#AND IT SOUNDS........KIND OF WEIRD????????

[biscuitsandwires]

In which Danny wakes up in a weird place.... again.

The thing about Danny, is that he often wakes up in really, really weird situations. Like way more than you'd think, way more than he'd even like, really. He doesn't get that much sleep, being y'know, half ghost, and with school work and having to fight "The Forces of Evil" half the time it gets kind of... tedious, balancing things like sleep and eating and even getting water in him.

It's not really a good thing, but he started carrying around a water bottle he can clip to his bag. It reminds him to at least drink something, when he doesn't have time to grab anything to eat.

But because of all that fun stuff, the not sleeping and not eating and things, he often finds himself taking... unplanned naps. Waking up on the floor, his bed, his desk, one time even in his locker, but that was before his growth spurt. He's a little too big for that now.

Of course, this might take the cake, in terms of weird places he's woken up. He's never been to Gotham, that he remembers, and he certainly has never been to the Wayne Manor. He'd remember that, he thinks, what with the grand architecture, the giant paintings of random people with pearl necklaces and suits... yeah he'd know if he'd been here before.

"Ah, you are awake."

He tries really, really hard not to react to the sudden, aged voice next to him. It sounds like a nice guy, mature and soft like a wool blanket. But he has no idea where he is, when it is, anything, so in one second he's still on the big bed (which it is a BIG bed) and the next he's... well.

Floating ten feet in the air with his fist raised.

To his credit, the older gentleman staring up at him merely blinks, then sighs. "Another enhanced fellow, I suppose. Of course you are."

It's enough to lower Danny's hackles, his confusion growing the amount of time it takes to slowly float back to the floor.

"Can I uh... Can I ask where I am?"

The older man gives him a look. "You, young man, are in the Wayne family home. I'll ask you not to touch anything until the young Master gets back."

That... didn't really clear anything up, if Danny was being real. So he tried again. "Can I ask, uh. Why I'm here, sir?"

Mama didn't raise a ruffian with no manners.

Another sigh, the older man looking like he wanted to go take a nap himself. "I am not fully sure, myself. Young Master Damian found you, I suppose, and brought you here. You have been unconscious for a day or so."

Well. That was concerning all on it's own. Who was Damian? Was he a Wayne? Why was Danny in Gotham at all, he didn't remember a field trip or anything involving Vlad.

He might have started panicking if there wasn't the sudden, entirely too enticing smell of pancakes suddenly under his nose.

"You're entirely too skinny, young man. It's breakfast time." The older gentleman said, holding a tray of wayyy too much food for one person in front of Danny, and really...

What was he gonna do? Deny the man?

He would have to figure out what the hell was going on, later. Right now he had a date with the nicest looking spread he'd ever seen.

"And young man, you may call me Alfred."

Danny grinned, gently taking the tray from him and setting it on a nearby table. "Danny. It's good to meet you."

"Hmm." Alfred mumbled. "I certainly hope so, Master Danny. I certainly hope so."

[monzabee]

viva las vegas - mv1 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where you and Max celebrate his win in a way you’ve never done before.

Pairing: max verstappen x reader 

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, having sex tipsy but there is consent?, manhandling, unprotected sex (are you even surprised at this point), oral (fem receiving), sex (duh), cursing, cockwarming (oops), minors dni!!

Request: “Hey babe! I’m obsessed with your last Charles piece, I’ve been wanting to read something like that for such a long time and you did it perfectly 😍🥹 I was wondering if I could request kind of the same concept with Max Verstappen? Like he always is pictured as a tough guy and stuff, but when you see him in videos he’s kind of a goof, so I imagine the first time he’s intimate with his gf they’d both laugh and have the sweetest time together” 

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! is this my best work? no but it is something i managed to get done for the first time in like a month so here it is!! finishing this fic was a journey within itself, but i can honestly say that it was also kind fun? also, i saw a picture of max in his suit from vegas and that just inspired this whole thing, so i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Max is buzzing with life, quite literally, you can feel him practically buzzing the whole time he’s trying to take you back to your hotel room as fast as possible. It’s most likely due to the amount of alcohol the two of you have consumed after the race. Honestly it is pure luck that you found your way back to your room, given your current state, but instead of joining you when you jump on the bed, revelling in its comfort, he chooses to stand at the end of the bed as he watches you with an entertained smile on his face.  

“What?” you ask, a laugh washing through you as you raise yourself on your elbows, “Why are you looking at me like that?”  

He lets his eyes wander over your figure, his smile becoming more boyish as he lets it widen on his face, “You look pretty,” he murmurs, bending down so he can lower himself over your body better, “have I told you how beautiful you looked tonight?” 

“Um, yeah, Maxie,” you giggle as you point out, “you’ve been telling me that the entire night.” Using your hands as support while raising yourself more so that you could be face to face with him, “I think you look pretty too, you know?” 

“Yeah?” Max murmurs, cradling your jaw in one of his hands, his thumb quick to caress the apple of your cheek, which causes you to lean into his touch. “What if I wanted to kiss you, would that be okay?” 

The smile you offer him in return is sweet, the way your eyes seem to shine at the offer of feeling his lips against yours makes his heart beat faster in his chest. “Yes, please.” Your voice is softer, almost comes out as a whisper due to you suddenly feeling out of breath.  

And who is he to deprive his girl? 

He doesn’t waste any time pressing his lips against your awaiting ones, in fact, the movement of his lips are rushed, if not almost desperate. It's as if he can't get enough, as if he's afraid this moment might slip away like sand through his fingers. The taste of alcohol lingers on both your lips, and normally you would be weirded out about it, but you realise it only adds to the intensity of the kiss you’re sharing with Max. His fingers gently tangle in your hair as he deepens the kiss, and you find yourself responding eagerly. You let him take control, mostly because it’s so easy for you to lose yourself in his kiss. He’s lost in it too, if you had to guess, because the way his tongue is fighting over yours for dominance is so different compared to the way Max usually kisses you. You whine at the loss of his lips when he reluctantly pulls away, and if he wasn’t already hard, the sound makes Max’s cock instantly harder. His head is thrown back, eyes closed as he lets out a groan, and he has to stop himself from pulling you in for another kiss. But you clearly have other plans as you drag your lips down towards his jawline, leaving kisses in a random pattern until you reach that one specific point on his neck that absolutely drives him crazy.  

And you know it’s only a matter of time until he stops you, again, as he has done for the past whatever months of your relationship. It’s not that you are not attracted to each other, because the attraction is as clear as day, and you have done stuff – not sex, but stuff. You’re not sure Max does that, but you also don’t want to be the one who pressures him into having sex with you if he doesn’t want to. Unbeknownst to you, the same goes for Max, who thinks you’re not ready to have sex with him and wants your first time together to be as special as possible.  

So no, you’re not surprised as he gently peals himself from you, causing you to whine again at the loss of him, but instead he gives you a small kiss on the forehead as he mumbles, “Why don’t you take a shower? We’ll go to bed after that.”  

“Is that your way of telling me I smell?” You ask in a playful tone, and he responds to you with a roll of his eyes. “What if I don’t want to go to sleep?”  

“No?” He asks, actively searching your expression for any sign of discomfort or reluctance. “We’ve had a long day, are you sure you don’t want to get some sleep?” The look you give him in return for his question is enough, and he knows this, but he also wants to actually hear the words, so he points, “Use your words, liefje.” 

A puff of breath leaves your lips in annoyance, but, nonetheless, you give him the best puppy dog eyes you can muster as you whine, “Please Maxie, you know what I want.”  

“Do I?” He muses, pulling you onto his lap as he ghosts his lips across your jaw. “I don’t know what you mean.”  

“Maxie,” you drag out his name, whining as your attempt at rolling your hips against his thighs don’t work. “You are being mean.”  

“Oh, baby,” he mockingly copies your pout, “I’m sorry. Can I apologise with a kiss?” To make his point, he presses a couple of soft kisses along your jawline.  

“Will you kiss me the way I like?” You ask, slightly out of breath, but his agreement that comes in the form of a hum makes you smile mischievously. His lips trail more kisses towards the neckline of your dress, and eventually through the valley between your breasts that is exposed by the lack of fabric. And you have every intention to let him have his way with you, you really do – after all, he won another great race. But a part of you also knows that making him suffer, even if just a little bit, in the process is so much more fun. So, just as he’s about to free of your breasts from the bustier of your dress, you quickly move away, slipping from his hands, trying your hardest not to laugh at the bewildered expression on his face. “On second thought, I think I’m going to take that shower after all.”  

“I—what?” Max mumbles, his slightly swollen lips pulled in a pout, and you can’t help but give him a small kiss.  

“I’ll see you after my shower, Max Emilian.” Sauntering over to the bathroom, you make sure to add an extra sway to your hips – and the sigh that Max leaves cause the smirk on your face to grow. 

It’s pure torture for Max to wait until you come out of the shower. Not that he doesn’t think about just joining you, especially after the show you just put on, but that would be giving into what you want – and though Max is a generous lover, he is also stubborn. He is more than happy to give you what you want, as long as it is on his terms. And so, he waits patiently, until you come out of the bathroom, a robe draped over your body, and he can’t help himself but let his eyes roam over your body.  

“How was your shower?” Max asks, trying to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible, a wolfish grin curving up on his lips. He rests his hands behind his head, relaxing onto the pillows behind him. He watches you give him a shrug, the soft-looking material sliding of your shoulder slightly as you collect your hair onto your shoulder. “Are you giving me the silent treatment, pretty girl?” 

There’s a coy smile on your face as you shake your head, once, twice, as your teeth press down on your bottom lip. Max wants nothing more than to release your lip, pull you into his lap and have his way with you, but no. No, because Max is nothing if not disciplined. “Come here,” he asks, straightening up in his place. You, being the ever-loving girlfriend you are, oblige his request. “That is a nice robe,” he murmurs, tilting his head as he grabs the towelette belt with the tips of his finger, “is it as soft as it looks?” 

“Mhm-hm,” you nod, “do you want to feel it?” 

“Do I want to feel it?” Max muses, “Sure.” His arms wrap around your middle so quickly that you don’t realise he’s pulling you into his lap at first. But he positions you with your legs on the either side of his. “You’re right, liefje, it is very soft.” His hands roam on your body over the soft material, but soon enough, his hands dipping underneath it to feel your skin. His eyebrows shoot upwards, a mischievous grin spreading on his lips, “No underwear?” 

“Well, I just came out of the shower, Maxie.” You give him an innocent look, shrugging once against as you rest your hands against his shirt-clad chest. “The shower pressure was great, you should’ve joined me.”  

He lets out a noncommittal hum, his hands roaming on your bare skin, revelling in the softness. “I’ll have to take your word for it.” He’s methodical as he slightly shifts you in his lap, tearing a gasp from the back of your throat. That gets a satisfied smile from him, “Something wrong?” 

“N-no,” you mumble, shifting again to get the same feeling, but his hands still you in your place. “Maxie,” you whine, silently pleading with your eyes.  

“Am I being mean again?” He asks, attentive eyes fixed on you, “I would offer to make it up to you with a kiss, but you seem to find ways to evade me when I do.”  

“No,” you whine again, lips pouted in disagreement. “I promise I won’t this time.”  

His eyebrows shoot up again with amusement, “Oh, yeah? Shall we test that theory, pretty girl?” The smile you give him is shy, but the way you nod is nothing short of coy. With a satisfied sound leaving his lips, he quickly presses his lips against yours. You sigh into the kiss, immediately, when you feel him deepening the kiss, more than happy to surrender yourself to him and let Max take the lead. Though, that doesn’t necessarily stop you from attempting to relieve the pressure between your legs by rolling your hips against his thighs. Your efforts, however, prove to be useless as he stops the movement before you can actually relieve any of it. He slowly pulls away, pushes a stray piece of wet hair behind your ear and tuts – condescendingly, you might add – “Slow down, liefje, I think I’ve had enough speed for one day.”  

Groaning at his words, “But Maxie,” you whine, dragging out his name as you let your hands wander on his chest over his shirt and receive a warning look from him in return, “I promise I’ll be good, please just fuck me.”  

“Baby,” he coos, his fingers working quickly to unfasten the belt of your robe and push the offending clothing off your shoulders, “I literally just told you to be patient, no?” 

You ignore the raised eyebrow, the look of faux-disappointment, and even the way his fingers grab your waist because you’re too busy trying to get him out of his shirt, suddenly feeling too exposed as you sit on his lap naked. “Please,” you whisper against his skin, peppering kisses across the column of his throat as your hands make their way inside his shirt, “I’ll be patient next time.”  

“I’m suddenly realising that I spoil you very much,” Max mumbles, pulling his head back to get a look at you.  

Pulling back as well you give him a mischievous grin, “Maybe, but you’ll give me what I want this time as well.”  

“Yeah?” He asks, “Why?” 

“Because I think I’m getting your pants very messy right now.”  

Max can’t help the groan that escapes past his lips, his eyes quickly following yours as he takes in the ‘damage’ your wetness has caused on his jeans. He takes a moment to assess the damage, drags his eyes up to look at you when he notices the way your eyes stay fixed down, as your nervously bite down on your lower lip. He loses all the composure he managed to muster up, and he finally gives in, quickly pushing you off him onto the pillows on the bed. The squeal that leaves you is followed by a string of giggles that leave your lips, and when Max looks at you, he takes in the darker look in your widened eyes.  

“I was going to be patient; I can’t believe you’re making me not be patient.” He mumbles, taking off his shirt and the rest of his clothes before starting to leave kisses on your feverish skin as he slides down your body and places himself between your thighs.  

You open your legs wider to accommodate his body, a breathy laugh escaping past your lips. “You mean, impatient?” 

That earns you a nip on your upper thigh and a warning look, but instead of commenting on your quip, he lowers his face, keeps his eyes locked to yours and gets to work. And it’s not that you and Max haven’t done stuff – because it’s the opposite; although you haven’t had sex, it’s safe to say that the two you have explored every option bordering on sex. But how he’s acting right now is much different than the way how he is usually with you. His movements are almost rushed, and the way he drags his tongue through your folds is just enough for your eyes to roll back as your moans fill the room.  

Normally, he would be extra careful and make sure he is being gentle with you; but right now, he’s just trying to savour you before he loses all his composure. A choppy gasp leaves you as you feel his fingers enter you – two at first, and the way he pumps them in and out of you makes breathing harder. The speed of his fingers matches his tongue, and for a moment, you think you’re going to pass out. With his free hand, he blocks any type of movement you try with your hips; his palm sneakily presses down on your lower stomach to keep you in your place, but it’s jokes on him because if anything, it just makes you feel even better, and you’re not shy to let him know just how much he’s making you feel good with your moans.  

“Max,” you say his name in a breathy whimper, fingers threading through his hair to guide him, “fuck, I’m so close.” You can practically feel the way his lips curl up, and suddenly, everything about his actions gets faster. His fingers are pistoning in and out of you in an unforgiving pace, in sync with his tongue that works your clit just the same. So, it’s no surprise when you find yourself coming on his tongue as his name leaves your lips for the umpteenth time like a prayer.

The smirk he gives you when he pulls himself from between your legs is sinful – he looks absolutely debauched with the way his lips glisten with your release, and he wastes no time before coming up, and capturing your lips in yet another bruising kiss. But this time, you taste yourself on his tongue and this time it makes you lose the whatever little resolve you’ve had left. So, you hook your leg around his thigh to push him next to you on the bed as you practically throw him next to you on the bed.  

Though he has other plans.   Of course.  

So, as you’re trying to fight the seventy-kilogram-something driver into staying under you on the bed, he has no problem manhandling you into rolling on your side. And as you’re pressed flush against his chest, you turn your head backwards to breathlessly whisper, “You promised, Max.”  

“And I am a man of my word, aren’t I?” He retorts, his hand that is splayed on your thigh positions it so that it’s bent towards your stomach, “Just needed to get you ready.�� You can’t help the guttural moan that escapes you when you feel him pressing the tip of his cock into your entrance. The pleading look you give him must’ve worked, because this time it’s his turn to let out a guttural moan as he pushes himself into you. There is no sign of his mood from mere moments ago as you feel his hands caress your bare hip, an entitled smirk on his lips as he asks, “Out of breath?” 

“Fuck you,” your response comes out as a breathy laugh as you’re pushing your hips closer to his to take him deeper.  

“Lifje, you are fucking me.” Max giggles into the crook of your neck as he pushes himself in fully. You would be furious with him if it didn’t make you laugh also, and although the laughing decrease, the smiles remain on both your faces as he starts slowly moving his hips. 

It’s sweet, unbelievably sweet, considering the sexual tension that was in the room an hour ago, but the way Max is fucking you can only be described as sweet. His hands caress every part of your body that he can reach – your thighs, to your hips, to your stomach, to your chest and then wraps one of his hands around your throat; not in a way that is rough, but in a way that he can still keep you still as he captures your lips for another kiss. The movement of his hips is languid, almost lazy as drive into you, but he still manages to hit all the spots along the way. Breathy chuckles are exchanged when he pulls away for you to organise your breathing, but your smiles still stay on, even when he raises your bent leg and rests his on his own leg. The new angle makes your moans get louder, your hips to move against his faster, and you can feel your orgasm approach speedily.  

But Max is so in tune with your body that he knows what’s coming (or rather who) before you get a chance to actually have to say anything. His hand slides down your body so that he can press his fingers to your clit and move them in tight circles, and as if it was possible, his you can suddenly feel him fucking you even deeper. “You are going to come for me pretty girl, I can feel it.” He murmurs into your skin, and all you can offer as an answer is a nod and an affirmative whimper as you squeeze your eyes shut. “Come on, give it to me, come on my cock.” And though he is not the most verbal person to ever exist, except for when he’s in the mood to be an absolute yapper, his words urge you to let go of the feeling that has been starting to brew in your stomach.  

Your hips start moving to meet his in choppy movements as you seek any and all kinds of pleasure to reach your high, and he meets your every move with increasing intensity of his own. “Max, yes!” Your exclamation hits his ears as he hits that one particular spot, making you instantly become lax in his arms as he guides you through your orgasm. His name spills out from your lips in constant repetition, “So good, so good,” you keep mumbling in breathless whimpers, trying to press yourself further into his body.  

With all things considered, it doesn’t take Max long to reach his own high following your own, since you insistently move your hips in a way that makes you take his cock even deeper when he’s helping you ride your orgasm. So, when you hear him groaning your name in the crook of your neck and feel him spilling himself into you. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he croaks out, holding your hips in place with his hands splayed on your feverish skin. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?” 

“How am I supposed to know, dummy?” You ask, throwing your head back to get a good look of his dishevelled state, “Why do you look so good after mind blowing sex?” 

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, pulling you with him as he lets himself fall back on the bed, “genetics?” 

“Mhm,” you murmur, trying to find a comfortable position on his chest as he is still inside you, “remind me to send your mother a flower arrangement when we get back, or something.” 

A deep blush covers his cheeks, as if he hasn’t been fucking you for the past hour or so, as he stammers, “I– I mean, yeah.” This time, it’s your turn to give a non-committal hum, followed by a satisfied sigh as you snuggle him closer and close your eyes. “Just go to sleep, baby, we can deal with it in the morning.” 

“’Mkay,” you mumble, feeling his hand draw soothing circles on your back. “But you’re still gonna fuck me tomorrow, right?” 

This gets another loud laugh from the driver laying down under you, and both of you know that he’s going to do just that when you wake up in the morning. 

[fahye]

book recs: june 2024

it's been a weird few months of swinging wildly between mood reading of new things and needing to reread old favourites. all of these were new-to-me, and * means I read an ARC so they're not out yet BUT keep your eyes peeled/preorder if you like the sound of them.

SOMEONE YOU CAN BUILD A NEST IN by john wiswell - sapphic monster romance but make it asexual rep (woo!) between a protagonist who is usually a ball of shapeshifting goo, and a woman whose awful family is trying to hunt down the shapeshifting monster. it's both delightfully gruesome and a sweet, angry story about two hurt people finding and saving one another. this book deserves to become tumblr-famous.

LORD OF SCOUNDRELS by loretta chase - an absolute platinum-level classic in regency romance history, and for good reason. jessica trent: best heroine to ever appear on the page. wild hijinks, superb feelings, jessica can we please be best friends so you can teach me all about your antiques dealership.

THE SAINT OF BRIGHT DOORS by vajra chandrasekera - everyone describes this as 'impossible to describe' and they're right. truly original urban-ish fantasy about the oppression of underclasses, magic, identity, the inconvenience of being prophesied to kill your father, and a support group for failed messiahs. it's splendid and will stretch your mind like a muscle.

ALL THE SINNERS BLEED - by s.a. cosby - a contemporary crime thriller about a black sheriff in the american south trying to catch a serial killer in the face of systemic racism and obstruction. dark themes, wonderfully written, extremely gripping: I read it in a day.

THE UNDERHISTORY by kaaron warren - an elderly woman running tours of her infamously 'haunted' family home is confronted with a group of dangerous escaped killers looking for somewhere to hide. half slowburn crime horror and half a fantastic, meandering exploration of one person's history. you all know I love a vaguely fucked-up house, and this one comes with an older protagonist hiding secrets of her own.

THE DEATH OF VIVEK OJI by akwaeke emezi - there's a new emezi book coming out soon so I finally let myself read this one! a brief, bittersweet slap of a novel about gender and sexuality and family and longing, told in emezi's uniquely electrifying prose style. I wish I could write like this.

THE FRIEND ZONE EXPERIMENT* by zen cho - zen's first contemporary romance! inspired by kdrama tropes! a hardworking singaporean entrepreneur heroine in london! I enjoyed the romance itself but even more I enjoyed watching renee fight to prove herself in the face of various terrible men.

THE FORMIDABLE MISS CASSIDY* by meihan boey - if susan sto helit is your favourite discworld character, you will love the hell out of this. no-nonsense magical governess deals with folklore monsters and social drama in 19th century singapore. lively and heaps of fun. I wish it was an episodic buffy-esque tv show.

THE PAIRING* by casey mcquiston - two exes accidentally reunite on a food & wine tour of europe for the sluttiest and most self-indulgent bisexual summer ever. food porn, drinks porn, european scenery porn, feelings porn, porn-porn: this is a book that is 95% Various Vibes and Porn and if that sounds like your kind of thing, you'll love it. warning: will make you very hungry.

[uzurakis]

coming to terms with gojo satoru. well, it’s not like you can escape from him, no?

you slammed the bedroom door behind you as you barged in. feeling angry tears rise up in your eyes, you leaned against the door and tried to catch your breath. moments later, you hear a soft knock on the door. “hey, love, can we talk?” gojo’s voice is muffled but gentle.

no way, you say in your head. a little space won’t hurt for a while, right? “go away, satoru,” you snapped.

“aw, come on, don’t be like that,” he says, a teasing lilt in his voice. “i didn’t mean to upset you. i just love seeing you all riled up. it’s cute.”

“well, it’s not cute to me,” you retort, voice cracking slightly. “do you know how it feels to watch you ‘jokingly’ flirt with other women all the time?”

there’s a brief silence before gojo responds, sounding more serious. “i didn’t realize it hurt you that much. i just thought… i don’t know, it was harmless fun.”

“harmless fun?” you repeat, incredulous. “it doesn’t feel harmless to me, satoru. it feels like you don’t respect me or even our relationship.”

you hear a sigh from the other side of the door. “i’m really sorry, love. i never wanted to make you feel that way. i guess i just have a weird way of showing my affection.”

“oh, you think?” you say, a hint of sarcasm in your voice.

“open the door, love, pweasee,” gojo pleads, his tone lightening. “let me make it up to you. i promise, pinky promise. no more flirting with other women. just you and me, you hear me from behind there?”

you hesitate for a moment, then slowly unlock the door and open it. gojo is standing there, a mischievous smile on his face. his tall frame fills the doorway, and you have to tilt your head up slightly to meet his cerulean eyes. “hey,” he says softly.

“hey,” you reply, still feeling a bit hurt but willing to hear him out.

he steps closer, winking playfully. “you know, i never thought i’d see the day where you’d lock me out. do i really look that good when i’m flirting?”

“stop it,” you grumble, though the corner of your lips betrays a small smile. “stop making insufferable jokes, satoru.”

“i know, i know,” he says, holding up his hands in pretend surrender. “but you have to admit, it’s kind of fun seeing you all fired up. your jealous face is just so… cute.”

“not helping,” you warn, though your voice has softened.

he leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “you know i only have eyes for you, right? those other women don’t even come close to what we have.”

you sigh, leaning into his touch despite yourself. “you really need to find a better way to show your affection.”

“how about i start with this?” he pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you securely. “i’m all yours, no flirting, i promise.”

“hmm,” you ponder, feeling the tension begin to melt away. “just… don’t do it again, alright?”

“scout’s honor,” he says, holding up three fingers in a mock salute, then immediately winking. gojo’s usual playful self shining through. “you were never a scout, satoru,” you say, finally smiling.

“details, details,” he dismisses, pulling you closer. “but seriously, i’m all yours.”

you wrap your arms around him, feeling the warmth and comfort you craved. “all mine,” you repeat softly, burying your face in his chest. “just remember that or i’ll seriously kill you.”

“always,” he murmurs into your hair. “and just for the record, i’m the luckiest guy in the world to have you.”

“flattery will get you everywhere, gojo satoru.” you tease back.

“good to know,” he laughs, giving you a gentle squeeze. “because i’m never letting you go.”

@uzurakis

[onelittlespiral]

FML: Loop

I woke up with a start.

My head was killing me. What did I get up to last night? I was supposed to just hang out with a buddy of mine. But there is no way this is his place. For one, the room around me is bare. Just grey carpet and white walls. I mean, he’s no designer but I would at least expect a lamp or a tv or a dresser. Something. I start to get out of bed when I notice myself. I am nearly nude, stripped down to an unfamiliar jockstrap. Definitely not a good look for me. It’s kind of tight and I am quickly growing self conscious of my body on full display. What is going on? I start to look for my buddy, but quickly realize there isn’t any door to the room I am in. The barren walls leave no means of escape. Panic sets in. I begin shouting for help, searching for any hidden means of escape. The headache is only intensifying, and before too long I am sat back in the bed.

I try to remember the night before. I had been out with some buddies downtown, we had gone to a new bar none of us had been to…what was it called? I don’t know, something that probably should have clued me in that it was a gay bar. I knew the two other guys swung both ways but I was uncomfortable the whole night over in the corner. Some guy came up to me though, what was his name? N… started with an n. Suddenly, the lights in the room go out. A strange sound begins to play, as my headache vanishes in an instant. As colored lights fill my vision, I feel as though I am falling through the air. I am aware of each moment that passes as I pass into nothingness. Then, everything goes black…

I am usually not a dreamer, and when I am they are quite simple. But something was different that night. I dreamt that night of a vast sky and a falling forest. I was surrounded by animals and trees, plummeting towards a ground that did not exist. I tried to explore the sky, but could not find a place to land. What I did find was a bear. A beast of the forest. I watched its magnificent fur streak through the sky. Suddenly, it turned its attention on me, and pounced.

I woke up with a start.

My head was pounding. Man, what happened? I scratch my face and look around. I kept scratching. My stubble was irritated, I should make sure not to cut it so close to the skin. Around me was just a bare room. No windows, no doors, nothing. I got up to look around, nearly falling over as I did so. It was so strange. I felt like somehow I was taller than I was before and- AHH- headache was hitting. I sat back down on the bed. As I try to relax, I take stock of myself. It’s only then that I notice what I am wearing. Or rather, what I am not. Only a jockstrap hangs loosely around my waist, the rest of my body is on full display. I feel a bit self conscious about showing off so much of my lanky body, so I wrap up in the blanket on the bed. I sit and try to recall what happened last night. I had been trying to go… somewhere. With… Nick, maybe? But I don’t know why, I don’t think I knew him. He wrapped his arm around me and I just felt safe. God, everything was an absolute blur. Without any other options, I shout out for someone, anyone to give me some help. And the room seems to respond. In an instant, the lights go out and a sound that I can’t quite place but seems somehow familiar fills the room. Then, the lights go harsh, blinding me as I hear a faint hiss all around me. A sweet smelling gas hits my nose, and I am falling down, down, down…

I dream that night of food and the gym, a cacophony of metal plates and frying meats. The dream feels heavy. There is resistance and strain to lift every well-earned bite to my mouth. All the while, a sweet smell wafts through the scenes, one that drives me to push harder and eat a little bit more.

I woke up with a start.

My body and head were aching. What happened last night? I looked around the room and felt a strange feeling of deja vu. This was, like, so weird. As I moved to get up, my body felt sluggish and bloated. Looking down, nothing seems out of the ordinary. I flex a little to feel my fat pecs and biceps swell. Yeah dude, this pump is pretty sick, even for the day after… after… after what? Suddenly, a migraine hits like a bus. Fuck, I’ve got to turn down the lights in here. I fumble around trying to find the switch, but I notice that the walls are bare. No light switch, no door, not even a closet. Damn, really wanted to put something on other than this jock strap… wait, what jock strap? I feel my bare body and the skin tight jock trying to hold back my cock. As I brush against it, it begins to come to life. It feels so sensitive as I gently run my hands over it, but as it continues to swell a thought enters my mind: this is all wrong. The jock, this dick, the room, my body. What is happen-AUGH! I hold my head as I fall to the floor in pain. My mind is being bombarded with conflicting sensations of pain and pleasure as my now throbbing member shoots through the pain with insatiable lust. My mind is trying to grab for memories that aren’t there. Memories of this room and how I ended up here. Memories of friends and family who I know must be there but I can’t quite picture their faces. Memories of why I feel so strange in this large, bulky… awkward… strong… sensitive body. I let myself feel my chest and rub my perky nips. All I can remember is a man’s face, pulling me into this room. As I continue to rub with my thumbs, swirling fur between my thumb and chest, the pain begins to subside. God, they’re just as sensitive as my cock now. Continuing to rub with my left hand, I move my right down to my dick as I rub the first drops of pre around my fat mushroom tip. A faint moan escaped my lips. The rest may feel wrong but this feels so right. I am forced to release all inhibitions about what may be happening. This feels sooo good I can’t focus on anything but my own body. I am about to start stroking when the lights begin to flicker. Not again!… again? I feel something curl around my left arm, holding it in place, then my right. They lift me over to the bed, where I am then locked in by my ankles. I try to fight back, pull myself out of whatever contraption I’m in, but to no avail. A helmet is coming down from the ceiling, locking my head in place and obscuring my vision. A prick at the base of my neck turns my body limp in an instant. A screen in front of me flickers to life, and the patterns it plays are so… strangely… soothing. My mind lowers resistance as I feel myself falling down… down….. down.

I have strange dreams like I never have before. Dreams of flashing lights and pulsing music. Bodies that morph and swell. Hair and sweat and muscle mingle together in a cloud of lust and musk. Years passed by in that place. Somehow I feel at home.

I woke up with a start.

My head was throbbing, begging for my attention. What was I up to last night that left it this excited? My balls were heavy and aching. I knew that if I didn’t get some relief now, it would just be a distraction all day. I reached down and pulled my pipe out of my damp jock strap. A heady scent wafted up from the soiled pouch. My cock was already slick with pre, so I slowly began rubbing my hands over my plump, mushroom tip and girthy member. It wasn’t long before I was pumping with one hand while rubbing the other up and down my pelt of fur. I found a rhythm, some short thrusts while twisting one of my nips, that was driving me wild this morning. It was not long before I busted a nut, shooting my load over my broad torso. I relished the sensation of rubbing my cum into the forest of fur on my belly. Satisfied, I got up, and walked over to the corner of the room where a fresh tank top and jeans were laid out. I slipped them on, feeling them hug my curves and fur and muscle, sat down, and waited

It wasn’t long before my helmet dropped down. I carefully pulled it on and strapped it in place. It was so safe and calm in my helmet. So perfect. As it whirled to life, I gazed eagerly into the colors and listened intently to the strange sounds. I felt a tickle move through my spine as my muscles relaxed and flexed, relaxed and flexed, growing by command. I couldn’t help it as my eyes went cross as my memories stretched and changed like putty. I remembered playing the circuit party scene, partying hard and fucking harder. I remembered cruising through my twenties, playing the apps in my thirties, all to end up with my partner now, Nicholas. He was my world, my joy, my play thing. We dated for years before I proposed in 2015. And now here we are, years later, and it was as though I was falling in love with him for the first time. But my libido was being raised through the roof, and my tender love was turning to lust. I needed him, legs up, ass lubed now. The thought of his mouth working magic on my shaft was driving me wild.

I didn’t even notice when the helmet has pulled away, I was lost in my fantasies. Until he spoke.

“You just gonna sit there babe?”

My beautiful boy was laying across the room from me. In an instant nothing else mattered, I dove across the room to feel his soft lips.

He grunted his approval, “Fuck, look at you!” He ran his hand through my fur. I flexed my biceps for him so he could feel my muscles. He playfully grabbed my nips and twisted, a moan escaping my mouth before I grabbed him,

“You aren’t supposed to do that without permission,” I growled.

He chuckled and rolled his eyes, “oh like you don’t love it.” He made another grab but, this time I caught his wrists and pinned him down under my weight,

“Try that again and it’s a rough night for you. I don’t have to give you what you want.” I rubbed my crotch against his.

His eyes went big and sad, his signature puppy dog eyes. “Please, I’ll behave,” he said before giving me a wink. He knew I couldn’t say no to him.

I pulled back and ripped off my tank top. I let him kiss my torso as I unzipped and pulled off my jeans. It felt so right to be here with him. I couldn’t imagine life any other way. I grabbed the lube and rubbed it generously over my shaft before I flipped Nick over.

“Ass up, boy. Daddy’s coming home.”

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Emily: “I’m really sorry Vaggie didn’t feel comfortable coming back here. If there’s anything I can do to change that-”

Charlie: “Probably not! It was kinda a sign of her endless love for me that she visited haven again at all!”

Emily: “Oh! Oh that’s nice!!”

Charlie: “Which I NEVER would have asked her to do anyway, if I’d KNOWN the truth about her history up here!”

Emily: “Right. I’m so sorry about that too, by the-”

Charlie: “I mean, I’m not the kind of girl who askes her girlfriend to go spend an afternoon sitting across from the people who ripped off her wings! And her eye! And left her slumped against a dumpster looking half dead!”

Emily: “A… dumpster?”

Charlie: “Making the woman you love relive all that without even rEALIZING it would be pretty fucked up, wouldn’t it??”

Emily: “V- very.”

Charlie: “IT HYPOTHETICALLY COULD MAKE SOMEONE FEEL KINDA TERRIBLE AFTERWARDS, DON’T YOU THINK?”

Emily: “I’m sure it did!”

Charlie: “H Y P O T H E T I C A L L Y”

Emily: “Could! I could see that, yes, if it HAD happened, that would’ve been…”

Emily: “…”

Emily: “Are you- um, is she, errr.. doing better now?”

Charlie: “SO much better she’s doing SO great these days!!!!”

IN HELL

Vaggie: (lying face down on the hotel lobby floor) “I promise I won’t stop helping you morons when she dumps me. I won’t let her dream die just because I was dumb enough to think I could be part of it.”

Angel Dust: “That’s nice toots.”

Vaggie: “Thanks.”

Angel Dust: “Not sad or stupidly gay or anythin’.”

Vaggie: “Thanks.”

Cherri Bomb: “Sad? Angie, it’s perfect!” (takes picture) “I’ve been thinking this place could use a new rug…”

Niffty: (stepping on vaggie) “Squishy!”

Husk: “Get the fuck off her.” (at vaggie) “You, get the fuck UP.”

Vaggie: “Why.”

Alastor: “Hmmm, because this is PAINFULLY pathetic to watch, even for me?”

Vaggie: “Guess I’ll be here forever then.”

Angel Dust: “Vag-GAY c’mon, ya girlfirend’s not gonna dump ya. What’s the competition even!?”

Vaggie: “There’s an angel up in heaven who's helping Charlie work towards her life long dreams as we speak, and she's taller than me, got more wings than me, not as stabby as me, and also not a mass murderer or a liar or missing an eye.”

Cherri Bomb: "Hey!"

Vaggie: "No offence to the other one-eyed ladies here, but it's different when you've got a fucked up empty eye socket."

Niffty: (sighs dreamily) "I bet losing it hurt soooo baaaaad..."

Vaggie: "Never telling my girlfriend why I'd actually lost it or how it made me look like the deranged murder angel I was, even while she tried kissing it better for me, ended up hurting way worse."

Angel Dust: “That's a point….”

Angel Dust: “...alright, so Charlie’s PROBABLY not gonna dump ya-”

Niffty: “Oh that’s a weird sound!” (giggling) (bounces on vaggie) “I think she’s dying~”

Husk: “If you fucks kill her, I’m telling her demon princess girlfriend and pouring myself a drink to go with your fucking tormented howls.”

Vaggie: (muffled) “what if she’s my ex-girlfriend”

Husk: “…I’ll pour you a fucking drink and listen to your tormented howls.”

Niffty: “ME TOO I’LL LISTEN TOO!”

Alastor: “Dear one, perhaps if you were NOT standing on her skull and compressing her WRETCHED cries into the floor, we could be hearing them already.”

Niffty: “Whoops~ Heheheeh~”

Cherri Bomb: (recording it) “Damn, that groan’s been going on for ages… Bitch has some lung capacity on her.”

Angel Dust: “Point one for Vag-gay! Probs as good eating out as ya are at HOLDING out on ya girl!!!”

Vaggie: “uuuughhh…uaauuugghhaaaAAAAAAAAAAaaahhhhrrrgh..” (whimpers)

Niffty: “Okay.” (GIGGLES) “NOW she’s dying~” (bounces)

IN HEAVEN

Charlie: “Everything’s totally fine I have NO idea why you’d even ASK!”

Emily: “You’ve spent the entire time up here staring at pictures of Vaggie on your phone?”

Charlie: “I’m allowed to look at my girlfriend!”

Emily: “While crying and sniffling into your sleeve?”

Charlie: (sobbing) (desperately patting down her jacket) “SHE’S THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS WHICH OF MY POCKETS HAS THE HANDKERCHIEF IN IT, OKAY??”

Emily: (smiling) “I think you two are going to be just fine.”

Charlie: (BLOWS NOSE LOUDLY INTO JACKET SLEEVE, which catches on FIRE)

Emily: “…..not your clothes, though. You might need a new set of those.”

[eggyrocks]

35MM CHAPTER TEN: spreading false information

track number ten: waltz #2 (xo) by elliot smith

masterlist

-> fun facts!

akaashi for a minute kind of forgot that yn and bokuto were siblings until she brought up his name and then out of nowhere he just felt the need to change the way he was talking to her nothing weird about that no need to examine that any further

he feels very normal right now!!!!!

yn immediately noticed talked kenma's ear off about it

nishinoya LOVES helping yn with her films and being on sound is his favorite; he loves to hold the boom mic and hit people on the head with it in between takes

when yn and bokuto watched house as kids bokuto started crying and went to their parents and got them both in trouble for staying up late to watch it

sometimes he still has nightmares about it

iwa LOVES threatening violence on behalf of his friends

yn had her phone on do not disturb while she was filming and then after she checked her messages and saw like hundreds of texts from the gc she could NOT sort through all of them

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @publicbathroompanic @bedeater @rottingt1tz @rintarawr @deluluforcarlos55 @ahseyy @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @baskin-robinhoods @polish-cereal @iheartamora @ferntv @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @rinheartshyunlix @causenessus @bookworm-center @kettlepop @makkiroll @atsumou @eyes-ofhell @kawaii-angelanne @ryeyeyer @k8nicole @mydearchoso @phoenix-eclipses @lixie-phoria @suitstars @reneny @scxrcherr @ueknightbl @iluvaquaphor @sleezzsister @barricadesenthusiast @staygoldsquatchling02 @nemesii @sereniteav @crimsoncamra @gsyche @evening-latte @rrosiitas @kunimix @kitnootkat @aquariarose @iluv-ace @sparkei

[bucephaly]

Hi, um. I am very confused by this: why would people lie about being Cherokee? I'm white, I don't mean to overstep here, I just kind of flashed back to my History of Native Americans class and from what I can tell, being Native means a shit ton of mistreatment in the past and present, a lot of absolutely absurd stereotypes, weird fetishization and creepy dehumanizing language. My great grandfather was Cherokee and he hid that pretty consistently because he knew it was going to be an obstacle to his education, his career and basically his life in general. While some digging into genealogy later confirmed it was legit, I kind of already knew from the start because people don't usually lie about something they forbid you from mentioning outside the family and which they knew would take them from "one of the brightest minds in your field" to "[insert comment about being One Of The Good Ones here]". So why would someone lie about this? It feels like that'd backfire pretty hard given how racist everyone was/is in the US. I'm not doubting it happens - people are jackasses who'll lie about most things - but I just flat-out don't get why it happens. Why, of all the lies to pick, would someone go with a lie about their ethnicity? I know this might be veering into "please explain to whitey about racism" territory but if there's an article or a book or something on this, please let me know because this is so baffling to me. Who would want to be oppressed when oppression is so awful?

So I'm from the south. Everyone and their dog here claims to have cherokee ancestry and there are a number of origins for the stories. I think there's a factor of white people playing Indian being more accepted than real natives. To many of them it's a novelty or fun fact, some of them take it farther and establish fake 'tribes', usually recognized at the state level but not federally because they have no actual history.

During the confederacy, it actually became sorta a weird show of white southern pride to claim to have cherokee ancestry, basically saying 'my family has been here in the south long enough that we were here before the cherokees were removed.' So it was a way to show 'deep roots' in the south.

There was the Guion Miller roll, where cherokees were given a payout of $133 each because of a lawsuit. A lot of people applied knowing full well they weren't cherokee, just hoping to get some money. We even see lawyers advertising the payout to get people to apply just to see if they could get some. 2/3rds of the applicants were declined for having no proof of Cherokee ancestry, and I figure some family stories may have started there. If it wasnt the applicant themself keeping up the lie, maybe it was someone later finding the application and thinking it must have been truth.

In some cases, the cherokee land lotteries could be the origin. Once cherokees were forced out of north Georgia, their land and everything on it, including their houses and personal belongings, was raffled off. Settler families made themselves at home and even started passing down the cherokees belongings as heirlooms. Eventually the story got twisted into the family being cherokee instead of stealing from them.

Then there are some other things. Mixed people claiming to be native because it was less stigmatized than being mixed, ancestors that could've lived in a place called cherokee or near the cherokee and that got misunderstood. The stupidest origin was an ancestor that lived in the 1700s who had a funny name, so she got recorded as being cherokee in the family Bible despite being from Virginia and having sounds in her name that aren't present in the cherokee language.

And I imagine there are plenty that were just tall tales someone told a kid for fun and it got passed down.

I'm not sure about the history of when these fakes started cropping up more, but I imagine it would have been during or after the American Indian Movement when natives were in the news more. But I may be wrong

And of course, nowadays, people love hiring people that give them diversity points without actually being diverse. And fake state tribes can make money. Here in the south, there isn't that much of a legitimate native presence. There is one real tribe in my state, none in two neighboring states. People here don't really figure real natives still exist outside those people with a cherokee gg grandmother that gave them high cheekbones. You'd be surprised how many people I hear saying 'oh yea but I doubt there are actually any fullblood cherokees left' and shit like that.

Oh, and also. Nowadays people love to avoid having to accept that their ancestors were colonizers. Hell, even my aunt who is also cherokee has said stuff like 'I'm sad that we have English ancestry, I was hoping we'd be Irish. I don't wanna be descended from colonizers' like.. auntie the Irish were colonizers here too. People love to be seen as less white. Youll hear pretendians saying 'no don't call me white, I'm not white I'm cherokee!' Etc. And ofc there are the hippie types.

Idk. I hope that helps somewhat, basically society is a lot more willing to accept a pretendian than a real native in a lot of cases. Plus I think a chunk of the modern issues faced by native communities is generational from past oppression [on top of the very real current oppression in native communities] and pretendians just cannot understand that.

And ofc the obligatory disclaimer that I'm reconnecting, I'm new to this too so im not an expert.

If you wanna see how many fakes there are [note: many many from Alabama and Kentucky], join the cherokee research and genealogy Facebook. Just for fun, I'm putting a post of theirs under the cut [it's long] that lists all the wild excuses and stories people have given for why their ancestors don't show up as native in research.

[scary-grace]

WIP GAME: The Shigaraki x reader phone sex AU

@sophsiaaa requested more info about the phone sex AU, and it’s pretty straightforward. in short, the reader works as a dispatcher at a high-end end escort service, answering questions, doing admin, and keeping phone sex clients occupied while waiting for an operator to open up. On one particular night, she finds herself on the phone with a client who’s a different kind of weird than usual:

You’re in the middle of familiarizing yourself with all the parts of the cell when your headset starts beeping — and when you check your screen, you see that every single operator is busy. Again.

You get paid a flat hourly rate, but you really should negotiate that up for nights you spend keeping clients occupied while they wait. You answer the phone and run through your spiel — your operator’s not ready yet, but I’m here, and I’m super psyched to talk to a weirdo just like you — and wait for the inevitable question about what you’re wearing. You wait. And wait. And keep waiting, so long that you start to wonder if the call’s dropped when you weren’t looking. That, or the client got so wound up hearing a woman’s voice on the phone that they had a heart attack and died. You try again. “Hello?”

The call’s still live. You hear your voice echo on the other end of the call, and when you listen closer, you can hear someone breathing. Breathing sort of heavily. Great. “You know I get paid whether you talk or not, right?”

Oops. You shouldn’t have said that. Your boss will be pissed, and if whoever this is pays up, does it really matter if he says anything? Maybe he just wants to breathe heavily into the phone until time’s up. You’d like to think you can sit quietly while some guy does — something to the sound of you breathing on your end of the line, but it turns out that’s beyond your power to cope with. “Um, do you want to know what I’m wearing?”

“What?”

“Clients usually ask that,” you say, trying to cover your shock. This client sounds young. Shiroiwa’s price point is so high that next to none of the clients are younger than forty, but this guy sounds like he’s barely out of high school. You should know — you’re barely out of high school yourself. “They want to know what I’m wearing so they can — um, imagine a little better.”

Silence. The breathing sounds a little less heavy and a little more hyperventilating, and you resist the urge to bang your head on the table with an effort. Why do you always get stuck with the weird ones? “So, like I said, I’m not actually the person you’re supposed to talk to. I’m just here to keep you company until your partner’s ready for you. We don’t have to talk at all.”

You’re rapidly coming to the conclusion that not talking is the best outcome for this situation. You and the client can pretend each other isn’t there until you can transfer him to somebody else, somebody who’s good with the weird ones or the shy ones. Kayoko, maybe. She’s great at bringing clients out of their shells. The fact that she and you and anybody else who listens in wishes they’d never come out of their shells in the first place doesn’t really matter.

“What are you, then?” The raspy voice is in your ear again. “If you’re not who I’m supposed to talk to.”

“I’m admin. Kind of a secretary.” You kick yourself instantly for the choice of words. “Not the sexy kind of secretary. Just — I’m the one who routes the phone calls. And the messages from our chat service. Unless it’s busy.”

“It’s busy?”

“Saturday night? It’s really busy,” you say. He sounds disappointed. “Is there somebody you were hoping to talk to specifically? I can let you know how long a wait there will be.”

“I don’t care who I talk to,” the client says. You hear that from new clients a lot, before they pick a favorite operator. All the regulars have a favorite. “This was stupid.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you say hastily. Your boss will kill you if you lose a client. Even a weird client. “Tell me what you want to talk about. That way I can pick the right partner to send you to.”

“I don’t know,” the client says. You glance at the info Mizuho sent and get a shock — the client’s nineteen, same as you. “It’s — fuck. It’s my birthday.”

“Happy birthday,” you say on autopilot, which is apparently the wrong thing to do. You can practically feel the client’s embarrassment oozing through the phone, and you spin off into a sales pitch that sounds terrible even to you. “Well, you’ve called the right service. I know a ton of our companions who can make your day really special.”

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for Peppermintkelly behind the cut; Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Kon feels all sleepy and heavy and good, and there’s a sheet draped over his back and his head is on . . . someone. He’s on someone. Laying on someone, he means. He’s not sure who, because he’s sleepy and heavy and doesn’t even want to move enough to open his eyes or focus his TTK, but . . . someone, yeah. Mm. 

It’s fine. He can hear Tim’s heartbeat, and it’s steady and calm, and not in the forced way it gets sometimes when things are actually not fine. So–fine, yeah. 

He feels really good. 

“Kon,” Tim says, and Kon feels a hand in his hair. “How’re you feeling?” 

“Green,” Kon mumbles back, although he doesn’t know why he says that instead of just “fine”. Just–that’s what he says. Tim huffs out a low little snort, and the someone Kon’s on top of laughs too. 

“I wish we could match that energy, man,” the someone says in amusement, and then Kon remembers– 

Oh. Huh. 

He focuses his TTK after all and blinks his eyes open, and finds his head laying on Bernard’s chest–on Tim’s boyfriend’s chest–and most of the rest of him crushing the poor guy on top of that. 

“Shit,” he mutters, moving to push himself up. Bernard does not need two hundred and fifty pounds of half-Kryptonian dead weight fully on top of him. “Sorry.” 

“Please do not move right now,” Bernard says feelingly, looping his arms around his neck. Kon–pauses. “Unless this is a ‘red’ or ‘yellow’ sitch, obviously. Then sure. But if you’re concerned about crushing me or something, I’d actually like extra-crushed. Like, fine-ground crushing, please.” 

“Um,” Kon says, and then remembers–“Is this like the weighted blanket thing?” 

“This is very much like the weighted blanket thing,” Bernard confirms, and Kon settles back down–carefully, a little, but . . . 

Bernard makes a pleased little noise and drops a kiss against his temple. Kon feels–weird, kind of. 

Feels warm, kind of. 

“Fuck yeah,” Bernard says, sounding even more pleased. “No offense, Tim’s just not usually much of a cuddler, so I’ve been being greedy while you were checked out. Also, you’re really warm, anyone ever tell you that?” 

“. . . did I actually pass out?” Kon asks, a little incredulous at the idea. Not that Tim and Bernard didn’t fuck him good, just, well–they’re only human, and he is very much not only human. Like, at least fifty percent not, anyway. 

“Not exactly,” Tim says, petting his hair again. “You dropped pretty far, though.” 

“‘Dropped’?” Kon frowns a little. Tim’s hand pauses in his hair. 

“Yes,” he says, his tone a little careful. “Have you heard that word before?” 

“I mean, yeah, but I feel like there’s maybe some slang or some subtext I’m missing here,” Kon says, frowning a little more as he resists the urge to push into Tim’s hand. Probably not the time, unfortunately. Probably this is talking time, from the way Tim sounds. 

“You had a safe word,” Tim says, just barely frowning himself. “I assumed–mm. Sorry.” 

“For what?” Kon asks, incredulous again, because that was possibly the best he’s gotten laid since the last time he and Cassie fell back into bed together and regretted it in the morning, and currently no one is regretting it, so actually it’s got one up on that time too. 

At least, he doesn’t think anyone’s regretting it. 

He hopes no one’s regretting it. 

He–keeps thinking about how much fucking Tim reminds him of fucking Cassie, doesn’t he. He’s not sure why he’s so stuck on that.

[hugz4hoon]

thunderstorms - p.s.h.

summary — sunghoon is not a huge fan of thunder...

pairing — bf!sunghoon x fem!reader

genre — fluff and extremely slight angst maybe?

wc — 984

a/n — omg first post so exciting!!! i literally wrote this for my writer's craft class when i was 17 and came across it again yesterday, so i figured i might as well post it here :D idek if anyone is gonna see this but might as well just drop it lolz if u see this, i hope you like it! :-)

It was a regular day, just another Friday night spent binging stupid movies. It happened to be raining today, with the thunder outside being so loud that the coffee table in front of you shook every time it struck. You and your boyfriend were both sprawled across the couch, with Sunghoon laying in your lap while the movie flashing across the screen drowned out the noise coming from outside. As the thunder struck again, you felt Sunghoon nuzzle into you a bit more as his dark hair tickled your chin. 

Weird, he’s not usually this affectionate. 

Although it caught you off guard, you let him come closer. 

“It’s a bit cold, don’t you think?” Sunghoon asked, his voice coming out muffled as his face was pressed against your chest. “I guess it is kind of chilly, why don’t we make some hot chocolate to warm up?” You asked with a cheeky grin. He looked up at you, his pink lips stretched into a tender smile. “Sounds good.” He then got up to start making the hot cocoa for the both of you.

While he was in the kitchen, thunder struck again. A loud shatter suddenly came from his direction, which caused you to whip your head towards him. You saw Sunghoon standing over a broken mug, glass scattered all over the floor. You quickly jumped off the couch and ran to him, cautiously avoiding the glass.

“Oh my god, Sunghoon! Are you okay? What happened?” You questioned, worry plastered all over your face. You searched his face for any emotion. Fear, shock, anger, anything that could explain what was going on, but you were met with a blank expression. Sunghoon’s deep brown orbs were unreadable as he kept staring at the broken mug until he looked up, and suddenly his eyes went back to normal. 

“Oh. The mug just slipped out of my hand, nothing else.” 

Not convinced, you questioned him again. 

“It just slipped?” You pressed, raising your brow.

“Yes, it just slipped,” he said sternly, avoiding your eyes. He faced you with a pointed expression on his face. “Whatever Y/N, can you just help me clean this up?” 

Weird, he seemed different from his usual calm self. Must be an off day, you thought, so you decided to shut your mouth and just help him clean the mess. Your hands brushed together as you carefully picked up the larger pieces of glass. Sunghoon’s hand felt cold and sweaty, and when you looked at it, you saw that it was shaking. Remembering that he felt cold earlier, you let it slide, as that was probably the cause. 

Stop overreacting, you thought to yourself as you continued to pick up the shards. After cleaning the glass, you finished up the hot chocolate together and went to sit back on the couch with your freshly made hot cocoa. While making the hot chocolate, Sunghoon seemed to calm down a bit, and whatever was bothering him seemed to disappear. Pleased that he was back to his normal self, you looked at him in relief. 

Then thunder struck again. 

“Fuck!”

You flinched as you heard him curse loudly. His black hoodie was soaked in hot chocolate. Sunghoon placed his now half-filled mug on the table, then stood up and threw his hoodie off. With a concerned look on your face, you looked up at him, who was now clad in just a T-shirt. “It’s okay Hoon, we’ll wash it—” “No, it’s not okay!” He interrupted. 

Now you’re starting to get pissed. Why is his temper so short today? Did you do something? “What is going on with you today, Sunghoon? You can tell me if you're upset with me about something, but I can’t keep tiptoeing around you—” Before you could finish your sentence, the loudest strike of thunder hit the ground, and you saw his whole body visibly flinch as his eyes widened for a second.

He’s afraid of thunder.

You promptly engulfed his larger body in an embrace as best as you could. After minutes of just holding him, you brought him back down to the couch to lay on you. “It’s okay, I’m right here.” You watched his stature start to shrink as he cuddled into you, moving further into your hold.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that you’re scared of thunder?” you asked him gently, while combing your fingers through his soft hair to calm him down. Sunghoon looked up at you with glossy eyes, then looked at the ground with a sigh. 

“Because it’s stupid and I didn’t want to bother you with it. I’m an adult, I’m not supposed to be afraid of a bit of thunder.” 

Your mind went blank after hearing the first sentence. It felt like someone dropped an anvil on your heart. He didn’t want to bother you? What? You held his chin to turn his face towards you and looked him in the eyes. “Listen to me. Nothing you say will ever bother me. I always want you to talk to me, and I always want to help you. But I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me. Okay?” Your serious eyes didn’t leave his teary ones the entire time you spoke to him. He slowly nodded his head. “Okay,” he answered in a broken whisper, “you’re right. I’m sorry.” “Don’t be sorry, baby. Just don’t hide it from me next time,” You pouted while poking him playfully. “I won’t, I promise,” he giggled shyly as you kept prodding at him. His soft, deep voice was like music to your ears. You scanned his features as he laughed—the way his eyes turned to crescents, his wide smile that exposes his teeth, his little dimples. He was perfection personified.

For the rest of the night, you stayed on the couch with cheesy rom-coms playing in the background, as you eventually fell asleep like that.

[ndcultureis]

nd culture is realising that neurotypical people don't experience joy the same way that i do and feeling genuinely sorry for them, because it just sounds really sad that you can read a fanfiction and not get all excited and start flapping hands and what do you mean you aren't doing weird little noises because your favorite artists will drop a new album soon and what do you mean you are not jumping because your favorite song is playing?

what do you do with all that joy that fills you then? do you just... keep it inside you? isn't it kind of exhausting to have all that energy and emotions bottled up?

(i'm aware that all neurodivergent people experience joy differently and the examples that i have given here are about my experience but this submission is about stimming in general and i'm not saying there is anything wrong with neurotypical people or with neurodivergent people who don't stim as much, it's just more about my lack of understanding that other people can feel different than me which is connected to my autism sorry if i sound mean)

.

[transmutationisms]

i like your point about being in touch with your desires and okay with spending a lot of screen time. but i think a lot of the time people find it makes them feel bad in the end. and maybe in a way that's not just feeling bad because you enjoyed yourself, but because you feel kind of scatterbrained and you did the screen time at the expense of an activity that would leave you feeling better, . what do you think? is this the ghost of Internalized Protestant Work Ethic speaking through me? can't "the desire to not have spend so much time on the computer today" also be considered a valid desire? anyway really enjoy your blog and find you always have thoughtful critiques so really just thinking out loud here. thanks

i just. at the risk of sounding like cellphone oscar wilde. i don't see the point in regretting a pleasure and if you werent enjoying it then no one is stopping you from spending your free time on something else. be the change or whatever the fuck. i do think some of you have a weird moral hangup about admitting that you enjoy phone scrolling in a way you wouldn't apply to something with more culture class cachet.

[factual-fantasy]

29 asks! Thank you!! :))) 🛝

@skatermusic

Oh boy.. dare I even look.. 😅💀

@holly-opal

AAAAAA THANK YOUUU!!!! :DDDD

@anikakitty11

Oo! It all looks so yummy! 😋😋😋

@cat7890

Unfortunately due to my poor health, I'm unable to work on it atm.. hopefully I can get back to it someday! <:)

Oooo!! I'm surprised by the tender hearted motive! Perhaps I should give this game a look.. 👀👀

I have actually never heard of this challenge-- so yeah, I have nothing planned for it <XD

A little yeah :00 Everyone is almost exactly what you'd think they'd look like <XD Barnacles has white hair, Kwazii has orange hair, Peso has black hair.. etc.

@artistiemi

Its fiiiiine <XDD

@mahlifeissad

ooo :00 Sounds tasty! Thank you for the recipe! :))

They're intended to be there yeah. But I STILL. HAVE NOT PLAYED THE GAME. 💀 So I don't know any of the games lore and how to incorporate them into my story- <XDDD

XD Emmet has a few strong words for Arceus..

@uallstupid

Woah.. who is that guy? Is he actually a cyborg?? :00

XD I get that comment a lot actually- and I take no offence! I see the resemblance! XDD

@skatermusic

<XD Silly Barnacles!

(In response to this post)

And there's likely more where that came from!! :DDD

@chromchill (In response to this post)

Haha! XDD I'm afraid :))

@beryl-shade

I've seen 8-BitRyan play it. I like the concept and the RUIN like style it seems to have.. though I'm not a huge fan of how the animatronics/characters look in game..

I'd like them to be bigger. And either clearly fully animatronic or fully living animal. They some how look kiiind'a somewhere in between..? <:0

@justvibinginvoid (Referencing this post)

XDD Well as I get further into the show, more fanart from me is likely! :)) I'm glad you liked it!! :DDD

@gizmos-n-gadgets

Its been a while since I made their designs so I don't remember much.. but I think I tool a lot of inso from Navy/Marine/ocean?? Military?? Uniforms <XDD

Oooo :0 sounds like a slick tool! Thanks for telling me about it! :)

(In response to this post)

NOOO NOT BEAKER TOO XDDD (I assume you meant Beaker-)

@emmetest (In response to this post)

XDD They're still dealing with Kermit!!

(In response to this post)

I'd be lying if it didn't seriously discourage me at first.. but then everyone rushing to support me reminded me why I post here in the first place. :))

I'm so honored to hear that my artwork helps you through your depressive times. That make's two of us! XDD I hope to keep posting for people like you that really benefit from it <:))) thank you so much and I wish you well 💞💖💞💞

@untitled-7613

😔

(In response to this post)

You know? With how long I've been ill for.. the thought of trying to sell stickers or some kind of merch has crossed my mind more than once..

@tallchest13-blog

XD There ARE humans in their world for sure. Though they don't have a trainer. It felt weird to kind'a.. insert myself into the world..? Or someone that was meant to take my place.. And I like that with the absence of a trainer, Gloria is the leader of the group and everyone looks to her for guidance. :)

They mostly just travel from place to place. Staying away from humans due to their recent attempts to catch Anastasia.. Sleeping in caves or abandoned structures.. looking for food and sparring with each other. Just living life :))

And I am 3 days late to respond to this <XDD

<XDDD I'm sorry- but who are Bingus and dent?? XDD

@hershelwidget

AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! :DD IM SO GLAD TO HEAR THAT IM YOUR FAVORITE ARTIST AND THAT YOU'VE GOTTEN BACK INTO PIXEL ART BECAUSE OF MEEEE 😭😭💞💖😭💞

@stupid-thatsme (Post in question)

Thank you!! Though I'm not sure I understand the question.. <XD But I have a comic I'm thinking about making that shows how Grimace mega evolved! :DD

[iamanoccasionaldoodler]

Maybe this is just a natural consequence of the differences between ghosts and vampires but it is kinda funny to me how people get so pearl clutching over the cat king and edwin because edwins 16 when like. Girl hes over one hundred years old. Or at least hes like fifty years old if you dont count hell. Like how come vampire teenagers arent really teenagers but Edwin is really a teenager. Also how old are you assuming the cat king is for this argument. He seems to be kind of functionally immortal but also hes fundamentally still a cat. Im not sure how that translates into human ages.

And don't come quoting Lukas Gage's age at me because George Rexstrew is fully 26 years old.

I'm not saying the cat king isn't a little predatory - hes a CAT he's SUPPOSED TO BE - but like. You guys sound so fucking goofy trying to make it about age. If there's going to be media about old-but-young supernatural creatures the ages are going to be weird. You just need to accept that and move on.

[zoshkawrites]

stuck in an elevator with bonten! sanzu

tw: slightly claustrophobic, angst, fluff, depression, near death experience, thoughts of killing, suicide | english is not my native language

note: old fic, I've reread and changed it so many times that I now know when the characters talk lmao. seriously, it's so hard to edit something you've memorized.

You pressed the "17" button on the elevator and just as the door was about to close, suddenly a tall man with pink hair appeared in front of you. You fixed a gaze on him, analyzing the stranger over from head to toe: he was wearing a suit that looked expensive. The attractive men's perfume that was on his skin reached your nostrils, and danced there, giving you a short moment of pleasure. Obviously, this man was exceptional.

The mullet haired looked wealthy and to your surprise even handsome. You were so used to encountering unattractive men in expensive hotels that the sight of this pink-haired made your face to heat up. You moved a lock of hair behind your ear, and looked at the ground shyly. Even when with gaze on the floor, you felt a satisfied smile on the stranger's face. This feeling made you to look at him more closely and at that moment the eyes of both of you locked for a short second; he had two diamond-shaped scars at the corners of his lips.

You greeted him with a small and adorable smile, and made way for him to get into the elevator. You pressed the button of the elevtator, and a second later there was the sound of the door closing, and soon the tall man's back was pressed against the wall, right in front of the elevator's mirror.

An awkward silence appeared: there was still time for the elevator to reach from the first floor to the 17th floor, but now it seemed to be moving slower than usual. To distract yourself from the uncomfortable silence, you decided to check the time on your phone, just to put it back in your jacket later. This time your eyes fell on your shoes and examined them more carefully. Did they really had small geometrical patterns? You hadn't noticed until now. Then your eyes focused on the mirror that was placed on the wall and looked at your figure, admiring your own body.

“Ahh!” a soft male grunt reached your ear and grabbed your attention. The corners of your eye turned towards the stranger. Although the sound suggested he was bored, his face was beaming with a smile indicating that it wasn't born of happiness, but of boredom.

“Am I pretty?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the point he was focusing on.

“Pardon me?” you confusingly answered, not sure if the man was talking to you since you found his question strange.

"AM I PRETTY?"

"Are you talking to me?"

“Mirror, mirror on the wall…” now his eyes met yours and only then you did notice what color they were. "Of course, do you see another human being here?"

“Huh?” you were irritated by his answer “Don't you think it's weird to ask strangers if you're pretty?”

“Absolutely, yes!” the man added and immediately continued “But I'm bored and you look cute!”

"Oh," he had managed to grab your attention and at least kill the boredom a little "so you decided to ask a cutie like me for opinion?"

“Hmm!” he put his finger to his chin thoughtfully “I can ask you other questions too, but I think this is the more normal one. And this vertical car moves quite slowly!”

'Vertical car' you thought to yourself and it wasn't until a few seconds later that you realized he was talking about the elevator. You were about to nag at the odd word he had used, but the unexpected loud stop of the elevator caught your attention immediately. It was as if something large had fallen on top of this 'vertical car', stopping it from moving. And seeing that you were still on the 11th floor and that you were not moving at least a little, made the panic took over your body.

“W-what?” you stuttered in nervousness and looked around.

"What kind of other questio-"

“No, idiot!” you yelled at him and wondered if you should take something out of the bag and throw it at him. "The elevator is not working!”

The pink-haired rolled his eyes, "lame…" commented and added "at least I'm not alone, I have someone to keep me company." The blue-eyed scanned the walls as if they could solve the problem.

This made you look carefully at the elevator again and analyze the situation: your heart began to beat faster, panic caused sweat to form on your face; suddenly it was as if this 'vertical car' was much smaller than before and as if it could swallow you alive or spaghettify you like a black hole.

'Hey' you shouted first in your head, then your lips took control over your body: "HEYYY!!" screamed your lungs out.

You heared a small "tch" behind, which somehow angered you even more. The stranger was now sitting on the floor fixing his hair; his lack of panic infuriated you more and you wondered if you should slap him.

"Someone," you yelled and began punching the door noisily, "can you hear me?" You couldn't feel it from the adrenaline, but your knuckles were red. Soon your hands started to pain so much that you just gave up.

Confused and breathing fast, "aren't you scared" you asked the man who seemed too calm for such a situation.

“Huh? What should I fear?” instantly reacted to your question in confusion. For the first time he answered you not because of boredom, but because he was interested. "You've screamed so loudly that everyone heard us! And also, let me mention, that you are here. What should I fear when you are by my side?'

You looked back in annoyance at his confused face, wondering if God wanted to test you today: you either had to kill yourself or you had to kill this man. Although 3 minutes ago the first seemed more likely to you, now the scales were tilted towards the second.

“How come you're not afraid because I'm by your side?” you started breathing even faster, your heart about to skip a beat from the pink haired's composure.

"You will protect me!"

"Shouldn't you protect me, YOU'RE THE MAN FOR GOD!"

"LET'S CHANGE THE ROLES!"

"I AM GOING TO KILL MYSELF!"

"I HAVE A KATANA!"

"STOP!" you cried out and angrily punched the wall of the elevator, hoping someone would hear you. Although you were one hundred percent sure that the staff of this luxury hotel had found out about the problem, you still wanted to get out as soon as possible. "I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE!!!"

"Jesus." The stranger added, placing his hand over his face. He couldn't believe how much dramatic you were. And he thought he was the most dramatic person in the world. For example, once he wanted to buy a Ferris wheel, but he didn't know where to place it, and yet he had only complained to one of his friennds about it only 17 times.

You realized that there was no way to leave this place quickly. You checked the phone and saw that 13 minutes had already passed. You had calmed down, especially after hearing the alarms, and when staff members arrived to sole the problem. Also, Sanzu – that was the stranger's name – had added that the hotel belonged to a colleague of his, which meant that the problem would be solved even faster.

After a while - both of you hadn't noticed how much, you were sitting on the floor in thought. You from worry and Sanzu because of boredom. You knew the oxygen was limited, meaning you weren't supposed to speak, but suddenly a memory woke you from your sleep of thoughts.

He had a katana.

"How…" you began quietly, worried about using up too much oxygen "you have a katana?"

He looked at you "well…" Sanzu's blue eyes sparkled as if some memory had come up "it brings me good luck so I'm always with katana."

“Like…” you moved a lock of hair behind your ear “when someone attacks you, you kill them and stay alive. Is that the kind of luck you mean?'

"I like your way of thinking, we must be the same sign."

"I don't believe in zodiac signs."

"Same."

Instead of getting mad at him, you started laughing and clutching your stomach. Wrinkles appeared at the corners of your eyes; you started to like the kind of person Sanzu was. He was probably funny. It's just that the way you met was strange.

A few more strange conversations and you've realized around 15 minutes already passed. You noticed it before you even looked at your phone; it was just that the oxygen was decreasing and that was the clearest sign that time was really passing.

Sanzu didn't want to admit it but he really wanted to get out of this place as soon as possible. It seemed to him that he had been in this elevator forever, and inwardly he was glad that you were here to keep him company. Once he got out of this place, he was sure to have a 'good talk' with Ran.

Soon you both heard voices on the other side of the door suggesting that there were people who were really trying to do something after all. Apparently the blue-eyed man was right when he told that the hotel was owned by a friend of his, because the worried words “Sanzu, are you okay?” were repeated every few minutes. That question was lost in space when Sanzu finally screamed to be left alone.

"Y/N," you've h told him your name, "what are you looking for in this hotel?"

"Apparently, trouble." You answered slightly dizzy; the lack of oxygen was really starting to affect you. "What about you?"

“I have an important meeting, but I prefer yours!” he added without giving details and ran his fingers through his slightly sweaty hair. Yes, he needed oxygen too, but still continued to appear unfazed.

"You are too calm for an important meeting."

"The meeting should be worried, not me."

There was another dose of silence between you and the only thing that could be heard were the low voices on the other side of the elevator. You kept looking at the clock, counting every single minute and listening to your heartbeat. Sanzu, on the other hand, was staring at you, as if he was following your every move, unconcerned that you've already noticed it. This made you change your mind about him again – there was something about him that bothered you. He seemed to be smiling, but his aura radiated danger.

“Have you ever killed someone?” the pink-haired decided to kill the silence between you again, not worrying about the oxygen.

His question caught you off guard; your head was starting to hurt and you felt like you were drunk. You managed to hide your astonishment perfectly and found the courage to look him straight in the eyes as if trying to see what was behind them.

“No, but I've wanted to kill many times.” Admitted without feeling any regret. You had friends, classmates, exes, and employers you wondered if you should kill, but the logic always prevailed over your anger.

You wanted to kill and eat that anger, but it often got stuck in your throat, causing you to throw up harsh words and insults.

"Huh..." Sanzu placed his hand on his face and it was as if some memories flashed through his eyes like a film strip. He wondered what your reaction would be if he told you that he wanted to kill, that he had killed, and that he had seen murders and suicides. It was as if he had to meet the cruel face of fate even in his childhood, and your slightly angry eyes reminded him of his war. But he had chosen this life himself.

'Why do I feel like this…' he wondered and felt how dry his throat was, 'it's all because the oxygen, fuck.'

"What a-about you?" you asked with a coughing, although you were worried from the answer. What would you tell your friends when you got out of the elevator: that you've been stuck or that you've been stuck with a killer?

"Do you really care about the answer or are you asking this question just to keep the conversation going?"

“I don't owe you anything, including a conversation.” You admitted and wiped the sweat from your temple. "Just want to know."

Another silence followed, but this time more awkward than the others. Its roots were not in lack of topics of conversation or concern, but more in confession. There was a difference between conscious and unconscious sin. And didn't you feel afraid of his answer? He could suffocate you right here and now, and then say you died from lack of oxygen.

“Do you think we really live?” he continued with a philosophical question, but now it was your turn to remain thoughtfully silent.

You remembered of all the times you wanted to kill yourself, but didn't have the strength to do it. You didn't have the strength to fight, but you had the strength to survive.

What could you have said to him? If you had asked him the same question staring into his eyes, what would he have told you?

"..." you decided to be silnet. Maybe because you were already too dizzy or because you didn't know exactly what to say.

"I don't think that everyone lives." But Sanzu didn't see a problem, and he even liked seeing people lose the sparkle in their eyes; something that would soon happen to you too.

“Hmm…” you mumbled, your voice sounding like a lullaby. You looked at the ceiling of the elevator and it seemed too blurry. You felt running out of oxygen.

The pain in your chest grew, and your coughing increased. Your hand instantly touched your chest as if to kill the pain, but it was getting worse.

“Hey!” you felt Sanzu standing up and pulling you closer. His eyes met yours, but it was too hard for you to read the emotions in them because of your blurred vision. But his voice suggested that he was worried.

“Damn, f-finally” you muttered with a small smug smile and cough and felt his hands brushing against your cheeks, “finally, you are worried.”

"You were going to protect me, weren't you!" the concern in his voice grew even more.

"I didn't promise anything like that…"

"But I don't want to stay here alone…" he said it so quietly you couldn't hear him. It was as if he was experiencing deja vu; he had never been stuck in an elevator before, but the thought of being alone in that place and dying all alone scared him.

His breathing quickened, “Ran!” Sanzu screamed with all the oxygen left in his lungs. It seemed to him a better idea to die with you, together, than him facing death all alone. The pink-haired's heart was beating fast, but he couldn't tell if his body was begging for drugs, or if it sensed that death was near for him too.

“Hah!” he laughed, feeling a tear fall from his blue eyes, which soon reached the sweat on your temples. "Is this going to be my end..."

You, on the other hand, couldn't tell if you were already hallucinating or if this was actually happening. Your eyes had given up the fight and were now just closed, but your mind was still alive. Your mind was telling your mind that it should stay awake.

Was this the moment of your death? Is that how it was going to happen? Away from your apartment, in the company of a stranger.

You felt a drop on your temples, touching your warm sweat. It was like a cool shower after a hot summer day.

'Is it raining?' you thought, 'am I outside already?'

You looked up at the ceiling of the elevator with the only strength that was left in your muscles, just to see a dark blue sky preparing to pour out all of its feelings with thunder and stormy rain. The aggressive wind caressed your body. You liked the sight and decided to keep your eyes on the sky; it was as if you you'd never see such a view ever again in your life.

Suddenly, you felt a large tree in front of you, which seemed to be hugging you with its branches. It might be a good idea to sit under it and watch the rain.

A stone appeared in your chest; it weighed so much you didn't want to breathe anymore.

'You are dying'

You felt a searing pain in your lungs. They were ready to burst.

'You are dying'

You couldn't decide if you were fighting for your life or if trying to breathe would have made you worse. The dark blue sky and the big tree were still visible, and they weren't going to disappear anytime soon. The pain increased so much that your hand grabbed a branch of the tree, hoping it would help. 'What's wrong with me?' Yet you didn't feel any worry.

The rain stopped. The pain in your chest disappeared and the scent of the tree reached your nostrils and danced pleasantly in your chest.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷

"QUIT SMOKING!"

"I SWEAR I DON'T SMOKE!"

"THEN WHY YOU SMELL LIKE VAPE, EW!"

"BECAUSE OF MY BEST FRIEND!!!"

It wasn't the life you expected to have. If someone had ever told your little self that you would meet the father of your child in an elevator, you would have laughed with all the oxygen in your lungs.

"Then stop seeing her!" Sanzu ordered, his eyes looking at you so cold and serious that you could have frozen in place. But you felt no fear.

"But she's-"

"Did I stutter?" he approached you, his pink hair wet, Sanzu had promised to take you to a restaurant tonight to celebrate your pregnancy together. “You know you're not supposed to be around smokers.”

Ever since the elevator accident had happened, you had been having problems with your lungs.

"Yeah, yeah, that's enough!" you pulled him closer and embraced him with the warmest hug.

"No, I'm serious Y/N, you really smell like vape!" he scolded you, but still kissed your lips quickly and gently.

"Alright, I'm going to take a shower and change my clothes!"

"I am coming with you!" he returned your hug and this time kissed your neck.