s not the swells in their glad rags that I admire most, or even the bootleggers in silk shirts, but the wardrobes of working girls. Take the plain, slinky black dress that Stanwyck, as an ambitious office worker in Baby Face, accessorizes with a series of different detachable white collars and cuffs. Those starched cuffs and collars—chic, yet as humble as table-napkins—are perfect, almost poignant symbols of Stanwyck’s determination to better herself with the small means at her disposal. In Golddiggers of 1933, out-of-work chorus girls draw lots for the privilege of wearing a gorgeous, borrowed outfit to an audition. The little hats that hug one side of the head, the soft dresses molded to the hips, the scarf collars and pleated hems, create a look that collapses the two meanings of “smart.”  Neither frivolous nor utilitarian, it’s a neat, streamlined look that is still seductive; it signals quiet confidence and also wit, the sort of wisecracking verbal self-defense these girls mastered.

Movies like Baby Face tell their stories largely through their heroines’ clothes and belongings: they climb from cotton frocks to furs, from paper matchbooks to jeweled cigarette cases. (Clothing is no less crucial to the gangster’s rise; tailored shirts and luxurious overcoats are almost the point of his law-breaking.) Like Stanwyck in Baby Face, Joan Blondell in Blondie Johnson starts out in the drab, shapeless clothes of the down-trodden. Alight with anger after her mother dies, denied aid by a sanctimonious government official, she vows to get hold of dough, “and plenty of it.” Next we see her, she’s wearing a snazzy velvet suit that fits like a glove and conning suckers out of ten dollar bills by pretending to be a damsel in distress. She’s willing to bat her eyelashes and exploit her curves, but it’s really her brain she uses to get ahead, rising to become the head of a criminal “corporation,” and fiercely defending her virtue, even while clad in diaphanous pajamas. In Hold Your Man, Clark Gable calls attention to the warmth of the room, trying to talk Jean Harlow into doffing her coat. She complies, but when he suggests she remove her hat as well, she quips, “I’m pretty cool about the head.”

It’s this sense of wit and sass that’s often missing from latter-day reconstructions of the thirties, making people in period pieces appear overly formal. Current actors, looking embalmed in handsome clothes and make-up, fail to capture the way Cagney in his pin-striped suits was always poised on the balls of his feet, ready to crack into a tap dance; or the stunning bodily freedom with which women wore their thin, fluid, backless gowns, somehow never looking unduly exposed. Carole Lombard in shiny satin wide-legged lounging-pajamas and high heels furiously riding an exercise bicycle: there is the deco spirit in a nutshell. I sometimes wonder if it was the sheer delight of wearing such flattering clothes that gave women in thirties movies their unequaled zing.

Their sleek clothes don’t hide the female form the way dresses of the 1920’s did with their dropped waists and bosom-flattening bands. Neither do they exaggerate it with structured undergarments like those abandoned after the first world war and re-introduced after the second. It takes little insight to observe that the times when fashion has been most extreme in its devotion to the hourglass figure have been repressive eras for women, and periods when their clothes were more androgynous have been times when women made strides toward equality. In the early thirties, however, fashions were feminine without being cartoonishly so; they simply revealed the way women really look. The ideal of beauty was slender but not boyishly skinny, effortlessly athletic without gym-workout muscles.

Thirties dames look sexy on their own terms, not trussed up for male consumption like women of the fifties in their waist-cinching girdles, teetering stilettos and torpedo bras (often filled out with falsies on actresses of the fifties.) Many women in the early thirties wore very little under their clothes, as pre-Code movies prove with their obligatory lingerie shots. One almost feels sorry for pre-Code men faced with gals like Blondell, who in Blonde Crazy allows Cagney to inspect her flimsy underwear but repels his every advance with a slap that sends his head snapping back against his spine.

It is surely no coincidence that the interwar period was perhaps the only time when fashion was dominated, or at least heavily influenced, by women designers. Chanel borrowed from men’s tailoring to make women’s clothes simple, comfortable and sporty, without making them mannish. Madeleine Vionnet pioneered the bias cut, constructing garments so the grain of the fabric ran diagonally across the body, creating that smooth, clinging drape that defines feminine style of the thirties. Stanwyck’s lithe, bold stride wouldn’t be the same without the skirts that show off her beautiful hips and just enough of her killer gams. The jazzy, diagonally-striped ensemble that Claudette Colbert wears in It Happened One Night—something she has apparently purchased with the proceeds from pawning her wrist-watch—is the sartorial equivalent of her cocked eyebrow and throaty, sarcastic delivery.

These are Hollywood movies, of course, in which actresses often wore dresses so tight they couldn’t sit down between shots. But there’s plenty of documentary evidence that ordinary women, while they made have had less perfect figures, had just as much stylistic sass. Inept, small-time criminals Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow might never have become folk heroes if police hadn’t found a roll of undeveloped film in their hideout in Joplin, Missouri in 1932, and if the pictures hadn’t shown Bonnie wearing a snug beret, a skirt and sweater as jazzy as Colbert’s, and standing with her high-heeled foot hiked saucily on the bumper of a Ford V-8.

Or consider the stout matron in Walker Evans’s 1935 photograph of a New Orleans barbershop, sporting a blouse with sizzling concentric stripes, a jaunty black tie and a black hat with a rakish white feather. Men were no slouches either. Evans’s 1936 pictures of street scenes in the “negro quarter” of Vicksburg, Mississippi feature men lounging idly in shirtsleeves, unbuttoned vests and felt hats, each one a fashion plate. Lined up in a row in the wood-frame buildings behind them are hand-painted signs for the Savoy Barber Shop, the New Deal Barber Shop, and the Brother In Law Barber Shop. These men may not have jobs, but at least they have well-trimmed hair.

One can always ask, was there really such an epidemic of elegance in the thirties, or did photographers just seek out images of dignity? In the same way, one can look at the photographs of Robert Frank or the documentary footage of Los Angeles in The Savage Eye (1960) and wonder if there was really an epidemic of ugliness and vulgarity in the late fifties and early sixties, or whether artists just emphasized it. But the question is moot: either way, the images reveal how Americans—or at least their professional observers—saw themselves. Struggling against deprivation and anxiety, they were proud, stoic and stripped to their lean, essential spirit. Prosperous and secure, they were hapless victims of an aesthetic crash. A movie like Murder by Contract (1958), about a hit man killing time in L.A., staying in suffocatingly tacky motel rooms, seems to be the portrait of a man sleepwalking through a society where taste has flatlined.

Fifties style was artlessly boastful; its ideals were plastic mannequins of happiness, innocence and surfeit. This is why when it failed it failed so hideously: the old, the poor, the ugly, the lonely look caught in a pitiless glare, all their shortcomings exposed. The beehive hair, bouffant skirts, school-girl necklines and cat’s-eye glasses made young women look stodgy and matronly, and older women look grotesquely girlish.  In the thirties, haute couture expressed sublime hauteur, but it was based on aesthetic principles so sound that even when they trickled down to the cheapest knock-offs and most threadbare hand-me-downs, they still looked good. And so we come to the paradox of men in breadlines, women in migrant camps, whose je-ne-sais-quoi can inspire fashion spreads.

I am haunted by a bit of archival footage from the superb documentary Riding the Rails (1997), which shows a group of teenage hobos gathered on an open flat-car. Their elegance is unforgettable. It’s partly that their ragged clothes are so well-cut—in those days before baggy, one-size-fits-nobody garments—and partly that they’re worn with such an air. One boy wears an overcoat that’s too big for him and a handkerchief knotted on his head; he looks like a Napoleonic soldier retreating from Moscow. Men today who affect newsboy caps tend to wear them as though they were balancing a plate on their heads, but these boys wear their soft caps pulled down low over one eye, making them look at once tough and shy. They also seem, like everyone Dorothea Lange photographed, to stand and move with uncommon, easy grace: idle, but charged with contained energy. Their faces are wary, reticent and disillusioned. In another archival clip, boys sitting around a fire in a hobo jungle respond to a reporter who asks them why they are on the road. “Out here for my health,” one deadpans. “Just riding,” another tersely shrugs.

These are the real-life versions of the characters played by Frankie Darro and the Warners juveniles in Wild Boys of the Road (1933). Several things about that film are startling. One is how the kids dress and act like grown-ups (at a school dance, they wear evening clothes and circle the floor to “The Shadow Waltz”), as opposed to today, when grown-ups dress and act like kids. Another is how quickly and completely two middle-class boys turn into outcasts, panhandlers, embittered scavengers living in a garbage dump. But most startling of all is the way stoicism and dignity are taken for granted, the universal determination not be a burden or feel sorry for oneself. The elderly interviewees in Riding the Rails are candid, matter-of-fact, wry and compassionate. There is more to elegance than dressing well, than being tasteful or—that overused and inelegant word—“classy.” There is an intangible quality, a kind of mental and moral grace. Elegance has spine, but it’s not rigid; it bends but doesn’t break. It is understated; it is reserved. It knows the virtue of holding something back—some strength, some anger, some sense of irony—because there is more than one rainy day.

by Imogen Sara Smith

[opes-magnas]

those two days.

A wise man once said, ”The bad news is, nothing lasts forever and the good news is, nothing lasts forever.”

That’s freaking bullshit. Whoever told that hasn’t gone through the amount of trauma I’ve been through, which made every single moment feel like an eternity. Oh wait! I should’ve explained it more graphically.

Every single second felt like I was being skinned alive and being rolled over in salt and then fried in burning hot oil, then my limbs being torn out of my body and I could probably go on forever. In short, my time as a mortal on this planet has been miserable.

My mother and father were the epitome of love, they were the ideal couple who fell in love as soon they laid eyes on each other and the middle of their story is so cliché I’d rather let you imagine it in the most typical way possible and the end of it is, they got married!

They sadly never had their happily ever after cause they then got pregnant with me.

(After 9 months of my mother craving weird things)

He kept pacing the length of the waiting room, anxious, his face was dripping with perspiration and his brows were knitted in deep thought, his hands were clasping and unclasping and fidgeting with his jacket.

* Piano playing a sad note*

He hears the OR doors opening and rushes towards the doctor and shakes that poor guy until he’s pale. The doctor says that there were a lot of complications with his wife’s pregnancy and that they could save only one of them, and his wife told them to save his child and that he now has a healthy 4.5 pound baby boy.

He fell to the ground. How could he even live without his beloved wife! His moon and stars, his better half! He felt so utterly devastated.

Sometimes when people lose the very thing that defines their life, the very thing that they lived and breathed for, they lose faith and when that happens there is no coming back.

I think this was that moment for my father. I’ve always wondered how anyone could love anything so intensely. But I guess love is a very elusive thing which sadly won’t fit into the bounds of words.

I can try to make sense of though, from what I’ve seen, love is when my father returned home after a tired day of work and as soon as he saw the face that opened the door, he could find calmness in spite of all the chaos surrounding him. One of the biggest regrets of my life is that I couldn’t see and feel that pure unconditional love.

Anyways, in my bittersweet flashback my father also gets to know that it was my mother’s intentional decision to give her life in order to save mine.

So, from that day my father loathed to see my face. As every time he looked at me, I reminded him of the day he lost the purpose of his life. He became an alcoholic and just gave me money to do whatever the hell I want with it.

I never actually went to school regularly, used to bunk most of the time. But that didn’t matter because I passed somehow by cheating and my street smartness. But, it really hit me when I flunked my senior year and all of my friends went to Ivy League colleges, while I was left to attend my dreadful senior year AGAIN with a bunch of crackpots.

Though, that wasn’t the part that made me lose my sense of self- dignity. It was when the look of nonchalance on my father’s face when he heard the former news. Even this far in life I didn’t have goal or any plans to look forward to. This part kept me most of the nights and stole any little peace of mind I had left.

Then I attended community college in hopes of at least getting proper education. In college, I couldn’t stick to any one major for a year as I was pretty fickle minded about it.

One sunny happy day, birds are chirping, I’m braying Beyoncé’s halo and enter the college premises to see this guy snogging my girlfriend. My fury knows no bounds as I beat the shit out of him then I get to know that my girlfriend had been cheating on me with him for many months. But, it was too late to reconsider my actions as I had probably broken 50 of his bones oops!

Then I got slapped an assault case and got expelled from college for disgracing them. This particular joke that I’m about to say is a big touché moment but humour at my expense has been a trend I’ve experienced everywhere so hell with it.

I got expelled from a freaking community college with drug addicts, goons, people who have flunked their freshman year about 3 times go to. And I have been expelled from such a college for “disgracing them”!!!

Go on laugh yourself out.

But a tiny ray of hope appeared after a jumbo combo of disappointment with a side of bad luck and a dollop of ugly fate. I was discovered by the basketball scouts and got a chance to play in the local league and if I did play well, I had a chance of playing ball in college! They absolutely loved me. I had gotten so used to people being disappointed in me that I was so unsure of myself when people really appreciated me.

But as you know of my series fuck ups I had to screw this one too. But, this one was the most epic of them all. I had a few shots in before the game just to you know, bring that edge.

During the game, when I was passed the ball, my drunken brain thought it was the head of my ex-girlfriend and I started smashing the ball against my head (which my brain thinks as a pathetic attempt of kissing “her” or rather “it”). So, at the end, everyone thought I was some lunatic and I got kicked off the field (literally).

I finally let go of all the little self-respect I had and applied for a job as a cashier at McDonalds. And the reply from them was the single most embarrassing moment of my life.

I got rejected!

Then I heard a call saying that my grandpa had died but he had also left me the family mansion, which I assume is out of pity for being ignored for most of my life. This was just in time (not my grandpa’s death of course! Gee I’m not so devoid of emotion!) as I was being kicked out of my apartment due to not paying rent for past 3 months and needed a place to crash.

But, aside from that I was a 23 year old man with no job, no girlfriend, and no degrees to show for, no friends and absolutely broke. I should be the poster boy for the word “miserable” (at least that way I’ll make some profit out of my pathetic existence of a life).

The mansion looks absolutely beautiful from outside. It has a huge dome at the centre with 2 parapets flanking its either sides. The entire dome is made of tinted blue glass which makes it look like it’s a part of the sky but a glistening one filled with hand painted butterflies, hummingbirds, Macau’s and various other exotic species of birds.

The front lawn is as exorbitant as a rare and secret meadow left untouched by mankind, where the flowers unknown grow at their own liberty, unrestricted where bees hover over them making a slight buzzing sound . The whole estate looks so unreal and glorious, it is like a medieval castle left untouched.

But, all I could feel by looking at it was dejection. I felt even this wonderful piece of architecture was looming over and looking at me in pity. I sighed heavily and gathered my meagre possessions and stepped inside.

It was even more splendid from the inside. I don’t know what I’ll do with so much space, I could fit all of my things in the pantry closet! I just lay down on the plush divan to take a small nap because thinking about my wretched life made my mind blackout and heavy like I’d had a few too many tequila shots.

“Poor boy, how can anyone’s life be so tragic and pitiable!?” said pride, wiping off the tears rolling down its cheek, “I know what a troubled childhood feels like, even my mother was too haughty to admit that she had become too fat because of giving birth to me and she never looked at me with a hint of motherly affection, it totally damaged my self-confidence.”

“As if you ever had it to begin with! You appeared to be so full of yourself in front of people but deep down you’re a pathetic little wimp!”

“Stop it envy! See, you made him cry, aren’t you living up to your name! Always jealous of others! I know it’s like we can invade his privacy, by taking a peek at his thoughts, but this boy can’t even defend himself. He doesn’t get angry at all when people talk all sorts of things about him! How can he even live with himself!”

“Now now, anger you don’t upset yourself too much, your BP is gonna skyrocket. All this boy needs to do is to get laid man! He so uptight, he needs to loosen up a little and take a chill pill.”

“I totally agree with you, said Sloth, he needs to take some time out for himself and have a little self’-introspective nap once in a while right, Glutton?”

“All you ever do is take naps! And anyways he needs to round up and appear fuller, he’s such a scrawny kid! Eat more spaghetti and meatballs!”

“You’re awfully quiet Greed, speak up man this isn’t like you! You’re always complaining that you don’t as much time to speak”.

“Yeah dude, it’s just I’ve never seen any man not having even basic survivalist desires. We gotta help this fella.”

“Okay then roll up your sleeves gentlemen and ugh *cough* cough* sorry woman, we got some work to do!”

I opened my eyes and nearly peed myself in the pants, in front of me were six men and woman, I screamed like a cat dunked in a bucket of water!

“Hey Yo mate, chill down, we’re just here to help”, said a boy who was in his teens clearly by the amount of acne on his face and the ripped jeans and hoodie he wore further justified my guess, he wore a badge called “sloth”

What a weird name, I thought. Who would like to be named after the sloth bear!

“Yo, for the fact the sloth bear was named after me!”

“Now, sloth you need to follow your own words, the boy must be scared shitless. By the way, I’m Greed, nice to meet you too and that rude fellow was Sloth.”, spoke a middle aged man with a rather baggy shirt and tight jeans.

“Guys let’s introduce ourselves to make it easier for him. Hello young fellow, I’m Glutton!”, said a shirtless man whose abs glistened with sweat as though he’d come from a workout.

“Hello kitten, I’m Anger.”, said a strikingly beautiful woman with a purple dress synched at the waist with a Gucci belt and black stilettos.

“Greetings from the better part of hell dear, I’m Envy.”, said a man with a formal attire and red horn-rimmed glasses.

“Morning, I’m Pride.”, said a tall man wearing an expensive Armani suit, reebok sunglasses and slick blonde hair.

“Hi, I’m Lust.” ,he whispered, God he must be the male-version of Aphrodite! He was enough to turn a straight man like me, gay.

(I gave such detailed description of them, as they keep recurring and I wanted you guys to see them exactly like I did.)

“Umm. Hi, I’m max I guess.”, I blurted.

“God! We need to work on your self-confidence boy! Okay I’ll tell you why we’re here. While you were napping, we looked into your past and thought you might need a little boost to help you live a better life. So, each of us will help you in their own area of expertise and ooh! I almost forgot we are here only for two days, so buckle up!”

Have become schizophrenic?! I am hearing voices in my head!

“Relax honey, we are visible and audible only to you.”, Anger said.

“Humph okay, what should I do to get rid of you lot?”

Quit the sarcasm brother, first we need to get a good workout. Come on move your ass, and Glutton then pulled me away for what seemed like forever and made me workout like hell. The workout was so intense, I was so sore I couldn’t move a muscle and every time I got up my butt ached.

But, when I looked in the mirror, I couldn’t believe my eyes, my body looked like it was photo shopped! Six pack abs, killer thighs, amazing collar bone and to top it off a chiseled jaw! I looked like a Greek God!

Then, without wasting a minute, Sloth whisked me into the kitchen which was filled with amazing food and magazines. He told me, “You know what mate, you need to take some time out for yourself and make yourself happy once in a while.”

I never forgot those words.

I ate to my stomach’s fill, of course only healthy foods allowed (Glutton approved- check). Then my slot was with Anger.

We took a walk and were talking everyday stuff when she pulled me into a McDonald’s. I resisted as I had just eaten the feast of my life, but she insisted and made me sit down in a booth.

“Sometimes anger in the right direction is okay.”

Then a waiter came and asked for our order, before we could even blink an eye, he started bellowing out like a cow belching and started telling people that I was the specimen of a man who got rejected even from a McDonald’s job and thought a ball was his ex-girlfriend!

People around me started taking selfies and snaps of me and posting it on social media.

Anger whispered, “You need to defend your honour, sugar. No one is going to do it for you.”

I mustered all the courage I had left in me and punched that guy in his face. I pulled Anger away and we made for the run.

After the running all the way to house, I told her, “I never felt so exhilarated and satisfied in my entire life!”

“But, remember kitten, anger only in the right direction and for the right cause, like you defending your honour for example.”

Will remember, Ms. Anger.

Then Pride and Greed approached me together and took me into my room and gave my laptop.

“Listen son, you are quite capable and intelligent, all you need is to believe in yourself a little more and go after the things you want.” , Pride said. “So you need to write an essay to get into Ivy League colleges with full scholarship, so begin writing.”

I bit my lip. Just believe in yourself.

Then I wrote my essay by pulling an all-nighter and submitted it.

I could feel someone shaking me hardly, I rubbed my eyes and opened them reluctantly only to see Greed pulling off my blankets and telling me to get ready for a small basketball session.

We then drove over to the Baltimore city gym, I then realized he had brought me to the basketball try-outs for the city’s team!

Believe in yourself.

After almost half a day, we returned home then Lust dragged me into various clothing stores and dressed me up and told me to remember one girl who had impacted me the most.

Then, I thought how I could miss the one girl who stood with me through thick and thin! She never doubted me! Suddenly I could remember all the subtle hints she gave throughout the time we were friends, and I, a fool, never paid her enough attention, trying to go after girls who were popular!

Oh Sarah! Then I saw the smirk on Lust’s face and knew he was the one who helped me clear my thoughts.

He murmured, “Go! You moron.”

I rushed to my car and drove to Sarah’s house and almost punched a hole into her front door trying to knock.

The door opened, and when I saw her face, I found calm in midst of all chaos of my mind, guess I finally got to see the true love I always yearned for.

I gave her my true confession with gulps in between.

She told, “I thought you’d never realize.”

I pulled her waist close to me, and whispered in her ear, “Better late than never” and tucked the hair on her cheek behind her ear and kissed her like I’d never see her again.

Well, two days passed within a blink of an eye, and yet I have changed so much, grown into a better man. Oh! Only Envy hadn’t had his chance to speak to me.

I then told Sarah I’d see her tomorrow and drove back to the house to see all of them standing on my front porch. I got down and t and went and hugged each one knowing it was time to say our goodbyes.

Envy stepped forward, “Max, we always knew you were a special young man, but always remember that when you succeed, there are always gonna be people who will envy you and try to bring you down, you have to then remember how hard you worked to get there and say, fuck you assholes and stay put.”

“I love you guys; do you have to go?”

“Yes child, but we will be watching you, okay?”

Goodbye.

When I was going to unlock the front door, I saw my reflection on the glass, and I then I realized that I was always like this, but I never saw myself for what I really am.

I measured my life by milestones and achievements all along, never realizing those small moments where I was the best possible version of myself.

I guess, the old wise man was correct.

Epilogue – After a year

I am so busy right now, I don’t even have the time to write this, but I know you guys I are curious of what happened after that.

I got selected to play college ball for Princeton University with a full scholarship. Sarah and I are in a very serious relationship and we are thinking of getting married after college, oh and by the way, she also got accepted to Princeton.

I also work as a part time model for Vogue (who knew!) I think I may be playing for the NBA next year.

And I made things right with my father and actually forgave him of all his shortcomings.

I am so grateful and happy for those two days last year, though I still think my mind is playing tricks with me as I went back the McDonald’s store and asked the guy whom I punched if he remembered me and he gave this weird look .

Anyways, you guys might have thought I have finally achieved something, but I think otherwise. I am still so very insecure about myself in a thousand different ways. But when I wake up in the morning, I am so grateful for being given this life in contrast to before when I used to wonder my purpose.

~ Lady Lazarus

[comphersjost]

Hooked ➸ Morgan Rielly

this is so??? long??? i didnt mean for it to get so long but here we are ig

ALSO i know the scenes with her friends are a little different from what i usually write, but thats honestly how i am with my own friends so i wrote it from my personal experience. let me know what you think!

also keep in mind that the reader is a woc and so are her friends (again, based off of personal experiences, and slang is how we talk where i grew up)

based off of the song hooked by why don’t we

words: 3.5k+

summary: you didn’t expect to run into the Maple Leafs captain at your favorite little bar in New York, but you did. you’re a die hard Rangers fan, and now he’s set on convincing you that not all of Toronto is so bad.

warnings: smut, morgan is a cocky bastard, alcohol, woc reader, hoodrat antics and slang (based off where im from, idk if its the same in ny but yk)

find my masterlist here

listen to hooked by why don’t we here

Ooh... (you got a bad... you got... you got, yeah)

You’d met Morgan at a bar after the Leafs had playing the Rangers. You were out with a couple friends at a bar after getting dinner at some drive thru and eating and laughing at a viewpoint that your group loved. In had come a group of men, not one under 6’0. You hated yourself for recognizing them immediately. Growing up watching most professional sports caused you to recognize prospects and players of each of them, and to be specifically able to recognize the build of each type of athlete.

You’d locked eyes with Morgan across the room, and a smirk had pulled at his lips when he saw the Rangers hoodie that you were wearing, along with gray ripped jeans. You and your friends had dressed comfortable, not looking to get all dressed up for anyone. All of you were wearing jeans or leggings, and hoodies.

“What’s up, Y/N? You good?” your friend Justine nudges you, dragging your eyes back to her.

You lean in to her so she can hear your next words. “Hockey players,” you murmur. “From Toronto.” Your friend wrinkles her nose in disgust. You’d all grown up together, diehard fans of your city’s teams. The two of you look back over at the group, who had now dragged two tables together to fit everyone. You catch Morgan’s eye again, and this time he smiles wickedly, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip and dragging his eyes up and down your figure.

“That one looks like he wants to fuck you in his car.” You let out a burst of laughter at her words, though you know she’s not exactly wrong. “That’s the captain isn’t it? Morgan Rielly?” You only nod in response, not breaking eye contact with him - a challenge. He beckons for you to come over there, but you only sneer at him, turning back to the conversation at the table.

It isn't long until you can feel a presence at your back. “Hi,” comes a deep rumbling from behind you. You turn to look up at him.

“Morgan Rielly,” you say shortly. Your girls have gone quiet, watching the interaction with wide eyes.

“Hot Rangers fan,” he responds, the teasing in his tone clear.

“Good game, Cap” Justine chirps, the disdain clear in her voice. Morgan’s face breaks out into a wide smile. The game had gone into a shootout, the Leafs coming out on top by only one goal.

“Thank you!” he says cheerfully, grinning at the compliment even at Justine’s passive aggressiveness. “It was tough and we both played well.” Justine rolls her eyes, clicking her tongue at you and raising her eyebrows. You do the same back to her, a smirk playing at your lips. After the interaction between you and Justine, the other girls seem to catch on. The 6 of you were all athletes and had used clicking your tongue as a way to communicate that you were feeling some type of way about someone, something, or the opposing team since high school. It was you, Justine, Aly, Lauren, Jalin, and Deja.

You've got a bad reputation in my neighborhood

You drive me mad with temptation 'cause it tastes so good

Morgan brushes his knuckles against your arm to catch your attention. “What’s your name?” You tell him and he repeats it, causing an involuntary shiver to run down your back, straight to your core. “Can I buy you a drink?” Justine snorts next to you, and you smile knowingly at her.

“That's pretty bold of you,” you say.

“Oh yeah?” Morgan challenges, “Why’s that?”

“You’re in Ranger’s territory-” Justine sneers.

“-you’re definitely out of your element-” Aly continues.

“-with a big ass ego flirting with our girl here-” Jalin hums.

“-and we’re pretty obviously Rangers fans-” Lauren says.

“-after a pretty tough loss,” Deja quips. “So maybe that’s where all your confidence is coming from but-”

“-this is our hood,” you finish. “And you’re playing a dangerous game.”

You know I wouldn't walk away even if I could

It took one night, one try, ay

Damn, I'm hooked (oh)

“Your hood, huh?” an amused, and slightly awed, smile plays on his lips. “I play a dangerous game for a living, Y/N, one I’m pretty good at, in fact. I think I can handle you. All of you, actually. Even with this weird in sync thing you girls have going on here.”

“We’re just on the same wavelength,” you grin at your friends, and they all smile back at you and smirk at Morgan.

“One drink?” Morgan wagers, “If you decide that you can’t handle my stupidly handsome and talented self, then you’re welcome to leave me wherever I am.”

“One drink,” you say, nudging Justine with your elbow as you stand. Morgan’s hand on your back feels hot, even through multiple layers as he leads you to the bar. You raise an eyebrow when he pulls a stool out for you, and he simply shrugs, giving you a small smile that almost seems...shy.

You were there when I was low, you held me high

And, baby, when you take control, we can go all night

Morgan was a lot more fun than you had been expecting, he made you laugh until you were in tears. But he also made you shudder when he looked at you, eyes gone dark. Your stomach knotted itself, the low ache of arousal in your core making it difficult to focus on what he was saying.

There were times when his teammates would come up to whisper something in his ear, and you would be thrown back into reality. No matter how fine and funny he is, this man is a Leaf. But then he’d look back at you with those eyes and bite his lip and all of those thoughts flew out the window.

Needless to say, he’d asked you to come back to his hotel, and spent hours with his head between your thighs. He murmured praises against your skin, along with “C’mon, come for me, the Leafs don’t seem all that bad now, huh?”

“Fuck you!” you groaned, tugging at his hair.

“As you wish.” You wanted to slap the grin off Morgan’s face, but then he was sinking into you and oh shit. He was long and thick and felt so good. “Fuuuuuck, Y/N,” he moans, “You feel so fucking good, baby.” He was intent on making you admit that not all the Leafs were as bad as you thought, and you spent the rest of the whining and squirming underneath him.

Every single place we go, you start a fight

But then you kiss my neck and take a bite

Morgan had come back multiple times over the course of the next 6 months, inexplicably finding you every time. Granted, you frequented the bar he’d first seen you at many times. But somehow the night always ended with the two of you in either his hotel room or your apartment. He stopped trying to bring up hockey after the fourth time you’d fucked, knowing that as much as it helped rile you up so he could bring you back down with wet kisses pressed into your neck, it pissed you off.

Something you found out on the first night, was that Morgan loved to bite. He had a thing for marking ‘what was his’ as he put it, but with your brain foggy with arousal, you chose to overlook the comment. Besides, you liked being marked up by him, it gave you something to keep from him every time he left again. He was good, an attentive lover, and everything you wanted in a partner. But again, he was a Leaf, and it wouldn't work.

Everybody says I'm sleeping with the enemy

I don't even care if you're gonna be the death of me, me, me

You hated Toronto, the thought of moving there made you sick. And worse, Morgan would be there. The one-turned two-turned three-turned however many night stands with the Maple Leafs captain had only strengthened your cold feet about taking this position in Toronto. It wasn’t the fact that you were moving, you’d moved many times in your life, but New York would always be home.

“You sure you’ll be okay over there?” Jalin’s concerned voice came through your phone. A chorus of questions came after that from the rest of the girls.

“Don't worry, Jay,” you respond, placing the call on speaker so you could move some boxes around, “All of you, don't worry. It’s not super permanent, and I’ll be back eventually.” You could tell that Jalin didn't believe a single word out of your mouth, and honestly, neither did you. But this was too good of an opportunity to pass up in your company, and you’d be damned if your hate for the city and its sports teams was going to keep you from taking it.

“You let us know if you need us okay?” Deja piped up, “You know we’ll get over there ASAP. We’ll drive or fly it doesn't matter.”

“I know Dej, I love you guys, but I’ll be okay.” After assuring your friends that you’d be alright, multiple times, you ended the call, placing your hands on your hips and surveying the boxes piled up in your new apartment. You’d avoided thinking about Morgan for weeks, since you got the offer for a promotion, but now he’d snuck back into your head. You shook your head to clear thoughts of running into him here, pulling on a Rangers hoodie and grabbing your keys. Besides, it wasn't like there was anything you could do about it, you didn't even have his number.

You've got a bad reputation in my neighborhood

You drive me mad with temptation 'cause it tastes so good

You pause the music coming through your headphones when you walk into a coffee shop two blocks away from your apartment, lingering awkwardly near to the door as you survey your options on the menu behind the bar. You jump when a pair of arms wrap around your upper body, pulling you against a strong chest that felt all too familiar.

“Looks like you’re in my hood now,” he hums, dropping his head to your shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing walking around wearing a Rangers hoodie in Leafs territory?”

“Hello to you too, Morgan,” you lean back against the giant of a man behind you, letting your hands trail over his bare forearms.

“Mmmm,” he drops kisses along your neck and jaw. “What’re you doing in Toronto?”

“Work,” you turn around in his arms as you answer. “Got a promotion offer that I couldn't refuse.” Morgan’s eyes light up.

“Congratulations!” he grins at you, “And welcome to Toronto. Let me buy you coffee? I can show you around?”

You know I wouldn't walk away even if I could

It took one night, one try, ay

Damn, I'm hooked

You should've said no. You should've said no. But you didn't. Because you couldn't resist him, he was like a drug that you couldn't escape. The feeling of his lips alone was enough to get you addicted, much less his arms, his voice, his thighs, his hands, his cock...

Ooh... I'm hooked

You let Morgan pay for your coffee as well as his own, and he made conversation as you waited for your drinks, asking you about your job, the move, and your new apartment.

Ooh... I know that I shouldn't touch but you twist my arm

'Cause I can never get enough once the feeling starts

You shouldn't have taken his hand when he offered it to you leaving the café. You shouldn't have let him lead you through the streets of Toronto. You shouldn't have let him point out tourist attractions, and good restaurants, and his favorite places in the city as you walked.

Baby, I'm the gasoline and your kiss is the spark

But then you take the wheel and crash my car

You shouldn't have let him walk you home. You shouldn't have let him keep holding your hand. You shouldn't have let him kiss you.

And you shouldn't have invited him in.

Everybody says I'm sleeping with the enemy

I don't even care if you're gonna be the death of me, me, me

Mo didn't seem to mind the mess of unpacked boxes stacked around your living room, too focused on finding the one spot on your neck that made you lose your breath.

“Bedroom?” he mumbles, not waiting for an answer before biting down roughly on your neck.

“Fuck, Morgan,” you whine, “Down the hall, last door.” You’re too small for him to keep bending down to kiss you, even on your tippy-toes, so he just picks you up and wraps your legs around his waist. He takes his time making his way down the hallway, content to just kiss you and mark you up.

“I love how tiny you are,” he hums after leaving another hickey. “Makes it easy to move you when I fuck you.”

You moan out at his words before saying, “Everybody’s tiny compared to you, Mo.”

He pulls back a moment to look at you in surprise. He’s standing in the doorway of your bedroom, still holding you, when he says, “Are you - oh my god, are you chirping me?” You huff at the lack of contact and drop your lips to his neck without an answer. “Oh shit honey,” he groans while you suck on his neck. “You markin’ me up? Huh? Like marking your territory? Yeah, I bet - fuck.” You cut him off by sinking your teeth into his shoulder and that’s definitely gonna hurt in the morning.

You've got a bad reputation in my neighborhood

You drive me mad with temptation 'cause it tastes so good

Mo’s got you on your back, your shirt is still on, hoodie thrown on the bed next to you, and he’s dragging your jeans down your legs when your phone rings. You whine when Morgan pauses to grab your phone from the pocket of your discarded hoodie, glancing at the screen before handing it to you.

“It’s Jalin, answer it.” The command is short, and then his lips are on your thighs, pulling your jeans the rest of the way off.

“Mo-”

“Answer it.”

“Hey J, what’s up?” you know you sound breathless as you answer, but you hope she’ll over look it.

“Hey, Y/N-”

“Put it on speaker,” Morgan murmurs against your skin. You gape down at him but do as you’re told.

“Look, I know you said you’re all good in Toronto,” she starts, and you know that she’s alone now, the other girls probably having left. “But I just - you gotta be careful, ma, you’re in enemy territory now, you can’t go around reppin’ NY.”

“J, I’m not stupid,” you answer, trying to keep your voice under control as Mo trails his lips closer to the center of your thighs. “I can handle it, imma keep reppin’ and you know I’ll just fucking deck anyone if they try and start something they can’t finish.”

Morgan chuckles softly against your core, causing you to squirm at the warm gust of air that washes over you. “Shut the fuck up,” you say before you can stop yourself.

“Uh, what?” Shit.

“Yikes,” Morgan says, loud enough so that Jalin can here.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, are you with Morgan?” Jalin sounds exasperate, but not surprised.

“Yeah Jay, and you’re on speaker-oh shit.” You force a whine down as Morgan wraps his lips around your clit, sucking the bud into his mouth.

“Y/N, are you-? You know what, nevermind,” Jalin groans. “Call me back when you’re done fucking the enemy’s captain.”

“Got it,” you say quickly, ending the call as soon as the words are out of your mouth. “Oh, fuck, Mo, yeah, just like that.” Morgan seems to glow at your praise, humming as he sucks harder on your clit and drags two fingers along your slit.

“They know about us?” Morgan murmurs against your core, curling his fingers so that your back arches and a breathy moan escapes your lips. Us. He thought of you two as an us? Before you can get too wrapped up in your head he shoves another finger inside you, growling, “I asked you a question.”

You cry out at the action. “Yes, yes they do,” you whine, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “They knew after the first ni - fuck - first night. We - oh shit please - we don't keep secrets.”

He doesn't answer, only humming against your cunt again and whispering “Oh shit honey, I missed how good you taste.” You can only whine again, rocking your hips up towards his mouth. Morgan growls and lands a sharp slap on your thigh, making you yelp, before splaying his hand across your stomach to hold you down.

“You’re gonna come,” Morgan states - it’s not a question - “You’re gonna come for me, baby, all over my fingers and my face.” His fingers curl again, the pads of his fingertips pressing into your g-spot while his thumb presses down on your clit. You feel like he's holding you from the inside out and the pleasure is almost too much, thrashing against his hold.

You know I wouldn't walk away even if I could

It took one night, one try, ay

“Hold still,” Morgan snarls, holding you in place so that you can't escape. Even if you could, you're not sure that you would. You sob out, desperate for him to make you come, but everything is so much, too much. You can't stop yourself from squirming against his grips, the obscene sound of his mouth on your wetness and little gasps leaving your mouth - “ah, ah, ah” - the only noise in the room.

You scream when Morgan nips at your clit, the slight pain from his teeth only adding to your downfall. “Please, Mo, pleasepleasepleaseplease,” you moan, scrambling to hold onto him, push him away from your cunt. “Too much, too much, please.” He only growls again, keeping you pinned down with impossibly strong arms and sucking roughly at your clit. You let out a shrieking moan as you’re thrown into orgasm, the peak ripping through you so hard that you go blind for what seems like forever.

Morgan doesn't let up, his fingers cruelly continuing their exploration of your walls and his tongue circling your clit. Even as you start to come down, Morgan doesn't slow, intent on torturing you into another orgasm. “Fuck, Mo, please, I can't-”

“You can and you will,” Morgan growls. “Shut up and take it.”

You can’t say no to him. You don't want to say no to him.

So you let him bring you to the edge again, and again, and again. He makes you come with his tongue another 3 times, not once letting up to give you a break, and then he fucked you through another two orgasms, collapsing beside you when he finally came inside you.

Damn, I'm hooked

Ooh... I'm hooked

“How long are you staying?” Morgan murmurs against your skin later. You’d spent a couple hours in bed after your little escapade, though you should have been unpacking. His lips and tongue and fingers had been tracing patterns into your skin all over your body.

“Indefinitely,” you whispered into his hair. Morgan could most likely sense your sadness at the thought, and looks up at you with soft eyes.

“Hey,” he croons, cupping your cheek. “It’s not so bad here. I know it’s not New York, but you’re not totally alone, sweetheart, you’ve got me.”

“Mo,” you sigh, giving in to the soft kiss Morgan places on your lips, before he buries his face in your neck again. “Every time we’ve run into each other has been circumstantial, I’m not gonna wait around waiting to bump into you at a coffee shop or bar again.”

“Well then,” he hums, and you can feel his smile against the soft skin of your neck. “Y/N I-don’t-know-your-last name, I would like to take this moment to formally ask you for your phone number. Will you do me the honor of putting your number in my phone?”

“Ask me later, when I wake up,” you whisper, slowly drifting off, “I might say yes.”

You got me under your influence

I swear I'm never gonna give you up, up, up, up, up, up, up!

Morgan took you for breakfast the next morning. And then he took you for coffee the day after. And kissed you in front of your front door. And then offered to make you dinner at his place. And then kissed you again.

No matter what came up, he always made sure to check in and make sure you didn't get the chance to hate Toronto too much, especially not when he was with you. It was all too domestic and soft and you couldn't help the way he made you feel.

You've got a bad reputation in my neighborhood

You drive me mad with temptation 'cause it tastes so good

You know I wouldn't walk away even if I could

It took one night, one try, ay

Damn, I'm hooked

Your friends going to kill you, but you can’t help but smile every time you remember the first night, and thank yourself for letting Morgan take you home.

Ooh... I'm hooked

Ooh... I'm hooked, oh

[minstrivia]

; sangria | m.

— a/n: this is the first fic i released on this website. so like spare me.

— pairing: min yoongi x reader

— genre: smut, pwp, jealous!yoongi

— word count: 3k+

— warnings: dirty talk, creampie, exhibitionism (basically fucking on a beach), pet names, unprotected sex 

— summary: a day at the beach has yoongi hornier than he’d like to admit.

Admittedly, Yoongi had bought the skimpy bikini set for Y/N to use in closed facilities, like their own pool, or their bedroom. Not in actual public where wandering eyes meet her figure continuously. He doesn't even know why he let her leave the house, he should have stood his ground and demanded she changed. But she has a way of talking, like promising to suck him off when they get back home. Yeah, the argument was pretty much over after that. But it didn't mean he was fine with it. He doesn't even know what possessed him to buy it. When he'd seen it the shops he knew it would look good on her, he'd imagined the way it would wrap around her curves deliciously, but even his imagination can't beat or compare to reality in the slightest. 

She looks like pure, hot, sex. And he can't keep his eyes off. In fact, he hasn't. He's been observing her heatedly as she talks with a smile on her face to the bartender. He doesn't miss the way the boys' eyes linger below her face from time to time, and Yoongi knows exactly what he's thinking because he's thinking it too. Yet, she's oblivious to the whole ordeal. Her eyes crinkle as she laughs at something he's said and Yoongi has half the mind to stomp over there and drag her away.

But before he's even pushed himself off the ground she's strolling back towards him, two glasses in hand and his anger simmers momentarily as he admires his fiancée. 

Yoongi’s always admiring her. The way her engagement ring glints in the sunlight to remind him, they're forever. The way her legs go on for miles and if he squints hard enough, he can almost make out the purple bruise on her inner thigh. And the way she fits him, so snug and right on his body, like she was made just for him.

“What were you talking about?” He asks, subtly jerking his head in the direction of the bartender that's still sneaking glances at her.

Y/N takes a seat between his outstretched legs, crossing her own Indian style. Her brows furrow and she glances up at him whilst trying to steady the glasses on the book she brought.

“Jason?”

He frowns glaring at her accusingly. Yoongi knows Y/N, she's a flirt, plain and true, entirely out of habit though. Most times she doesn't even mean it or realises she's doing it. But she'll do it, and it always succeeds to piss him off. 

“First name terms already?”

Y/N shrugs not really understanding the bitter tone in his voice. She hasn't done anything yet so she won't let him spoil her day like he'd tried to this morning. “He asked if he could get my number—”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. How was she so nonchalant about this? “Oh—he did, did he.”

“Yeah—” She says, a teasing smile accompanying. He's definitely jealous. “—had to tell him I didn't think my fiancé would be too understanding.”

Yoongi grins planting a kiss on her lips that leaves her breathless. That's his girl.

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Anyway, he gave me free sangrias and told me to tell you that you are a very lucky guy.”

He is lucky. Very lucky indeed. He doesn't know where or what he'd be doing if she hadn't given him another chance. All he knows is, he'll never stop loving her. And well, that wouldn't have been good for him without her. 

“Hm, I am aren't I?” He encloses his arms around her waist pulling her set against his chest. “Justin's a very smart guy.”

Y/N slaps his arm holding back her smile. “Jason,” She corrects knowing full well he hadn't forgotten but instead insisted on acting like a jealous bastard. 

He doesn't care. He shifts her hair to one side and brushes his lips over her shoulders. She smells enticing. A concoction of apples, almonds and him. He can definitely smell himself on her. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you look today?” He asks, not really expecting an answer. 

She giggles. He always makes her feel like a giddy high school girl again. “Really, you think so?” She doesn't.

He hums.

She leans back into him and her eyes flutter close. The sound of waves rippling, laughs and chatter fill her ears and her lips stretch up.

“You know what I just realised?” She pops an eye open to check if he's listening. He is. “I haven't been to the beach in like—” She holds up her freshly painted white nails. “—2 years.”

Yoongi grimaces. It's not like she didn't want to go to, well to some extent she didn't, she's not the biggest fan of the place. Y/N hates the way the sand sticks to her body, amongst other things. But mostly, she just hasn't felt as body confident as she used to since she had Hye. 

“It's been that long?”

“Yeah—” She chuckles nervously feeling as self-conscious as ever. These girls on the beach are young, skinny and single. She wouldn't be surprised if Yoongi found someone else more up to speed to go with. “I'm so old compared to all the girls here.”

“I hardly believe 23 is old. If you’re old then 25 must be ancient.”

She laughs. “Yoongi, you’re a grandpa you don’t count.”

He squeezes her tightly with a scowl.

But the point still stands, ever since she gave birth to Hye, her body changed. For one, her breasts are bigger than they used to be which she guesses is positive because Yoongi claims he likes it a lot. 

However, the stretch marks, no matter what Yoongi says, she doesn't like. Sure, they're faint because she'd been avidly using Aloe Vera on them like Google had told her too. But they're still there if you look properly. And she hates it.

Yoongi strokes her stomach, thumb painting his name in ghost ink. He can practically hear her think and it isn't hard to discern what she's thinking. Sure, the girls are pretty but they're also bland. They're not his Y/N.

So, he decides it's the best time to tell her what's been running in his mind for far too long.

“You know, I would really like to fuck you right now.”

Y/N releases a slow breath. She's expected this from him, ever since he almost cancelled the day trip when he saw what she was wearing. She's been waiting for him to speak his intentions, but she hasn't come here for this.

“No way.” She sits up and turns to face him with the sternest face she can muster. Yoongi thinks she looks adorable. 

“Can you see how pale I am? I need to tan.”

He splays his hand on her thigh and grabs firmly. 

“Well, I don't think you need to.” He murmurs, tracing the magenta bruise he'd left on her the other night and she shivers visibly. He catches her earlobe between his teeth. “Plus, I like the way my marks show up on your skin.”

Y/N shakes her head, shuffling off of his lap swiftly and turning on the towel to lay on her stomach before he can manipulate her with his words like he's done many times before. 

“Yeah...well, I want to tan.” 

She releases the clasp of her bikini bra and he groans at the way her breasts spill out invitingly. The bra itself is only held by a flimsy knot around her neck. If he just tugs it with his finger it'd be off. Which isn't putting him at any ease.

“You can tan later.”

In Yoongi’s head, if she really wants him not to touch her, then she's not presenting her case very well. And having her rounded ass in his face isn't helping his growing hard-on either. Mainly because he remembers the way he pounded into her from behind last night as she ground against him, crying for more. 

He rearranges his shorts awkwardly. He needs to fuck her. And he's going to.

He rests on his side facing her. 

“Baby, look,” He starts, trailing a finger languidly down her spine. “You can sit on my lap. I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side—” 

Her breath hitches and he smirks, he's almost got her. “—and no one will notice.”

It does sound tempting. In fact, if he had caught her at another time, she would already be on his lap. But now, she really does just want a day to relax and tan without having sex. So, Y/N ignores him.

“What d'you think Hye’s doing with your parents?”

Yoongi grumbles and lies back on the towel. Is she being serious? 

“I don't really want to think about our sons' whereabouts when I have a very fucking painful boner.”

Y/N glances at his shorts. He's shifting around uncomfortably and it does look painful. She almost feels bad. She huffs, her resolve weakening by the minute as she thinks about having him buried to the hilt inside her as he fucks her brains out.

“I am not about to have sex with you on the beach.”

“But baby, you look so fucking good,” He whispers in her ear, kissing the skin behind. “And you know how much I love being inside of you.”

Y/N knows, she loves him inside her too. He's so big and his cock is so perfect. She nibbles at her lip, biting back a moan. Why does he always have the right words to get her worked up. 

All she wants is one day when they're not going at it like rabbits. Is that too much to ask for?

Apparently, to Yoongi, it is.

He sits up with a scoff picking her up easily and settling her on his lap again, back pressed against his chest. 

“Y/N... if I want to fuck you. I will.”

She sighs. He's so stubborn, he won't give up for anything. She grabs the towel she'd been lying on and covers her lap with it. 

“Fine.”

Yoongi’s face is already buried in her neck when he smiles and squeezes her waist. “Thank you, princess,” He mutters against her, sucking and biting harshly at the creamy surface. “I'll fuck you so good.”

After he's done with her, he's gonna send her back to the bar, marked up and sweaty, so that the boy can see who she belongs to. 

She's his and will always be.

Y/N rests her head back on his shoulder with a muted moan, allowing him ease of access as her eyes flits around the area. Apart from the few people at the bar hut and the people playing around in the water, she'd say they were safe. At least, as safe as they could be on a beach anyway.

Yoongi isn't even taking precautions like Y/N, he's visibly excited that he's about to fuck her on a beach. He tugs his shorts down quickly.

His cock rubs against her covered pussy as she grinds down against him impulsively. “You need to be faster than this Yoongs,” She whines.

“I'm coming—” He shifts the towel around their body in place, knowing it'll probably make Y/N feel more sheltered. “I'm coming, hold on baby girl.”

He draws her panties to the side and his cock twitches as he strokes himself against her slit. He lets out a shaky breath, her juices coat his tip almost immediately and he wants to eat her so bad. But he can't. Not here.

“Shit my baby girls so wet for me, isn't she?”

“Christ.” Her eyes roll back as she gasps. She's incredibly needy now. She has to force herself not to move without his command. She knows her Yoongi. And she knows as riled as he is, he'll leave her horny if she disobeys him. “Just fuck me... please.”

God. She's so pretty and good to him, particularly so when she's begging for him. He loves it when she begs, makes him feel in control. 

“Look at you.” He sniggers. “Weren't you just so adamant on me not being inside you.”

She denies it.

“You sure baby?”

Y/N sucks in a sharp breath as he sinks her down on his cock slowly until all of him is buried inside her warmth. And her jaw slackens, a whine escaping her mouth. He always fills her so goddamn well. 

She can't control the noises that leave her lips, and as sweet as he finds them he's gonna need her to stop. Even though he doesn't want her to. He wants to hear every whimper she makes.

“Try to keep quiet baby girl. We don't want to get caught,” Yoongi urges breathily and cups a breast from underneath her bra in his large hand. “Now, I'm gonna need you to ride me yeah...”

Y/N nods fervently, hurriedly digging her fingers into his thigh painfully and he bites into the skin under her jaw with the same intensity. 

Both are numb to the feeling, revelling in the steady rhythm her hips make as she lifts herself up and sits back down, burying herself deep on his cock each time. Her breast bounces in his hands and he rolls her nipple between his fingers.

They're both short of breath, panting and groaning like dogs in heat. The sun beats down on them in sweltering heat waves and their bodies are slick with sweat. 

They'd never fucked so publicly before and the thought of someone watching them arouses her to no end and Y/N can't take it anymore.

He feels so good filling her completely like his cock was made just for her cunt. Her stomach tightens, she wants him to pound into her so bad.

“Sh-Shit Yoongi, I need you to—” Her knees buckle as she rocks desperately against him. “I can't.”

Yoongi grabs at her waist. “You've been getting so greedy recently. Don't you dare fucking even think about stopping,” He growls in her ear. He plants a hand into the sand around them, steadying himself as he begins to thrust up into her.

He's driving into her hungrily, forceful and keen strokes set out to impale her swollen pussy. His name leaves her lips like a memorised mantra, the lewd slaps of her body against his entirely too loud for the beach but he loves it all. 

“Fuck, my girls always so good at taking my cock, isn't she?”

“Yes—” She exhales shakily. “I love taking your cock so much.”

“God, you’re such a fucking cock whore.”

Her hair scatters across her face as she shakes her head. “Yes— Yes, I love your cock. I love it when you come inside me—”

Yoongi grins against her jaw. “Yeah? You like it when I fill you?”

Y/N struggles for breath, choppy, short and strangled puffs each time he pushes. “Uh huh—I love it when you watch your cum seep out of me as well. Makes me feel like a good girl for you.”

“Jesus Christ, you're so fucking filthy, who's letting you keep talking like that?” 

Y/N doesn't have to say it. They both know that it's him. Yoongi’s letting her speak like that. And she's so overthrown in the bliss that the words just flow out naturally.

“It's because you fuck me so so so good.”

“I do, don't I?” He grunts, huffing and puffing to catch his breath. “It's 'cause my girl knows how to take her cock so well.”

She's hysterically trying to keep her grip on his thighs but he's treating her like a rag doll, and she can't wait to see the bruises his hands make on her waist.

“Yes— fuck, yes!”

“So, will you be a good girl and keep it all in you then?” Fuck, she's clenching so hard on him, and her walls are so tight he can barely move. He grits out with clenched teeth. 

“I want to see you talk to that boy again with ruined panties a—and my cum running down your thighs. Can you do that for me, baby?”

Y/N’s agreeing before he can even finish. “I'll do anything you want. I just— I just want to feel your cum stuffing me full.” 

Her head is dizzy with pleasure as his thrusts stay unrelenting. There's no empathy in them and fire pools low in her abdomen. And he's shaking.

“Fucking hell princess.”

Yoongi can't believe how lucky he is to have such a naughty girl like her, he will reward her though. He knows her body like the back of his hand. 

He lifts her off of him much to her complaint and turns her around, so they're face to face, he rests his forehead against hers giving Y/N ample time to breathe before slamming her body down towards him.

“Oh god, right— right there.”

Yoongi smirks, pounding into her again and again. Aggravating slow and controlled strokes that has her covering her silenced shrieks with a shaky hand. 

“Here?” He mocks.

“Yoongi!” She throws her head back and he relishes in how beautiful she looks for him. Her face is flushed, strands of brown hair stuck onto it and her lips are bright and swollen by the way she's been biting at them with her teeth.

He shushes her. “Don't worry baby, I've got you.” He's always got her. 

Y/N’s overcome with all emotions at once, her eyes sting with unshed tears. It's the pure incredibility of how well he's fucking her on a public beach and she knows she can't go back from this. Nor can he, he's gonna tick this off his bucket list and boast to the boys.

“God—I love you so fucking much Yoongi.”

He kisses her throat, soft and loving despite his thrusts. “I love you too—so much.” He means it. He's always meant it. 

“Fuck, I'm gonna—”

Y/N hooks her arms around his neck tightly, or else she's sure she's gonna flop back. Her back arches as she pushes her breasts flat onto his chest and he captures her lips in a bruising kiss. It's messy and sensual, tongues massaging together, and it just manages to mute out her clamorous moans. 

His pace speeds up, frantic and careless strokes into her as he chases his release. “I want you to cum around my cock princess,” Yoongi says heatedly. “Want to feel it so bad.”

And Y/N can't hold back anymore, the blue skies fade to black as she writhes against him, dissolving into blinding pleasure. Her walls tighten around him, the sensitivity of his vigorous strokes causing her to jerk and jolt.

He groans holding her firmly, his muscles contracting and relaxing when he goes still. His seed splatters against her walls, pump after pump of warm cum filling her so right. Like he always does. And they know it's messy, it always is.

“Fuck, my angel did so well—” Yoongi leaves sweet kisses on her jaw. Y/N hums, looking completely ruined and so rightfully his. Just like he's so rightfully hers.

Her body is flimsy as Yoongi lifts her up gently, pulling himself out of her. He fixes her panties before their juices trickle out of her slit too quickly. 

“Now try to hold my cum in you, and go talk to that bartender boy again.”

Y/N laughs. “Christ— you love this don't you.”

Yoongi curses as she does up her bra and stands to her feet. His hands and mouth have left prominent marks on her skin and he can already see his release beginning to run down her thighs.

 She sighs, “At least let me wear a shirt.”

all rights reserved ©️ minstrivia

[sichengslittlebitch]

Again and again [M]

Genre: Smut    Word Count: 2770

Summary: You and Ten were best friends until you found yourself getting a little too close to each other… now what does that make you?

“Man, what’s up with you today? You’ve got no energy.” Ten wondered aloud. You slumped down against the wall of the studio. “Long night, little sleep.” you informed him simply to which he smirked. “Long night? With who? Was it steamy?” he teased as he too let his back slide down the wall to sit next to you on the floor. Rolling your eyes you jokingly slapped your friend on the arm but he just continued to chuckle. You two were meant to be practicing a dance routine for a collaboration stage that was coming up but your lack of motivation was hindering the rehearsal. “You know, I think stress is just getting the better of me at the moment. There’s a lot of projects coming up and I just want to get everything perfect.” you sighed. Ten replaced his grin with a more sympathetic smile. “And you will. I know you will” You bit your bottom lip. Although his words were reassuring and full of support you couldn’t help but worry. “Okay!” Ten suddenly exclaimed, standing up. He held out his hand for you. “Get up” he instructed. “Let’s end practice for tonight and go relieve some of that stress.” Letting out a small laugh you shook your head and took his hand. “What do you purpose?” “Well,” Ten started confidently, you knew he had it all planned out in his head. “It’s only 9pm. The night is young. I’m thinking you, me, lots of drinks, some sweaty club dancing and then some hideously greasy food that our managers would normally scold us for even looking at.” He nodded, liking the sound of his own plan and as much as you didn’t feel up to going out, you couldn’t deny it sounded like a great night. “So?” he waited impatiently on your answer, making his eyes large in an awful attempt to act cute but you still couldn’t resist them. “Fine, let’s go.”

The club was packed. It was a friday night afterall. You’d just about had enough time to wash up, slap on some makeup and get changed into a tight little dress. Ten had agreed to meet you at the bar but he was running a little late. You sat and sipped on your cocktail and you waited, enjoying the atmoshpere of everyone letting loose and having fun. “Wow!” You heard someone exclaim from behind you. They rushed around to your front and grinned. “Damn, you’re smoking hot from the back and the front.” You were just about to open your mouth a stutter out an awkward response when someone pushed them aside. “Yes, she is, isn’t she?” Ten smirked, glaring down the guy who was trying to hit on you. “Did you wait long, baby? Sorry I’m late.” He smiled, rubbing your arm gently. With that, the guy sure enough had gotten the hint and moved on without another word. “Look at you, miss popular.” he teased, waving his arm to get the bartenders attention. “Double vodka, please.” he requested before turning to you. “And for the lady? What would you like?” “Sex on the beach.” “Yeah, me too, but we’re at a club now. What are you having to drink?” You glared at him, unimressed with the lame joke. He chuckled to himself before ordering another cocktail for you. Time went quickly and so did the drinks. Within an hour or so you were both tipsy and having a great time, laughing and gossiping together. “Oh!” Ten explaimed excitedly. “Get up now, we have to dance to this!” He promptly stood up, took your hand and moved over to the dance floor. The song was upbeat but had a sexy feel to it. It fitted Ten well. The two of you danced and let go of all your worries, just enjoying the moment. And so the night continued. More drinks, more dancing. It was getting late and the dancing was getting sloppier as you both became more drunk. He held you close as you danced together, feeling the music and loving each others company. Then his hands started to roam all over your body, gently squeezing you every so often. “You know there’s so many guys looking at you right now…undressing you with their eyes. I know they’re wishing it was their hands holding you and not mine.” His voice was deep and almost animalistic, his breath tickling your ear, sending chills through your entire body. A feeling knotted in your stomach. You knew that voice and you knew where this was going. After another 30 minutes or so of dancing, rather provocatively at that, you both agreed it was time to leave. “What are you feeling for food?” a drunken Ten slurred out. You paused to think, letting out a ‘hmm’. “Well you look on your phone what places are nearby and open at 3am and I’ll book a room.” He told you casually. “A room? What for?” He looked at your frown and laughed. “So let’s go back to your dorm. I’m sure your manager won’t mind that we’re drunk and eating junk food when we we’re meant to be practicing.” he suggested sarcastically. You knew he was right, your manager would go crazy. “Pizza, then?” you asked, accepting his request without words which made him smile. “Oh my god, I haven’t had pizza in so long!” Ten cried out, more excited for pizza than anyone you’d ever seen. It didn’t take long for him to find an available room in a motel nearby. “Lets go check in then order that pizza.”

Once in the motel room his bubbly self seemed to calm down. He pulled off his jacket and kicked off his shoes. You did the same, it was the best feeling after dancing in heels for hours. Ten was quiet as he slumped down on the bed, not saying anything which was unusual for him. However, after a while he stood up from the bed and came over to face you. You remained still, taking in his features. His handsome face, still mildly sweaty from the club but it only made him look better. How was that possible? His intoxicated eyes danced all over your body before swiftly landing on your lips without warning. “Ten-” He didn’t give you a chance to say what you wanted to say as he pulled your body tight against his and threw you into the most passionate kiss you’d ever experienced, one hand firmly on the back of your neck, the other snaking around your waist. You knew you should be saying no but you let yourself get lost in the feeling of his lips harassing yours. His fingers started delicatly tracing up and down your side. You broke the kiss and offered him a simple smile. “So, what toppings did you want on the pi-” “Fuck the pizza, it can wait.” He growled, latching onto your mouth with his once again, this time rougher than before, biting your bottom lip and diggin his nails into your hips. It wasn’t pizza he was hungry for at that moment. “Watching you shake your gorgeous body at the club was making it hard for me to control myself.” He whispered into your ear, his voice deep and needy. “I felt like throwing you over a table and taking you right there with everyone watching, especially those guys who were eyeing you up all evening.” “Ten-” you gasped out but your attempts to refuse him were useless. “And to make it worse, every time we’re in the practice room together I can’t control where my mind goes.” He looked you up and down, a devious smirk firmly on his lips. “I imagine pushing you up against those mirrors and making you watch yourself squirm as I fuck you from behind.” “Ten!” you were more stern this time. You wern’t sure if the alcohol had gotten to his head or if he’s lost his mind, talking like that. “I can’t hide how I feel anymore, babe.” His kisses lining your neck and collarbone. “I need you. Right now.” As he let out his intentions he began pushing you backwards towards the bed.

“Ten, we can’t do this again…” you huffed out, frustrated. That’s right, again. You and Ten had been close friends for a few years now but last month you both got crazy drunk and somehow ended up fucking each others brains out. Crazy drunk to the extent you didn’t even use protection. That was an awkward venture the next morning to get emergency contraception. You were both mortified about the whole thing and vouched to forget it and not let it ruin your friendship but then it happened again…and again. “Why not?” He pouted, still forcing you closer and closer to the bed. You didn’t know what to say you just knew you couldn’t carry on like this. “We’re friends.” You cried out. “I think we’re a bit more than that now, babe.” He giggled. “But what exactly?” Your voice becoming strained as you tried to hold back your frustrations. “Oh…uh…” Ten scrambled to find what to say, not realising how serious you were in that moment. “I guess, I don’t know… I care about you.” He told you honestly. “I’m not just doing it for the sex. I really, really love having you as my best friend and it’s just kind of progressed like this and I’m not sure how I should feel or what I should do but all I know is I like it. And i know you do to.” “How do you know it’s what I want?” you interrupted him. “The way you scream my name when I’m fucking you. Honey, you’re a great actress but not even you could fake that.” He wasn’t lying. Every time you got into bed with that guy it was incredible but you couldn’t help feeling like it was wrong. “I’ll be straight forward with you.” Ten says, holding you hands tightly in his and facing you. “I would like to be more than friends, seriously. If you don’t want that, that’s okay. If you want to make this a regular thing with no strings attached, that’s okay. Just let me know what you want to do. I don’t want to lose our friendship but I also can’t forget the feeling of being inside you. I feel like-“ "I like you, Ten” you blurted out, cutting him off. “Really?” Your sudden confession caught him off guard, a suprissed expression dawning his face. You nodded. “Every time we’re together I just want to be with you more and more but I was so scared you didn’t feel the same way and I didn’t want it to spoil the friendship we have.” Ten smiled softly. “Thankfully we’re on the same page. So, I guess that means you officially belong to me now.” His words made your face heat up. Hearing that from his mouth souned better than anything you could imagine. “Now, come here.” He began beckoning you towards the bed once more. “I’m going to make our first time something you’ll never forget.” “First time?” you laughed. “Well, our first time as boyfriend and girlfriend.” he smiled, liking how those names felt rolling off his tongue. Then his lips went back to working on your neck, driving you insane. He knew the right spots to hit with you.

Putting his slender fingers to work, he had your dress unzipped and on the floor in seconds, quickly followed by your bra. His shirt was next. He couldn’t unbutton it fast enough. It felt like he’d been waiting an eternity to be with you like this again and these last seconds building up to it were torterous. Next, his belt. Soon you were both stood there, him in his boxers and you just in your panties. You wanted to take the time to admire his shape. His body was in great shape and made for a great view. Ten on the other hand couldn’t hold back any longer. He took you and pushed you onto the bed, clawing at the sides of your underwear and elegently gliding them off your legs. “You’re so beautiful. All of you.” He groaned out and climbed on top of you. As he planted rough kisses down your neck and chest you couldn’t help but let a few soft moans out. The times you’d had sex with Ten in the past had been great but they’d also been drunken, sloppy, quickies. Nothing like what you were currently experiencing. You could feel his erection pleading to be let out from his boxers as it pushed against your leg. You reached down and began palming it, earning happy moans from Ten. “Please tell me you have a condom” You said, the thought not crossing your mind until then. “Of course, I came prepared.” He knew the plan was to get you in bed from the get go. He quickly jumped off the bed and pulled his wallet from his jacket, taking out a strip of condoms and throwing them to you. “I just need one.” you complained, ripping one from the others and tossing them aside. “Who knows how many we’ll need. We have the whole night after all.” his suggestive tone turning you on more with every syllabol. You tore open the wraper and pulled out the condom and Ten proceeded to pull down the last piece of material seperating the two of you. You slowly slid the rubber onto his cock feeling a sense of excitement knowing he was going to be pushing that into you momentarily. Once it was on and you were both ready to go he swung you round onto your hands and knees. “You’re mine now.” He barked. “I need to to see it when you look in the mirror at my marks on your shoulder and I need you to feel it as you find it hard to walk for the days after. Constant reminders of who owns you.” He lined you up at the edge of the bed as he stood behind you. Then in one sudden movement he drove his throbbing cock inside of you. You screamed out half in pain and half in shock. The position he had you in made it even tighter. You could feel him pulsing inside you when he jolted his hips again, forcing himself even deeper into you just when you thought it wasn’t possible. After allowing you a few moments to become accustomed he pulled out and rammed into you even harder than the first time, receiving another yelp from you. You glanced over your shoulder to look at Ten. His head flung back, biting his lip as he repeated the motions, gradually getting faster and harder. Whatever spot he was hitting, it was amazing. His hands tightly grabbing your hips as he pounded into you unforgivingly. Your cries were music to him, he loved it. The louder, the better. Every stroke had you edging closer and closer to your orgasm but Ten showed no sign of slowing down any time soon. He was a dancer after all, stamina was something that he did not lack. All you could hear were his breathless moans mixing with your screams and the sharp sound of slapping as he rocked his hips into you violently. “Ten...Ah!” the way he made you feel made it impossible to form a sentence. You were close and he knew it, giving it his all to drive you over the edge and once it hit you, words couldn’t describe how good it made you feel. Ten rode out your orgasm now seeking his own. A few more harsh pumps and he finally found it, letting out a moan as the feeling came over him. Pulling out of you and taking of the condom, he tied it in a not and trew into into the trash can before climbing into the bed and pulling you close. Your head resting on his shoulder, he held you warmly as you both caught your breath. You were hurting all over but in a strange way had never felt better. Still feeling the burn from where he’d thrust himself into you repeatedly. “Oh my.” you puffed out. “I didn’t know you had this bad of a jealous side. Those guys at the club really bother you that much?” Ten merly laughed at what you were saying. “That wasn’t jealousy…”  You looked up at him in confusion. “Oh girl, you do not want to see me when I’m jealous if you think that was rough. I’d truly destroy you.”

[myskinnyjourneyyourskinnypics]

We both walk into one of the rooms in the house, me stumbling, him holding the door open for me- constantly wary I may tumble. He watches me as I lay on the bed. I am as drunk as I have ever been and having freshly watched a horror movie easily susceptible to sudden bursts of fear. I have asked him to come upstairs with me until I have fallen asleep as I am tired but scared, he agreed. I lay down on the bed and pat the pillow next to me, “come here”, He follows my instructions. He is sitting somewhat rigidly- my drunk self doesn’t appreciate this, I grab him by the arm and pull him down to my level. We are lying side by side, I am looking at the ceiling and he is looking at me, studying my side profile and the nape of my neck.

“I’m going to the toilet. I won’t ask you to come with me but be here when I’m back”. Thankfully the girl has an en suite, I walk in and stare at myself in the mirror. I fix my boobs which are propped up in a pretty lace bra that I got on sale in VS- I’m wearing a low cut body suit with some jeans. My figure looks amazing. I get rid of some of the smudged mascara under my eyes. I look around for some makeup- a stray concealer will have to do so I reapply some under my eyes. I also swirl some listerine and then do what I came in here to do- pee. When I come back in he is slightly more relaxed, his hands folded behind his neck and his legs slightly crossed. His shirt has lifted a little and is revealing a tiny slither of skin that makes the butterflies in my stomach go wild.

“All done”.

He turns to his side just as I resume my position next to him. I gesture at the light and he reaches over and switches it off, revealing himself even more. It’s all dark now but there is still a ray of light coming in from outside- perfect for my viewing pleasure without the harshness of a full chandelier.

“For the record I didn’t want to watch the movie but everyone called me a pussy and now I’m here being babied by you”. I’m focusing very hard on not slurring my words but the cocktail of alcohols I took earlier are making their mark. Only one part of me is sober- the one that knows I’ve wanted him for over a year- the one that got me drunk enough to give me the confidence for this moment in the first place.

He chuckles, his laugh is deep and hearty and rumbles through my core.

“I’m not babying you, and anyway... I don’t mind doing it”

“I wasn’t implying you did... anyone would be lucky to be in your position right now” for a second I think I’ve gone too far but he leans slightly closer and says, “they would be”. More butterflies- they’re going wild and so am I.

I slip the blanket over the two of us- the goosebumps on my arm are hard to ignore and I’ve been outside for most of the night so the warmth is welcome.

“Hug me” it’s not a weird request, we’ve hugged before but never before while lying down- never so intimate. He obliges- assuming his usual awkward nature I thought he would just put an arm around my shoulders but he scoots right up to me I turn to my side and he slots into his position as big spoon perfectly. I’m going wild inside and I’m not sure I can contain myself anymore.

I move back to close the gap between us- I expect him to move back but he presses his body up against mine as a response. I lift up my midriff and he slots his arm under me. I slot my cold feet back in between his and finally, We are one. I can feel his warm breath on my neck.

If this goes nowhere further tomorrow and the rest of our days as best friends may get very weird. Even though I am drunk and off my rocker I am willing my brain to remember every moment, everything I felt. He is dead sober and I know he’ll be replaying this moment in his mind for years to come.

“Did you see the way she sat in him? Unnecessary and completely overbearing- I wanted to slap her” talking about the girl whose house, and bed we were in. Neither of us were big fans of her, my previous best friend and his ex, we didn’t harbour great feelings for her but we both managed to stay pretty close to her.

“He looked so uncomfortable bless him, he must have been in excruciating pain sitting under all of that” I feel every word he says it before it even becomes vocalised. As someone who suffered an eating disorder and two major weight losses I wouldn’t normally approve of this humour but this girl ripped his heart out chewed it twice and spat it back out, I hate her in more ways than one. I laugh- I have nothing else to add and I’m scared I’ll say something that will mess up this moment. I’m running my fingers along his forearm and he has cupped my stomach. Mind you I’ve been working diligently on making sure there is nothing to cup- even as I lay on my side I am perfectly flat- I’m constantly hungry and work out too much but nothing feels better than the confidence from this new body. He was worried for me for a bit when I first came back from summer almost half my size but he enjoys my new body almost as much as I do. He himself is a frequent gym goer- especially now in this moment I can feel him muscles tense and un tense- his arms, abdomen and thighs. I press even further against him, I can feel every inch of him against my ass. I’m not sure if he’s just huge or I’ve done enough to excite him so I move even closer. I feel a slight twitch and the pressure against my behind grows- he really truly is enormous. I wonder if I should turn around and make the first move but he answers my question for me by nuzzling his face in the space between my collar bone and jaw- not long after I feel his lips on my skin. There are fireworks going off inside me. I let out a whimper- I’ve never been this intimate with a boy- especially not one I’ve wanted so passionately. He laughs- he loves teasing me- I can already tell he’s going to make me wild before he gives me any form of satisfaction. I’ve made it no secret what domination makes me feel like- I’m sure he’ll show me just how dominating he can be. He moved his hand from my stomach to my breast- between my recent growth and the padded bra I was wearing, there was plenty for him to grab. Another gasp. This time he makes a low groan of his own to match mine. I put my hand on his upper thigh and move it into the gap between our bodies. I slid it down to his length, now pressing eagerly against his length. Almost in a synchronised action to mine he slides his hand down to the zipper of my jeans. I regret wearing a bodysuit around about now but I thank the heavens for the full body wax I’d got just two days before. My body was ready as he undid my jean button and then the zip. He did it slowly to agonise me and my breaths were becoming shorter.

“It...i...theres... it’s a body suit” I manage. He puts his other hand to my lips to silence me and continues to caress my neck with his lips. Then in a single snap he undoes the snap button on my body suit. As he does so he brushes against my eager lips and another whimper escapes me. He laughs again. He slides his hand into my underwear and teases me. I can’t take much more so I turn my body around to face him. I hug his face with my hands and he leans down to reach me. Our first kiss, his first proper kiss. But he is good. He has both hands on my ass and I have one on his face and one on his chest. I can feel his heart beat and unlike his tough demeanour his heart tells a different story. I pushed him onto his back and began to straddle him, I could feel his erection pressing up against me. I move my hands to the bottom of his shirt and slowly begin to pull it up. He took his hands off me to finish removing his shirt. He has an incredible body- carved like a god and a layer of hair covered his chest and abs. He proceeds to remove my body suit which is already loose. He is gentle yet rough all at once. When he takes it off he pauses for a second to admire me, then he runs his hands along my stomach and up to my boobs which he cups.

“Wow. I love your tits”

That sent lightning bolts down my spine. His rough persona in bed contrasted his gentle self so perfectly I could cry. I was aching with need for him. He reached behind me and undid my bra. I was nervous for this- I hated my nipples I thought them much too big for my boobs but they were rock hard now and he didn’t seem to mind as I let the straps fall then slowly pulled the bra from me and let my boobs go free. He cupped them yet again and ran his thumbs around my nipples in circles.

I was whimpering again so I leaned down to kiss him. I moved down from his lips to his chin and then to his neck. I made a trail of kisses all the way to the top of his jeans. I looked up at him to make sure he was comfortable with what I was about to do. His face was already contorted with pleasure and I took that as my cue to undo his jeans and pull them down. He quickly removed them with me still on him and lay back down. I ran my hands along his underwear. He let out a choked noise- I liked teasing almost as much as he did, if not more. I kissed around the band of his underwear and proceeded to pull it down. All nine rock hard inches of him bounced out of his Calvin Kleins. I had never done this before but I’d watched more than enough porn to know exactly what I wanted. In a last ditch attempt to tease him I kissed from the base to the tip. I then focused on his tip for a few seconds before attempting to fit him in my mouth. I was more successful than I had hoped and the sounds coming from him confirmed that. He put his hands in my hair and began to press me down onto him- I loved this. After a while I could feel him succumbing so I worked even harder- using my hands and tongue to give him the best experience I could. After a few minutes I felt him release into the back of my throat. I looked up at him triumphantly. He looked ecstatic. An animal energy radiated from him. He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me up onto him again. He proceeded to kiss me aggressively, even possessively until he flipped me around. He pinned my arm above my head. This was what really got me going and he knew this. I let a low moan escape me. He kissed down from my neck to my breast where he spent a considerable amount of time before moving down to the top of my jeans. He looked up at me and I nodded- or as close to a nod as I could muster. He undid my jeans and threw them across the room where they landed on the vanity with a noise. I was wearing see through lace underwear. It made me look and feel great. He used his teeth to partially remove them before proceeding to half rip them off of me. He uses his fingers to pin my legs to either side of me. He used his tongue to open me up. It took him eleven minutes to bring me to ultimate ecstasy. I was so loud I was sure someone would walk in, at one point he moved one hand from my thigh and clamped my mouth shut. When I finally came he was so proud of himself that he fell into a fit of laughter. By that time he was hard all over again but I didn’t make a move to re-engage as I didn’t want to have sex yet and I was sure my body would betray me if I did. I went to the toilet- wiped off my makeup and brushed my teeth with some toothpaste on my finger. I tied my hair up in a pony tail above my head and walked back in- stark naked. I decided against looking for my clothing so I picked my panties off the floor and put them on again- he was watching as he stroked himself so I put on a show. I ran my hands over my boobs and the rest of my body. I turned around to reveal my behind- arguably my best feature- and his favourite. I’d put on enough of a show that by the time I’d found his shirt to cover myself he had come again and was ready to sleep. I passed him his boxers so we wouldn’t be entirely indecent when someone eventually walked in and lay beside him. He reached over me to grab the blanket and put it over us. I fell asleep after kissing him passionately as a goodnight. Curled up against his chest, my legs in between his legs and one of them over the top of me.

[bearxclaws-archive-blog]

We know what Anita's relationship is with Sanji, or how she feels towards him at least. What's her relationship with the rest of the crew or how does she feel about them?

🐻; anonymous

Sorry in advance if this gets a little long, but there are quite a few Straw Hats. I’m including Jinbe and Carrot into this as well, whether or not Carrot actually becomes a Straw Hat too. Meaning these will all be her feelings as of the current arc even though I haven’t quite gotten to the rest of those rambling posts yet.

LUFFY ;

She, like most of the crew, respects and adores her captain. 

When they landed on her island and most of them were captures, I can guarantee you that Luffy shrugged it off at first in his usual ‘they’re stronger than they look, so they’ll be fine’ way. But when she sees the anger in his eyes knowing they might not be okay, she quickly comes to admire how protective of his friends he really is. The fact that he got them back and relented when Anita argued with him about who got to take down the Vice Admiral gave her more respect. I realize Luffy might not like that she begged at his feet for her to join, but it was only because she wanted to get stronger with them and save her friends and family that she did.

Anita is a big goof, so Luffy is one of the ones that she gets along with the best, along with Chopper and Usopp. Especially when I consider all the silly headcanons @xstrawhat and I have come up with. They argue over food and who the real alpha bear is, but I feel like Anita is totally and completely loyal to him. He’s her captain, and no one else can take that position. She owes him everything for giving her the chance to be better than she is.

They’re basically brother and sister.

ZORO ;

Zoro is her favorite drinking and work-out buddy. He’s the one that shows her tough love when she needs it. You know the kind; she’ll be moping about something or feeling sorry for herself like she does on occasion, and he’ll sass her out of her. Tell her to pick her sorry ass up and do something about it rather than being a baby. At least he does when he knows it’s appropriate. There are some moments when he knows it isn’t going to help because he isn’t totally heartless. He does care for his crew, and that includes her. So when she’s having those really bad days and being verbally slapped doesn’t work, he’ll sit there with her and share a drink.

He’s also the one that helps her bulk up the most. The strength she gains in her human form does translate to her bear form, so he’s the one she goes to when she wants an intense workout and wants to get beefy like him.

Okay, maybe not exactly like him ‘caus the boy is ripped, but she’s pretty muscular.

Zoro is also a good nap partner, especially when she’s in her bear form. The two nap together often.

NAMI ;

Anita was intimidated by her at first, honestly. She was sexy, smart and damn good with that Clima-tact— still is! But she’s gotten over that and come to highly respect Nami’s intuition and ability to sense the weather. As a bear, she can sense some things and she does have a good sense of direction on her own, but Nami’s skills are far beyond that and totally worth admiring.

Plus, she’s the reason why Anita’s wardrobe is so different in her Straw Hat verse. I know that doesn’t seem like a significant thing, but it is. In her Main Verse, she’s all dark and earthy colors and baggy clothes. Nami likely wouldn’t allow that and help her find things that still fit her style but aren’t so dirty looking. Grunge is still her style more than anything else, but a little blue and white and other nicer colors start to slip in. Anita starts to feel a little more confident in her looks because another pretty woman is showing and telling her that she’s actually kind of pretty and not a dirtball.

She’s also nice to snuggle. Can’t tell me for one second the girls don’t just get into a sleepy cuddle puddle sometimes and end up drooling on each other.

USOPP ;

Because Usopp is the most chill in her opinion, Usopp is probably the closest thing she has to a best friend. She loves the rest of the crew with all of her heart, she really does, but there’s just something about Usopp that makes her want to go to him first if she has a problem.  .  . especially if that problem happens to be Sanji.

He can be quiet and understanding one minute, then playful and goofy the next. He has such a vast personality that she feels like she can count on him for just about anything. And she kind of hopes she’s been giving him the impression that he can count on her because she’s not so selfish that she doesn’t want to be there for her friends. Especially since the two of them likely have the lowest self-esteem on the ship, next to their cook ( but that’s just my personal headcanon since I write him too. )

I’ve said this a billion times too, but SHE LOVES TO LISTEN TO HIS STORIES! Doesn’t matter if it’s a new or old one, she still sit from start to finish and ask for another one every single time. Doesn’t matter if they’re made up, either. Each story is different in its own way and she adores that he’s so creative. It’s the same with his art too. She isn’t the least bit artistic, so she can easily praise everything he does because he has a talent she doesn’t and loves it.

SANJI ;

…..MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM.

CHOPPER ;

Chopper is the baby of the family, so Anita is very quick to defend and protect him. When she knows there isn’t any way for her to distract or tank the way she’s meant to, her job is then to protect Nami, Chopper and Usopp. She doesn’t think they’re weak in any way because even at the circus on her home island, the smallest part ( whether it be in an act or something technical ) was important, but she knows that they aren’t as strong as the Monster Trio.

But she’s one of the one that frustrates Chopper the most when it comes to people sitting still during recovery. Sitting still makes her antsy, so she ends up getting up anyway. She won’t work out or remove her bandages like Zoro does, but she does walk around or attempt to sneak food from the kitchen.

I can see them training together, though, animal versus animal. Nothing that will get either of them too hurt, of course. But there’s something drastically different about how two animals fight that helps them with their different zoan forms.

Also threatens to eat him from time to time because she’s a shit. Sorry, Chopper.

ROBIN ;

I feel like Robin would be the one Anita interacts with the least because even after all this time, she’s still intimidating. Robin just exudes this alpha female aura in Anita’s opinion, and she’s way too smart. Because she is a ‘all brawn and no brain’ cliche, Anita feels like she can’t talk to their archaeologist casually without it turning into a lecture or a history lessons that she won’t remember. That, and she can’t read. She’ll have tried to avoid them knowing as long as she possibly could, but it’ll be obvious once she’s been around them for a while.

She didn’t feel much when Robin said she was going to leave, but she does relate to her a little knowing Marines destroyed her home. Parts of her want to get closer to Robin because she is amazing and powerful, but Anita assumes too dumb for that.

I would kill for some Robin and Anita interactions because I want to see if any of this would change with interaction. ‘Cause I’m not the least bit good at understanding Robin ;;

FRANKY ;

RO-BRO!!

Okay, listen. She is 100% into the super pose and does it every given chance, and it brings Franky to tears. She sees him as the dad of the crew and has more love for fatherly figures than she does motherly because hers was awful. Might be another reason why she’s not sure about Robin.  .  . Huh.

Anyway! She appreciates all of his hard work and is is genuinely impressed and amazed at the things he creates. I realize there’s the running gag that females aren’t impressed with his creations and have that flat look on their face, but?? Honestly, she would get sparkling eyes and wheeze over it. Might not freak out the same way they do, but she adores his creativity and talent in working with machines and building Sunny.

Sometimes, if she’s bored and has literally nothing else to do, she’ll ask if she can watch him work for a bit. The sounds his work are sort of comforting. Reminds her if Gus and his tinkering back home.

BROOK ;

Brook is her source of jokes, bad puns and nostalgia. Because he can play several instruments and is skilled at different kinds of music, I feel like he would know how to play songs that have a carnival or circus tone to them. Her home-sickness can get pretty bad sometimes, as well as her doubt over whether or not she’ll be able to beat the Marine that took over. Brook will be there with a song and soft, calming words and she’ll be fairly alright.

She wasn’t sure how to feel about him at first, but she’s watched him go from a creepy, talking skeleton from an afro to a still creepy, talking skeleton with an afro that can use a swords pretty damn well and do cool things with his soul.

Probably the biggest fan of Soul King’s music on the crew. None of them really seemed to notice he had a whole career during the two years ;; I mean, they noticed, but do none of them like the music he made during that time? Or is it just an ‘off-screen’ thing. Anita will listen to his music religiously because it’s right up her alley.

JINBE ;

Doesn’t know much about him aside from what she’s told and having met him at Fishman Island. She has no bias against Fishman so she doesn’t dislike him, but she’ll have to get used to how serious he is. Will make every attempt to make him crack a smile and likely fail every time. She’ll be a little surprised when she finds out he’s their helmsman because she thought he already had a crew. Slightest bit conflicted about him leaving his crew to join them, but doesn’t ask questions because Luffy agrees with it.

CARROT ;

Anita’s not a Mink, but I feel like her and Carrot would get along so well. Ahha, actually.  .  . Now that I’m thinking about it, she’ll probably dislike her a little at first because she hardly knew Sanji and snuck in to save him anyway and did more than she could, while she was being upset and petty over him leaving. Yeah, there might be a little tension there until Anita realizes that they lost someone during that whole mess.

Carrot is cute, and seeing her even slightly upset when they mention Pedro died will kill her inside. They can kind of share the ‘I lost my mentor / a man I admired a lot’ feelings. Plus, I can see them hard-core training together and going all out.

OVERALL ;

She loves them. They’re her nakama. She would do damn near anything for them. She’s as greedy as Luffy, determined to be strong like Zoro, appreciates food like Sanji, likes to have fun like Usopp, Chopper and Franky, can be calm and collected like Robin and Brook. I didn’t really think she’d have a place with them until Rachel said Luffy would want her aboard, so I really owe this verse to her and a few other people that encouraged me.

Thanks for asking!! And sorry it’s so long ahhhaa

[cuilective]

Character Sheet: Cav

CW for mentions of violence/death here and there

BASICS

Full name: Cian Amarante Cavanaugh

Nickname(s): Cav

Title(s): n/a, unless ‘old man’ or ‘actual dumpster fire’ count.

Sex: Male

Gender: Male

Height: 6′6″

Age: Chronologically? Heck, bruh. Thousands of years old in any given verse. Physically stuck between late 30′s to mid 40′s which was around the age he was cursed.

Zodiac: shrug emoji

Spoken languages: Most fluent in English, Irish and Scots Gaelic, and French, both modern and some ancient variants. He is approximately conversational in many other languages, though there’s surely languages even he hasn’t encountered yet.

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS

Hair color: Brown

Eye color: Black, or a very very very dark brown

Skin tone: Has a bit of an olive complexion

Body type: These days he’s rocking a bit of a dad bod. The muscle is there somewhere under a bit of pudge.

Voice: Singing Examples: [1] [2] [3] unfortunately I currently haven’t found a fitting example for his everyday speech, but hopefully this at least gets the general feel across!

Dominant hand: Right

Posture: Relaxed, tends to rest his weight on one side, droopy shoulders and casual lackadaisical gait

Scars: A gash over his heart is one scar he has in common between every verse, along with various battle scars. In his general fantasy verse he has a scar all the way around his neck from his first true ‘death’ by beheading.

Tattoos: None

Birthmarks: None

Most noticeable feature(s): Scruffy, appears a bit unkempt just about at all times. Never seen without his scarf or gloves.

CHILDHOOD

Place of birth: Near what’s now known as Postwick, Galar

Hometown: +gestures vaguely at galar+

Birth weight/height: What an oddly specific question. He was probably a bit of a chonker, above average birth weight. may his mother rest in peace

First words: an adorable attempt at saying rookidee, though it probably just came out as ‘wookie’

Siblings: Adoptive half-brother. He doesn’t know much of anything of his birth family. Some verses he has a twin sister, I should really flesh one of those out bc she’s just as much of a gremlin as he is.

Parents: Unknown and/or deceased. Death by backstory, they deserved better

Parental involvement: He doesn’t remember much before he was adopted, but he was raised with a lot of love and care by just about every set of parents he’s ever had in any verse.

Children: Also depends on the verse, tbh. Haven’t quite figured out how to go about it, hence why it may not be applicable to every verse, but... in theory, he has a daughter. She is a gorgeous eldritch abomination shaped like a lady and he couldn’t be more proud of her

Prominently: Cav was honestly pretty dense. He was happy and friendly and got along with everyone, but mostly just because he had no idea how some people around him didn’t like him. Ignorance is truly bliss

ADULT LIFE

Occupation: Oh, a bit of everything. In modern times he tends to taxi folk around.

Current residence: N/A, travels anywhere and everywhere.

Close friends: What’re thooooooooooooooose

Relationship status: Single in his pokeverse. Married or engaged in just about every other.

Financial status: A bit complicated. He probably has a slew of secret offshore accounts he’s built up over the years. Probably well off, just doesn’t really show it.

Criminal record: Well! He tries not to get caught because it’s terribly hard to explain why he has a record dating back centuries. Thankfully most just believe it to be a coincidence. He’s done so much freaking crime though, almost entirely petty stuff... maybe a bit of grand theft auto if he’s particularly bored. He loves cars. Oh, maybe even a touch of arson if he’s absolutely certain the target is abandoned and no one gets hurt.

Vices: Yes. If going by cardinal sins... sloth? Gluttony? A sadomasochistic blend of lust and wrath? Nothing like purposefully picking fights to get the everloving crap beat out of you to feel something while simultaneously draining the life of your attacker with every bit of direct contact. How thrilling!

SEX & ROMANCE

Sexual orientation: Straight? Probably? Mostly.

Preferred emotional role: submissive | dominant | switch

Preferred sexual role: submissive | dominant | switch | Doesn’t care

Libido: Lowkey. It’s definitely there but he typically just ignores it.

Turn ons: Loves elegant women, the more confident and authoritative the better. Though anyone’s welcome to stab him 28 times in the torso, that’ll definitely get him excited.

Turn offs: Ppl who chew with their mouth open. Close ya damn mouth. Not very into wild hairstyles or extreme body mods. In that aspect he’s a bit like a boring old man.

Love language: He can and will devolve into a lovestruck puppy. He can be a bit clingy, but more than anything he is just... completely and utterly devoted. Very touchy feely, lots of traditionally ‘romantic’ gifts like flowers and whatnot. Or even just little reminders that he’s thinking of his SO, like a brief text or a little sticky note where she’ll see it. Just wants to be with them as much as possible, even if they’re just silently existing in the same room doing their own thing.

Relationship tendencies: Will brag about his SO to anyone who will listen (and even to those who won’t, you can’t stop him). Probably carries 50 pictures of his SO in his wallet and gets choked up just thinking about them. Will take her to restaurants and be like ‘we’re celebrating our anniversary’ any part of the year whether its their anniversary or not and when called out on it he’ll just be like ‘i’m always celebrating us’ and sappy nonsense like that. (though he also absolutely says it for the free desserts a lot of places give out to couples on their anniversary, but that’s just a bonus)

MISCELLANEOUS

Character’s theme song(s): Slaps this playlist down. I honestly can’t just pick one, buuut... I’m particularly liking Burning Alive lately, it’s very fitting for him.

Hobbies to pass time: Ogling cars, writing absurd Yelp reviews for anywhere and everywhere he goes, hoarding pigeons in his coat and offering them to unsuspecting strangers, heckling golfers, heckling comedians, engaging in fisticuffs with geese, going to chinese restaurants to crack open the fortune cookies and only eat the paper fortune inside, general people watching. likes watching movies in the theater. if anyone uses their phone while the movie is going he will snap the phone in half and eat as much of it as he can to prove a point

Mental illnesses: Uh. Well. I mean. Honestly? I have no idea. If you asked him he’d say he’s totally fine.

Physical illnesses: None. Often pretends to be injured or disabled one way or another if it’ll get him something he wants.

Left or right brained: He has 0 braincells

Fears: Heights, small dogs. Not afraid of dragonfruit but deeply offended by its existence as it is nothing but a flamboyant kiwi with no integrity to flavor. On a more serious note, intimacy of any sort with anyone or anything. Falling for someone knowing that he’ll outlive them anyway.

Self-confidence level: Oh it’s up there. Probably. He’s super confident, even if he doesn’t think he’ll succeed that doesn’t mean he won’t try. Unstoppable. Trust me, people have tried 2 stop him and nothing works.

Vulnerabilities: Genuine compliments from cute girls. Genuine compliments from just about anyone. Children. Baby animals. Cute things in general. Bad jokes. Literally any form of intimacy will make him want to aliven’t because he doesn’t deserve it and he might just up and run away in the middle of a conversation if it starts getting genuinely sappy.

[salsrecovery]

Local Recovery Story: Vanessa D.

My relationship with alcohol has always been a bit tumultuous. I can admit that I had some fun in my early days. The appeal, for me, was suddenly feeling confident and pretty, laughing a little harder with friends and finally feeling like I fit in; but I never drank like other people did. In retrospect, I knew I was different from the very start. From that first drink, I knew I wanted more. And it wasn’t the same “want” as my friends, who just looked forward to drinking again on the weekend. I wanted MORE! While my friends simply craved a good buzz and an exciting atmosphere, I was two drinks ahead of them, and already thinking about the next one.

The buzz was just foreplay for me – a brief moment in time where I could feel the sensation of warmth moving through my entire body, from my flushed cheeks to the tingle in my toes, but it was the apathy that I was really after. That moment when my mind stopped racing a million miles a second and that voice in my head, the one that told me I wasn’t good enough, was finally silenced. I just wanted everything to stop; to just pause for a moment. I never intended to end up like this. It was never my intention to become an alcoholic. It was never my intention, until the alcohol was all I had left.

Some days I still miss that apathy…

This type of black and white thinking transferred to a lot of different areas in my life. If I wasn’t good at something, what was the point in trying? If I couldn’t be the center of attention, what was the point of showing up? And if I wasn’t drunk, what was the point of drinking?

I mean, it’s not like I was drinking alcohol for the taste. I hated the taste of alcohol. I didn’t like the taste of any of it, and believe me, I tried it all. This realization later lead to drinking hard liquor straight from the bottle because that would get me from point A to point B that much faster. It was cheaper too, so I thought I was pretty economical about it. Not to mention, I never liked fruity drinks so I didn’t want to waste my time sipping something fancy. I could hide it just about anywhere, and even resorted to hiding mini bottles in my clothing. You would be amazed if I told you how many of those little bottles I could carry on me without so much as a second glance.

To me, alcohol had a single purpose, to transform me into someone entirely different. It started coming with me everywhere I went. To make the “me” I despised disappear, and the “me” I thought I liked emerge. It was my friend, my lover and my confidant.

It made me the me that didn’t have to think, or worry or care too much. I always cared a little too much, just not about the things a young girl should care about. I never even gave myself a chance, and that goes back to that faulty black and white thinking; if I have to work at liking myself, what’s the point of trying to like myself anyway?

What I didn’t realize at the time, was that I would one day wake up and be the person who has to avoid the liquor aisle at the grocery store, or look away from billboards advertising my drink of choice, fast forward through beer commercials, or leave my friends weddings right after dinner. I didn’t realize that the one thing I loved so much, more than anything really, would be the cause for my demise; and like a bad breakup, it still hurts sometimes.

Here’s the thing about alcohol. It is accessible; acceptable even. Society almost encourages binge drinking, bar hopping and Happy Hour. I didn’t have to find a dealer, because mine was on almost every street corner within a 10 block radius of my house; the bar, the liquor store, the gas station, the grocery store. I didn’t have to sell my body or my things in order to obtain it. I never had to send discrete text messages or hide in a bathroom stall with my drug. I didn’t have to stick a needle in my arm, snort it or smoke it. I didn’t have to, but eventually, I would have. I would have, because at the end of my using days I was willing to go to any lengths to alter my state of existence…

It was like living in a nightmare I could never wake up from. I would pinch and scratch and slap myself across the face, but I would never wake up. And before I knew what was happening, the choice was no longer a choice, the want was no longer a want; it was a MUST and a NEED. And there was no turning back.

I identify as both an addict and an alcoholic, because both are part of my story. Alcohol was the relationship that nearly killed me, because what they don’t tell you in those commercials is that alcohol is one of the only drugs out there that can be fatal when you are withdrawing from it.

Alcohol was my drug of choice because it was easy; quite simply a relationship of convenience. But don’t let that fool you, because I had become a master manipulator by that time. If I couldn’t have alcohol, because my liver was failing me or I was on the verge of being kicked out of my house, I would convince my doctor to prescribe anxiety medication because “my problem��� was never with pills. Coincidentally, a person can die while withdrawing from benzodiazepines as well. So, what was once given to me to help combat my alcohol withdrawals now became a habit…and what did I turn to when I needed to combat that habit? Alcohol, of course!

The cycle was endless; a hamster wheel of constant substitution and disappointment. And all the while, my body was slowly deteriorating from all of the poison I was consuming. It didn’t matter anymore, I HAD to have something, and once I had something I wanted more of that something. And this story brought me to exactly where they told me it would; jails, institutions and (near) death.

I was blessed with something a lot of alcoholics and addicts pray for, a family that refused to give up on me no matter how shitty my actions were. Yes, they were often angry and, more often than not, didn’t want me around, but it wasn’t me they didn’t want around, it was the alcoholic. They didn’t want to be around the one who would show up and drink all of the wine, slur her words, pick fights and pass out on the couch. Somehow they were gifted with this amazing ability of separating the healthy me from the sick one; separating Vanessa from the addict.

A real life Jekyll and Hyde.

My mom is this fierce, courageous, Superwoman. I am not sure I have ever met anyone quite like her, so I can only imagine God sent me to her because he knew she would be ok in the end, whether I was still walking this earth or not. He knew she would love me through it, even when she found it too difficult to even look at me.

Along with watching me self-destruct, my mom was fighting her own battle. While I was slowly deteriorating, she was diagnosed with breast cancer, went through chemotherapy and radiation, and survived! She survived cancer!

Guess who wasn’t there eating popsicles with her at those treatments? Or talking to her at night about her fears? Or helping her wrap scarves around her balding head? Me! And that still hurts me today, and it had to have hurt her too, but if it did she never let it show.

At the same time, my dad had a stroke that left him with a traumatic brain injury and limited mobility. He lost the ability to play his guitar; his baby. It was one of my fondest memories growing up; the sound of my father’s guitar coming from the basement. Stairway to Heaven is #1 on the soundtrack to my life. After his stroke, I could only pull myself together long enough to visit the hospital for one night out of the many nights he stayed there. And as the story goes, one night he could still talk, and the next night a second stroke stole his voice and right hand forever.

Guess who wasn’t there to hear his voice one last time? Me! And that still hurts me today, and it had to have hurt him too, but if it did he never let it show.

While my parents were conquering one crisis after another, they were constantly losing sleep over me. My mother has told me that the only time she could ever find peace, was when I was in the hospital, at one of my multiple residential treatments or jail. And I will never know what that did to her. I will never know her pain, because all I could think of at the time was my own.

My heart breaks for the family members of addicts. We never intended to hurt you in this way. It was never my intention to cause my mother so much pain, but I did and I can’t take it back. She detached with love when she needed to, and she stepped in when she couldn’t bear it anymore.

There are some situations where an apology just isn’t good enough, no matter how sorry you are. And quite frankly, the words “I’m sorry” lose all of their power when the behaviors that made the apology necessary are repeated. In these situations, I’ve learned to make amends in other ways. I am dependable, I honor my commitments and I tell the truth today. I don’t make promises I cannot keep, and I don’t say I am sorry if I have no intention of changing my behavior. This is what recovery has taught me, and recovery hasn’t steered me wrong yet.

I am often told how lucky I am to have found recovery. How recovery is so much better than the alternative. And although I cannot disagree with this and I would never trade any day in recovery for a day using, coming face to face with the wreckage of my past has been the most painful experience of my life.

You see, we can numb the pain for a while, years even, but we can’t make it go away forever. If we are lucky, and the day comes that we find recovery, all of that despair, regret, embarrassment and shame hits us all at once. For me, it was like being pushed in front of a train or being knocked out by Floyd Mayweather.

Recovery is the road less travelled for many reasons, mainly because it is a brain disorder that is hugely misunderstood, but also because it is work. I get that today. Had I truly understood just how difficult recovery would be, I don’t know if I would have had the strength within me to commit to my recovery the way that I have.

What I can tell you though, is that because I honored my commitment to my recovery, to simply avoiding that first drink or drug no matter what, my life has been transformed in ways that I still find difficult to put into words.

To the newcomer, should you stumble upon this story and you have found yourself at a crossroads, keep coming back, just put one foot in front of the other. Try for one more day, and then wake up and try again for the next. Sooner or later the TRY will become a DO and the pain will subside. Have patience with yourself and others. Vigilance is the key, I can assure you that walking through your pain will someday become one of the most profound experiences of your life. And all you have to do is just stay.

Vanessa Day –

Milwaukee, WI

Vanessa Day bio: Woman in long-term recovery. Recovery Advocate, blogger and writer on all things related to addiction and recovery. Sober Mom! Free To Be V blog

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