#Method of pre-stressing

[struggling-to-find-home]

(Before Ray diagnostics test)

Groupmate: Did you study?

Me: I did:)

Groupmate: Great!

Me: For the microbiology practical exam:) We have right after this:)

Groupmate: oh.

Groupmate: Oh.

[everrinsly]

a/n; thank you, everyone, for reading and the sweet comments! i don't have a vision for this series haha, just whatever comes up in my life that could also fit with the boys' too (and to practice 'crack' level writing that makes me giggle after a long day). this one reminds me of miss kiyoko (mrs. tanaka) heheh

a momager and her silly olympic team vibes.

missing shoes, olympics version. fluff. fem!reader. | not proofread.

more olympic team shenanigans here!

more reads!

~~~~~

The court gleamed under the intense, crystalline lights of the stadium—polished floors practically reflective. Poland’s flag fluttered proudly in one section of the stands while Japan’s dominated the other side, both held high by unwavering pride. As cameras flashed, announcers murmured into headsets, and fans filled every seat clad in national colors, the air buzzed with electric anticipation.

It was also the kind of anticipation that made the team focused as they stretched and bounced in their warmups.

Sakusa was bending his ultra-flexible wrists with ease. Suna was twisting his torso so far to the left that it nearly gave Iwaizumi a heart attack. And Ushijima led by example, doing his routine stretches with slow but methodical precision.

Everything was perfect. No pre-game stress—

“I LOST MY SHOES!”

Silence. Everyone turned to look at Hinata, who was frozen mid-panic-squat with just socks on and visibly vibrating with stress.

“I had them! Shit, I swear! I put them next to my bag and now they’re gone!”

He was rummaging through his duffle, pulling all sorts of random things out—protein bars, milk packets, electrolytes, a container of nicely peeled oranges (from you, by the way), and... a banana. Just the peel, no banana.

Suna stared blankly at him like he was witnessing a live disaster, one that he desperately wanted to post online (just to cause more chaos for Japan's PR team). His hands were already darting out toward his duffle to grab his phone.

Atsumu and Bokuto looked like they were ready to explode from laughter.

"Bro. What? How do you lose your shoes at the Olympics?"

"Shit—I don't know!"

"Are you sure you put them next to your bag?"

“I don't know!” Hinata was full-on wailing now. “Maybe someone took them?!”

"I mean... Poland's middle blocker is looking kinda suspicious over there."

"Look at his size compared to this stupid shrimp, Bo."

"Also, why would anyone want his crusty-ass shoes—?"

"CRUSTY-ASS—?!"

“OR MAYBE,” Atsumu called from the bench, cutting off Hinata's yell, “ya just forgot them. Again. Like when ya were startin' out with us in MSBY. Meian made ya do, like, twenty laps."

"You know, he also lost his shoes during Nationals," Kageyama quipped while doing a butterfly stretch. "I remember this trauma.”

"It was MISPLACED, smartass—"

Komori covered a snort with his towel. Bokuto looked absolutely thrilled. “Well, this is just like Nationals then!”

“No, it’s not!” Sakusa hissed. “That was just a metropolitan gym. This is the Olympics!”

Ushijima blinked, now sucking on a yogurt packet. “Did you not pack a spare?”

“WHO THE FUCK PACKS SPARE SHOES?”

(Ushijima did. He didn't just pack one extra pair, no. He packed two. Both pairs were even nicely labeled in permanent marker. But, of course, you couldn't tell that to Hinata, or he'd combust).

And who else?

You. You did.

You were standing at the bench, already halfway through the team’s emergency supply bag—breath held and heart pounding because of course Hinata would lose his shoes again, and of course you’d be ready.

Because even now, especially now, you knew him.

To the world, he was a 5'8 glory of a man—tan, muscular, kind, and indefinitely loyal... also proficient in Portuguese.

But to you, he was Hinata—your (man-child) sunshine. The boy who forgot to eat lunch if you didn't nag him a little. The boy who was terrible at written English even though he could use the language. The boy who needed a little extra comfort after a particularly intensive drill from Iwaizumi or a harsh scolding from Coach.

“There we go,” you whispered, yanking out a clean, pristine pair of new volleyball shoes. “I knew you’d do this again.”

Same color, same accent. White with red, bright and fiery.

Hinata gasped, turning to you like sunflower to sun.

“YOU’RE MY HERO, SWEETS!”

You nearly collided into him as he ran toward you, arms stretched wide. You held the shoes out. “Here, put these on. Quick. Don’t pull the laces too tight.”

You quickly glanced down at your watch before looking up again and locking eyes with Iwaizumi. "Ten more minutes until game time, so you'd better hurry, Sho."

He blinked at the shoes, then at you, then back again—smile soft and a little wobbly.

“You… you had them ready?”

You flushed under the bright lights. “Well—yeah. I mean. I remembered that time in Tokyo, and you looked so sad, and—”

“I LOVE YOU,” he declared dramatically, clutching the shoes to his chest.

Immediately, from the bench area—

Sakusa groaned.

Komori sighed.

Kageyama glared.

Suna muttered, “Wow.”

Atsumu was nearly on the verge of tears. “Why does he get all the love for a mistake HE made?! Can I fake a shoeless crisis? Will you cradle my career-saving feet too?”

Bokuto practically bounced. “What if I lose my jersey? Will you tackle me with a new one? Please?!”

You didn’t get a chance to answer, because Hinata had already plopped onto the bench beside you, tugging the shoes on like his life depended on it.

“Did I ruin everything?” he asked, voice quieter, sheepish now.

You knelt beside him, fixing the tongue of his left shoe, smoothing his sock into place. “You’re here, aren’t you? You’ve worked too hard to let one silly thing shake you.”

You looked up, meeting his eyes. “I believe in you, Sunshine.”

From behind the bench, Iwaizumi—clipboard in hand, eyes narrowed—muttered, “Okay. That’s the third time she’s called him sunshine this week. I’m keeping track now.”

Ushijima nodded solemnly. “He receives more sunlight than the rest of us.”

“You all get sunlight,” you giggled, rising with a blush. “He just loses his shoes more often.”

Komori deadpanned, “We’ll start misplacing things immediately.”

Suna casually unzipped his Team Japan jacket and let it fall to the floor. “Oops. Lost it. Help me.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, biting back a smile.

“And yet,” he smirked, “you like us ridiculous.”

Atsumu leaned over the bench, grinning stupidly in your face. “When do I get the special ‘I believe in you’ treatment, huh?”

Bokuto chimed in, wide-eyed glassy and lips pouty. “Can you at least pretend I’m your favorite once? Just for morale?”

You laughed and indulged in Bo just this once, hands leaning up to fix the tips of his droopy hair that had lost all their spike and spunk. "I did a three-way video call with you and Akaashi. I think that counts—"

Iwaizumi stepped in, blowing the whistle. “Warm-ups. Now. Five minutes. Everyone who’s not Hinata, stop acting like you're in middle school. Everyone who is Hinata—tie your damn laces.”

"IWA—we were having a moment!" Bokuto cried out.

"Next moment's mine, right?" Atsumu whispered in your ear, slinging his arms around you.

You laughed and pulled him off with a soft pat to his back. "Maybe if you get six aces."

Atsumu smirked, all dangerous and flirty. "Watch me, sweetheart."

You shook your head, a hint of a smile twitching on your lips, and they scattered back onto the court like overgrown toddlers. Except one—Hinata lingered by your side, tugging gently at your sleeve.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Really.”

His hand found yours, intertwining your pinkies for just a second—like he'd done many times in high school. Only this time, it felt special—like a shared secret between the two of you.

You smiled, heart full and fluttering. “Just win, yeah?”

He nodded, pressing a lazy kiss to the top of your head. “For you, always.”

On the court, eight jealous men all glared in perfect sync.

"God—what kind of flirting did he learn in Brazil?"

"You wanna learn too?"

"Sure do."

[spr1ngpvrinbwunnie]

Can I ask what you think would happen if pre-doctor Harley Sawyer had an S/O who has been with him for so long to the point of marriage being the next goal, but some kind of accident happens and they lose their memories of him? I was curious to see what you thought he'd react like, shading this "bond" with someone who worked so hard to gain his trust and love only to forget everything they had with him.

And maybe if you're up for it cause it could mix with the scenario, what's he like as a husband of he for some reason got to that point?

He’s already a man who struggles with trust, with connection, with letting himself have something good. And then to have that ripped away?

Yeah. He wouldn't take it well.

💔 Harley Sawyer & an S/O Who Lost Their Memories 💫

Initial Reaction – Shock, Denial, & a Deep, Ugly Fear

Harley isn’t a man who loves easily. If he got to the point of marriage? That means you had to fight, push, and tear down every wall he built around himself. You were different. You got through to him.

And then, just like that, it’s gone. You don’t know him. You don’t remember him.

At first, he thinks he can handle it. He’s logical, right? He can fix this.

But when he looks at you—when he sees the blank stare, the way you flinch when he reaches for you, the way his name means nothing to you anymore—

That’s when it really hits. That bond you both built, the one thing he let himself trust, it’s shattered.

How He Handles It – Badly, But He Won’t Show It

On the surface? He’s calm. Composed. Maybe even a little cold. He won’t let you see how deep the damage goes.

But behind closed doors? It wrecks him.

He stays up at night, replaying memories that you no longer have.

He clenches his fists hard enough to leave marks, fights the urge to force the memories back—because logic tells him he can’t.

He stares at old pictures, whispers your name like it’s a prayer, like saying it enough times will bring you back.

Would he try to make you remember?

Yes. But not by pushing you. Harley is methodical—he’ll watch, wait, test small things. He’ll see if old habits stick.

He’ll leave your favorite coffee on the table, just to see if you reach for it the way you used to.

He won’t tell you who he is to you. But his actions will.

And if you never remember? If he has to live with the fact that you’ll never look at him the same way again?

He’d rather you be safe, even if it means losing you completely.

Would He Stay? Would He Let Go?

Harley Sawyer does not let go easily.

But he’s also a man who knows what it means to lose everything. And if he thinks staying will hurt you more than it’ll hurt him?

He’d leave. He’d walk away before you could reject him—because that’s a pain he doesn’t think he could survive.

Maybe he disappears from your life entirely, watching from a distance, never interfering.

Or maybe, just maybe—he stays in the background. A shadow of what he used to be to you. Someone important, but no longer in the way he once was.

Harley Sawyer as a Husband – If He Ever Got That Far

"Husband" is just a word. What matters is that you’re mine. And I don’t let go."

He’s not a conventional husband. Marriage isn’t something he dreams about—it’s a risk. A vulnerability.

But if he got there? He’d take it seriously. You would be the only person who’s ever gotten that far, and that means something.

Protective as hell. He doesn’t get jealous, but he does get possessive. The kind where he doesn’t need to say anything—just a look is enough.

Acts of service > words of love. You won’t get flowery speeches, but you’ll find a knife at your bedside if he thinks you need protection. He’ll know you’re stressed before you say anything. He’ll have already handled it.

Physicality matters. He’s not one for PDA, but behind closed doors? His touches are grounding. Steady. Not always gentle, but always intentional.

He’s in it for life. Divorce? Not an option. If you get into a fight? He’s not leaving the house until it’s resolved. If something threatens you? It’s already handled before you even know about it.

What If You Started Falling for Him Again?

Would he let it happen?

At first, he wouldn’t believe it.

But if you started looking at him the way you used to? If your body remembered what your mind forgot—if you reached for him in your sleep, if his voice became a comfort again?

He’d try to stay distant. Try to convince himself it’s not real.

But the moment you tell him, even hesitantly, “I think I love you”—

That’s when he breaks.

That’s when he exhales the breath he’s been holding since he lost you.

And that’s when he finally, finally lets himself believe he hasn’t lost you after all.

[p0orbaby]

Stress Reliever

summary: important matches call for unorthodox methods

warnings: SMUT 18+, fingering, sex in a random room in a stadium? i have no clue, don’t judge

a/n: i really enjoyed writing this one, so kudos to whoever requested it !

word count: 2.7k

-

You’re in the stands, sipping a warm Coke that tastes like pennies, watching as eager fans filter into the stadium. It’s an hour until kickoff, and you’re trying not to panic because you have the seat of death. The one directly behind the pole. And not just any pole—oh no, you get the thick, structural support beam that’s been placed there by some sadist with a vendetta against sports fans. You can already feel the crick forming in your neck as you angle to see the pitch, bobbing and weaving like you’re on the world’s worst first date.

“Are you—?” A voice interrupts your internal monologue, startling you so much you nearly throw your Coke onto the unlucky person next to you. You look up, expecting to see a security guard, someone here to accuse you of something you definitely did do (sneak in a flask) but absolutely won’t admit to.

Instead, it’s a woman with a headset, wearing an expression of mild impatience—like she’s had to ask someone the same question three times. Which, judging by the size of this place, she probably has.

“Yeah?” you ask, because that’s the only word your brain can offer in the moment. Well, that and hotdog but you keep that one to yourself.

“Are you—” she checks her clipboard, which you find oddly official, like you’re about to be quizzed on the periodic table or something, “—the girlfriend?”

There’s a beat where you consider denying it because the word girlfriend still sounds weird in your ears. Like you’re not old enough for it or something. Like someone’s going to come along and snatch the title away from you because you got it out of a vending machine or a cereal box.

But then the woman’s staring at you, one eyebrow slightly arched, and you realise you haven’t answered, which is definitely making this more awkward.

“Uh…yes?”

“Great.” She doesn’t even wait for you to elaborate (which is good, because you definitely wouldn’t have). “Alexia needs you”

She says it like Alexia needs you is a normal sentence. Like you’re supposed to understand what that entails, as if you’ve been through this before.

“Oh.” You blink. “Now?”

“Yeah.” Another short answer. She’s probably fun at parties.

Your brain’s processing speed is at dial-up levels right now, but you eventually nod, clambering over knees and feet, mumbling apologies as you spill half your Coke in your lap. It’s warm, wet, and uncomfortable. The perfect metaphor for your life at this moment.

The woman with the headset leads you through a labyrinth of corridors, down staircases that don’t look like they’ve been used since the stadium was built, past signs that say things like “AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY” and “NO ENTRY,” which really do wonders for your anxiety. It’s as if you’re being led to the dungeons, or possibly to a secret basement where you’ll be quietly murdered before kickoff.

“Is everything…okay?” you ask, partly because you’re nervous, partly because you’re still in shock that Alexia asked for you. The Alexia Putellas, captain of Barcelona, Spanish football’s golden child. The one who should be doing pre-game rituals or eating her eighth banana by now, not…whatever this is.

“Yup,” says Headset Lady, who clearly graduated from the one-syllable academy of small talk.

You’re about to ask a follow-up question (something like are you a hostage negotiator on the side?) when she stops abruptly in front of a nondescript door that looks like it’s seen better days. There’s a small sign taped to it that reads “MEETING ROOM.” Creative.

“She’s in there,” Headset Lady says, handing you the clipboard like it’s a ticket to a secret club. You take it because refusing might lead to her finally using the taser you’re convinced she’s got hidden somewhere.

“Uh, thanks,” you say, because manners.

She gives you a curt nod, spins on her heels, and walks away without a backward glance, leaving you alone with the door, the clipboard, and a creeping sense of dread.

You’re about to knock when the door swings open and you’re pulled inside by a very strong hand. You barely manage to keep your balance, though your dignity is less fortunate.

“Jesus Christ, Alexia, a little warning?” you gasp, clutching your chest like someone’s ancient grandmother.

But Alexia isn’t listening. She’s pacing, her boots tapping out a nervous rhythm on the floor, her expression a fusion of frustration and something you can’t quite place—like she’s trying to solve a really tough maths problem but someone keeps changing all the numbers.

“Babe?” you try again, this time a little softer, hoping to break through whatever spell she’s under.

She finally stops, turning to face you, and that’s when you notice it. The way her eyes are slightly glazed, her hands twitching at her sides. She looks like she’s about to combust from the inside out, like she’s been plugged into the world’s worst electrical socket.

You know that look. You’ve seen it before, but not like this. Not with this intensity, this…desperation.

“What’s going on?” you ask, though you think you already know. You’re just not sure you’re ready for the answer.

“I’m fucking freaking out,” she says, her voice low and tight, like it’s taking everything in her to hold it together. “I can’t—I can’t focus, I can’t think—I just—fuck!” She runs a hand through her hair, tugging at the ends like it’s their fault.

You step closer, cautious, like you’re approaching a wild animal. “Is there anything I can do?”

And that’s when she looks at you. Really looks at you. Her eyes narrow slightly, and you can practically see the lightbulb go off above her head. It’s not the comforting moment you were hoping for. It’s more like the moment in a horror movie when the killer realises the protagonist is hiding in the wardrobe.

“Actually…yeah.” Her voice drops an octave, and you swear the room temperature does too. “There is”

Oh no. You know where this is going. You’ve been here before. This isn’t the first time Alexia has decided that the best way to deal with her pre-game jitters is to channel them into something else. Something physical. Something that, once upon a time, you thought was a great idea.

You were wrong.

But it’s too late to back out now. You’re trapped, like a mouse caught in a particularly horny mousetrap.

“Here?” you squeak, glancing around the dimly lit meeting room, which is as unsexy as a room can get. The walls are beige, the carpet is a hideous shade of grey, and there’s a whiteboard in the corner with some sad-looking, lidless pens. It’s as if the universe decided to create the least erotic environment possible.

“Here,” she confirms, and you can’t help but notice the way her voice drips with something dark and dangerous. Something that makes your pulse quicken and your palms sweat.

“But what if—”

“No one’s coming in,” she interrupts, and there’s a note of finality in her voice that tells you this is happening whether you like it or not. “It’s locked”

“How did you even get a key?”

“Does it matter?”

It doesn’t, but you feel like you’re owed an explanation anyway. Because what if someone does come in? What if they see you—two responsible, adult women—going at it in a meeting room like hormonal teenagers? You can already see the headlines: “Football Star and Girlfriend Caught in Bizarre Pre-Game Ritual”

“Alexia, I—”

She’s on you before you can finish the sentence, her hands gripping your waist, pulling you against her. Her lips crash into yours, and suddenly the room isn’t so cold anymore. It’s like being hit by a freight train made of pure sexual frustration, and for a moment, all you can do is hang on for dear life.

But then the reality of the situation hits you. You’re about to have sex in a room that smells faintly of wet dog and failed business deals. This is not how you pictured today to go. You imagined something more…romantic. A win celebrated in a plush hotel room, or at the very least a place with a bed.

But Alexia doesn’t seem to care. She’s already pawing at your clothes with a speed that’s both impressive and alarming, like she’s done this a thousand times before. Which, now that you think about it, she probably has. Just…not here. Or so you hope.

“Wait, wait,” you pant, pulling back slightly. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Nope,” she says, but she doesn’t stop, and neither do you, because you’re weak and she’s hot, and who are you kidding? You’re definitely going to do this.

It’s not graceful. It’s not even sexy, really. It’s more like a frantic scramble to get clothes off while trying not to knock over a stack of chairs. You’re pretty sure you elbow her in the ribs at one point, and she steps on your foot twice, but neither of you cares because there’s a bigger issue at hand.

You think about saying something witty, something to break the tension, but then she’s on you again, and words are suddenly the last thing on your mind. All you can do is hold on and hope the table doesn’t collapse under the weight of your combined bad decisions.

She pushes you back onto the table, her hands firm on your shoulders, and suddenly the wood beneath you feels a lot harder than it looked a second ago. It’s all happening too fast, but not fast enough, and when her mouth finds yours again, it’s all teeth and urgency. The kind of kiss that doesn’t ask permission because it knows it’ll get what it wants anyway.

Her hands are everywhere, pulling at your shirt, fumbling with the buttons like they’re some kind of cruel joke. You help her out, batting her hands away, only to struggle just as much. It’s like your fingers have forgotten how to work, each movement clumsy and desperate. When you finally manage to yank your shirt over your head, you feel a brief, victorious rush, like you’ve conquered a small but significant mountain.

She barely gives you time to breathe before she’s back on you, her mouth hot and demanding against your neck, her hands sliding up your sides. You gasp as her fingers slip under your bra, her thumbs brushing over your nipples with just enough pressure to make you arch against her.

“Fuck,” you whisper, because it’s the only word that makes sense right now.

She grins against your skin, clearly pleased with herself, and you know you’re in trouble. Alexia knows exactly what she’s doing, and she’s doing it well. Too well, actually. The kind of well that makes you forget where you are, why you’re here, and who you are as a person.

Her hand trails down your stomach, dipping beneath the waistband of your jeans, and you suck in a breath, half expecting her to stop, to clock on how ridiculous this all is. But she doesn’t. She just keeps going, popping the button on your jeans with a quick flick of her fingers, pulling the zipper down in one smooth motion. You lift your hips to help her slide them down, and suddenly the cold air hits your bare legs, making you shiver. But it’s not the temperature that’s getting to you—it’s the anticipation.

She’s back on you in an instant, her fingers finding their way inside your underwear, brushing against you in a way that makes your breath catch. Her touch is light at first, almost teasing, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. She’s not in the mood for games, and neither are you.

“Please,” you murmur, not entirely sure what you’re asking for, but knowing you need it.

She doesn’t make you wait. Her fingers slide inside you with a confidence that comes from knowing exactly what you like, how you like it, and how quickly she can drive you insane. And she’s doing it now, the slow, steady rhythm making you forget all about the uncomfortable table beneath you, the smell of stale coffee in the room, the fact that someone could walk in at any moment. None of it matters. All that matters is her, and the way she’s making you feel like you might come undone right there in that drab, fluorescent-lit room.

You cling to her like she’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality, your hands digging into her back, your nails leaving marks that you know take back to the changing room with pride. The table creaks beneath you, protesting with every thrust of her hand, but you don’t care. You can barely think, let alone worry about the state of some cheap office furniture.

When she curls her fingers inside you, hitting that spot that makes you see stars, you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. The last thing you need is for someone to hear you, but fuck, it’s hard. Especially when she starts moving faster, her thumb brushing over your clit with just the right amount of pressure to push you closer and closer to the edge.

You’re so close now, teetering on the brink, and she knows it. You can see it in the way she’s watching you, her eyes dark and intense, like she’s savoring every moment, every gasp and moan she pulls from your lips. It’s almost too much, the way she’s looking at you, like she’s claiming you, owning you in a way that goes beyond this moment, this room.

And then you’re falling, your body tensing as the wave crashes over you, pulling you under. You bite down on her shoulder, muffling the sound of your release, and she groans at the feeling of your teeth sinking into her skin. It’s raw and primal, and at this point in time, you don’t care about anything else but the way she’s making you feel.

She doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down, working you through your orgasm until you’re trembling beneath her, your breath coming in ragged gasps. When she does finally pull her hand away, you feel the loss of her touch like a physical ache, but you’re too spent to do anything about it.

For a moment, neither of you moves, the only sound in the room your heavy breathing and the distant roar of the crowd outside. The game is about to start, but for once, it’s the last thing on your mind.

When she finally pulls back, you expect her to say something, but she just looks at you, her expression softening in a way that makes your chest warm. There’s something unspoken in her eyes, something you’re not sure you’re ready to acknowledge, but it’s there all the same.

“Better?” you ask, your voice shaky, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips.

She smirks, that familiar, cocky grin returning as she reaches down to adjust her shorts. “Much”

You laugh, weak and breathless, but it’s genuine. Because despite the absurdity of it all—the meeting room, the table, the fact that you’re still half-naked in the most unromantic setting imaginable—it was exactly what you both needed.

You sit up, wincing as your muscles protest, and begin the awkward process of getting dressed again. Alexia helps, her hands lingering a little longer than necessary, and you swat at her playfully, even though you’re secretly glad she’s not ready to let go just yet.

“We can’t make this a thing,” you say, though you know it’s a lie the second it leaves your mouth.

“Sure we can,” Alexia replies, already pulling on her shorts like nothing happened. Like you didn’t just defile a piece of office furniture.

“You owe me,” you grumble, trying to smooth down your hair, which now looks like you stuck your finger in an electrical socket.

“Add it to the list,” she says with a wink.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. Because yeah, it was reckless and stupid and definitely not sanitary, but damn if it wasn’t one hell of a way to start a match.

“Good luck,” you say, and you mean it.

She gives you a look that says I don’t need luck, and you believe her. Because if she can handle you, she can handle anything.

As you walk out of the meeting room, legs still a little shaky, you can’t help but wonder if this will become a regular thing. You hope not.

Then again…maybe you don’t.

[colebabey888]

Study Tips | THE IT GIRL DIARIES

As the academic year begins to wrap up, things can get stressful with extra workload and faster lessons. I've definitely been a victim of this but unfortunately, I can't afford to slack off if I want that degree, so I began implementing a few tips and tricks into my study method that has helped me a lot.

Summarize and Recite Notes

If you’re good at remembering things like speech notes, try “paragraph summarizing” Those who did orals in pre school, high-school and were good at it, will know exactly what I'm talking about. I take a week’s material and shrink it down to a few key paragraphs with main ideas and keywords. Then, read these notes out loud as if you’re practicing for a presentation. This helps me remember faster. On occasion I make q-cards for harder or more learning material but very rarely.

Use AI !

When I come across hard words or ideas, I use AI tools like ChatGPT or Google. Copy your tricky material, paste it into the tool, and ask it to “explain like I’m five” AI turns it into simple, easy language, making it much easier to understand and remember. This can be so helpful when it comes to work that requires having a good understanding of the topic to actually excel in it. Think of AI as your study buddy that already knows everything. For those who struggle to speak up in class or ask for help, AI is the solution. You can ask the dumbest questions ever and not be judged lmao. Progressive learning 101.

My 3 Step Muscle Memorization

Step 1 : Type out a summary of your notes on your laptop or computer, whatever digital device you choose, I prefer a laptop.

Step 2 : Copy and rewrite them by hand on paper

Step 3 : With a blank sheet alongside you, rewrite your summaries onto it without looking at it, so you'll read off your summaries on your previous page but with your other hand, rewrite it on the blank page. I call it "scribble memorizing" Repeat this until you can do it without looking at your summaries. I do this to basically practice muscle memory so my hand knows what to write without me having to think about it first.

mwah! xoxo, colebabey8.88

[raingems-blog]

Oh doctor my doctor

Summary: Having a wife with hemokenesis has its benefits; you have a personal doctor on hand.

Warnings: afab reader, mentions of blood, mentions of smut, period mention, mention of bad eating habits (not eating)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Being married to Victoria Neuman had its benefits, for one, the security that she provided both emotionally and financially was nothing short of astounding. She was grounding, a woman who could calm a storm with the right words and a couple of well placed touches, soothing any concerns or anxieties that plagued your mind. With Victoria, you've never had to worry about whether she loved you. She showed it constantly and consistently, going out of her way to make it known that you were more than just loved. That you were treasured and appreciated. You've never had to worry about a bill, a note, or the price of anything you've laid your eyes on. If you wanted it, she'd get it for you, no questions asked. You were well taken care of, not to mention she came with a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed daughter who was the light of both of your worlds. Safe to say, the life that you had built with Victoria was nothing short of secure.

The other benefit included her hemokenesis. Victoria could tell when you were sick before you could and would immediately circumvent it before it had the chance to as so much as make you cough or sneeze. Forget to track your period date? No problem, she was more accurate than any app. Clocking the rising and falling levels of estrogen coursing through your body like clockwork and adjusting her behavior accordingly, knowing that she'd need to give you extra loving during that time.

"Hey babe when is-"

"Next week Friday." She answered without so much as missing a beat. Your favorite treats and meals were already pre-ordered before you could even blink, and products stashed for the date. She'd even help alleviate cramps when she could and would indicate when you'd need to change your preferred method of product.

Other times, you'd feel a skip in your heartbeat and immediately assume your time has come, much to her mild amusement.

"Am I having a-"

"Heart attack? No, love, it's a heart palpation. You're not dying." She answered before you could even finish the sentence. Frankly, you've asked many a question a few times before over the course of your marriage and knew exactly what you'd say. Sometimes, you'd wonder if she was a mind reader too, which resulted in such conversations as:

"What am I thinking of right now?"

"My love," She'd say with a sigh. "I don't know, I'm not a mind reader."

"Right we'll how did you know know what I was going to say?"

"Because you've asked me that a few times before."

"Oh...... I'm still watching you."

Victoria also had the ability to know if you've eaten or not. The way your blood sugar levels would drop when you had gone without eating was enough for her to chide you while ordering your favorite meal as she reminded you of the importance of a good hearty meal.

Other times, she could tell when you were stressed, tired, irritated. When your cortisol levels were high, she'd draw you a bath, put on your favorite show, and give you all the affection that you needed as well as giving you a safe space to vent when you needed it.

Her favorite, however, was when you were turned on or in the mood. One minute you'd be talking, and the next she'd have you tangled in the sheets, panting and moaning, using the very hormones traveling through your system to bring you to ecstacy time and time again. Paying extra attention to the way your body would react to her touch.

In a crowded room, the flurry of different heartbeats would sometimes overwhelm her, but the very distinct sound of your own would always cut through the noise, blocking it all out, save for yours. She loved to listen to the steady rhythm as it beat in your chest. It was a reminder that you were alive. The sound of your blood rushing through your veins was a comfort to her, the way your heart rate would pick up when she'd kiss you, talk to you, hell even look at you. The rush of oxytocin that she'd sense every time you were near her would only melt her further, causing her heart to flutter and her face to flush as she looked at you softly with those brown eyes that you've lost yourself in so many times before.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You would ask softly.

"Because I love you." She replied back. The intensity of the look would be enough to make your heart skip a beat.

"I love you too."

"I know."

[lapsthings]

I flunked my math paper again so here's how I think the blue glockers will do in ascending order (no glaze)

0-49%

Zantetsu Tsurugi 🤓

Sad thing is, he genuinely tried. He really gave it his all, immersing himself in study materials for the past week to ensure he was fully prepared. You could find him studying anywhere—whether in the cafeteria, passing through the halls, or even coming out of the toilet. He went to bed the night before confidently, walked into the exam hall confidently, sat down confidently, and handed in his paper confidently. When he received his paper back, he thought the big fat zero on the front meant he made zero mistakes

Igaguri Gurimu 🤡

Whines about studying, but ends up doing it because his parents forced him to. He grumbles as he picks up his book, pumps himself up for a motivational boost, but gives up after skimming the first page. Has the audacity to complain when he gets a failing grade

Gagamaru Gin 🐨

He lives in the forest, so Goatmaru was probably never exposed to the concept of education

Just kidding, surprisingly he does go to school, but my point still stands

Don Lorenzo 🧟

Sorry, bro grew up on the streets, he never went to school 💀. He picked up some basic numeracy from Snuffy, but that’s about it. Couldn’t care less though—you don't need to know about angles to count your cash, okay?

Raichi Jingo 💥

He forgot there was a test but somehow believes he can wing it. His overconfidence is bound to crash and burn when he gets his results back

Bachira Meguru 🐝

He casually picked up his textbook, flipped through all the pages, and called it a day

Charles Chevalier 😝

If someone doesn't specifically tell him to not study, he won’t even bother. Pretends to look up how to solve equations on YouTube, but he's really just watching Skibidi Toilet

Rin Itoshi ⚽

Surprise surprise, apparently he's only fluent in English and sucks at everything else

Otoya Eita 🥷

He’s got the potential to do well, but he’s too busy having fun with girls. Stealthy enough to copy off someone without the invigilator noticing, but gets caught anyway because he forgot to change up his workings

Kunigami Rensuke 🏋️ (post-wildcard)

He does not care 😭

Nanase Nijiro 😇

He gave his all in hopes of passing, but despite his best efforts, he fell short by a few marks :(

50-69%

Kiyora Jin 🍇🍬

He only puts in the bare minimum effort, so he barely makes the cut. Always hovering on the borderline between success and failure

Sendou Shuto 🩷

Goes like “Heh, I didn’t even study,” but the truth is he crammed everything the night before. Manages to pass though, good for him

Tokimitsu Aoshi 💪

He’s plagued by self-deprecating thoughts before, during, and after the exam. He's slightly more confident since his favorite subject is math, however his low self-esteem causes him to overthink, continuously changing his answers. Even after finishing, he’s constantly rechecking everything to avoid careless mistakes. Overwhelmed by anxiety when he gets his paper back, but lights up when he sees he got a decent grade

Aryu Jyubei ✨

He often stares at his study materials, but rarely does more than that. Instead of panicking about how under prepared he is, he’s too busy stressing over a big fat pimple on his forehead. Still ends up with a C…so not glam

70-79%

Niko Ikki 👀

He’d rather play Yu-Gi-Oh, but knows when to prioritize. He only puts in minimal effort, yet manages to get through because he’s a chad

Kurona Ranze 🦈

He sticks to recommended study methods and puts in the necessary effort, but still struggles with some concepts, resulting in a lower grade

Kunigami Rensuke 🏋️ (pre-wildcard)

He actually studies, even reaching out to others for help when he’s stuck. Unfortunately, he forgot to double-check his work and ended up with a lot of careless mistakes

Shidou Ryusei 😈

Huh? How did he end up here?

Hiori Yo 🎮

He doesn’t invest much time in studying, usually too busy being a #gamer. Despite this, he pays enough attention in class to get a good grade

Chigiri Hyoma 🐆💗

He pays attention in class and only studies to cover what he didn’t understand during lessons. Confident in his abilities, he doesn’t spend much time preparing for exams

80-100%

Oliver Aiku 🐍

Believe it or not, he actively listens in class and is disciplined when an exam is coming up. Very chill during the test, but instead of checking his work, he’s checking out girls

Alexis Ness 🪄

You cannot tell me he’s not a teacher's pet. He pays attention in class, completes his work diligently, and can be found in the library during lunch. He has a very organized study plan, so he avoids careless mistakes

Michael Kaiser 🌹💙

He’s smart enough to decipher complex formulas, dissecting problems before arriving at solutions using his own understanding. He truly is the goat

Yukimiya Kenyu 📸

Quite literally a model student. He’s a bit like Ness, but he also participates in group studies

Barou Shouei 👑

Of course, he gets good grades—he’s the king, after all, and he doesn’t settle for anything less. When asked about his study methods, or if he actually studies, he just tells them to piss off and walks away

Isagi Yoichi 🧩

He actually studies every day for about 30 minutes. He knows the key to math is consistent practice. Politely declines any invitations to hang out until exams are over

Nagi Seishiro 💤

Bro, how? He doesn’t study, sleeps in class, never does his homework. I guess he’s just cool like that

Karasu Tabito 🐦‍⬛♥️👑

Oh, Karasu, my beautiful, beautiful…

He’s an accomplished, well-rounded student who excels in every subject, including math, thanks to his determination to avoid mediocrity. His motivation and serious approach to his studies fuel his academic success

Sae Itoshi 😐

Unlike his brother, his academic success comes naturally to him—barely puts in work, barely breaks a sweat. I think it runs in the family

Reo Mikage 💳

You'd think he hired professional tutors, but he doesn't — he’s just that amazing

[twistedcrumbs2]

A Premium Shower with Vil Schonheint

Another One from the intrusive thoughts series. Deal with it.

For Vil Schoenheit, sharing a premium shower with you at least once a month is more than just a habit — it’s a ritual, sacred and unwavering. He follows this tradition religiously, treating it as a cornerstone of your relationship. To him, it’s the perfect moment to unwind by your side, to wash away the stress of life, and to reconnect with you on a deeply intimate level.

Vil won’t deny it: it’s therapeutic. There’s something about those moments that feels almost magical — the soft scent of your shampoo, the smooth texture of your skin against his, the warm glow of candlelight reflecting off the water. For someone who cherishes every little detail, this kind of closeness is pure gold. It’s also an opportunity for him to slow down and talk to you, undisturbed by the chaos of daily life.

And let’s face it — dating a man who’s a renowned actor, model, singer, and part-time influencer means that finding time together isn’t easy. Vil’s schedule is constantly packed with filming, runway shows, photoshoots, and rehearsals. The physical distance is an unfortunate reality of your relationship, which is exactly why he treasures these intimate moments so much.

But don’t mistake this for an ordinary shower. It’s anything but. Your premium shower is a full-fledged event, complete with a step-by-step process that Vil orchestrates with precision. He transforms the bathroom into a luxurious spa: the water temperature is always perfect, the bath is infused with rich bath salts for silky-soft skin, and fragrant candles are strategically placed to create an atmosphere that’s nothing short of enchanting. Yes, the shower is taken in the dark, but the candlelight adds a warm, serene glow, making the space feel like a scene straight out of a luxury product commercial.

Of course, Vil has an entire collection of high-end products reserved solely for these occasions. Only the best brands with top-tier ingredients make the cut. You’ve both turned this into a shared passion, constantly messaging each other about new finds, exchanging reviews of shampoos, hair masks, and body washes. Vil often indulges in impulse purchases during his travels, buying products just so he can test them with you. Your bathroom cabinet is overflowing with these treasures, but neither of you can resist adding more — because life is better with options, isn’t it?

When the time finally comes, Vil begins by meticulously washing your hair. He’s methodical: first, a pre-shampoo treatment, followed by a scalp massage to stimulate hair growth, then a rich hydrating mask, and finally, a conditioner to seal in all the goodness. His touch is so careful and deliberate that it feels like you’ve stepped into a five-star salon. And, of course, Vil expects you to return the favor. Not that he ever says so outright — he simply rests his head in your lap and waits, trusting you’ll match his effort.

One of his favorite parts? Watching you melt under his touch as he massages your scalp. The way your shoulders relax and your eyes flutter closed gives him a quiet sense of satisfaction. Moments like these remind him why these rituals are so special.

But nothing compares to the moment he pulls you into his arms under the warm water. The tranquil stillness, broken only by the sound of your breathing, feels like a sanctuary. Vil closes his eyes, wishing — just for a second — that time would stop, allowing him to stay in this peaceful bubble with you forever.

While the products work their magic on your hair, Vil takes the opportunity to share stories about his latest projects. He talks about photo shoots, rehearsals, and behind-the-scenes tidbits from his films. Naturally, he also seizes the chance to educate you about the products you're using. He’s a walking encyclopedia of beauty knowledge, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

After the bath, the ritual isn’t over — far from it. Next comes the exfoliation. Vil carefully applies a gentle scrub, working it into your skin with slow, deliberate strokes. He doesn’t miss a spot: arms, legs, back — every inch of you is treated with the same meticulous attention. When it’s his turn, you do your best to match his expertise, but he always smiles knowingly and offers gentle corrections.

And then comes the highlight: the oil massage. Vil’s hands work wonders, gliding across your skin with practiced ease. His touch is so soothing that you’ve fallen asleep more than once. He doesn’t mind — in fact, he finds it endearing to see you so completely at ease.

Finally, there’s the last step: skincare. Wrapped in matching velvet robes, Vil leads you to the bathroom sink for a complete routine. From the cleansing foam to the serums and hydrating masks, every step is executed with the precision of someone who takes beauty very seriously. You do your best to follow along, but it’s hard not to get distracted by the passion in his voice as he explains the purpose of each product.

By the end of it all, both of you feel utterly renewed. Your skin glows, your body feels light, and your mind is at peace. Vil lies beside you with a contented smile, already looking forward to the next premium shower. And you? Well, you can hardly wait either.

[meangirls-imagines]

Right so the Plastics x reader idea I had was like a different take on the aftermath of the lunch scene. Reader skips lunch to go smoke because it’s been a stressful day so far and when she hears about what happened she drags Gretchen and Karen to Regina’s house so they can talk about it because they’ve never had a fight this big and she’s not gonna take sides in this relationship and she’ll be damned if she lets this break them up. Maybe they realize all this chaos that’s happening is because of Cady. What happens then is up to you but the relationship stays together

Also can I be 💕anon?

Get It Together

Description: Reader has had a stressful day and skips much for a much needed smoke break and comes back to hell breaking loose. Her girlfriends are divided and she will be damned if she lets that happen.

WARNINGS: weed consumption (reader has a penjamin, iykyk), plastics being petty, cady almost getting beat up and kicked out of the plastics, mentions of eating disorder, reader being soft for her girls.

Note: okay, so the request said "smoke break" and as a child of the lord, i do not partake in nicotine smoking, i partake in the devil's lettuce. for those that don't know what a "penjamin" is, it's basically a w**d vape. that's my method of choice. (it's not legal in texas so i go with thc-a or delta-8). pens don't emit the odor actual flower does, so reader has a pen.

Y/N Y/L/N has just about had it with today.

It started this morning, her alarm didn't go off, so she was late to first period, teachers were pissing her off, and she didn't have her morning coffee. By the time lunch time came, she was done so she decided to skip lunch in favor of a quick smoke break.

She headed to her car and sunk into the driver's seat and sighed. Her day sucked. She opened her middle console and pulled out her pen. Her trusty pen. She turned it on and pre-heated it, checking her phone for any missed messages.

She took a hit and checked her texts. Imagine her surprise when her group chat with her girlfriends was flooded with angry messages. She was shocked at the hostility between the girls. She exhaled the smoke, feeling more relaxed already.

From what Y/N got from the messages, Regina was pissed that Gretchen humiliated her in front of the whole school, Gretchen was pissed that Regina wore sweats, Karen was pissed that they were fighting.

It was a mess.

Y/N also read that Regina skipped the rest of the day and went home. She was pissed. Gretchen knew that Regina had gained a little weight and was insecure. (They had spent a whole night showing Regina just how sexy she was.)

She texted Gretchen privately and expressed her anger and disappointment. She told her that she better be ready to apologize by the end of the day or she would be punished.

She texted Karen something of the same nature before going to Regina's text thread.

Y/N 💓: Hey, baby. I heard what happened. Let me know if you need me to come to you okay? I'll drop everything.

Baby G💞: It's okay. I'm gonna workout. I have a lot of anger right now and I don't want to say anything I'll regret.

Y/N: Okay baby. I'll come over after school. I'll bring the other two to apologize. I love you.

*Baby G 💞 liked a message*

Y/N took one more hit of the pen and turned it off, locking her car and heading back into school.

She had girlfriends to take care of.

As the school bell rang, signaling the end of the day, Y/N stood near her car, arms crossed, waiting for her girlfriends. She saw them coming out of the school, looking embarrassed. Y/N looked at her girls and shook her head.

When they made it to Y/N, Gretchen tried to talk but Y/N held a hand up. "Save whatever you're about to say. We're going to Regina's and you two are apologizing." The two girls nodded and got in Y/N's car. The girl took a deep breath, got in, and drove to Regina's house.

Y/N pulled up and parked her car next to Regina's jeep. She sighed.

"Listen, I don't know what happened today, I wasn't at lunch, but you guys know that Regina has been feeling very insecure lately and the fact you basically used that against her, makes me very disappointed. We promised each other when we got in this relationship that we wouldn't do things like this to each other. Now, when we go in here, fix this. I've already had a stressful day, I do not want to add to it."

Karen and Gretchen looked shocked at the fact that their girlfriend was so stressed. They couldn't believe they didn't notice. They were so focused on the fight with Regina that they didn't notice their girl struggling a little.

They really had to fix this.

When the three walked into the house, Regina's mom greeted them before telling them that Regina was in their home gym. They headed to the room, seeing Regina running on the treadmill. Y/N tried calling her name but she had her AirPods in.

She stood in front of the blonde, slightly startling her. She smiled at her girlfriend and turned the treadmill off, slowing down before getting off, looking at Karen and Gretchen. The room was silent for a moment before apologies began spewing out of Gretchen and Karen's mouths.

Regina put a hand up to stop them for a second. "One at a time please. That was too much." The three chuckled for a second before Gretchen spoke up. "I'm so sorry Regina. I was a bitch and I shouldn't have talked to you like that. I know you've been feeling down and I shouldn't have used that against you. I'm so sorry baby."

Regina nodded at the girl, pulling her into a hug. Karen hugged Regina too. "I'm also sorry baby. I didn't mean to be mean to you. My feelings were hurt and I took my anger out on you. I'm so sorry."

Regina kissed both girls on the head. "I accept both of your apologies. I'm sorry too. I was also a bitch and said things I didn't mean. I wish I could take them back. I love you guys, and I'm sorry."

The three girls hugged as Y/N looked at her girls with hearts in her eyes. She then caught a glimpse of the box on the table next to the door. "Regina? Are those Kalteen bars?" Regina turned to Y/N and nodded. "Yeah, Cady gave me them to lose weight. I don't know why they aren't working though."

Everything clicked for Y/N. She didn't like Cady and now she knew why. "Baby, those bars make you gain weight. My cousin had to eat them when she was recovering from her eating disorder."

Regina froze. "What?" Y/N grabbed the box and the bar that was sitting on the treadmill. "These make you gain weight, baby girl. I think Cady did it on purpose."

Her girlfriends sat shocked. They couldn't believe Cady would do this. Regina began to stew with anger. Gretchen could sense the storm coming and decided to delay it. "Baby, I know you're angry, but that can be a problem for tomorrow. We have a girlfriend to take care of."

Regina perked up at that. "What?" Karen and Gretchen looked at Y/N who was trying not to blush. "No. I'm fine my loves. I'll be okay." The three automatically surrounded her in a group hug. Y/N melted into their embrace, feeling the stress of the day finally leave her body.

Regina kissed Y/N's temple. "Let's get you de-stressed baby."

The next day at lunch, Cady was shocked to see Regina sitting back at the table. As she approached, Regina smirked. "Seems like your shocked to see me Heron." Cady blushed. "No, not at all Regina." The blonde felt an evil grin spread across her face.

"Good. You're done here. You think I wasn't going to find out about your little Kalteen bar stunt?" Cady went pale. She didn't think Regina was going to figure it out. She was so close.

The blonde snapped. "Here's what's going to happen, you are no longer sitting with us. Matter of fact, you're no longer associating with us. The only thing saving you from not getting your life completely ruined is Y/N. You better thank her for saving your life. Now, leave."

Cady scurried off, almost bowling over Y/N in the process, who was bringing Regina fries. The girl almost lost her balance but regained it as she watched Cady run out of the cafeteria.

She made it back to the table and sat next to the blonde who kissed her cheek in thanks. "What was that all about, Gina?" The blonde smirked.

"Nothing. Just Cady leaving our lives for good."

[woradat]

Dear, memories #4

<- back — PT4 (here) — next ->

.

·

“So, how long have you known him? When did you two meet, exactly?”

You were never exactly what one would call “cooperative” Everyone knows that — and if they don’t, well, they find out sooner or later, usually the hard way. Several hours had already ticked by in what Tarn insisted on calling an interrogation. You preferred “nosy biography session” personally. Not that you were especially helpful throughout the process. Your answers were, let’s say, lacking in enthusiasm — a fact that forced Tarn to repeat himself more times than even he cared to count

The only reason you weren’t currently being disassembled bolt by bolt for answers was because of his beautifully twisted sense of justice. That, and to be perfectly honest — because it's was you

Your frozen expression was hardly unique. Tarn had seen it all before. Most bots reacted that way. Sometimes with a scream, a sob, or a total system crash — the usual when one suddenly realizes they’re playing hopscotch with Death

But you? Oh, you made the fear taste so much sweeter

His clawed digit lazily traced your shoulder plate, just enough pressure to jolt you back to reality and remind you of the extremely murder-capable mech standing inches from your frame – a gesture both oddly intimate and viscerally threatening, the kind that said: You’re still breathing because I allow it. Don’t forget

“Well? You don’t object, do you?”

Your processor buzzed like a dying fan. You were still stunned, still shaken by the scene you had just witnessed. Not that you were some wide-eyed innocent — no, you’d seen bots die before, seen the light leave their optics. But this? This had been especially horrific. Creative, even

Enough to scramble the nerves of any bot not built for emotional resilience

But you weren’t that kind of bot. Even if every circuit in your body was screaming for a reboot and your energon pump was doing its best impression of a dubstep beat, you’d never let him see you break. The very idea was offensive

So you swallowed it all down — fear, disgust, bile and with a voice so cracked and tired it could have come from a rusted exhaust pipe, you replied: “No object..”

“I did already answer your question. Why do you keep—”

“That answer wasn’t detailed enough, Y/N” Tarn cut in smoothly, like a knife through polished chrome. “If you want to prove your innocence to me — and to be clear, you do – then you need to cooperate. These curt, vague replies of yours? They’re not doing you any favors. You’re lucky it’s me asking. My team doesn’t have my… patience” He tilted his helm, that smile audible in his voice “So. You’re welcome”

“This is all for your sake, remember?”

You didn’t reply. Mostly because you were too tired to bite back, but also because you’d run out of fuel — figuratively and literally. Your systems were humming in protest, trying to keep up as the stress burned through your reserves like an overclocked CPU

You had no idea how long this had been going on. Tarn, for his part, didn’t seem bothered at all — like this was just another Tuesday for him. You were starting to hate how professional he was, efficient, methodical, unshakeable. Ugh

“So” he said voice low and silky “what were you doing before you met him?”

You opened your mouth, already pre-loading another snarky comeback — until you realized… that was a new question

It gave you pause

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, my apologies” Tarn replied, and you hated how damn pleasant he sounded “Let me clarify. During the Great War — what exactly were you doing back then?”

“I don’t think that’s relevant” you snapped, optic narrowing “I have the right not to answer, don’t I?”

You said it with as much venom as your voice could manage. Tarn, ever composed, simply hummed, like someone being mildly entertained by a glitchy vending machine. You hated that too

“Yes” he said “You have the right not to answer. But I have the right to keep asking. Over and over. Forever, if necessary. Just to remind you, Y/N, I’m helping you here. All I ask is cooperation”

—

The room fell into silence after that. A tense, heavy kind. You were thinking – whether it was worth dying here, now — though realistically, death wouldn’t come swiftly. Not with Tarn. No, he was the type who’d make a performance out of it. A deeply moral, disturbingly artistic performance. Your thoughts flickered – Hardwire. Primus, you hoped she was okay. Maybe she’d escaped when the ship went down. Maybe she never made it out. In some twisted way, that might actually be better. Because if she were here - if they had her. well, you couldn’t even imagine what she’d go through. She wasn’t like you. Tough, yes. But not enough

Tarn, meanwhile, leaned back in his chair with the ease of someone who could and would kill you, but didn’t need to rush. He studied you, calculating, amused, saw how tightly your servos were clenched, how hard your optics stared. He heard the low whine of your internal systems that beautiful background music of resistance. You wanted to fight. To lash out. But you weren’t an idiot

His frame, battered but pristine, every mark a trophy told you everything you needed to know. You, by contrast.. weren’t exactly showroom condition. The crash hadn’t done you any favors. Singed plating. Soot. Scratches. You looked… a little pathetic, honestly. Not completely unsalvageable. Maybe even cute, if you’d stop glaring daggers at him long enough for him to enjoy the view

You looked weak, defeated, and accidentally dramatic

— he was eating it up like it was fine dining

.

.

“I think you ought to rest a bit. You must be terribly exhausted”

Oh yes, so concerned, weren’t we? The way he said it, with that smooth-as-polished-chrome voice, it was almost like a lullaby. If lullabies were sung by judgmental opera singers who secretly wanted to slap you. Tarn rose from his seat with all the drama of a villain in a high-budget musical, circling around the room like he was on a runway. For a guy who looked like a walking tank, the grace was unsettling

“This way, Y/N. Allow me to escort you to your quarters.. We don’t receive guests very often”

He glanced back briefly, just to ensure you hadn’t tried to bolt

The corridor was eerily silent, unsettling in a way that had nothing to do with the dim lights and everything to do with Tarn’s looming presence. Even from behind, he radiated menace. Everything about him screamed authority, brute strength, and military precision — a war machine made with care and a disturbing amount of love. No wonder Megatron had such a fondness for him. Tarn was a fine weapon, the kind of loyal hound most tyrants dream of

Sure, he outclassed you in almost every measurable way but that didn’t mean you couldn’t quietly insult him in your mind, right?

He stopped abruptly, too abruptly. Thankfully, you weren’t daydreaming and managed not to slam right into him

Jackass

“This will serve as your temporary room, for the duration of the... debriefing”

He keyed in a code, and the door whooshed open. Lovely. It looked just cozy enough to be mistaken for a cell. For all you knew, it could only open from the outside. A delightful little design feature, really. Your fate had officially arrived

“Pardon my bluntness, but I must say... You really haven’t changed one bit, always refusing to play second, even when the situation gives you no choice”

What the hell did he mean by that?

Have you met him before? That couldn’t possibly be true. You’re certain of it—if you’d ever crossed paths with a bot like him, it would mean this must be the afterlife or some twisted version of reality. There’s no way you could’ve survived the encounter

You frown, mind spiraling with confusion. Tarn doesn’t strike you as someone who throws words around carelessly

“Please, enjoy your stay, Y/N”

He gestured politely, like a maître d’ at a very exclusive prison. You stepped inside, too tired to fight—not that you were feeling particularly obedient

Naturally, you didn’t just waltz into the room without first shooting him a look that said: ‘I hope your favorite arm malfunctions'

“Good night”

The door slid shut behind you. Predictably, locked tight

“What do you mean he got picked up by the Council? That’s rough”

“hm.. I heard they gave him the deluxe punishment package. Poor guy”

“Pathetic, more like. He brought it on himself—sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. Honestly, he had it coming”

Your words were surprisingly cruel, even by your standards. Damus—once mildly tolerable, now freshly redesigned by the Council’s one-size-fits-all makeover program for “social threats”—was a walking cautionary tale. The Council didn’t just punish. They humiliated. Because why settle for justice when you can also throw in a complete aesthetic downgrade?

“Honestly, if he had two more brain cells to rub together, he might’ve stayed out of trouble. Am I wrong?” a bots you called friend, ever loyal, shook their helm

“So, what’s the new look? Haven’t seen him all day. Still as punchable?”

“Well, they gave him one optic and pincer hands. So.. yea. Imagine a sad crab with daddy issues”

“Yikes. But kind of adorable, no?”

You raised an eyebrow so hard it practically hit orbit. Adorable? Please. This was Damus we were talking about. The sentient doormat. A bot who could be insulted six ways to Sunday and still offer you a thank-you card afterward. He wasn’t just unoffended – he welcomed it and naturally, you adapted. You treated him like the doormat he was. Because that’s what he became. Rubber welcome mat and all

Sure, a part of you feels kinda bad for him—this whole mess is gonna haunt him for the rest of his life in society. But let’s be real, there’s no way you’re telling your savage side to sit this one out. That little voice in your head? Yeah, it always wins

That day, you started calling him: Glitch

A nickname dressed up as a joke—just insulting enough to be remembered, just cruel enough to sting. You claimed it suited his new look. Sounded stupid. Looked stupid. A perfect fit

As usual, Damus said nothing – not because he agreed

But because he couldn’t

He didn’t have the guts

[fizzlebag]

bugsnax grumps and whether or not i think they would be good at rolling joints ( + some brief headcanons about them Lel) ft. below average edits

warnig this will be a long post & maybe slight analysis I am autism

FILBO

- average / leaning towards bad

- social smoker at heart so he usually just does bong rips w beff or uses her dab pen

- wouldn’t exactly be good at it; would roll it just enough to make it smokeable

WAMBUS

- average

- only gets high after a super stressful day & prefers edibles; like filbo, doesn’t smoke much

- would prob just get pre-rolls

- i don’t rlly see him as a stoner as much as i do a grower/seller; he can tolerate the smell, he meets cool ppl, he gets money, he enjoys farming/working with dirt, whats not to love ?!?

BEFFICA

- good

- rolls joints all the time for when she wants a quick smoke before going out

- prefers a bong or pen (evidently), has several of both

- uses rolling papers w/ cute designs that she collects from concerts, gas stations, road trips, etc.

GRAMBLE

- bad

- he gets too nervous about it and fumbles it every fucking time so he gave up

- prefers low dose gummies but rarely ever does it at all anyway

WIGGLE

- not good / doesn’t know how to do it at all

- acts like she does to get more cool points but she rlly just uses pre-rolls

- beffica knows this and laughed in her face when she found out. nobody knows but them tho

CROMDO

- average

- i think he’d actually be alright at rolling joints, though i don’t think he’s much of a smoker tbh

- thinks it’s extremely expensive so he’d rather steal it from wambus’ garden and sell it for excessive prices

- would save a little indica for himself to help him sleep, usually prefers sativa so he can get business stuff done and have the energy to karaoke

TRIFFANY

- average

- definitely wouldn’t smoke much at all but doesn’t mind wambus doing it

- whenever she gets high she tends to freak out and, occasionally, hallucinate figures related to her job—skeletons, dead people, etc

- after the first time she smoked a blunt and thought a dead philosopher she’d researched was watching her through the window she decided weed wasn’t for her

SNORPY

- fucking BOMB

- best out of the whole cast. think about it. he builds shit constantly + a spinterest for metallurgy & engineering generally. he’s absolutely graceful with his paws

- you’d think he would be horrible at it but he just has great fine motor control

- despite this, he usually prefers to hit a bong w/ chandlo, “NOT because it’s chandlo’s favorite way” he says (it is)

CHANDLO

- great

- likes his bong more so he usually just rolls and gives them to his friends (especially floofty)

- learned how to do it in high school, didn’t show snorpy until college (ps: snorpy was terrified of smoking anything at this point)

FLOOFTY

- horrible

- very autistic so they have poor motor control. things like tying shoes are also probably hard

- they’ve tried so hard with so much determination because they can’t let anything go but they literally just can’t

- doesn’t really smoke anyway, hates to admit that they want to after long periods of stress/work; when they do they prefer a bong LOL

SHELDA

- average / leaning towards good

- used to only use a bong; got more into joints as she got older, so she doesn’t have much experience

- however, she likes to have bong seshes w/ chandlo snorpy & floofty on the weekends :-3

- shares her bong w floofty frequently; they hang out one-on-one a lot (👥🩷 IN LOVE)

EGGABELL

- mid

- only gets high w/ liz, just does whatever method she’s using that night/morning

- very cautious about her weed intake for obvious health reasons

- gets frustrated asf taking care of liz when she greens out after being too adventurous

LIZBERT

- also mid

- neither her nor eggabell can roll so they just buy pre rolls like Multiple other grumps

- prefers live resin/wax and other super strong forms

- overdoes it, greens out, cries to eggabell for help, then passes out without fail every time she smokes

Thats all thank u for coming 2 mypreswntation 💜

[gentlekalita]

Mental Safety in BDSM

It’s your Gentle Domme Kalita here, and today we’re diving into an incredibly important topic: mental safety in BDSM. While the physical aspects of BDSM often receive a lot of attention, it’s crucial not to overlook the emotional and psychological dynamics that play a vital role in creating a safe and fulfilling experience. Whether you’re a seasoned practitioner or just beginning your journey, understanding mental safety can enhance your experiences and build stronger connections. Let’s explore together!

Understanding Mental Safety

Mental safety refers to the emotional well-being of all participants in a BDSM dynamic. It encompasses feelings of trust, respect, and the ability to freely express thoughts and boundaries. Feeling mentally safe is just as important as physical safety, and both should be prioritized for a genuinely enjoyable experience.

1. Open Communication

The cornerstone of mental safety in BDSM is communication. Here’s how to cultivate an open dialogue:

Pre-Scene Conversations: Before you engage in any BDSM activities, have a thorough discussion with your partner(s) to talk about desires, limits, and expectations. This dialogue helps to establish trust and ensures everyone is on the same page.

Discuss Aftercare Needs: Talk about what you might need emotionally after a scene. Some people prefer cuddling and reassurance, while others may want a bit of space. Understanding your partner’s needs fosters safety and connection.

Check-Ins: During a scene, establish a method for checking in with one another. This can be verbal, using safe words, or through non-verbal cues. Continually affirming comfort and consent is essential.

2. Setting Boundaries

Boundaries are crucial in maintaining mental safety:

Define Limits: Clearly communicate what is acceptable and what crosses a line. This step may include discussing hard limits (non-negotiable) and soft limits (areas that may be explored with caution).

Create Safe Words: Establishing safe words is fundamental. Use a straightforward system like "red" for stop and "yellow" for slow down/check-in. This clarity helps alleviate stress, enabling everyone to focus on the experience rather than worrying about crossing boundaries.

3. Understanding Consent

Consent is not just a one-time agreement but an ongoing conversation:

Enthusiastic Consent: Ensure that consent is given enthusiastically and willingly. Everyone involved should feel positive about participation and the activities planned.

Revoking Consent: Teach participants that it’s okay to change their minds and revoke consent at any time. Understanding that it’s not just the scene but the emotional state that is constant means feeling empowered to speak up if something doesn’t feel right.

4. Aftercare: A Key Component

Aftercare is essential for mental safety and emotional recovery following BDSM activities:

Nurturing Connection: Spend time together post-scene, engaging in cuddles, sweet words, or any comforting activities that reinforce trust and intimacy. Aftercare helps to settle emotional highs and lows after an intense experience.

Discussing the Scene: Talk about what went well and what could improve in the future. Sharing feelings and experiences can provide closure and understanding, enhancing the connection for future sessions.

Self-Care: Encourage practicing self-care routines post-play, whether that involves winding down alone, journaling, or bathing. Engaging in self-love reinforces mental well-being.

5. Recognizing Emotional Triggers

Understanding emotional triggers is crucial for maintaining mental safety:

Identify Triggers: Before engaging in BDSM, participants should discuss any personal emotional triggers they may have. This knowledge ensures that certain situations or actions do not invoke unintended distress.

Create a Safety Plan: If a moment comes when someone feels overwhelmed or triggered, having a plan in place—like a trusted safe word—helps mitigate potential emotional difficulties.

6. Education and Exploration

Knowledge is empowering when it comes to BDSM:

Take Time to Learn: Engage in readings, workshops, or discussions focused on BDSM principles. Educating yourself about different dynamics enhances understanding and emotional intelligence.

Attend Communities or Forums: Participate in local BDSM communities or online forums where you can openly discuss ideas, experiences, and concerns without judgment.

✨ Join Me for More Nurturing Adventures!

Are you ready to delve deeper into the beautiful world of BDSM while prioritizing your mental safety? I invite you to join me in my live camming sessions, where we can discuss these important concepts, share experiences, and create a supportive community that embraces exploration and self-discovery.

👉 CHECK MY BIO! 💖

[transfemtlqtruthers]

So, to explain a rough outline on my trans reading of STP (SPOILERS ofc):

we start the game as TLQ post egg crack but pre figuring things out, like her understanding of herself as masculine is shattered and destroyed. These fractured elements of a pre egg crack trans woman are what the voices are and represent different internalised stresses and coping methods and behaviours that come with it. The narrator represents the social pressure ingrained into you to reject femininity (slay the princess) and simply live your life with your only frame of reference for 'happy' being what the narrator/society tells you it is (The "good ending"), and the princess being the embodiment of transfemininity and more simply, the positive change you need in your life.

TLQ sees shifty as a princess because it represents a positive change to her and her relation to it: princesses are emblematic of femininity but also a distance from the common person, an alienation representing how TLQ feels alienated from herself. The mirror is used to show her grasp on her true identity, she struggles to see anything because she's alienated from who she really is, and the body, bloat, decay, remains and nothing after each route represents her stripping back the flesh and bone and external gendered characteristics to find out who and what she truly is, without the illusion of flesh to get in the way.

[willowswiththorns]

Hi! I read your sfw A-Z for Ian McKinley. I’ve been obsessed with him for ages! I was wondering if you’d mind doing a NSFW version for him. If not worries.

Yes of course!! I’m writing A-Z Sfw, nsfw, and yandere for now. Hopefully I’ll branch out more. Obviously he’s 18 here lol I hope you enjoy- Willow

Ian McKinley Nsfw A-Z

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

This man likes to think he’s the absolute king of aftercare but for the most part he’s decent.

He’ll clean you up, grab you some water, and pass out next to you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Ian’s favorite part on you is your hands. He loves to paint your nails black ( those pretty fingers would look great wrapped around his cock)

His favorite part of himself would probably be his mouth, he doesn’t want to sound too conceited but he loves the way he’s able to go down on you. Ian loves seeing you try to not make a sound as he’s using his tongue on you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

For Ian, he loves to come on your chest and ass. It’s so cute watching you try to wipe the cum all off you.

Sometimes if he’s feeling a bit cocky, he’d push his cock against your cheek, just to get some pre-cum on your face.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

His dirty secret is that this man wants to try being pegged just once. Ian just wants to know what it could feel like.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s not that experienced at all. The only person he’s been with was Erin, and even then they didn’t do much. It’s definitely a sore topic for him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

His favorite position has to be missionary. It’s basic but he loves seeing your face contort from slight pain to pleasure and your body bounce ever so slightly as he thrusts up into you. The sight is truly his favorite thing to see.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s not too goofy, the most he does is use your pet names in bed or making small little teasing jokes. Other than that he prefers to just enjoy the experience with you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s got black semi thick curly hair. He trims it whenever it gets too long , he refuses to shave it though.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He gets very romantic during the moment. He’ll whisper how perfect you look under him, and how much he loves you. He’s super gushy during the moment and gets embarrassed later on.

He won’t openly admit to anything he’s saying though. He’s to shy about it.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

This dude won’t admit it but he jerks off every single day. He’s always stressed so just one session a day would help relieve that somewhat.

If you’re offering yourself up however, he’d slow down his methods of jerking it a day. It’d turn into every few days.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dacryphilia

Breath play

Blood play

Dominance and submission

Impact play

Edging

Praise and degradation.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He loves doing it in his van or in his room. The van makes him feel a little risky but not risky enough to actually make him anxious about being caught. His room is his favorite spot by far because he can just pass out on his bed after plowing you into the mattress.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He gets all hot and bothered by the sight of you getting all embarrassed and flustered, it makes him feel a bit more in control.

Ian loves feeling you press up against him or bend over right in front of him, it sends his mind racing.

He also loves when you run your fingers through his jet black hair, especially when you tug on it.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Actually bullying him or making mean comments about his body, he likes being degraded but not like that.

Anything non-con, he wants to have sex as two consenting adults do. He doesn’t want to feel like he’s actually forcing you to sleep with him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers to be on the receiving end, solely because he’s a bit embarrassed of his giving head/eating out skills. He’ll pet your head if you go down on him, and if he’s really getting close he’ll hold your head in place and hump into your mouth.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He tries to go slow at first but when he’s caught up into it, he ruts into you fast and a bit hard. His thrusts are aimlessly rhythmic, his only goal in mind is to hit your sweet spot and to come deep inside you.

Ian is gonna be holding you down as he’s fucking into you, the sounds of his skin slapping yours echoing the dimly lit room. He’s sweaty that his eyeliner is making small streaks down his pale cheeks. Small little whines are going to come out no matter how hard he bites down on his bottom lip to block it.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t hate quickies; but he doesn’t prefer them either. Ian wants to just enjoy taking his time with you, wanting to draw out the sight of you falling apart on his cock as long as possible. However when he is having a busy or stressful day, he wouldn’t be opposed to using your body as a stress reliever.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

This man has a hard enough time fitting into society with how he dresses and acts, he’s not too eager to be found butt ass naked with you raw dogging in some closet.

He prefers to have sex with you in places where he knows he’s safe from leering eyes.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Ian can go about 2 - 3 rounds with you before feeling exhausted.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He’s not the type to really own toys for himself, but he’d buy you some if you’d ask.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s not much of teasing guy in the sense of physically doing anything. This punk guy is all verbal teaching. He’s got a tongue on him for sure. Not that you’d mind.

He’d get jealous and asks if you both can leave early because he wants to go home. If you want to try and wave him off, he’d whisper about how if you’re good and goes home with him, he’d make you feel like you won’t be able to walk for a while. Needless to say you went home with him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He groans a lot. He gets embarrassed about it, but if you make him submissive and ride him, he’ll let out more whines and whimpers than you’d expect. Dudes a switch.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Ian gives me vibes that if you pull on his hair, he’d probably nut in his pants. Sensitive scalps for the win 💅🏻

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Ian is about 7 inches circumcised, black hair trimmed. He’s definitely not a grower, Ian is long when soft and hard. He isn’t thick around at all either.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive isn’t the highest, but definitely not the lowest. This man can go about 2-3 rounds before having to tap out.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

While he’d love to cuddle and sleep together, usually he’s reverting back to his usual sleeping position. ( he looks like a sickly Victorian child)

[littlemissstel]

Hi! Your Shiu pieces are so lovely - he doesn’t get enough fluff or, ya know, stories in general.

May I please request a story of him attempting to quit smoking because the woman he is into doesn’t want to date a smoker?

Feel free to ignore this, if the idea is not interesting to you 🫶🏻

Lollipops and Smoke- Shiu Kong

Helloo!! Thank you for the kind words<3

IKRR the amount (well lack of) of Shiu media is actually outrageous, he's the reason i started this blog😭Hopefully this is on par with what you were thinking of Xx

Pre-relationship, swearing, uses of the names "bastard", "minx", "Doll", "Sweetheart", "Darling", no uses of (Y/n),mentions of drug use

It is past midnight now and you were in Shiu's car as he drove you home after a long day of dealing with clients. The two of you have engaged in what seems like a thousand different conversations on the way there, but he's not quite sure how you landed in this one...

"You're really not going to tell me?"

"I'm not sure what you mean Doll. There is nothing to tell."

"Shiu. Let's be honest for a second here. There's no way you've only done cigarettes throughout your life. With the things you've told me about your youth, you had to of been high at least once."

Shiu holds in a chuckle, shaking his head with a wide smile at your deadpan expression.

The truth is you were right. He was a seasoned connoisseur in the field of substances thanks to his party days and he does conveniently forget to tell you the part were he puffed, sniffed or drank in his stories of nostalgia. When he first started out in the job, he had to entertain clients by sharing a drink/drag or two, though that was never something he found enjoyable and has since promoted out of it.

It's not that Shiu was regretful about his past experiences, no, He just wasn't proud of them either. He had great times which made for great memories but he knows what kind of impression they can give off and for someone like you- for someone he is trying to impress- he believes some memories are better left unsaid.

"I'm really not as old as you think i am. This is my youth-"

"Yeah right-"

"Enough about me. You're real fuckin' nosey you know that? What drugs have you done, Sweetheart?" He sends you a playful glare through the mirror.

"Paracetamol and Ibuprofen."

This earns a deep laugh out of Shiu, something that has become more frequent during your time with him yet you still take the moment to properly intake the resonant sound.

"I did have a boyfriend who was into a few things though. It didn't last very long."

"Was he trouble?"

"No, he was sweet, but i just don't think i could be with someone who does anything, you know..."

"Nothing at all?"

"Nothing. No vapes or cigs. Nothing that lingers."

What you said lingered in Shiu's mind. Long, long after the fact. He was somewhat surprised, you never seemed to have a problem when he smoked around you - then again he tried to limit the amount of times that happened. Then again he might be wrong and you just don't like him back.

But he liked you.

He liked you enough to go against his better judgement of pursuing you- no matter how selfish it may have been, and so he liked you enough to finally start his mid-year resolution to put down the cigarettes. That night he laid covert in the darkness of his bedroom, scrolling through an endless amount of forums from ex-smokers and ordering an unjustifiable amount of lollipops, gum and nicotine patches.

Shiu had always been the number one user of the saying, "I can quit when i want" and part of that was true...he could quit when he wanted. It didn't mean he wanted to struggle when he did though. His job was stressful and the only method of relaxation he could find that fit into his busy schedule was smoking. Now he just had to experiment...

Throughout the next few weeks you noticed a few changes in Shiu.

First, he seemed irritable.

Not to you- to you he was just quieter than usual- but Toji had been the one informing you that Shiu had "A stick shoved up his ass for the entire week", though this was after discussing how they were going to split the shares of his commission which meant the statement was untrustworthy.

Secondly, he was less focused and increasingly restless, which drew the most concern from you because Shiu was always well managed. It was one of the first things you learnt about him and he hasn't faltered since so when he started to zone out and tap against the steering wheel to an inconsistent beat you only became more skeptical.

But your last and final straw...was his sweet tooth.

The ravenette was a chronic enjoyer of savoury foods. You had seen him nursing a lolli' in his mouth consistently for the past few days, sure. But when a multi-pack of 300 lollipops sat discarded in the backseat of his car you knew something was up.

"What is going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"What's going on with you?"

His brows furrowed as he spared you a quick glance.

"What do you mean, darling? I've been fine."

"You've been acting weird...First toji says you've been irritated all week but now you've got a sweet tooth and a thousand lollipops in your backseat. I know you don't have a kid Shiu. Unless you're about to tell me you're going to kidnap one."

"I am not going to kidnap anyone."

"Then are you okay?"

The car stops at the red light and Shiu sighs weakly, meeting your eyes with an unreadable expression.

"I've quit smoking. Trying to replace it with something better. I like lollipops."

Your mouth droops into an "o" expression. Well that makes sense, you hadn't thought about it but why would you? It seems a bit abrupt, no? Most people ease out of smoking and you haven't seen him hold a cigarette in...well...a long time.

"Why- i mean, no congratulations- but- how long has it been since you stopped?"

"Three weeks give or take"

"Oh..."

The car filled with a thick silence only disturbed with the low rumbles of the engine. You're not quite sure what to say. What is there to say? He sounds pretty decided and you fully support his decision but- oh...You can't help the feeling of guilt that washes over you.

"It isn't to do with what i said is it?..." Shiu's hand grips the wheel harder for a quarter of a second as he turns to you to speak- but you noticed, and you felt your stomach twist for the second time in a minute.

"Shiu- you know i didn't mean that about you, i really didn't mean to offend-"

"-You didn't offend me doll, now calm down before you work yourself up, hm?"He says, a smirk creeping up on his face and you take his advice, settling back down in your chair waiting expectantly.

"I've been meaning to quit for a while now`, just never had a good enough reason to do it. Now i know you prefer the company of non-smokers, i finally got the motivation to."

What does that mean?

"I didn't mind your company before you know."

"Oh trust me, i know." His smirk now fully progressed as his attention undividedly turned on you. The most focused he's been in weeks. His dark hazelnut eyes bore into yours leaving you feeling exposed- so exposed. You believed him. His confidence, true or not, left little room for doubt and now you wondered what else he knew.

Don't embarrass yourself.

You leaned in, trying to keep a hold of what little control you had as he matched your stance.

"You're back to being a smug bastard aren't you."

"Never stopped."

"Then why don't you enlighten me on what else you know?"

Shiu's breath hitched before letting out a short, incredulous laugh, leaning back in his chair with his head tossed back.

"Green light, minx." He says finally.

After all, Shiu Kong believes some things are better left unsaid.

banner by user030419 on pinterest

divider by @saradika-graphics

I am open to constructive criticism but be nice because I'm sensitive asf 💀 Thank you for sending this request in, i really enjoyed it

please feel free to leave any ideas/recommendations

[yanderestarangel]

submissive bi han pls

TW: afab reader, v!sex, handjob, sub!bi han, dom!reader, panty gag, overstimulation, self degradation.

Bi Han was always a dominant man, giving orders to everyone and always thinking he was superior to everyone in the Lin Kuei clan, but did you know how much of a little bitch your husband was for you, for your attention, and it was one of those days, where Bi Han would come home, whining for you to pay attention to his needy dick, the way you praised him, the way you gave him attention... he loved all of that.

Bi Han's weary gauze softened, He sighed deeply, his body relaxing as you began to massage his chest. Your touch ignited a spark of desire within him, washing away the stress and weariness of the day. He watched with a mix of anticipation and yearning as your hand ventured lower, inching closer to his clothed erection, a low moan escaped from his lips as he surrendered to the sensations you provided, his body craving your tender touch. You were attuned to his desires, understanding that he needed not just physical rest, but also a release for the pent-up tension within him, he yielded control, allowing you to take charge of pleasuring him. Whether it be through a slow, sensual massage, a teasing dance of fingertips over his clothed length, or any other method that allowed him to find solace and release in your hands. Bi Han's body responded eagerly, is breathing grew heavy, his muscles relaxing under your touch. However, you weren't satisfied, removing your hand from his hard length, while telling him to take off his clothes and lie down on the bed, Bi Han obeyed you like a good boy, he swiftly stripped off his clothes, laying himself down on the bed as instructed, his need for your touch evident in his hardened length and the low groans that escaped his lips.

"-Please, I need to feel you, make me cum please, I just want to cum please..."

You saw his dick throb and twitch, glistening with pre semen at the tip, as you got close to him, spitting on the head of Bi Han's member, making him moan from the hot temperature of your saliva on him, he could swear he could cum there same, but he needed your pussy on him first. You took off your panties, covering Bi Han's mouth with the fabric, as you prepared to ride his dick.

He moaned around the fabric in his mouth, his taste buds eagerly capturing the essence of your sweet pussy, muffled sounds of pleasure escaped him as you began riding him, your wetness enveloping his cock inch by inch. The sensation made him tremble with need, every movement sending waves of pleasure reverberating through his entire being, as you moved atop him, Bi Han surrendered completely to your control.

The sight of you riding him, dominating him, only intensified his pleasure. The way your body moved, the powerful grip your pussy had on his cock, it was an exquisite torment. "-Yes... Fuck... I am your needy bitch, craving your attention, your touch. Use me, take from me everything you desire. Make me yours completely." -He groaned, his voice raw with need. The room filled with the sounds of your passionate union—moans, skin slapping against skin, and the intoxicating scent of sex. Bi Han's body responded to your every movement, his cock throbbing with the desperate need for release. He looked at you, his eyes glassy with desire and submission. Speechless, his gaze spoke volumes, silently begging you to make him come, to love him, to praise him for being such a great man and such a good boy, for you to tell him that he filled you completely.

Bi Han's hands tightened on the sheets, his body shaking with the effort to maintain control and not cum yet, which was difficult with the walls of your creamy, warm pussy on him, your dominance, drove him deeper into his submissive state, igniting an insatiable lust within him. You decide to tease him even more, moving his dick away from your pussy, as you withdrew from his cock, a whimper of frustration escaped him. Tears welled up in his eyes, a mixture of longing and the overwhelming need to please you, he swallowed, his voice trembling as he prepared to voice his plea. "-I'll do anything for you my love, just let me cum inside your little pussy please... am I not a good boy?" -The tears trailed down his cheek, mixing with the sweat that had formed on his brow. Bi Han's desires were laid bare, his inhibitions shattered as he found himself at your mercy.

You smiled satisfied, sitting on his dick again, harder this time, making him arch his back in pleasure, his dick pulsed against your hot inner walls, he cried and drooled on the sheets, his voice full of submissive need to cum and please you, he was overstimulated, and it didn't help that you massaged his balls making him cry even more with pleasure, he was so shaky, a mess.

"-I'm your slut, just use my dick however you want"

"-Fuck no one is going to be your good boy besides me right?"

"-I love you so much (Y/N) I swear I'm going to cum..."

"-F-F-Fuuuck... I love your pussy on my dick, I love your touch, please I want to cum let me cum please ..."

You rode with precision and hunger on the cock of your submissive and needy husband, the great grandmaster feared by everyone in the clan was now moaning in despair. Bi Han couldn't wait for your order and permission for him to cum, soon you saw his face of pleasure, the black strands stuck to his forehead and neck, his muscular abdomen contracted as he emptied thick jets of semen inside your cunt.

"-Sorry, I just wanted to cum... I'm still your good husband, right?"