#I struggled a bit with the sourcing because I had a hard time coming up with outside evidence to use for context

[rosiehunterwolf]

Just wrote a DBQ in WHAP today, we had to write it in the period to practice for the time limits of the AP test

I forgot how fast you have to write, my hand is like dead now 😂

[heegyukeluv]

love-battery (lhs) - req

pairing: heeseung x afab!reader

synopsis: Heeseung always would make you feel recharged just by being around. And you did the same to him.

my's note: hi hello here's a very fluff cute little thing! it's a request (thank you for requesting <3), so i hope you like it!!!! (have to say that when i chose the name of this fic, the jinyoung's song with similar name started to play on my head non-stop help)

warnings: skinship, established relationship, fluff, pet names, explicit language (i can't help myself. i'll always use at least one 'fuck' lol).

wc: 3k

NOT PROOFREAD.

Even with your boyfriend’s tight schedule and the fact you both lived quite far from each other, you and Heeseung always managed ways to meet up and hang out for at least an hour or so – enough to work as a full recharge for Heeseung.

However, for the last whole month you only saw Heeseung three times. You were used to seeing him almost every day, either by going to his and staying for a bit or he coming to yours for the same reason, and it was pissing you off how annoying adult life was being so far, unabling you to do your daily basis chores, let alone drive to Heeseung’s studio to be with him.

Heeseung normally had a tough routine as a producer by spending long hours in his studio, staying up all night working on his music and constantly dealing with tight deadlines. Your favorite hobby was to grab a coffee and some snacks to surprise him by showing up unexpectedly; and of course, to sit on his lap while he kept doing his things. 

But now you were the one fighting against time, as you had to deal with your last year in college, struggling with your final project and with your respective project partners – who would have thought that working with people would lead you to be that stressed, huh?

Your life was a total mess at this point, your sleep schedule chaotic, your body aching, begging for a pause to get some proper rest, but you really couldn’t give yourself that luxury; all the submission dates getting closer and closer making you go crazy in desperation.

And on top of that, you haven’t seen your boyfriend, the main source of your happiness, in almost two weeks.

“This is so frustrating, Hee,” you said with a realistic sad tone, when you decided to ignore the blank page on your laptop waiting for a new plot to pop up in your mind, and give your love life a little more attention, calling Heeseung. “It’s almost like the world doesn't want us to be together.”

“Don’t say such things, my love. Not even as kidding,” he interrupted you to say with a gentle voice. “We’re going to figure out something, yeah?”

“I’m sorry, Hee. But– I’m dealing with a bunch of stupid assignments with stupid deadlines in this stupid degree I chose, and you’ve told me early this week that you were pretty chill with your work. But I didn’t even have time to invite you over the days you said you’re free! Not to mention that if you were here I’d be paying more attention to you and getting fucked with my project.”

“Y/N–”

“And when I’m free you’re the one swamped with work! And, please, I’m not blaming you, babe, please don’t take it the wrong way. I love you and I love that you can work with the thing you’re passionate about. I’m just… Frustrated,” you unloaded with a long sigh, voice trembling a bit since your feelings were, also, a mess and your heart aching. “And I miss you so much. I wish we lived a bit closer, so we could meet more often in moments like this.”

You heard Heeseung soft breathing through the phone. He decided to let you vent instead of cutting you off, because he, more than anyone, knew how overwhelmed you felt whenever you had to deal with submission dates and projects. It was your third project in your whole degree, this one being the most important one, and Heeseung saw you in shambles during your working time in the smaller ones, fully understanding how hard it has been with this final one.

“I’m sorry you’re having to go through all of this, pretty girl,” you could feel the comfort in his tender, sweet tone. You wiped out a single tear that tried to escape your eyes, curving yourself into a little ball on your couch. “But you don’t have to do this alone, my love,” you heard a weird noise through his phone, very similar to a door unlocking. Your door unlocking. You frowned. “Don’t freak out, bae. I’m entering your apartment right now.”

Your heart dropped in your chest. “What?” You whispered in disbelief, your phone falling off from your hand, your eyes widening as you watched your boyfriend walk through the front door, smiling big and bright at you.

His dark red hair was attractively messy because of the motorcycle helmet. He also carried a big backpack on his back and a plastic bag with the logo of your favorite food place.

“You’re kidding me,” your voice was barely a whisper at this point, your lips curving into a smile that grew bigger and bigger, still finding it hard to believe that the man talking to you on your phone was now in front of you. Your beloved boyfriend was now in front of you. “Lee fucking Heeseung!” You almost squealed, walking in his direction right after he put his helmet and his backpack on the ground, to jump on his open arms which were waiting to embrace you in a tight hug.

Your legs instantly wrapped around his waist and your arms on his shoulders, his firm hands gripping on your thighs to hold you close and steady as you buried your face on his neck, inhaling his scent as if it was your favorite drug. You heard Heeseung chuckling at your reaction and you finally noticed how fast your heart was beating, everything feeling unreal. All the frustration you felt waving off your body quickly.

“Hi, baby,” Heeseung said in an affectionate way, with you still hidden on the curve of his neck, making him let out a small laugh at your adorableness. He missed you so much.

Your fingers tangled in his soft hair, pulling him into yourself as if you could become one before you started to kiss every piece of his exposed skin, from his jawline to close to his ear, to his cheek, the tip of his nose and finally his glistening, dreamy lips.

Heeseung let out a contented sigh when he felt your sweet taste, walking carefully through the living room so he could sit on the couch with you on his lap, the contact never breaking. He deepened the kiss by slightly brushing his tongue on your bottom lip, electricity running all over his body once you let him in to feel him closer, so intimately; his hands sneaked into your shirt, caressing the bare skin of your waist just because he needed to touch, to feel you more.

“I missed you so much, my love,” you whispered when you parted away to catch your breath, pecking his lip countless times as you said “Missed. You. So. Much. Oh. My. God,” and the last one lasted a bit longer, making Heeseung giggle and kiss you properly one more time. 

“I missed you too, pretty.”

Heeseung was looking at you with so much love, his eyes sparkling in joy for finally having you that close, touching, kissing you. He caressed your cheek while his gaze wandered all your face features, as if he was trying to memorize every one of them, completely endeared by your beauty.

Heeseung looked at you as if he just discovered what love is. 

You weren’t different, though. Your soft touch on his strands of hair, scratching slightly as your contemplated every piece of your very good-looking boyfriend, not holding yourself when your fingers started gently to trace his face; his big deer eyes now turned into little crescents, his pretty nose that you loved to kiss, the little charming mole on his forehead, and his so, so attractive lips adorning the most beautiful smile you ever had the chance to see. You were so in love.

Heeseung felt like he could stare at you all day and he would never feel tired, actually to have you close always worked as a battery recharge. And for you, Heeseung did the same, making all your bad feelings wash away easily because you had him, and you knew you could rely on him.

Ironically, the sound of your laptop on the coffee table indicating that its battery was running out, pulled you both out of your little love bubble, startling you slightly. The reality check hit you with full force, and the bottom of your stomach sank immediately.

You gulped, looking at Heeseung with a hint of sadness before you sighed and said, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m super happy you’re here, but I–”

“You have things to do, I know,” Heeseung cut you off mid-sentence. His kind voice, the small peck on your cheek, and his cute smile making you shiver and melt. “But don’t worry about me, okay? You do your things, I’ll be around for whenever you finish, and then we can cuddle,” he said simply, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“You’re staying?” You questioned with eyes sparkling in confusion. “I don’t want you to mess up your sche–”

Heeseung now stopped your talking with a sweet kiss, and then another, and another, and one more just in case. “I’m staying, baby,” he chuckled at your tilted head, expressing that you were very much confused. “As I said before, I’m pretty chill this week,” he explained with a warm smile, mirroring yours. “Anything I have to do, I can do from my computer or phone, so I’m all yours this weekend, my love.”

Heeseung fell even deeply for you when he saw your eyes shining like you received the best news of your life. And for you, you actually did. To have your boyfriend for a whole weekend after days without being able to see each other, you truly thought you were dreaming. 

So to have Heeseung feeding you while your hands worked on your writing was definitely something that you hadn’t planned for your friday. He was openly giving his opinion as well after you cutely asked him to, paying attention to every detail you shared with him about the plot you were working on. 

“So your idea is that after he leaves the house, you give an extra zoom on the door knob because someone is going to open, even though the house is supposed to be empty?”

“Yes! And then it’s revealed to be actually his ‘dead’ twin!” You explained excitedly, noticing Heeseung gazing very passionately at you. You blushed, feeling suddenly too aware, because your story now has been read by someone other than you. “I– I know it’s kinda simple and boring, but I mean– I got the approval to keep working on it, so…” You shrugged, trying to act cool, but your pout was showing how insecure you actually felt.

“It’s not simple or anything bad, my love,” Heeseung couldn’t resist the urge of kissing your small pout as he reassured you. “It’s impressive how your creative mind works, I’m really proud,” he said with his voice filled with sincerity.

You gave him a shy smile before going back to writing, heart beating fast with his genuine words.

Heeseung never left your side. You needed him around you every single second, not only to compensate for the days you were apart, but because Heeseung was really your source of energy. So to write on your computer while having his fingers intertwined with yours became a natural activity during the moments you were working on your project. You could feel Heeseung’s love stare at your face during those moments, completely in love by your focused expression. 

Sometimes he would leave your touch to reply to some of his co-workers on his phone, giving them the attention they needed, but in the meantime his head would be resting on your shoulder, completely addicted to your touch and to having you close – his hair tickling your neck making you lose focus for a few minutes.  

You both wanted and needed each other with the same intensity. Heeseung always loved your clinginess, emphasizing how lovable you looked with your pouty face whenever he had to leave the bed to go to the bathroom or grab some food in the kitchen and “leave you to die alone”, like you normally would say in a very dramatic way. Especially because he himself was pretty clingy too, holding you in a tight back hug whenever you had to go back home after visiting him at his studio, refusing to let you leave his side.

To move in together was a big dream. However Heeseung always talked with you about finishing your studies first before committing your relationship on that instance, so you could have your freedom without him disrupting your focus; he also knew that he wasn’t ready to have you so close for that long, afraid of scaring you off by how much he would be around you, maybe losing his own concentration on his work. 

And this behavior was being shown at that moment, by you doing the lunch and him hugging you from behind.

“I have to be honest, I don’t really see this as ‘helping’, Hee,” you said with a playful chuckle, not really bothered by his big hands resting on your hips as well as his chin on your shoulder while you did all the work. He was clinging like a koala, making it challenging to move around the kitchen.

“What do you mean? I’m clearly helping you,” he said with a babyish voice, making you giggle. You could tell he was pouting too. “What if you get hurt? I have to be close, y’know? To save you from danger.”

You laughed hard, throwing your head behind and profusely resting it on his chest. “The danger?”

“Yeah, the knife and fire and stuff…” He explained like it was obvious.

You turned down the heat on the stove, moving away from it so you could face your boyfriend, just to meet his big, adorable eyes looking at you with a dramatically pleading expression. “You’re right,” you said softly, cupping his cheeks and planting a kiss on his lips. “Thank you for protecting me from the dangers of my kitchen,” you added a hint of sarcasm to your very affectionate tone, without holding your smile when he nodded proudly, before pulling you closer to kiss you properly as now your self-proclaimed hero. 

After you finished cooking – with Heeseung’s help, of course –, you both shared the meal, doing constant “love shots” but with your food, just so you could feel each other’s touch.

Heeseung didn’t let you go back to work on your project when you finished eating, saying you needed a bit of resting time with him. And how could you oppose such truthful words? 

So you spend quite a long time of your Saturday afternoon embraced in Heeseung’s arms and scent all over you, making it difficult to choose anything different from being on the bed cuddling him. 

After changing positions many times, you now were on top of Heeseung, face buried on his neck while he hummed some random song, hands gently caressing your back and scalp, making you wonder if taking a quick nap at that moment would mess up too much with your project work.

As if a sense of responsibility hit you, remembering all your deadlines and especially that you had to finish at least the plot writing by Monday – in two days –, you forced yourself to try to move away. Your body refused, though.

“I should go,” you said, muffed into his skin.

“Yeah, you should…” Heeseung added, not moving an inch to help you with that. In fact, he held you closer. Your warm body against his own helping him to relax. 

“Like, reeeally gotta go…” You didn’t move as well, trailing kisses all over his neck as you refused to get up.

“Definitely you do…” His voice was a bit raspy in a sweet, tender way that made it even harder for you to leave. He was about to fall asleep.

You sighed, “I missed being like this with you.” You lifted your head just enough to see his serene expression; eyes closed, lips slightly parted and a calm breathing. You almost cried with the fact that you truly needed to go back to your life instead of staying there with Heeseung. 

Your hands caressed his face with all the care in the world, making him open his eyes, “I missed it too, pretty. I miss you every moment I’m without you, actually.”

You noticed a soft flush  on Heeseung cheeks and giggled at the sight of your ‘so cool’ boyfriend blushing in front of you. 

You always appreciated how Heeseung was not only a good listener to your worries and maybe overwhelming thoughts, but also unafraid to show you his most sensitive and vulnerable side in order to make you comfortable on doing the same. You cherished his presence in your life with all you had, not being scared of loving him so openly, because he did the same for you. 

“I love you,” you whispered, leaning in to tease a kiss. He smiled against your lips, closing his eyes again.

“I love you too, my love,” he murmured, mirroring your tone and capturing your bottom lip with his own, to pull you near and finally kiss you. 

You decided to stay for a bit longer, because Heeseung’s hands roaming your body with such care and tenderness, his sweet mouth working on yours, and his loving whispers against your skin were too irresistible.

The best excuse you found for yourself was that you were revitalizing so you could work better, your creativity would flow easily and you would finish it in no time.

And, well, he would be around you anyway, because he just couldn’t never get enough of your pretty face, or your joyful presence, or your addicting warm touches.

After all, Heeseung always worked as a recharger to your love battery, and for him, you were no different.

[blackbirdsblackberries]

I Hate The New Hero!

Pt 5: What?!

Finally getting home from your patrol you sneak through the window of your bedroom and collapse onto your bed. After the call you decided that your patrol was done.

Frankly you're still coming to terms with the fact that Batman and his protogese are the same people who are essentially praying on your civilian self's downfall yet adoring your vigilante persona like it's the greatest thing in the world.

Though, now that you really think about it, it makes sense. Bruce Wayne is the richest man alive, he'd be able to afford to do this, they have the same amount of members as the heroes, same builds and heights, actually... Basically everything matches up.

Not to mention the fact that your senses goes off around both group members!

From outside your small room door you hear your parents arguing again - more like your mother yelling and your dad breaking things and stomping his foot. It was probably your dad's fault again. Don't get you wrong, you love your family! It's just that they're dysfunctional.

Your dad has a massive drinking problem that landed him working as a goon for Black Mask, he's struggled with his temper for years after he got hit a bit too hard in the head by Batman. Pair that with the fact that he's mute and he's a force to be reckoned with.

Your mom is always busy and rarely ever home, when she is she couldn't be bothered to interact with you unless you got into trouble. She grew up rich, often talking about how she went to the same school as Bruce Wayne and how she was a popular cheerleader before her life fell apart. She doesn't talk much on the topic but it's clear she holds distain for your father and, by extension, you.

You sigh to yourself, you need to shower. That means you need to get past them without them bringing you into it. Or you just don't shower for the night and have one tomorrow...

Your mom screams something out about not throwing knives and you decide to just shower tomorrow morning.

You change out of your costume and hide it safely under a loose floorboard, you change into your pajamas and get into bed. Today was a massive mental drain and physical drain.

...

You awake to a knock at the front door. Your parents usually ignore it and make you answer when someone knocks because "you're dispensable" as they say. Looking at the clock on the wall of the kitchen you see it's around 7am.

Groggily making your way to the door you look through the peep hole and see Tim standing awkwardly on the other side with a guy next to him, the guy next to him being so big and tall that you could only see a small part of his chest and arm.

You curse to yourself quietly, this is by far the worst luck you've ever had.

You open the door and look at the two. Now seeing the other guy the thing that stands out is a stripe of white hair on his head. Instantly you know it's Jason Todd.

You aren't an idiot. He's the only one in the family built like how he is - not including Bruce.

"What do you want?" You ask, annoyed. Tim chuckles weakly, as if nervous. "Wayne Enterprises wishes to give your mother her letter of departure." You blink once, then twice. "Huh? Letter of departure? The fuck does that mean?" You mutter, genuinely confused.

Jason scoffs, "it means your dear mother is losing her job, kid." He states uncaring of how blunt he's being. Tim elbows him and hisses something about being more considerate.

You don't listen, all noise becoming white noise. Why is she being fired? She works hard, she dedicates her time, she does her best! Is this because you have beef with Tim? That's not fair!

She's the only stable source of income, without that job you all would be living on the streets. You've heard AND seen so many horror stories about teens living on the streets, it's something you'd pray never happened to you. But now it's entirely probable.

So, in a moment of desperation you grip Tim by his shoulders "Please! You can't fire her! We'll end up homeless! She works all the time, she tries! My mother will improve if you ask, she needs this job. The whole family does!"

Tim seems shocked by this, his posture stiffening. Jason looks on guard, as if assessing whether he should step in, though he doesn't seem fond of the idea. You wouldn't doubt that he was made to accompany Tim as a body guard.

Tim opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again. Clearly he wasn't expecting you to beg for your mother to keep her job.

"Uh... Look, I don't mean any harm by it, it's just that we need to make way for brighter minds..." He stumbles slightly over his words as if making the excuse up on the spot.

You won't back down however. "Tim, please, I desperately need you to realize this. I. Will. Die. On. The. Streets." Probably not true because of your mutation but the fear remains. "Please, I'll do anything for you to not do this! I already promised Bruce to stop talking bad about Aranea!" You please desperately.

Tim glances to Jason who quirks a brow and shrugs. The sound of movement from behind you makes your eyes widen and behind you you see your dad approaching, you were probably too loud.

He glares at you before yanking your hair so you move away from Tim and remove your clutches on him. You hiss in pain at the feeling but bow your head down.

Your dad eyes the two boys before looking to the paper in Tim's hands. He instantly knows what's going on and storms down the hallways of the complex to do who-knows what. That scares you. Your dad is unpredictable.

After some silence Tim speaks up. "Are you okay? Your dad pulled your hair pretty tightly..." You look down, ashamed. You couldn't even bother putting your walls up and defending your pride. Your life is basically falling apart at the seams.

"... I'll do anything for you to not fire my mother..." You mutter meekly, a far cry from how you usually act, something Tim notices immediately. He sighs to himself, he debates the odds. Maybe if he doesn't fire (Reader)'s mother then they can be even. The feud can end, it was pointless on your part to begin with for hating someone so sweet and kind, then hating him who defends the innocent.

"Fine. Your mother can stay, but, it may not be permanent. I suggest she find elsewhere in the mean time." Tim states before walking off. Jason takes a second to stare at your relived form, the slight smile of disbelief and look of relief in your eyes. He then leaves with Tim.

You close the door to the apartment and sink to the floor. That was terrifying. You'll have find a way of telling your mother the news before she goes into work in two hours.

You're officially having the day off from school and patrol today.

[roll-for-gaslight]

While I think Sklonda is right to be critical of the Bad Kids and specifically Kristen, I think that a lot of the reason she did so is that she was missing a lot of context the other parents were given. We see in Freshman Year that she’s often given the information about their quests from Riz, several hours after the fact, and he shares clues with her rather than personal things. He doesn’t think the personal bits are what she cares about because, for him, that’s not the problem being solved. He’s happy with his friends and she only really would hear if one of them caused a problem. Her apartment isn’t a hangout like Seacaster Manor, Mordred Manor, the Thistlespring Tree, or even Gilear’s season one apartment were. By the nature of her being a single working mother in a difficult financial situation, she often was left out of extracurricular activities.

For example, Mordred is obviously a place filled with a lot of activity, and plenty of kids to give updates on said activity if something slips through the cracks of someone’s retelling. If Adaine leaves out a personal moment because she’s focused on the case, Fig or Kristen or even Ragh could fill in that blank, plus the fact that the other BKs spend a lot of time there means that Sandralynn, Jawbone, and Lydia are usually getting every side of every story. The Thistlespring Tree is where the Bad Kids go not just because it’s a nice place to spend time, but because it’s often directly tied into a plot or subplot! The power source in season one, the satellite in season two, and Gorgug’s artificer journey + the whole Frosty Faire thing going on now! Besides that, the Thistlesprings have raised Gorgug in a way that encourages open channels of communication about his emotions above all else, so he tells them what’s going on! Fabian’s parents over at Seacaster Manor haven’t been involved so much this season, but Bill Seacaster saw their bond from the start and taught them how to take care of each other and fight as a group, and Gilear has always been heavily involved in their adventures because all of the BKs have been emotionally invested in him as well!

Aside from that, she’s missing the context of actually being able to attend their quests like some other parents/guardians were able to in Sophomore Year! Gilear and Cathilda and Sandralynn all know things like the fact that everyone was worried about Riz and called him their little angel when he was gone and that Kristen saved him almost at the expense of her own life in the Nightmare King’s forest. She never sees them together, the way they’ll risk everything for each other when the chips are down, the way they all show they care in little ways all the time ( like Fig giving him the card or Fabian’s gifts in Freshman Year). She doesn’t understand that while “the Ball” may have come from a bully on the first day of school, it turned into a term of endearment! She doesn’t see how hard they’ve been trying this year to pass their classes and such, not because it matters to them, but because they know it’s important to Riz. He never even explained the whole needing scholarships thing to them! He showed up with folders on the first day, stressed out of his mind about all of them passing together, and basically decided to get their shit together! Sure, it took Kristen and Fig a little while to do it, but that’s because they were struggling to build better habits!

I also understand how she could think Riz does all of the heavy lifting: when he presents the clues to her and he’s their lead investigator, do you think she assumed other people did the finding? Absolutely not! She doesn’t see the way they put things together by focusing on their individual strengths; she only sees Riz trying to put it all together and find the connections. Why would she know that a lot of the investigative work was done by Adaine and Kristen in sophomore year because so much of it had to do with religion? She wouldn’t!

All this to say: Sklonda is a good mom for checking in with Riz, but she also has a narrow view of things that no one else has. If she were to be exposed to the BKs more often and actually pay attention to how things work between them, I think she would be much more understanding.

[lozchi]

KNOCKDOWN Chapter 1

Masterlist Pairing(s):Sukuna x F!Reader, Modern AU

Themes: Suggestive content, profanity, mild violence, slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, OOC, fluff, angst(ish)

Chapter 1: 3,567 words

Surrounded by textbooks, notes, and surgical procedure diagrams, you find yourself completely focused on your medical studies as you sit at your messy desk. The sole source of light in the room is the gentle radiance of your desk lamp, creating elongated shadows on the pages – focused on the intricate drawings, trying to remember every part of the procedure. The outside world gradually disappears, and time goes by without you realizing it, the bright daytime gradually transitions into the dark colors of evening outside your window, enveloping you in a quiet state of intense concentration.

A voice calls out your name, faint and far away, barely noticeable in your awareness. You allowed it to go by without losing your concentration. Shortly after, the voice rings once more, with increased volume and urgency, disrupting your concentrated state.  

The abrupt calling seems like a harsh disruption in the fragile strand of your focus, and you work to ignore the annoyance.You sigh in frustration and mumble quietly, "Ugh, what do you want, Shoko?"

Shoko’s voice rang out through your shared apartment once more, jolting you from your concentration as she yelled your name.

You looked up from the sea of medical papers strewn across your desk. “What’s up, Shoko?”

“'What's up?' You fucking tell me 'what's up'! you haven’t eaten yet. How long are you gonna be nose-deep in all those papers?” she asked, leaning against your doorframe with an exasperated look.

Six years into med school, you were suffering. The endless studying, the sleepless nights—it all weighed heavily on you. Shoko was in the same boat, but she always seemed to handle it better. Maybe because she indulged in stress-free activities or she was just naturally talented in managing herself, maybe both. Whatever it is, she hid her struggles well.

“Relax.” you said, trying to sound casual. “Just a few more pages and I’ll eat breakfast.”

Shoko’s eyebrows shot up. “It’s literally 6 in the evening. What do you mean ‘breakfast’!?”

She walked over, plopping down on the edge of your bed. “You need to take some time for yourself. I bet you don't even know what day it is.”

You rolled your eyes, though you knew she had a point. “I do get to relax sometimes.”

Shoko smirked. “When was the last time you had fun?”

“Yesterday!” you replied, a bit defensively. 

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Doing what?”

You hesitated, then admitted, “I killed five mosquitoes in a row.”

Shoko blinked at you, then burst out laughing. “Seriously? That’s your idea of fun?”

You sighed, unable to help but smile at her incredulity. “It was surprisingly satisfying.”

Shoko shook her head, her laughter subsiding into a warm, affectionate smile. “You’re something else, you know that? But seriously, take a break. The world won’t end if you step away from the books for a little. You really need to loosen up a bit more. How about we cook some food and watch a movie?"

You glanced at the mountain of papers in front of you, feeling the weight of all the work yet to be done. But as you looked at Shoko’s earnest expression, you realized she was right. You did need a break, even if it was just for a little while. You nodded, knowing she was right. “Okay, okay. I’ll rest. Just for a bit.”

Shoko grinned, getting up to head to the kitchen. “Good. Now come on, let’s get some real food in you before you wither away.”

As you followed her out of the room, you couldn’t help but think about how much you relied on her to keep you grounded. Despite how hard med school was, having a friend like Shoko made it all a bit more bearable.

“Okay..." you conceded. “But I'm picking the movie.”

“Deal." Shoko said with a grin. You leaned back in your chair, letting out a long breath. Maybe this was exactly what you needed.

Shoko took out several vegetables from the fridge, humming to herself as she began to prepare dinner. She glanced over her shoulder at you, a playful smirk on her face, deciding to tease you once again. “Y’know, I bet you have no idea what a Ligma is.” she laughed.

"Shut up, I know what that is."

Shoko smirked, but she remained silent. Just then, her phone rang, and she answered it quickly. “Ah, sorry, I actually have something to attend to. Don’t forget to eat!” she called out, grabbing her bag and heading to the door.

“I’m eating instant ramen,” you muttered to yourself as you watched her leave. With a sigh, you decided to head to the nearby convenience store to pick up some good old cup ramen.

-

Once you arrived at the nearby 7/11, you crouched down in front of the aisle to grab a cup of ramen. Deciding to heat it up and eat it there instead of taking it home, you made your way to the hot water dispenser, preparing your quick meal.

With your hot cup of ramen in hand, you took a seat at one of the small tables. As you started eating, you noticed a tall, muscular guy trying to get your attention. He had black hair, a noticeable scar on his lip—his build was insane, making you momentarily consider hitting the gym.

“Excuse me, miss, can you watch over my son for a little? It’ll be quick.” he asked, his voice deep but polite.

“Oh, sure,” you said, looking at the cute little boy who's probably no older than 8 –standing next to him.

“Dad, I want candy." the boy demanded.

“Only a bit, Gumi. Otherwise momma would kill me.” the man chuckled before heading off, leaving you with the child.

The boy immediately took out a phone and began watching something. You couldn’t help but notice it wasn’t a typical kid’s show.

“Do you know the King of Curses?” he asked, looking up at you.

-

“I can’t think of a fucking username that isn’t corny!” Sukuna pouted, crossing his arms in frustration. You laughed, watching him struggle.

You’d been waiting for ten minutes for Sukuna to pick a name, but all he’d been doing was muttering swear words under his breath. 

“Geez, chill. Maybe you should go for something like ‘The King of Curses’ since you won’t stop being a potty mouth.” you suggested, a teasing glint in your eye.

Initially, he was disgusted by your suggestion, thinking it was surely a joke. But, moments later, you saw him typing the username you picked out, almost subconsciously.

“You seriously went with it?” you scoffed.

He shrugged. “It may be shit, but it’s pretty iconic if you ask me. Makes me sound feared or something.”

“You’re so cringe.”

“Shut up, at least we can start now.”

-

You laughed at the memory and turned to the kid. “It’s probably some weird CounterStrike username an edgy teen would come up with.” You said, a nostalgic smile on your face. Still, how in the world would that kid know about that specific username?

The boy's eyebrows knitted in confusion. “My dad trains him. He’s a really great mixed martial artist.”

He played a YouTube video for you, and you were amazed. The commentator excitedly pointed out the undefeated champion, known as "The King of Curses", as he dominated the ring with a fierce appearance on the screen.

The camera focused on the fighter's face, leaving no room for doubt. It was Sukuna. The same fierce protector from your childhood, now grown up and living up to the formidable name you had jokingly given him.

In the video, Sukuna was positioned in the middle of the octagon with tight muscles and concentrated eyes. When the bell sounded, his opponent rushed towards him with a barrage of punches. Sukuna smoothly avoided every attack, his actions appearing almost too fast to see. He responded with a quick punch to the ribs, then delivered a strong uppercut that made his opponent stagger backwards.

Sukuna's expression remained calm, almost bored, as he advanced. His opponent attempted to regain balance by launching a frantic kick, but Sukuna intercepted his leg in mid-air and turned it, causing the man to fall hard on the mat. The crowd burst into applause, but Sukuna was not finished. He dropped to the ground, pinning his opponent with a series of brutal elbows and punches.

The referee moved in to stop the fight, but Sukuna was already standing, raising his arms in victory. His chest heaved with controlled breaths, and he flashed a confident smirk at the camera, the tattoos on his body adding to his intimidating presence.

It cut to a post-match interview where Sukuna, still glistening with sweat, spoke with a quiet intensity. "My advice to achieve such greatness? Uhh, git gud.'"

Classic Sukuna.

Your heart pounded as the realization set in. Sukuna, the boy who used to defend you on the playground, had become a renowned MMA fighter, known worldwide by the very name you had suggested in jest. The world had changed so much since you last saw him, and yet here he was, still fighting.

The boy continued watching the video, oblivious to your internal turmoil. You couldn't help but feel a mix of pride and disbelief. Sukuna had come so far, and you wondered if he ever thought about the past, about you.

"'Ryo..."

The boy glanced at you and thought, "Damn, this woman's got a crush on him already, like every girl on TikTok."

The man returned, thanking you for watching his son. You nodded absently, still reeling from the revelation. As you left the 7/11 with your now cold ramen, your mind buzzed with possibilities. Would he still remember you? Would you be able to reconnect again?

-

The kid tugged his dad's arm. “Dad.”

“Yes, Megumi?” the man responded.

“Can't believe that lady didn’t know who you were, neither did she know Ryomen Sukuna!”

The man could tell; you didn’t seem astounded to see him at all.

“She looks oddly familiar though.” the man muttered to himself. "Gumi, let's visit him."

-

Returning hastily to your apartment, the image of Sukuna's video was still fresh in your mind, the flickering fluorescent lights of the 7/11 lingering behind you. Your heart beat fast with a mix of excitement and nervousness as you struggled with your keys to unlock the door, eventually managing to push it open and enter the dimly lit living room of your cozy apartment.

The view you saw was anything but reassuring. Shoko was in the kitchen, glaring at the untouched vegetables sitting forlornly on the counter

"Where were you?" she asked, concerned.

You gave a nervous chuckle, still processing the shock of the day. “I went to 7/11.”

Shoko sighed and shook her head, her expression softening just a little. “You need real food, not just instant ramen. Ugh, whatever.” She threw her hands up in resignation and turned toward her bedroom. “I’m heading to bed early. You should do the same.”

"You eaten yet though, Shoko?"

She sighs and nods, "Of course I did."

As she started to walk away, you hesitated for a moment before calling out, “Hey, Shoko?”

She stopped in her tracks, turning to look at you with a weary but curious expression. “What?”

“Do you know how I could catch up with an old friend I haven’t seen for a long time?” you asked, trying to sound casual but unable to hide the hope in your voice.

Shoko raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. “How long are we talking about?”

“About six years.” you said, your fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of your ramen cup.

Shoko considered this for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. “What are they like?”

You took a deep breath, your mind drifting back to memories of Sukuna. 

“Well, he was strong—”

You remember him at the young age of 10, standing in the center of the playground, his muscles tensed as he faced a group of older kids. “You think you’re tough enough to handle me?” he taunted, his voice brimming with cocky confidence. “Bring it on!”

You watched from a distance, your heart pounding as Sukuna stepped into the fray, his bravado as palpable as his physical strength.

“He was brave—”

You remember Sukuna during your preteen years standing in front of you, his eyes fierce as he glared down at the jerks who had been tormenting you. “You stay behind me." he said firmly, his voice carrying a promise of protection. “I’ll handle this.”

You clung to his shirt as he faced the bullies, the sight of him standing tall against the odds a comforting shield.

“And reckless—”

You remember him as a middle schooler throwing himself into a scuffle with a group of older kids, not caring about the bruises or scrapes he might get. “What are you doing?!” you shouted, desperate to stop him from getting hurt. “You’ll get hurt!”

Sukuna’s eyes glinted with reckless excitement as he punched the air, ignoring your pleas.

“But he was also gentle sometimes.” you continued, a nostalgic smile forming on your lips.

After a particularly rough fight, Sukuna sat beside you, his face uncharacteristically soft as he checked the scratches on your arms. “You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle and full of concern. “Don’t let those fuckers get to you.”

"Now, it's pretty tough. I just found out today that he's gotten famous. Do you know Ryomen Su-"

“RYOMEN SUKUNA?!?” Shoko interrupted suddenly, her eyes widening in disbelief.

You nodded, trying to keep your tone steady. “Yeah, Ryomen Sukuna.”

Shoko stared at you, her mouth slightly open in shock. “Nah, nah, there is NO way you could possibly be connected to THAT man.”

She shook her head vigorously, as if trying to clear away the absurdity of the idea. “You’re telling me you knew Sukuna, the MMA fighter? The King of Curses?”

You nodded again, trying to suppress the excitement bubbling inside you. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

Shoko’s eyes darted between you and the kitchen, her skepticism palpable. “How in the world did you end up knowing someone like him?!? And why didn’t you mention it before?”

“It’s a long story. But I saw him today in a video, and it brought back a lot of memories.”

Shoko stared at you, her mouth slightly open in shock. “GIRL, YOU DON’T EVEN USE INSTAGRAM! OR TWITTER. OR FACEBOOK OR WHATEVER. HOW IN THE HECK—” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “Make one, quick! I’m going to bed now.”

You looked at her, a bit taken aback by her sudden urgency. “Wait, what? You think I should—”

“Yes!” Shoko said, her tone brooking no argument. “If you want to reach him, you need to have social media. He’s famous! You have to at least try to find a way to contact him through those channels. I’m heading to bed. Figure it out and come to bed soon!”

Dismissing you with a wave of her hand, she walked towards her bedroom, leaving you standing by yourself.

You walked to the bathroom, feeling the cool tiles underfoot in contrast to the warmth in your mind. You opened the tap and allowed the water to flow, filling the small, echoing room with the sound of splashing and dripping. You gazed at your own reflection in the mirror, revealing only weariness. Seeing your eyes and disheveled hair was a clear indication of the significance this held for you.

Entering the bathtub, you switched on the hot water and adjusted the temperature until it was perfect. Steam started rising, surrounding you in a comforting mist while you relaxed in the cozy hug of the bath. You rested against the ceramic surface, allowing the water to surround you while shutting your eyes and attempting to relax your thoughts.

"What kind of username would stick out to Sukuna? 

It was more challenging than you had anticipated. The inside jokes, the shared moments, and the personal history you had with Sukuna were so specific that they felt like private treasures. What could possibly represent those moments in a way that would be instantly recognizable to him?

You thought back to the times you spent together—times filled with laughter, arguments, and deep conversations. There were so many small, meaningful memories wrapped up in personal jokes and secret codes that no one else would understand.

You recalled the times you both laughed about ridiculous ideas, the games you played, and the silly names you created. You tried to think of a name that would be both nostalgic and significant, something that would make Sukuna think of you and those days.

"How about something from high school?" you mused, but nothing seemed to fit. Everything you came up with felt either too cheesy or too vague. You wanted something that would spark recognition and memories, but the perfect idea remained just out of reach.

You let yourself relax in the tub for a few minutes, hoping that the warmth of the water and the calm of the moment would help you come up with a brilliant idea. The steam swirled around you, and you let your thoughts drift, trying to tap into the memories of those carefree days.

As the water continued to gently lap against you, you thought about how those inside jokes had shaped your relationship, but how they might not resonate in the same way now. ------

Sweat trickled down Sukuna’s forehead as he leaned forward, his eyes never leaving focus. "You think you can take me down, brat?” he growled, his voice low and menacing.

“You’re going down, old man!” 

The room had a faint light, coming from the flickering TV screen and the gentle glow of the gaming console. Tension filled the air, the type that mounts before a pivotal fight. The air was filled with the sound of quick button presses and deep focus, occasionally interrupted by grunts of exertion.

Sukuna sat amidst the storm of focus and intensity, his brows furrowed in concentration while tightly gripping the controller. Facing him was his nephew Yuuji, a young and bubbly kid, matching his focus as his hands swiftly pressed the buttons.

The screen displayed the high-octane action of Tekken, the characters on the screen exchanging powerful blows and executing complex combos. Sukuna’s character, a hulking fighter, faced off against Yuuji’s agile and swift opponent. The battle was fierce, strikes and counters met with a flurry of button presses and strategic maneuvers.

But Yuuji was ready. With a triumphant shout, he dodged the attack and delivered a final, decisive blow. Sukuna’s character crumpled to the ground, defeated.

"K.O!"

For a moment, the room was silent. Sukuna stared at the screen in disbelief, his mouth hanging open. Then, with a dramatic wail, he exclaimed, “Nooo, Yuuji! You can’t do this to me, you brat!”

Yuuji burst into laughter, his victory dance full of exaggerated moves. “I told you I’d win, Uncle Kuna!”

Sukuna, unable to keep up the act, broke into a grin. “You little rascal,” he said, reaching over and playfully grabbing Yuuji. He pulled his nephew close and started tickling him mercilessly. “Take that! And that!”

Yuuji squirmed and laughed, trying to escape Sukuna’s grasp. “Stop, Uncle! STOP! I can’t- CAn'T! CAN'T BREAtHE!

Sukuna finally relented, letting Yuuji go and ruffling his hair affectionately. “Alright, alright, you win this time. But don’t think I’m going easy on you next time.”

Yuuji beamed, still catching his breath. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to lose again!”

Sukuna laughed, the sound echoing warmly through the room. “Maybe. But you’d better keep practicing, kiddo. I won’t be this easy to beat forever.”

The room’s playful atmosphere was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a knock at the door. Sukuna’s assistant, a composed and efficient individual, stepped in, their voice calm yet insistent.

“Sir Sukuna,” the assistant called, their tone carrying an air of urgency. The sudden formality of the address cut through the laughter of the pink-haired duo, drawing both sets of eyes toward the door. “Toji Fushiguro and Megumi Fushiguro are here.”

Sukuna’s expression shifted from playful to one of seriousness. He scoffed, pushing himself up from his seat. “Took them long enough.” he muttered under his breath. Turning to Yuuji, he ruffled the boy’s hair one last time. “You play with Megumi, ‘kay? Me and Toji are just gonna chat.”

Yuuji nodded eagerly, already looking forward to spending time with his friend. As Sukuna’s assistant led Yuuji toward the play area, Toji and his son, Megumi, were ushered in. Toji, a formidable man with a rugged demeanor, walked in with his usual air of confidence. His son, Megumi, followed closely, his eyes sharp and observant despite his young age.

Sukuna stood in the center of the room, his presence commanding and authoritative. He greeted them with a nod, his assistant closing the door behind them. "Took you some time to get here." "Had to drop something off to my wife." “Come in,” he said, his voice carrying a weight that left no room for casual conversation.

Toji’s expression was serious as he stepped forward, his eyes meeting Sukuna’s with a sense of purpose. “Three things, Sukuna. We need to talk.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed slightly, his curiosity piqued. “Alright.” he said, motioning for Toji to continue. “What’s on your mind?”

Taglist: (tell me if i forgot to add you)

@obitobrigade @simpmetra @catobsessedlady @mangiswig @thulhu @aiicpansion @gojoscumslut @attackonnat @wavyhat2540

Ask under this post or any of the chapters I'll release if you want to be added. I would be posting polls or asking readers about certain things sometimes that would possibly affect the story in a minor way so stay tuned. :)

[kotoku]

hellooo, sunday and aventurine comforting teen!reader who is crying?

ꜱᴜɴᴅᴀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀɪɴᴇ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴇᴇɴ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴡʜᴏ'ꜱ ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ

pairings - sunday & teen! reader / aventurine & teen! reader

content - reader is gender-neutral/ teen! reader/ platonic relationships/ familial relationships/ angst with comfort/ crying! reader

warnings - just teeny angst

⋘ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ... ⋙

↻ When Sunday sees you crying, he immediately goes to comfort you

↺ Kneeling next to you or sitting beside you and rubbing your back comfortingly, letting you cry and ramble to him about whatever had made you so upset

↺ Depending on the reason, he might be livid or deeply sad for you, but he’d never show it as he wants to focus on you 

↻ He’d be very quiet, opting to listen to you first before asking if you wanted any advice or help

↺ If you want his advice/help, he’d gladly lend you a helping hand and offer some recommendations, if you just want him to listen, he’d stay by your side and offer a box of tissues here and there

↻ When you have finished crying, he’d wipe away any stray tears and provide some more tissues for your nose

↻ I can imagine his voice being very soothing, basically lulling you to sleep because crying had exhausted you

↻ Once you had fallen asleep, he’d tuck you into bed and leave more tissues by your bedside, either that or on a nearby table if you fell asleep on a couch

↺ No matter where you are, Sunday will make sure to stay by your side to assure your safety and security until he deems it is safe enough to leave

↻ Your state is much more important to him than business matters; postponing any meetings and calls to make sure you’re okay

↺ Of course, he won’t neglect his duties and will get back to them at a later time (with a notification in advance)

↻ If someone was the cause of your distress, he’d happily deal with them personally, the anger in him masked by a calm and professional persona (we’ve seen his manipulative side)

↻ All in all, Sunday would be a great person to confide in if you are feeling upset about something (lending an ear, always making sure to have tissues or a handkerchief on him, giving optimal advice…)

↻ Aventurine would have a bit of a hard time comforting you through your emotions, but he's trying his best !!

↺ He’s not as good at confronting his own emotions and chooses to not let them show, but he’d rather you openly express yourself than keep it in

↻ His way of comforting you would be listening to you talk or letting you cry, and then he’d love to take you on a shopping spree afterward to help cheer you up

↺ Aventurine taking you to a diner to get food, him taking you clothes shopping, doing something fun, etc..

↺ Even if you persisted that you were fine and didn’t need him spending his money on you, he’d do it anyway

↻ I can imagine him struggling with being sincere or genuine, but he’d try his best to give you thoughtful advice and recommendations (he might have a hard time coming up with advice depending on the situation)

↻ Aventurine awkwardly hugging you if you went straight to hugging him lol, he’s caught off guard

↺ He’d probably awkwardly pat/rub your back too 

↻ He’d hand you a handkerchief that he keeps on him to help dry your tears or snot (holding it away from himself after taking it back from you, he probably discards it somewhere)

↺ Aventurine would get you anything that you need at the moment; ice cream, tissues, etc.. 

↻ Like Sunday, depending on the reason that caused you to be so upset he may be angry or understanding of the situation

↺ If the source was a person, he’d keep a mental note of who and may do a bit of background research during his free time

↻ Overall, Aventurine may not be the best at comforting you, but he’s trying his best to be there for you when you need him, showing it in his own way :)

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙

note - i didn't do a drabble at the ending of the headcanons, sorry for it being so short. :(

[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 25 - Human Furniture

Ghost x Price - 1.8k (on ao3)

summary: Price helps Ghost settle after a hard mission.

cw: person used as an ashtray

note: this is the least sexual of this month's prompts! there's actually no sexual acts in this at all, it's more of a sort of study of a priceghost dynamic i enjoy :) definitely inspired by this comic

“Settle,” Price rumbles quietly, watching the way Simon shudders and forces himself still, muscles trembling.

He’s not quite used to the sight of Simon so submissive beneath him, such a large powerhouse of a man gone soft between his feet. You’d never think it, looking at them, but uncertainty still hovers in the back of John’s head every time he has Simon like this.

It’s taken them a while to reach this tentative understanding, for Simon to be even slightly open about what he needs. Price isn’t sure either of them could really put it into words, this odd sort of dynamic they’ve developed, but it works.

As best he can describe, it’s like this - Ghost needs a handler, someone he can trust blindly to always point his aggression in the right direction. But Simon struggles to trust, to give up any bit of control he doesn’t have to. 

So Price takes it from him. 

It’s an odd sort of dynamic, he’s well aware, and it only works because on some deep level Simon wants it to work. That’s the thrill for John - the knowledge that at any moment Simon could hurt him, could probably kill him, but he won’t because he knows that nobody else can help him control himself like Price

It’s a responsibility he doesn’t take lightly. Ghost is probably the most dangerous soldier he’s ever met - ever will meet, if he’s lucky - and he’d slit his fellow soldiers; throat without question if John gave him a reason to. That kind of power isn’t given for long if the receiver is a fool, and while Price is a lot of things - ornery, strict, bull-headed - no one could call him a fool.  

Price knows that Simon accepts their dynamic, but he plays at disliking it sometimes, almost like a test. Trying to see if Price will put his foot down when Ghost needs it, see if he can stretch the boundaries he’s been given.

He can’t. Price has no problem reestablishing which one is freshly Captain and which one is still Sergeant when it’s needed. And after a few weeks, the little tests phase out. Price can’t help but feel like he’s passed a test once he realizes.

Ghost is volatile still, even months into their shifted dynamic, but he rarely lashes out against John anymore. The mask had helped, being under Price’s hand helped more, but there are still moments when he slips, where he needs more help than he realizes.

Which is what led to their current situation.

Simon had come back from a mission relatively uninjured - a few bruises, a few scrapes, but nothing he had even needed a medic for. But the Lieutenant he’d been lent out to had done a number on him mentally.

Part of the source of Simon’s inner turmoil is his own constant war between the desire to be a good soldier and his inability to trust. It leaves him short-tempered and aggressive around unsure COs. He’s a bit like a dog being retrained - he knows when his superiors are weak, and he knows they have no right pretending to be above him. 

It’s hard to lead successful missions when the Sergeant spends the entire deployment glaring and intimidating the Lieutenant. It’s even harder when the intimidation works, and the power structure crumbles.

Simon always comes back unsure after missions like that. He comes to Price, snarling and biting, looking for reassurance in the power structure. Looking for affirmation that Price is still his superior, that he’s still his leader.

It’s what he’d come home needing today.

The mission had been rough - a Lieutenant just promoted never knew how to handle Ghost, and this one had been no different - and John could see it in every line of Simon’s body as soon as he’d come knocking.

Neither of them had said a word as Price opened his office door enough to let Simon in, then closed and locked it behind him. He lights a cigar as he watches Ghost move, taking a long puff from it.

Simon stands at parade between the two guest chairs he’s forced to have in the office, and after a few moments Price moves back to his desk, settling back into his seat and folding his hands on the table.

He watches Simon for a few long moments, takes a puff of his cigar. The soldier’s not quite still, his shoulders trembling from pent up energy and his knees locked. His jaw is clenched so tightly, Price wouldn’t be shocked if he’s managed to crack a tooth.

“Debrief, Sergeant,” he finally commands, voice hard and leaving no room for debate. Simon’s shoulder’s stop twitching as he starts to speak, relaxing into a less straining position.

There’s nothing of note to be reported, really. Ghost isn’t the type of man to stand and rave about what’s really bothering him, he wouldn’t make anything that easy. He tells the story as it happened and leaves Price to pick up the hints he drops.

They’re easy to spot this time - unnecessary civilian casualty, a close call with a fellow Sergeant, a flustered Lieutenant and their absolute refusal to listen to any of Ghost’s suggestions. It’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. But that doesn’t matter - for whatever reason, this mission and this CO on this night has dragged Ghost to the very brink of shattering.

And Price won’t let that happen. Not when Simon has placed so much faith in him, not when he needs to prove to himself that he can take care of his men.

Simon’s nearly panting when he finishes his debrief, the stress working him up all over again. John knows he has to work quickly, or things will spiral.

“Good, Sergeant,” he praises, leaning back in his chair and planting his feet wide. “Now strip.”

The relief is palpable. It’s taken them a long time for Ghost to reach such a comfortable point, and Price can’t help the surge of pride at the way Simon almost eagerly takes his clothes off. He’s a good boy, even remembers to fold his uniform when he sets it on the coffee table.

Price taps his right foot twice and pushes his chair back from the desk a bit, the boot loud against his hardwood floor, and takes a long drag. Simon is on his knees between John’s feet in the next heartbeat.

He hums a pleased note, nodding down at Simon. Even just that tiny bit of praise coaxes a bit more tension out of his frame, leaving him angled towards Price instead of kneeling straight. He debates within himself for a moment, then decides to drop a heavy hand onto Simon’s head, stroking slowly over the fabric.

He’s still got the mask on, but Price doesn’t make any move to take it off. He knows the fabric isn’t a barrier between the two of them, more a safety net holding all of his pieces together. 

John would collect those pieces if Simon dropped them, but he would never take them from him. He’s the one who gave Ghost the mask, he’d never take it away.

He considers his plan of action for a few long moments. With each breath, each pull, each slow stroke over his head, Simon relaxes a bit more. It’s soothing for John too, this physical evidence that he knows how to take care of what’s his. Calming in a way little else is in their line of work.

“You’re a good soldier, Simon,” Price finally says. “Sometimes too good, I think. Makes it difficult to stop sometimes, doesn’t it?”

Simon pants, nodding and leaning further into Price’s hand. “Yes, sir.”

“Hmm, I know. You’re alright, boy, deep breaths now.”

He listens, and a few moments later relaxes further. Simon’s body slumps to the side a bit, leaning his weight onto Price’s leg. It’s difficult to not jerk away, but John plants his foot and tenses his muscle so he doesn’t send Simon sprawling. If the Sergeant notices how hard his thigh is, it doesn’t seem to bother him.

“I think you need to stop being a soldier for a bit, yeah?” Price asks, shifting his hand to lift Simon up by the chin. He moves slowly, tugging the mask up until it rests on the bridge of his nose. Ghost flinches a bit at the air against his skin, and John hushes him, stroking over his jaw.

If they were different people - or even just further into their dynamic - Price might slip his cock down Ghost’s throat. Push him down until his lips meet John’s stomach, hold him there for a few hours while he gets some work done. He thinks it would be good for Simon, to have a mindless task he can succeed in.

But they haven’t reached that point. Price isn’t sure if they ever will, if they ever should, so he contents himself with an alternative.

“Tongue out for me, Simon,” he says, putting a bit of a command into his voice. It’s not necessary - Simon’s mouth opens, pink tongue coming out to rest on his lip immediately. “Good boy,” Price praises, stroking a thumb down the muscle.

“Stay still for me, now.”

He takes the cigar from the corner of his lips, presses the glowing bud to the center of Simon’s wet tongue. He doesn’t react much past a grunt and some tension returning to his muscles.

“You’re alright,” John dismisses, tightening his grip on the soldier’s jaw and pushing the cigar a bit further in, twisting it. He knows Simon, knows he needs to feel this pain, needs to feel it from John.

Simon whimpers when he finally takes the cigar away, pushing his tongue a little further out.

“I know, you’re alright. Good boy, Simon. Relax for me, now,” he comforts, stroking a thumb over his chin while he leans forward to set the now useless stick on his desk. “You make a good ashtray, boy. Just stay down there and relax for me, you’re alright. I’ll let you go in a bit.

He shifts back into his seat, staring down at Ghost for a few moments.

His tongue still rests on his chin, a little drop of spit dripping down the center, right down the ring of soot left behind. His eyes are clear but his pupils are blown, like he’s still here but his emotions are trying to drag him away.

Simon shifts on his knees, tongue twitching like he wants to take it back into his mouth.

“Settle,” Price rumbles. Simon exhales loudly and obeys, shifting back to his knees. “Tongue out, come on. Might need to use it again.”

He smiles when Simon obeys without question, gives him a comforting pet to the head and an approving hum.

Price shifts closer to the desk, locking Simon more securely beneath him, and lights a cigar. He’s got a few hours of paperwork to catch up on, and he knows Simon can last far longer than that using an ashtray.

He takes a deep breath, settles himself, and gets to work. The cigar smoke fills his lungs, and Simon breaths deeply beneath him. Price feels centered, steady, as he picks up his pen and starts reading.

[forlorn-crows]

Crowwwwww babyyyyyyy what if i said quintessence assitsted somno where Swiss wakes up and finds light sleeper Dew huffing his way thru a wet dream uses that itty bitty bit of spooky shadow magick he has to keep Dew under while he plays with his cute little cock and teases his nipssss

this one got a little long but i wrote the entire thing through terrible brain fog so . . . i still hope you like it 🥺

consensual dubious consent somnophilia / transmasc swiss (cock/dick/folds/cunt for his anatomy) / 'kitten' used as a petname

Dew’s stomach tenses under his palm, the muscles contracting and releasing with another breathy moan. His cock does the same, throbbing against the air, the sheets long since kicked to the end of the bed from naked, tousled-limb sleep. 

Swiss loves when he gets like this. Unabashed. Body completely taken by his dreams. He’ll forgive Dew for waking him up if it’s because he’s twitching and groaning so nicely. Swiss wouldn’t dare miss his chance to watch. To fondle. To fuck with. 

The multi ghoul reaches down between his legs, eyes still trained on his face. He grabs hold of Dew’s cock, squeezing at the base. Smirking when it earns him a pretty whimper and a twitch of his upper lip. 

“That’s it, come on,” Swiss goads quietly, stroking from root to tip. Milking a pearl of wetness to the tip. He only succeeds in getting a few more strokes in before Dew’s legs tense and his brows pinch together. 

“Wha . . .” he rasps, face contorting fully into confusion. Swiss just watches him stumble into consciousness, hand still stroking as his brain catches up to the sensations of his body. Dew grumbles and blinks his eyes open, struggling to find the source of disturbance in the dark of the room. 

Swiss gives him a squeeze, and he yips. 

“The fuck—’wiss? Why’re you-ugh.” Swiss squeezes him again, and he throbs. 

“Shh, don’t worry about it, baby,” he coos, falsely sweet. “Lookin’ so good, I just had to touch.”

Dew grumbles again, half-heartedly pushing on Swiss’ arm. “Get off,” he whines.

The multi ghoul easily presses him back down to the bed with a hand on his sternum and clicks his tongue. “Just have some nice dreams for me, sweetheart, ‘kay?” He gathers a little ball of magick under his palm, as light as an exhaled drag of a joint. Smoky like it too, dark and swirling as it hovers over Dew’s chest. 

“Y’re a di—” But he doesn’t get to finish his insult, because Swiss presses that little ball into his skin, imbuing it with an easy slumber. His voice dies off with a sigh, pupils going in opposite directions as his eyes flutter back into his head. The hand on Swiss’ arm goes limp and falls back down to the bed, as does his head as it lolls to the side on the pillow. His dick, of course, still stays hard, and to Swiss’ delight, a snore rumbles softly out of Dew’s chest on his next inhale, mouth nice and lax. 

He flicks at the jewelry running through his nipple. “Out like a light,” he teases. “So much better when you let me do what I want.” He throbs between his legs at the prospect.

He abandons his cock in favor of his chest. Pinching both nipples until they darken and stick out. He’s awarded a hitched sigh as he continues to pull. Twisting and tugging until Dew’s fingers start to twitch against the mattress. Swiss knows he’s playing with them past the point of pleasure, but it’s one of his favorite things to do—play and flick and pinch until they’re red and almost swollen. His chest grows red too, a rosy blush that grazes his jawline and bleeds down to his collarbones just as slow and syrupy as the line of saliva tracking down from the corner of his mouth. 

Swiss tsks. “Always so messy. Your cock drooling, too?” 

He looks down and sees that it is—throbbing against the air, too. The multi ghoul hums and considers what to do with it. Suck him until he blows? Keep him hard and unfulfilled? His cunt throbs, reminding him of what he really wants. To use him. Milk him dry. 

“Time to play, baby.” Swiss straddles his thighs and hisses as he strokes himself at the sight before him. Dew sighs through a quiet moan, eyes tracking behind his eyelids as he dreams. His little cock jumps again, bumping against the back of Swiss’ hand and streaking it with precum.

“Needy,” he chastises. Even in sleep, Dew’s body begs for him. Whether he’s dreaming of Swiss or someone else, he doesn’t mind. So long as he stays placid and moldable by the multi ghoul’s hands. “Just want something tight and warm to stick it in, don’t you?” Another throb. “Yeah, little guy knows what it wants.”

Swiss shuffles up a little further so he can settle Dew’s cock between his folds. He grinds over the length of it. Sighing at the heat of him, the way the tip kisses against the head of his own. 

“Wanna cum in it so bad, don’t ya? So hard, baby,” Swiss coos, grinding a little harder. In his sleep, Dew’s eyes flutter, no doubt crossing behind his eyelids as he sighs with a breathy groan. His cunt clenches. “Lemme see how much you like that.”

Swiss reaches up to his face and pulls back one of his lids, indeed finding the blown-out pupil turned towards his nose. He wiggles his hips and watches as it twitches upwards, only to slowly roll back down again. He smooths back the other eyelid and finds the same; cross-eyed at the dreams in his head and the real feedback from his body. Dew’s thigh twitches beneath him.

Swiss hums. “So cute, kitten. Wish you’d let me see that all the time.” He lets Dew’s eyes close once more, patting him on the cheek before going back to his task. 

It doesn’t take long to slick up proper, not with the endless amount of precum drooling from Dew the harder he grinds. He’d love to stick it in barely wet, really make the skin pull and catch. Could, under normal circumstances. The both of them rather like the little tinge of challenge, of pain. But the fire ghoul’s cock just won’t stop blurting out wetness until the noise is lewd and creamy between them, so he has no choice but to be soaked with it. 

The multi ghoul groans bodily as his little cock plumps up to full hardness, heartbeat practically beating in his stomach. He reaches down and gives it a rub to alleviate some of the built up arousal, groaning even louder. Dew’s dick kicks in response. 

“Fuck, baby,” he sighs. “Could get off just like this. Make your pretty cock just beg to get inside me while I cum on it. Watch you squirt all over yourself when you just can’t keep it in anymore.”

“Hu-uh,” Dew gurgles, tossing his head to the other side of the pillow.

“Yeah, I bet,” Swiss replies, not unlike he’s conversing with a babbling kit. He twirls his finger around himself, indulgent. Dragging up through the hair on his mound and his belly, spreading the slick there as he admires the sleepy form beneath him. “Think I wanna fuck you more, though.”

Swiss rises to his knees and preps to do just that—leaning forward just so, taking a moment to spread the mix of slick and precum throughout his folds, and reaching below to grasp Dew’s cock at the base and raise it proudly. He runs the head of it along his slit, up and down and back again with agonizing slowness that makes even his own blood pound. 

“Shit, baby, you make me so hard,” Swiss grunts. “You feel that? How hot you get me?” He nudges the tip against his entrance, fluttering it purposefully to wring another quiet gasp from Dew’s slack mouth. And again, he brings it up towards his own length, sitting the little head of it on top of Dew’s. Snuggling it into the slit just for it to get coated with a pearly bead of pre when he squeezes his hand around the base. 

“Un-h-holy shit.” Any semblance of eloquence he had in this situation dies on his tongue at the sight. “Fuck, get it inside.”

He shifts Dew’s cock back to his hole and sinks down. Gasping at the first pop of the head as it slides inside. All the way down until their hips meet and Swiss can feel him nudged just in the right spot. He braces his hands on Dew’s chest and gives an experimental wiggle.

“Yeah, right there,” he groans. “Fuck.” The multi ghoul starts a nasty grind, tilting his pelvis so his dick rubs against Dew’s happy trail with each buck of his hips. It’s a cross between a tickle and harsh scratch, but the stray pre dripped into the hair makes for a delicious slide. He’s so hot inside, throbbing with every movement.

“Good toy, kitten,” Swiss rasps. He tosses his head back, spreading his thighs so he really gets in deep and prods at all of his secret spots. “Guhfuck.”

“Fuu—huh—” Dew echoes, tail sweeping towards his calf. It’s all the warning Swiss gets before he’s spilling inside with a shudder, cumming far too quickly for his liking. But still, it’s hot and wet and gets his own dick throbbing even more. 

“Fuckin’ fill me up,” he grunts, bouncing to fuck it in deeper. “But don’t think I’m done with ya, baby.”

[god-has-entered-my-body]

Sugar - Matty Healy

A/N: no banner because im exhausted. also not proofread in the slightest. anon this goes out to you my love, i hope you're well xx

wc: 2k

content warnings: smut, fluff, swearing, dirty talk, sub! matty, use of sex toys (strap-on), blowjobs (he suck girlies strap), so fucking filthy do not look at me, praise, slight degradation, coming untouched, humping, begging, teasing (?), power imbalance

It's not real. It doesn't feel like it anyway. 

The air is thick, hanging like a fog over your senses, engulfing you. The soft cushion of the sofa feels comfortable against the back of your legs and you suck in a deep breath of oxygen, letting your shoulders relax. 

It's dim, the only light source coming from cheap fairy lights you had convinced Matty to buy on a stoned trip to poundland, most of the light bulbs flickering every so often in the corner of your eye.

Your vision focuses when you hear a creak beneath you, Matty’s knees shifting on the marble floor, clearly uncomfortable. He, of course, doesn't say anything, but is still grateful when you offer him a pillow, your fingers brushing against each other as you hand it to him, a sickly sweet smile spreading into his face. 

It takes one look downwards to tell he’s hard, aching, straining against the confines of his black joggers. His shirt clings to him obscenely, leaving nothing to imagination as your eyes rake over his body, the slight protrusion of his nipple piercing making your breath shallow, a detail Matty notices immediately.

“Someone’s excited.” you mutter, embarrassment flushing his cheeks at your comment, his hands resting on your thighs, gripping them. He nods, grinning at you with a look in his eye mischievous as he turns to look directly at your lap. 

Matty was an experimentalist, always one to try everything at least once, just to see if he liked it, leaving no stone unturned. So now, as he sits between your legs, fingernails digging into the skin of your thighs, eyes fixated on your strap, maybe he was a bit nervous. His heart beats erratically in his chest, feeling all of the blood in his body rush south as you eye him from above, waiting for him to make a move. 

His lips part as you shift on the sofa, bringing your hips forward, a silent gesture of encouragement. You do your best to seem composed, to seem like you weren't doing everything in your power to just grab him and take him right there on the floor, writhing and whimpering under your harsh touch. 

No, this is about him. He had brought the idea to you, fingers picking at his skin as he refused to make eye contact, rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet. It looked odd, seeing him so anxious about bringing something to you. 

“I want to suck your cock.”  

His words pierced your mind with dozens of fantasies and images. Matty, on his knees, eyes wide and bleary as he struggled to take your strap down his throat, choking at the heavy weight of it on his tongue. The sounds he would make, whimpering as you pushed his head down further, the sight of his struggle igniting a flame at the pit of your stomach. 

You had never in your life agreed to anything as enthusiastically as you did in that moment, assuring him that his fantasy was the hottest thing that had ever come out of his mouth. A smile spread onto his lips as he registered his words, getting giddy at the thought of being on his knees for you, putting on a show, his only task being to look pretty.

All which brought you to this moment, a moment you wish you could freeze in time and hang up on the wall above your bed, looking up fondly at the memory of him; in front of you, licking his lips in anticipation. 

You know he’s nervous, but you also know he knows he’s safe. Your relationship was nothing without the trust the two of you shared, unshakeable despite everything that had happened. The look in his eye is one of pure devotion, love, and passion, overwhelming you a bit. His hair falls messily over his face as he nuzzles his cheek onto the skin of your bare thigh, looking up at you sweetly. 

He looks small, taking up much less space than he usually did, and you knew he did it on purpose to play into your own fantasy. Complete control over him, his body only moving to your will, doing anything to elicit a reaction out of you. It was impossible not to be with him, every move calculated to make you dizzy, hazy with pleasure. 

His tongue darts out of his mouth through parted lips, licking a small stripe up the length of your strap, moaning at the sensation of the ridges against it. Your eyes widen as he groans, your hand threading into his locks, tugging on them harshly. 

“F-fuckk, that’s good.” his voice is muffled by the toy, lips mouthing at it performatively, watching your every reaction. All you do is smirk, laying back slightly as you observe, making him work for it. A look of disappointment is evident on his face, which only server as motivation to remain neutral, desperate to see what else he’ll come up with. 

“Getting off on this, are you?” you ask, the way his hips grind forward onto the edge of the sofa better than anything you’d ever seen in your life, his flushed face only adding to it. His hands move to wrap around the strap, tugging up and down as if it were a real cock, your grip on his hair getting even tighter, guiding him down. 

“I know you wanna watch me choke, no matter how hard you try to hide it, darling.” he coos, his lips pressing innocent kisses to the tip, letting his tongue draw circles over the slit. You narrow your eyes, not appreciating his little accusation, no after how true it may be. 

“You think you know what I want?” he nods, shuffling further against the sofa, his cock twitching in his pants as you fist his hair, forcing him down onto the toy, watching him sputter and gasp, the intrusion stinging slightly as his eyes water, a small tear running down his face. 

You can tell he likes it, relishes in it by his sounds, desperate and wanting, the pleased look on your face only spurring him on. 

He hollows his cheeks, never breaking eye contact, watching you as he moves up and down, letting you guide him slightly, controlling his pace. It doesn't take long for him to pull off suddenly, wiping the spit off his chin as he catches his breath, throat slightly hoarse. 

“You're worked up, rutting against the furniture like I dont notice.” you say, your voice low and full of lust, the only thing on your mind being seeing him fall apart piece by piece, delicately picking him to bits until he was at your feet, begging for more, willing to take anything you'd give him.

“Who says I don't want you to notice? I know how much you love to watch me look pretty for you, listening like an obedient little whore.” the words roll off his tongue like they were placed there by the angels themselves, a shudder rocking itself through your entire body. 

“Watch it.” you warn, your hand harshly gripping his face as he yelps, the pressure making his mouth fall open. He’s not much taller than you, but tall enough to give you the opportunity to lean over, your silent demand obvious. He opens his mouth wider, sticking his tongue out a bit as you let a drop of spit fall out of yours, a whimper escaping him as it hits his lower lip, slowly dripping down. 

You can see the thoughts flashing behind his eyes at a rapid pace, hungry for your praise. The moment you let him go, his mouth is back on the toy, hips bucking against the sofa with fervor as he takes it all the way down his throat, gagging at the intrusion. 

“So pretty like this, go on, suck me off like you mean it.” his whines grow more desperate as you pull his hair, taking back control of his motions. You were essentially fucking his face, not for your own pleasure, but for his, the force of your grip on him, mental and physical, taking over his senses. 

“So good for me, taking me like that.” you watch the words go straight to his head, hips bucking erratically as tears start to fall, coating his face beautifully. 

His whines pitch higher, his movements more uneven and desperate as he sputters around the strap, his head hazy with lust and desire, so close to the edge he could taste it. 

“Cum for me love, i know you're close. Make a mess of yourself, you know how much I love to hear you.” he nods frantically as he chases his high, slurpin and gagging as the toy shoves its way down his throat, his vision blurry. 

That and a stroke of his cheek is all it takes, his orgasm washing over him in waves, his cock twitching as he spills into his boxer, painting the front of his jeans with ropes of cum, a small, but noticeable wet patch forming. You smile fondly, eyes half closed as you admire him, shaking in the aftershocks of his climax. 

Coming back to his senses, he peers up at you, a light blush dusting his cheeks as you cup his face, your thumb rubbing sweet circles into the skin. 

“C-can we do that again?” he stutters out, returning to the same position he was in before this whole ordeal had started. His face was nuzzled into the fat of your thigh, sighing happily at the warmth. 

“Whatever you want, love, this is all about you.” he smiles lovingly, letting his eyes droop almost all the way closed.

“I love you.” your heart skips a beat, even if this was the hundredth time you’ve heard those same words leave his lips.

“I do too, more than anything.” 

[lesbiankimdahyun]

Reader is went out to a party and dressed as a nurse for Halloween but, g!p Mina stayed home so to make it up to her “patient” she gave her a bj to feel better

im sorry it took me so long to finish (just like Mina-- I mean what?) but please enjoy!!!

1.6k words 

[GP!Mina x Reader]

CW: GP, light praise kink, this isn’t m*d*c*l play bc i don’t do that but R is wearing a nurse costume

Mina let out a low breath and closed her eyes as she gripped her length in her left hand. 

Unfortunately, the wrist she’d broken earlier was her dominant wrist, and now she was both frustrated and turned on, trying to adapt to getting herself off with only her other hand. Sure, she’d used her other hand before, but not nearly as frequently. And knowing she was completely unable to rely on any help from her right hand made her let out a little whine. 

Breaking her wrist was the fault of her own bad luck, but it was your fault she was so wound up now, eyebrows furrowed from her effort. Your Halloween costume, a handmade, near perfect replica of the uniform Nurse Dolly wore on Ratched, looked entirely too good on you. And now, instead of being able to enjoy seeing you in said costume at Jeongyeon’s Halloween party, she was alone, thinking about how she wanted nothing more than to greedily pull up your skirt and run her hands over your ass and thighs before–  

Mina sighed, cursing her useless injured wrist and unrelenting erection. She laid back a bit farther on the dark gray sectional, letting her bad wrist rest on the arm of the sofa. She had meant to go to bed earlier, wanting to cum just once to relieve some of her pent up frustration, but she couldn’t get herself over the edge and hadn’t realized how much time had passed. 

Still too aroused and lost in her lust-driven thoughts, Mina didn’t even register that the front door of the apartment opened and closed: you were back from the party. Mina had really wanted to go with you, but the idea of anyone bumping into her very broken wrist in its fresh cast made her wince. 

“Mina?” you called softly as you came in, but she didn’t reply. You checked your phone– it was after midnight. Maybe she had fallen asleep while trying to wait for you to get back. But then you walked in further, down the hall, through the kitchen, out into the living room and saw why she hadn’t answered you. 

You watched for a moment, almost tempted to let her carry on. But then you noticed the light sheen of sweat on her brow and wondered how long she’d been struggling to cum. Now you couldn’t resist her. And it was Halloween after all; maybe you could give her a compensatory treat.

“Why is my patient out of bed?” you asked, tilting your head with feign curiosity. Mina’s eyes snapped open and she looked up at you from the couch. Her gaze, you realized instantly, was both hungry and desperate. You had been debating teasing her, but as soon as you saw the ravenous look in her eye you knew it wasn’t the time. Your eyes locked onto her hard shaft and you licked your lips. “Can I help you with that?” 

Mina nodded, looking you up and down slowly. She’d seen your nurse’s costume come to life over the last few weeks and seeing it now thrilled her just the same. “Please,” she breathed. 

Quickly, you made your way over to the couch beside her. You wrapped your hand around the base of her cock and leaned in to kiss her. Her lips were magnetic against yours, unwilling to part from any source of pleasure. You broke away from her though, making her squirm with need. You watched her reaction as you moved your hand slowly and started to jerk her off, lightly teasing her cockhead by running your thumb over her pink, leaking tip. 

She must have been trying for ages, because you’d barely touched her but already the poor girl looked as if she could cum. But that wouldn’t do for you unless she came somewhere more satisfying than all over her shirt and abs. 

“Poor thing,” you cooed. “Would it feel better if I used my mouth?” 

Mina bit back a groan at your question, nodding furiously. You went to reach for the hair tie on her wrist, but Mina read your mind. Her hand wove through your hair until she had as much as she could collect in her fingers, careful not to ruin your teal-colored nurse cap. She pulled back firmly, not only keeping your hair out of your face, but letting you know she was going to be setting the pace from here on out. 

You caught her eye briefly, thinking that your eyes must be as blown out with lust as hers were. You knew Mina really wanted to cum if she was willing to take the lead and as much as you loved telling her what to do, you loved seeing this more commanding side of her. You leaned in a little for her and she responded by gently pushing your head down. The moment her tip entered your mouth, you knew you were going to give in to anything she wanted. You kissed and licked around her tip, letting out an involuntary moan before opening your mouth wider to let more of her in. 

Mina grunted lightly at the sensation, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. She loved the way your mouth felt around her, and now she needed you, to claim you, to coat your mouth and throat with her seed. 

“Can I…?” she asked breathlessly, and you knew immediately what she was asking. She’d been training you over the last few months, stretching your throat, jaw, and retraining your breathing so she could fuck into your mouth endlessly without you needing to come off of her cock for a break or air. You were well on your way to becoming her perfect little toy. 

You nodded wordlessly, and Mina let out a heavy breath. Her grip on you tightened and she pushed you down further until your nose was up against the base of her cock. Your eyes watered a little but you invited her in, letting her fill and stretch you just the way she’d trained you. 

“Good girl,” she praised softly, using her other hand to touch your cheek reassuringly. She let up a bit and you proceeded to let her control your every move as she forced you to bob up and down slowly on her length. Sinking into a service-oriented headspace, it wasn’t long before you were drooling. The added wetness made it easier for you to glide up and down on her cock and filled the air with wet, lewd sounds while you continued to give her head. 

And Mina absolutely loved it. She loved the way you were so obedient for her, so willing to let her have her way with you. She loved how wet and puffy your lips became and the tears that threatened to spill from how hard you tried for her. 

“That’s it, just like that,” she said, watching her cock disappear into your mouth again and again. She continued to test your limits, pulling you back down to the base of her cock again before allowing you to come back up for a moment. Your warm, wet mouth felt incredible, but now Mina needed a little more. 

The next time you bobbed down on her length, she held your head in place. “Stay so nice and still for me, baby,” she breathed as her hips started to thrust slowly. 

You let out a muffled moan in response. This was your favorite part because you knew it meant two things: you had done well in working her up, and that Mina couldn’t hold back anymore. Her hips found a steady rhythm as she fucked up into your mouth desperately, her moans and pants becoming heavier. 

Her thrusts became gradually faster. Even though your jaw was starting to ache, you were at least at less risk of choking on her cock now because the more desperate Mina became, the sloppier she got. The couple inches that weren’t being shoved repeatedly into your mouth were in your hand now while you worked to jerk her off.

“Fuck,” Mina grunted. “Feels so good, just need to use you a little more...”

Her grip on the sides of your head tightened again and you really couldn’t move as Mina picked up the pace again. She was nearly incoherent now, murmuring half-completed praises to you as she tipped her head back. Her breath hitched and then hitched again as your mouth worked her closer and closer to the edge. 

Her praises trailed off altogether shortly after; the only thing you could make out was “fuck, yes, fuck,” and then she gasped. You took your hand away quickly and Mina pushed you down to her base as she came, thrusting violently up into your mouth. 

Your whimper was muffled and you swallowed what you could hastily. When she finally released her hold on you, everything you couldn’t swallow coated her cock while you bobbed shallowly on her length. 

You took your time cleaning her up, licking your way up her shaft and over her tip until she couldn’t stand it anymore and had to pull you up and away. She kissed you hungrily, unafraid to taste herself on your lips and tongue. Eventually she broke away from your lips, leaving appreciative, wet kisses down your chin and neck. 

“All better?” you asked, settling in to rest against her. Mina nodded, letting out a satisfied hum. “Much,” she said. She paused for a moment, then chuckled and touched the fabric of your costume lightly. “I'm lucky to have such an attentive nurse for the next six to eight weeks while I heal.”

[wings-of-ink]

Good morning! or night? afternoon? whatever time it is for you! I have a reaction ask if you wouldn't mind (and something that hopefully hasn't been asked yet). how would the ros react to MC disappearing for an entire day, leaving a note behind telling the ros not to worry and not to look for them, and then coming back the next day with a gift that the ros may have mentioned in a past conversation?

Afternoon for me, my friend! (Well, it was when I got your ask and started my answer…it's now evening, lol).

I had to jump in when I saw your question in the list because of your username. I spotted you a while back when you started following and may have been giddy since you MUST be a part of the Kevin Legally not a Cult Collective. I never miss a video. ^_^

As for your ask, there is a semi-similar one, but it's pretty old and related but not at the same time. I will link it below in case you'd like it!

Oswin:  He's looking anyway, and is a complete mess with worry. When MC returns, he doesn't even notice the gift and embraces MC tightly. (Maybe just a bit of ptsd after all they go through, so he has a hard time with this.)

Zahn:  They still fret a little. Is MC eating well? Are they cold? What are they doing? Why didn't they bring them along? The secrecy makes them uneasy. When MC walks through the door with gift in hand, they forget all about it. Zahn is so moved that they're struggling to hide tears.

Duri:  They get antsy. They miss MC, wonder what they're up to, and if they're having fun without Duri. They walk around the house, looking for clues, entertaining themselves by rearranging the books on the shelf, putting the kitchenware in different cabinets, switching furniture around and taking in no fewer than 3 stray dogs - a cat - and a rooster. MC comes back to find Duri sitting on the divan upside down. "You're back! I have hidden several surprises around the house for you! Oh! Is that a gift for me?"

Rune:  They take it in stride, thinking about MC through the day and hoping they are staying safe. Rune knows they're up to something, they just hope it's not dangerous. It's weird sleeping without them around, and they don't really like it, so they play their lyre until they pass out on the couch. Waking up to MC coming through the door is the real gift.

???:  He chuckles reading the note, flopping down on the bed and re-reading it a few times. He just mentioned the rare book seller that he heard rumors about, and now he gets a note that his love will be gone for a day… "Cute. So cute." MC is greeted by being swept away in a little dance. "So…did you get me a souvenir?" He twirls them around.

Thank you for the ask, my dear! ^_^

Related:

https://www.tumblr.com/wings-of-ink/746787586190753793/how-would-the-parents-and-ros-react-if-mc-had-to?source=share

[chemblrish]

Hey Lena, any tips for how to make friends in uni as a nerdy but introverted/socially anxious girlie? 🥺 thank youu

Hi!

I need you to know I saw this ask and immediately thought, "Did I just get a message from my past self?" 😅 Nerdy and introverted? Check. Used to have very bad social anxiety? Check. I was in therapy though and it was immensely helpful! I'm still a little shy but doing incomparably better, so I can tell you what I've learnt and hopefully some of it can help you too :)

Excuse the language, but first of all, you need to give yourself a fucking break. Shy people, we tend to fixate on ourselves: our looks, our posture, on whether what we just said was weird, and so, all our flaws (both real and imaginary) appear magnified tenfold - but only to us. Because truth is, nobody else is judging you half as harshly as you're judging yourself. Nobody is analyzing all your jokes or the way you walk. If you trip or say something awkward, it genuinely doesn't matter. It happens to everybody sometimes, it's okay. Remember that there's nothing wrong with you. Maybe you're shy, maybe you're easily overwhelmed, maybe you have very little experience making friends - but none of these make you inherently weird. So give yourself a break. You're sincerely doing a lot better than you think, I promise.

Small talk is actually not a bad thing, no matter what some edgelords may try to tell you. I used to spark up a lot of conversations early on in uni by bringing up things like the last test (because most of the time I'd get a mildly pained sigh in response and then we'd bond over how hard it was and how the professor was crazy lol) or the upcoming lab class ("Any interesting exercises in your schedule?") or how my commute to uni that day wrecked me and hey are you a commuter? Oh, you live in a dorm, how do you like it? And many other things of this sort, because if you think about it, uni is a neverending source of conversation topics when you're a student talking to another student.

You know how shy people are advised to just ask questions because everybody loves talking about themselves? That's not a bad advice. The trick is to be genuinely curious about other people. Don't ask just to say something, ask to hear what that other person has to say. This is helpful for two reasons: it takes the focus away from you (which is exactly where shy people shouldn't keep it) by directing it at the other person, and it actually helps to keep the conversation going, because it allows you to find either another thing that might interest you about that person or something to share about yourself.

Maybe it's obvious, but don't hide yourself. I know it's a lot easier to just curl up in a corner with your phone, but you gotta put yourself out there. Hang out with the rest of your course mates outside the lecture hall as you're all waiting for the professor. Take your time packing up afterwards instead of dashing straight for the exit. Don't look for that secluded spot where you can hide safely with a book (even though your introvert instinct tells you to do just that), be where the other students hang out.

Sometimes you have to keep choosing someone. Storytime with a moral: I took a liking to one of my current friends very early in the first semester. She seemed like exactly the kind of person I wanted to stick with in uni. I'd always come up to her and talk to her first but she hardly ever did the same. For some time I'd think, "Welp, clearly she doesn't dislike me, but she doesn't seem to like me much either." Now I can't even remember when that changed, but in an honest conversation we had maybe last month (so after almost two years of knowing each other!!), she told me she often struggles with figuring out whether someone likes her and wants her around or not, so she usually just stays away. You aren't the only introvert out there. Maybe the person you're trying to befriend is also a little anxious and needs a bit more time and effort from you. Don't give up too easily!

Not all people are your people and that's okay. You'll find that trying to talk to someone continuously feels like a chore no matter your good intentions. That doesn't mean there's something wrong with you or with them. Everybody can't click with everybody and that's fine!

And lastly: "different friends for different things" is a liberating philosophy. Maybe there's this one person in this one class that you always sit with and get along with well, but it doesn't seem like either of you wants to take it any further than that. Cool! That's your buddy X from Y class. Not everyone has to be your bestie who knows all your secrets and shares all your interests. Be open to the concept of casual friends, so that you don't miss out on the more meaningful relationships by chasing someone who's just not feelin' it if you know what I mean.

Good luck my fellow introvert. Remember getting better at making friends is a process but also a skill that can be practiced and polished. You got this, I'm rooting for you!

[magpiefngrl]

hey! curious new writer here. which fix of yours were the easiest to write and which were the hardest? in what way?

Hello anon! Thanks for an interesting ask.

OK I'll start with the disclaimer that every fic has its difficulties as well as moments when it flows, but there have definitely been some that poured out of me with great ease than others which were a constant struggle.

The Miseducation of Draco Malfoy, my first drarry, was written at the height of my obsession and it poured out of me. I wrote like a fiend all day and would go to bed at night and reread what I wrote. I breathed that fic day and night for the weeks it took me to write it. It was also the most fun I had writing, prob because I was a complete unknown and there were zero expectations from me. Similarly, The Full Monty, written just after TMODM, was an easy fic to write. I remember I read the prompt and was immediately assaulted by images and started laughing on my own and was like, OK I need to claim this, the fic is writing itself.

Similarly but in a more tortuous way, dirtynumbangelboy poured out of me too. More tortuous because it took me ages to find the right beginning, and by then I was behind with my deadlines and got stressed. Also, I wrote it in a sort of dread of the Erised fest, because it had some amazing writers that year and I was intimidated. I remember my goal was to "at least not embarrass myself" .

But, aside from the doubts and stress, dnab itself flowed like nothing else. There are passages that I really love, even now years later, and they are exactly as they came out the first time. I did very little editing (compared to other works).

With The Boy Who Died I made a fun post on tumblr about a mdzs AU of drarry and then the idea wouldn't let me go so I had to sit and write it. Luckily it was summer and I didn't work and I could spend my days writing it. There were moments I got stumped but it mostly came out easily.

Finally, a lot of my short fics poured out of me in one go and came out almost perfectly formed. The Dare, A Perfectly Normal Reaction, and my MCD The Death You Carry are good examples.

Fics that took ages at first:

so my thing is that I have to find the right opening to begin the story, otherwise I can't proceed. I don't plan; the first scene/chapter is my plan. And sometimes I get stuck for yonks. With The Unquiet Grave I began with a Draco POV, him being a politician and Harry his bodyguard, had an interesting first scene and then---nothing. It's like I hit a wall. Zero words come. When I have this feeling, I know I need to go back and revise. Long story short, it was when I changed the POV to Harry that somehow the whole gothic mood came about and I felt the auspicious click: I got it. That's what the story is. A gothic romance. After that, it was easier.

The same thing happened with Hush, darling. I rewrote a first scene fruitlessly several times until a random bit of inspiration fell into my hands: the visual of a card game. I began with it and I let it guide me and the whole plot/stakes/cast fell into place.

Fics that needed a LOT of work and had to be dragged into existence:

The Gift is the first that comes to mind. First couple of chapters were pretty easy and then I was stumped. Writing it felt like dragging myself up a slope, step by step and also not being happy with anything, so that was fun. :/

The other is 9 ½ Days, which took actual years to finish. In that case the middle part was the hard one. I wrote the beginning fairly easily and the last chapters, the plotty ones, also flowed. But the middle. Zeus almighty. It took me years and I thought and thought and thought about it a lot. Finishing this fic was an immense relief but also a source of pride, especially because I really liked the result, and judging by the comments I get, people seem to love it too.

Thanks for an unusual ask! It was good to ponder about my fics and my writing process. The same issues seem to crop up with my original works too, and it's helpful to remind myself that I got over those issues before and I can get over them again.

[yunaloona]

Aonung x Sully!reader

reader is an amazing weaver And it’s Aonung’s of age ceremony and he asks Y/N for help with his ceremonial clothing cause he waited too long to make it and they stay up all night together making it…

~~~

It was late at night, you were drifting in and out of sleep in your separate marui because you finished your off age ceremony weeks ago, and you were finally getting used to being by yourself.

Obviously you missed you family, but it’s not like you won’t see them everyday. Lo’ak and Neteyam left months ago and that left you Kiri and Tuk.. well now just Kiri and Tuk.

Spending time in the Metkayina you got aquatinted to many of the people, a lot of them knowing you due to your amazing craftsmanship and skill in weaving.

Your mother calls it a gift from Eywa due to how diligent and fast you can get even the most difficult patterns down.

~~~

Being half way asleep you hear steps outside of your mauri. Ears perking up to the sound you grumble a bit.

Someone knocks on the outside whispering your name

“Y/N..? Hey wake up”

You groan recognizing the source of the voice.

“Go away Aonung, I’m trying to sleep.”

The boy rolled his eyes and let out a huff.

“Listen, I really need your help right now, so can you please get up?”

The genuine sound in his tone took you aback, maybe he really was in trouble and could use some help.

You raise up to see him standing in the middle of your Mauri, rubbing your eyes you yawn

“So what do you need help with?”

He seemed to liven up a bit at your willingness to assist him.

“Well.. tomorrow is my coming of age ceremony and.. I waited to long to make my ceremonial clothing.”

You deadpanned turning to lay back down

“Wait wait! Y/N I really need you to do this for me, it would be a dishonor to have not made them, I just need this one favor then I’ll leave you alone for like a week, promise”

You let out an exasperated grumble, but him not bothering you for that long sounded like heaven, plus you were lonely in your pod. Having company when you were already struggling to sleep doesn’t sound too bad.

“..mm fine”

He put on a pleased smile and set the materials next to you.

“We’re going to make an armband, a necklace, and a loincloth” he looked pleased with himself and the materials he gathered.

“Alright. Let’s get started”

You take the material

“I’ll make the jewelry pieces, you work on the loincloth.”

He nodded in agreement

~~~

It’s been hours. You both were dying of exhaustion. Weaving the materials was a lot more difficult in this state. Things that you could make easily in 30 minutes are now taking an hour do. Aonung wasn’t much help either, he didn’t really know what he was doing. You have had to stop and help him multiple times. Though you can be too hard on him, there is a lot that goes into these pieces, you were just upset he started so late.

“Why did you not start until today? Why wait so long?” You brought it up and we’re met with his eyes, he looked embarrassed to admit the reason.

“I thought this would be the easy part, I needed to gather the materials which seemed harder, I thought I could finish in a day, but… as you can see” he smirked at you pointing out the situation you both were in.

You rolled your eyes, going back working on the pieces.

~~~

You were finally done. Your fingers stung and your head throbbed. Aonung finished an hour ago and passed out on the floor, he tried helping but he ended up not being able to make it, which left it up to you.

You looked down at him, seeing how peaceful he looked, and warm.

You were used to cuddling with Tuk when you slept, she used to get scared at night so she’s always come to you for reassurance, and it became a habit of her to fall alseep in your arms.

The thought of being next to him made your heart race, but you quickly disregarded the thought,

How could you think of something like that. Especially with him. He was rude, cocky, mean, well you did like his smile, and his hair was nice, his body was very toned….

You sighed knowing that it was your tired drunken state making you think like this. You lay down closing your eye drifting away.

~~~~

30 minutes after you feel asleep, it wasn’t a good sleep though. You felt restless and anxious, something wasn’t right, you missed having your family around you, having someone close. Suddenly you feel something or rather someone against your backside and swing their arm around you.

In your state of tiredness you couldn’t comprehend what was happening but it was something that you were used to when you lived at home, you assumed it was Tuk not realizing she wasn’t there.

You drifted off again.

~~

Waking up you noticed a rather large hand covering your torso

You freeze realizing who it is and start to panic. Slowly turning you see that he is still asleep

You let out a relived sigh, but he opens his eyes, your mouth slightly agape when you see this.

“You move a lot in your sleep, you looked really uncomfortable. But you slept just fine in my arms hm?” He was smirking down at you

You lightly pushed him back sitting up.

“Don’t Aonung.” You were embarrassed, but in all honesty that was the best sleep you had since you got here.

“Well, say that it’s me repaying you for your help.. if you ever need me back here I’ll do this little sleep thing with you.” He sounded kinda genuine, you didn’t know how to feel. The guy that was kinda a pain in your side but also very protective, confident, amazing on the eyes… your mind trailed off again while staring down at him.

“Like what you see?” He was of course looking back at you, but his comment made you snap out of the trance.

You roll your eyes

“Whatever.. go get ready for your Ceremony. You have a big day today, so go.”

Your words were not harsh and you didn’t shoot down his idea, so he took that as a maybe to his suggestion.

~~~

Him leaving the mauri he wave and thanked you again “Thank you yawne” with that he left leaving you speechless.

The Olo’eyktan’s son called you yawne.

You, not even originally from this village, pretty average.. you thought there was plenty of other women in this village that could suite the requirements of his mate… but you? Obviously you’ve thought of the possibility, but your relationship with him was kinda off. Seeing him almost daily when you talked to each other it was like bickering, your friends like to say you both sound like an old married couple. You’d always find him catching glimpses of you, when you did he’d always smirk or pretend like he wasn’t. You did the same though, mapping out his features, memorizing the patterns on his skin… but that doesn’t mean you like each other.. right?

~~~~

-mini time skip-

The ceremony was amazing, the pieces you made suited him very well and they looked great on him, and he got quite the few compliments from them.

After there was a party to celebrate. You were by kiri, talking to her about ewya knows what when a guy from the village comes up to you.

“Hello Y/N” You know him as Nash’vi, recently he has been trying to talk to you more and more but in the past Kiri has said that he’d pick on and never apologized and makes her uncomfortable

“Hello..?” You’re used to him coming up to you from time to time but unless he apologized or owned up to his mistake, you would keep conversation short.

“I was wondering if you wanted to dance?” At this point Kiri had left, leaving the two of you alone

“Oh I don’t know I’m not really-“ you were cut off by someone wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“Sorry but she already agreed to dance with me.” It was Aonung, your saving grace. You gave him a thankful look and Nash’vi walked away.

“Tsk” he looked aggravated at the boy walking away. You squeezed his hand catching his attention.

“So, we’re dancing now?” You gave him a smug look that he’s usually give you.

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes

“Yeah, you know you want to.” You sighed smiling.

“Maybe I do?” With that he took your hand and lead you to the dance circle.

You both danced till you were tired and your feet burned. By the end of the party you could barley walk.

~~~

Going back to your mauri, Aonung offered to take you back, which you agreed.

You were leaning against him while he semi-held you up.

“Are we even now” he broke the comfortable silence. “Hm? What do you mean?” You looked up at him and he paused for a second, getting caught in them.

He thought about it for a second “..never mind I’d spend my whole life repaying you if I had the chance.” Again his words got you and your face started heating up.

“Y/N… may I court you?” Your skin was a light purple hue and you didn’t know what to say to his forwardness. He really did liked you.

You think about his request for a second.

“No” instantly he looked disheartened, but you weren’t finished. “No courting Ma’Aonung I’d love be your mate for life.. I see you.”

Now his face was heated, looking down at you he put his forehead to yours

“I see you Y/N”

With that you leaned into each other closing the space, and kissed.

[bogkeep]

grousing about ai art stuff

every time i open twitter (my mistake) there's a new thread on how to spot ai art or ai photos by finding all the mistakes in it, and like obviously this is useful and it's good to watch out because they kEEP SHOWING UP EVERYWHERE AHHH HELL WORLD HELL WORLD, but it's also a little depressing that we're training ourselves to nitpick all kinds of details within a piece of art.

like even before the artifically generated image boom randos on twitter would reply to fully finished illustrations with the most asinine unsolicited advice possible. art's gonna be flawed sometimes! i'll draw someone in a weird pose because of vibes! i'll wing a hand! i don't fucking know what a house actually looks like!!! like yes of course the way a human artist creates flawed art is different from the way an algorithm doesn't actually know what anything looks like because it has no mind. it doesn't know shit. so it's not that it's UNRELIABLE but it's like. it's like... i've been telling myself and others every time i'm struggling to make something look Just Right that actually nobody i going to be staring as hard at my art as i am while making it. if i don't point it out people aren't likely to notice unless they are going through it with a fine toothed comb BUT NOW WE ARE DOING THAT APPARENTLY. WHICH IS ANYONE'S PEROGATIVE AND FAIR ENOUGH! PEOPLE CAN LOOK AT MY ART HOWEVER THEY WANT IT'S FINE

but it's ALSO so depressing to consider having to analyse every single piece of art you come across like that my goddddddd i just wanna enjoy it!! i wanna enjoy art!!!! i mean the main reason i finally stopped going on twitter regularly was during the NFT boom and i got so tired of having to vet every single artist i came across to make sure i wasnt retweeting nft stuff. like that really ruined my previously enjoyable experience of LOOKING AT NICE ART ON MY FEED WITHOUT PSYCHOLOGICAL WARFARE.

god another thing that happened during the dark nft times was how certain art styles tended to be nfts. and i don't mean the ugly apes and stuff, like of course there's those, but there were a lot of artists who sold their souls to crypto and there was just a certain Vibe to a lot of those styles. like i got a sixth sense for it, i would see a piece of art by an unknown artists and when i checked - yep, that was a crypto guy now. and you know what!!!! i hated that!!!! i hate that it ruined entire art styles for me!! AND NOW ARTIFICIALLY GENERATED IMAGES ARE DOING THE SAME!!!!! like what tends to tip me off is less because i spotted some wonky hand or a weird flap but because the style is a popular one for the ai bros to imitate. you know what i mean right!!!!!! it's kind of how the ai photos look a bit too clean and crisp and smooth in an unsettling way. it just pings the brain a bit.

ULTIMATELY the absolute main method i have for filtering away ai images isn't so much looking for mistakes, but by checking sources. it's the same way i check that i'm not reblogging from reposting accounts Because That's A Thing I Care About Too - if there's no description or the description seems off and i don't recognise the OP, i check the original post/blog to see what's up. if the image gives me a weird vibe, i check where it comes from and who posted it. oftentimes the comments on posts with ai images will point it out - they're not always accurate and there's definitely been times where people are a little too trigger happy to accuse art of being AI... but it can be a good lead or confirm suspicions. on one hand, i don't want to do detective work while im having chill scrolling time, but on the other hand - i already had this habit for other reasons, so it's less disruptive to me than the alternative. it also helps that it's very rare for ai shit to turn up in my tumblr feed. i don't want to keep looking over my shoulder!!

(also for anyone who wants a little bit of optimism in the middle of all this, here's an episode of Better Offline podcast that outlines how it's very unlikely for generative ai to actually get much better. here's the part two also.)

[inchidentally]

https://www.tumblr.com/inchidentally/737943108488232960?source=share

He looks at him like thinking "I don't know if I want him to be more successful than me or not." and I think he really doesn't know what to feel about him. Sometimes he seems like he cares too much about not having a p1 and sometimes he seems like he doesn't care at all. I think he can't hide his pain sometimes :(

🕯️ Work harder with him boy and keep your head empty and you'll get your win together please 🕯️

ohhh that cuts right to the quick babe

bc that's at the root of what another anon had said about Lando wanting to be for Oscar what he always needed from a more experienced teammate.

absolute mondo amounts of text below lol

with Carlos there was just never a question of Lando trying to puff up and challenge him and he's said that his rookie season was the hardest on him psychologically. he said that he spent it questioning if he really did have what it took and that constantly seeing Carlos confidently talking to the engineers and asking for things and settling into the car so well was very hard. we have to remember that rookie seasons in F1 aren't like other sports - these guys spend that first season wondering if each race is going to be their last (the whole Nyck de Vries situation). and because Lando compensated for what was going on behind the scenes by latching onto carlando - a big, fun and loud bromance - it was an even bigger thud when Carlos left. but !! Lando decided that if McLaren wouldn't let him sink then he would damn well swim. then of course with Daniel there was the shift in dynamic where Lando truly started to become the McLaren brand and it's great hope. but he was also having to deal with at least a little emotional whiplash of Daniel seeming like he'd be another carlando bromance, and also Daniel's not at all concealed disappointment (I'll leave it at that bc I'm not much of a fan lol).

so that "caring too much and not caring at all" back and forth that you said is absolutely something that plays a role in the stuff Lando is so candid about struggling with. he was so ready to finally be Normal About His Teammate when Oscar arrived all neat and tidy and with no baggage or agenda. and I think a part of Lando has tried to view Oscar as a typical rookie who will either be a bit of a nervous wreck, or be merely passing through McLaren for a couple of seasons - or re-negotiate and be shunted off sooner - or all three.

but then Oscar was the exact opposite of a nervous wreck and he's actually been a source of calm for Lando (as Lando himself said, "much more than my last teammate"). Oscar also worked exceptionally hard to show respect and appreciation to the team on every level. and then he signs on for yet another year before the season is even over!

that just leaves the anxiety of that P1 spot hanging in the air. and again, remembering how different F1 is to other sports and even other racing, these guys are ALL going for that spot with equal ferocity. there's no 'Lando wants it more' - that spot is literally why these drivers got to where they are. I know everyone brings up Kimi but lmaoooo that was his persona - he was there to win. you don't win shit in F1 if you're not wanting it on a cellular level.

so on most conscious levels, Lando is firmly in the "I want to win and I want to beat every other guy including Oscar/especially my teammate" because he couldn't possibly contend if he didn't think that. BUTTT. Lando is a much more complex guy than most F1 drivers and he's got an extremely open heart. so I do think we see him caught up in worrying about how strong Oscar's rookie season was and that sprint win - but this time there's an added feeling of rooting for Oscar the way that Oscar has always rooted for him. unlike Carlos and Daniel, Oscar doesn't have that alpha chest-beating thing that can also translate as sullenness and bitterness when they don't come first - and especially when it's their teammate who performs better than they do. and while it doesn't come from chest-beating, Lando absolutely sinks into sullenness even if it isn't as bitter as haters want to think.

so the fact that Lando now has a teammate who celebrates Lando's successes as much as Lando does for others (see Singapore and having to put up with his P2 spot being attributed solely to Carlos pfff) - to the point of Oscar chasing Lando down in parc ferme or standing totally unseen among the team during the podium celebrations) - is the cause for a lot of that intensity and almost a little bit of phantom pain? that we see sometimes when Lando watches Oscar talk. Lando broadcasts every feeling on his face and he just doesn't yet know what to do !! with Oscar.

it's also why I have my vestal virgins au which yes is in itself very weird, but the part about McLaren having another phenom young drivers without a lick of toxic masculinity as their motivation is honestly as new to fans and F1 overall as it is for Lando. we feel a bit off-kilter bc Lando being the adoring baby to Carlos and the adorable baby to Daniel was so easy bc - as I've also admitted - we all have sometimes reduced Lando to his cuter and funnier side rather than his serious contender side. but Oscar doesn't do that! Oscar finds Lando cute and funny when Lando is being cute and funny, but he also lets Lando determine the tone and if Lando is feeling more serious or frustrated or upset then Oscar quietly follows him there. and in turn, Lando brings up Oscar's hard work and success and says things like "how are you feeling Oscar? Oscar's been under the weather so it's even more impressive how he's done".

and idk I just think of the sprint win when they're posing with their plaques and you can see Lando struggling. but then! Oscar is so quietly happy and proud but he doesn't gloat or showboat at all! he even points out that while a win is always nice it's not the same as a race win. and we knew enough about Oscar's respect and deference that that was at least partly intended for Lando. and then Oscar said the same thing again and again in interviews! and then Lando started bringing it up himself and the hurt wasn't even there anymore - he could even ruefully joke about Oscar being the only one with a win!

so I feel like the conflict we see in Lando's eyes sometimes when he looks at Oscar is his tender heart seeing qualities in Oscar that he hasn't seen before in other F1 drivers, let alone teammates - mixed with his own specific pain at not having a win yet and how intangible it sometimes still feels.

in totally my own stupid probably weird perception - and this is probably a huge leap - the little tinge of bittersweetness to Lando and Oscar is that Oscar could truly end up meaning so much to Lando and it's a little overwhelming??

especially because Oscar is so opaque and quiet and withdrawn normally with everyone, even when it's talking about his parents or even Lily - yet he makes these serious and concerted efforts to show how much he respects and considers Lando in how he behaves and what he says. there's nothing remotely casual or lazy, even when/especially when he refuses to give journalists anything personal about his working relationship with Lando.

and Lando could probably safely assume that Carlos would behave just like Daniel - or how any other F1 driver would - if Lando was absolutely outstripping him. not just because of the difference in age (which is negligible now) but because that's honestly Lando's own first response to watching your teammate succeed while you struggle. but that little window where Oscar was keeping pace with - and occasionally exceeding - Lando's performance and even then, Oscar's ego never showed up in the form of crowing or forgetting about Lando beside him was like this agonizing sweetness on top of him never once being bitter about Lando's success.

and unlike Carlos and Daniel, Oscar knew so much and invested serious time into finding out about Lando (so very much alfgjlasfjl) so he's never been caught out by Lando's moods or needs. Carlos to this day seems kind of baffled and a little frightened by how intensely Lando latches onto him as a security blanket. and Daniel's big, loud smile faltering because Lando looked a little pained at being treated like just another DannyRic bromance. even the difference of Oscar's fond little "you're not very adventurous with food, are you?" versus Carlos' coaxing "Lando you need to mature" and getting him to touch the fish in the box. Oscar won't even jokingly try to get Lando to be someone he isn't because all of those things make up who Lando is to Oscar in the same way they do for us as fans.

I wrote an equally long post about guys like Carlos and Daniel realizing they're holding Lando's heart in their hands and feeling freaked the fuck out like 'aaaahhhh take it back take it back!'. but I realized I had no idea how Oscar would react because I don't know if Oscar's relationship to Lando would ever have him in a position to take it for granted that he holds Lando's heart in his hands. if he didn't want it then he would be terse and dismissive as well as more performatively bromancey with Lando. so it's clearly that Oscar wouldn't presume that he's in the position to have it.

so when Lando looks at Oscar he sees:

someone who he openly says makes him better as a driver

someone who is absolutely capable of getting the win before he does

someone who is considerate and kind and doesn't let bitterness fester

is the perfect complement to Lando's will-o-wisp personality

doesn't thrive off of ego and never drags anything off the track with him

who is intimidating precisely because of his calm centeredness

is so similar to Lando in a lot of ways, and so different to him in even better ways

is low-maintenance and non-demanding as a teammate

but does the fact that he doesn't "need" anything from Lando as a teammate feel nice or does it feel hurtful

is so difficult to read and even harder to get to know on a deeper level

distinctly decided against trying to make their relationship camera-friendly even though we know he absolutely does do that with some drivers (Prema, Alpine)

truly, genuinely likes who Lando is in every way

for some reason doesn't see the need to try and clarify or define that any further

god yeah it's got to be the most baffling feeling when it seems like your new teammate could slot right in with your closest friend group but he's also your biggest competitor besides Max V but he's also helping and supporting you on and off the track and sometimes it feels like he's turning his world around you as his sun but then he has this grown-up life outside of you so where does it all fit and what do you even think about it??