#and i'm increasingly getting the feeling that that might not be possible

[tyrannuspitch]

but i do feel the need to register a direct complaint, again, about thanos's utter lack of charisma. his concept has so much potential but his actual execution is giving me literally nothing. like oooh there's an ~insane~ gangster warlord on a floating throne in an asteroid field who cuts deals with terrorists and kidnaps tortures and mutilates children to turn them into living weapons who he then calls his "daughters" all in pursuit of a bizarre fanatical ecofascist masterplan to kill half of all life. and then he turns around and delivers mediocre lines in a tone best described as "mildly annoyed". no tension no stage presence no menace no humour no fucking pizzazz. MAKE AN EFFORT!!!

[candy69gurl]

can you do hybrid! Wolf toji claiming you during his rut?

THE HOWL OF DESIRE

Hybrid! Wolf toji x f!reader

Warnings- 18+, dark, slight non/con (Toji does not intend to harm you), size kink (both are adults), cave sex, multiple orgasms, nipple biting & play, fingering (Toji has black big nails), raw sex (cumming inside many times), breeding, pussy eating

wc - 2.6k

ART NOT MINE !

As you traverse through the dense woods, you find yourself getting increasingly disoriented, unsure of which way leads back to civilization. The sun's rays barely penetrating the thick canopy above, casting eerie shadows on the forest floor. You begin to worry, knowing that spending the night here could lead to dangerous consequences.

Suddenly, your senses pick up on the sound of rustling leaves nearby. You freeze, trying to discern whether it is an animal or something more sinister.

A figure emerges from behind a tree, and you gasp involuntarily. It is a creature of height 6'1ft, he appears as a magnificent wolf-human hybrid. He is slender but muscular and athletic, and his wolfish aura makes him look intimidating. As he closes on your position you notice his ears flattened on his head and his tail is pointed upright, his body has chiseled muscles and trademark scars, his green sword-like eyes looking through your soul. His mouth bore fang-like teeth that you swear are more vicious than natural canine teeth of humans.

His eyes lock onto yours, a mixture of hunger and desire burning within their depths.

"Hello, human," he growls softly, his voice tinged with an animalistic quality. "Lost, are we? Well, I don't normally go for humans, but you seem intriguing enough."

As you stand frozen in fear and confusion, Toji takes a step closer, his form shifting slightly, the wolf aspects becoming more pronounced. His eyes gleam with lust, and you can faintly smell his pheromones in the air – a testament to his overwhelming need to mate. "Ah finally," he says, taking another step toward you. "It's just my rut, and I need a mate to breed with. Normally, I wouldn't ask a human, but I cannot wait anymore."

His voice is calm, almost soothing despite the terrifying situation. Your heart races as you contemplate your options, but you realize that running might only agitate him further. Nonetheless your legs unconsciously start to move. There is only one way to get out of this- by running.

"So," he continues, his back facing you but when he turns to you, he sees you running, " What's a prey if they don't try running".

With a grin spreading across his face, Toji starts running after you, muscles rippling as he leaps after you. His movements are fluid and quick, darting through the trees with ease. You feel your adrenaline surge, pushing your speed to its limit as you navigate the unfamiliar terrain. However, he seems to know these woods intimately, and your panic increases as you realize you're unable to shake him off.

"Caught you little bunny" he exclaims, grabbing your neck. Despite his triumphant words, there's a hint of concern in his eyes. He pauses, contemplating his next move. "Running isn't going to solve anything, and believe me, you don't want to get hurt.. Or do you?"

"P-please let me go.. I have to get back home."

Toji weighs your plea, his gaze lingering on you thoughtfully. His need for release is urgent, but he doesn't wish to harm you unnecessarily. "I can let you go, but I'm afraid you won't find your way back alone." His voice holds a note of genuine concern, his eyes softening momentarily.

Then, his expression shifts, the wolfish hunger returning. "But," he adds, "If you agree to stay and help alleviate my… condition, I promise to guide you safely back to where you belong. You won't regret it, trust me." He leans close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, "I'll make sure you enjoy it too."

You stand there, contemplating your options. The thought of being alone in these woods, possibly lost for another night, is daunting. On the other hand, submitting to Toji's demands is equally terrifying, but there's a strange allure to it as well. His promise of safety and pleasure seems almost too good to be true.

As you weigh the pros and cons, Toji watches you intently, his eyes never leaving yours. He can sense your hesitation, and it fuels his desire even more. "I understand if you're scared," he says softly, reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "But I promise, I won't hurt you. I just need someone to share this with, and you seem like the perfect one."

His touch is warm and comforting, despite the situation. You can't help but feel a strange sense of comfort in his presence, as if he truly means what he says. "So, what do you say?" he asks, his voice low and seductive. "Will you help me, and let me help you in return?"

"O-only if you promise to be gentle..", you reply, your voice shaking from his intimidating aura.

Toji's eyes crinkle at the corners, a rare smile gracing his features. "Gentle it is," he assures you, his grip on your cheek gentle but firm. "I can't promise but I will try since you are my first human mate.. Come, let's find a suitable spot. We don't want to draw attention, do we?" His voice is smooth, radiating confidence and control. You hesitate, but there's a sense of safety in his presence that you can't deny.

With a deep breath, you take his hand, allowing him to lead you deeper into the woods. The fear is still there, but it's tempered by a growing curiosity. You're stepping into unknown territory, but for some reason, you don't feel threatened. Instead, there's a strange excitement coursing through you, making your heart beat faster.

As you follow Toji deeper into the woods, you begin to notice subtle changes in the landscape. Brambles part before you, revealing a hidden trail leading to a small clearing. In the center of the clearing lies a cave, half-hidden by the surrounding foliage. This is where Toji leads you, guiding you inside with a gentle push.

The cave is surprisingly cozy, lit by the dim light seeping through the entrance. There's a palpable sense of warmth and security, and you can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. Toji observes your reaction, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"This is my den," he explains, gesturing around. "Now, shall we proceed?" He tilts his head, his eyes holding a mix of anticipation and expectation. You can tell that his rut is still strong, but he's patiently waiting for your lead.

Your nod sends a wave of excitement through Toji, his eyes glinting with eagerness.. He quickly steps closer, nearly ripping your pants and panties off. He hovers over you, his eyes locked on yours as he positions himself between your thighs.

Surprised by his sudden movement, you struggle in his grip, "W-wait you need to loosen me up"

Toji pauses, confusion clouding his features for a brief moment. "Loosen you up?" he repeats, his voice heavy with confusion. Then, understanding dawns on his face, and he chuckles softly. "Tsk, I can wait no more but fine since you beg me so obediently", moving between your legs. He gently parts you with his fingers, feeling your dampness.

"You're already prepared," he murmurs, a note of approval in his voice.

"Ah~", your back arches at his finger movements, your back hitting the ground of the cave.

At your response, Toji's eyes darken with lust. He thrusts his fingers into you roughly. "Are ya loose yet?" His eyes remain locked on yours, his expression a mix of impatience and excitement.

"n-no not yet.. a-ah", your voice cracks up in pleasure.

Toji's eyes narrow, his brows furrowing in concentration. He inserts a third finger, thrusting harder this time, stretching you wider. You cry out, a mixture of pleasure and pain washing over you as you near your edge.

"Humans are so responsive..." he mutters, his voice thick with desire as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. His eyes never leave yours, the intensity between you and him building, is only heightened by the dim light of the cave.

Finally, after several more thrusts, you reach your orgasm and he withdraws his fingers, a satisfied smirk gracing his lips. "Ready?" He asks, his gaze locked on your face, waiting for your answer.

"mghh.. n-not now.. I need sometime.. I am sensitive right now", you protest.

Toji's eyes squint in annoyance "Shut up, I have been patient enough. I can't wait any longer."

With that, he positions himself between your legs again .With a sudden powerful surge, Toji thrusts into you, his giant cock stretching your poor hole wide. You gasp, your nails digging into the cave floor as you struggle to adjust to the intense sensation.

"Please.. A-ah .. be gentle"

"Shush..I am trying .. You humans are so fragile.. But", he grunts in pleasure, "ya feel so good. I never thought humans feel this good"

Though he is trying to be gentle, but your insides feel so good that he can't help but move relentlessly, his hips pumping in a primal rhythm. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure and pain through you, your body responding to his dominance.

Despite your initial protest, you can't help but moan loudly, writhing beneath him. His roughness sets you ablaze, and you find yourself meeting his thrusts eagerly. His scent, his strength - everything about this experience overwhelms you. Your body cries out for release, and you know you won't last long.

"That's it, take it!" Toji growls, his eyes locked on yours. His primal nature is on full display, and it's intoxicating.

Your toes curl up as Toji's thrusts intensify, his eyes widening at your reaction. "Fuck, you're tight," he groans, his voice thick with lust. "You feel incredible." His pace quickens, his hips slamming into you with brutal efficiency. You cry out, the cave echoing with your sounds of pleasure and pain.

His rut is nearing its peak, his body trembling with suppressed energy. With one last powerful lunge, he buries himself deep within you, filling you with his seed. "Take it all," he rasps, his breath hot against your neck.

In that moment, you surrender to the sensations, your own climax washing over you. Together, you collapse onto the cave floor, feeling spent but incredibly fulfilled. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, holding him close.

As he recovers, Toji nuzzles your neck, his breathing ragged. "I hope I was gentle enough," he murmurs, his voice filled with satisfaction.

"No .. you are so mean..", you reply panting.

Toji laughs, his chest rumbling against your throat. "Mean? Maybe, but effective, wouldn't you agree?" He teases, his grip on you tightening. "Besides, don't lie, you enjoyed it too."

He's right, you did enjoy it - despite the roughness. The intensity of the encounter left you shaken yet exhilarated. He turns you on your stomach "don't think it's over yet.. It's just a starting"

"w-what?", your pupil dilates at the though.

Toji pushes you on your stomach and he enters from behind. You moan, feeling him stretch you once again. With a smirk, he begins to thrust relentlessly, his body slamming against yours. His large hands grip your sides, holding you steady as he takes you from behind.

"We are going to do it whole night" he growls, each word punctuated by his thrusts.

You cry out, your body responding eagerly to his advances. You can't deny the pleasure surging through you. His dominance excites you, the raw intensity of his actions sending you spiraling towards another climax.

"God, you're so good," he praises, his voice thick with lust. "I could spend hours with you, sweet human."

"P-please can't no more", you plead.

Toji stills, pulling his cock out, your body shaking from oversensitiveness. "Already?" then he thrusts into you again. "I know you can handle this."

You cry out, feeling him entering you again.

Time skips, and you and he are still at it, you don't know what time it is, you don't know how many orgasms coursed through you.. The only thing you know is the pleasure you are getting from this.

Toji's eyes shine with lust, his hands firmly grasping your hips as he bounces you on his lap. Your hair falls in disarray around your face, your skin flushed from exertion. Each thrust elicits a soft moan from you, your body responding to his every command.

"Feel good?" he asks, his voice low and sultry. His eyes hold a mixture of satisfaction and hunger, his gaze never leaving your face. You nod, breathless, your nails scratching lightly at his shoulders.

"Good," he growls, increasing his pace. "I knew you'd love this." His hips buck, driving into you harder, faster. You cry out, your body reacting to his every touch.

"p-please play with my nipples too.. mhmm", your face flush with shame as you beg him to pleasure you. Unknowingly removing your hands remove your top and push up your bra, revealing your breasts with stiffening nipples.

Toji's eyes light up at your request, his hands immediately moving to your breasts. He pinches your nipples gently, then harder, eliciting a mix of pleasure and pain from you. You cry out, your body arching in response.

"You like that?" he asks, his voice thick with lust. "Is this what you wanted?"

You nod, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He leans to catch one of your bouncing tits in his mouth, licking and sucking. His fangs brush your nipples, nibbling on them gently

"f-fuck .. dont bite them.. ahhh."

Toji pulls back, releasing your nipple with a wet pop. He looks at you, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. "My apologies," he says, feigning innocence. "It seemed to please you though."

He resumes his thrusts, his movements fierce and unrestrained. His hands pinch and twist your nipples, his tongue lashing over them in turn. Each touch sends waves of pleasure-pain coursing through you, your body responding eagerly.

"I'm close," you whisper, your voice hoarse.

"Not yet," he growls, his eyes darkening. "I'm not done with you."

His words send a fresh wave of arousal coursing through you, pushing you closer to the edge. You cry out, your body writhing beneath him as he plays with your nipples, fucking you relentlessly.

"R-really can't anymore.. please let me .. let me cum", you beg him, tears falling from your cheeks.

Toji's eyes meet your teary eyes, his breath ragged.

"Don't cry little human", he licks your cheek wiping off your tears. "Then cum," he growls, his voice rough with pleasure. "Let go."

With a final, hard thrust, he drives into you, the motion perfectly synchronized with your climax. You cry out, your body shaking as you crest over the edge. He follows suit, his cock pulsing within you as he finds his own release. He growls which sounds more like a howl, as he fills your womb with his thick seed.

Exhausted, you slump against him, your breathing ragged. He holds you close, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

Soon you pass out. Toji catches you easily, his grip firm yet tender. "Awww. I wanted more though," he whispers, his voice softening, "but fine.. I have had enough fun.. I will help ya return tomorrow"

He gazes at your sleeping form, a hint of tenderness in his eyes. Despite his rough exterior, he cares for you. He wraps his big arms around you covering your fragile body, ensuring you stay warm throughout the night.

You awaken slowly, feeling warm, wet warmth between your legs. Your eyes flutter open, landing on Toji's face, his eyes gleaming with desire as he licks your cunt. The sight is both erotic and overwhelming.

"Morning," he greets, his voice thick with lust. "How are you feeling?"

You swallow hard, your heart racing. "W-what are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" he responds, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Cleaning you up after last night's fun."

You blush, your body reacting to his touch whether you want it to or not. Your eyes squeeze shut as he licks and kisses your most intimate places.

"Mmm, you taste delicious," he murmurs, his voice vibrating against your skin. "Like sweet honey."

"H-hey you said.. you will help me return back home.."

Toji raises his head, his eyes locked on yours. "Go home?" he repeats, surprise clear in his voice. "Oh yes.. But I want to fuck you before I leave you alone for good"

Your skin is already sensitive from his licks and touches, your body ready for more. You bite your lower lip before nodding.

He grins, his eyes filled with lust. "What we waiting for then?" He quickly moves, positioning himself between your legs.

He chuckles as your walls devour his huge girth. "I love how good your taking me.. Fuck.. I'll always find you during my rut, my little bunny."

[hgfictionwriter]

Mine

Summary: Jessie knows you love her. She knows you're well satisfied. But there are still times she likes to remind you that you're hers.

Warnings: G!p smut. Possessive/jealous sex. Condom breaking. Risky/unprotected sex. Semi-public sex. Language.

A/N: Please take the G!P (girl penis) warning seriously. If that kind of content is not for you, please don’t read. Beyond that, I was loving the idea of little, quiet Jessie being the one reader chooses over more traditional 'big, tall and sexy' types and some of the cocky, possessiveness that might come along with that!

Jessie wasn't boisterous. She didn't seek being the center of attention. Her charm wasn't in being loud or exuberant. And she was fine with that - happy with it, even. That hadn’t always been the case. She used to feel like she needed to be louder, more brash, but not anymore.

Being the way she was had gotten her far in many aspects of her life. And in particular, for the past year and a bit, she was the one who held your attention and you called your girlfriend.

While Jessie was fun and open when it was just you two or with close friends, overall she was reserved. Especially in big groups, such as tonight at one of your work engagements. This type being the worst - stuffy, formal gala-type events.

Jessie spent most of the evening quietly observing. Standing on the periphery as you mingled and did your thing. You never left for too long, coming back to check in on her or pull her into a group discussion; smiling affectionately and resting a hand on her arm, chest or waist in a way that warmed her no matter how she was feeling in the moment.

As much as she didn't like these obligations, she was willing for you and you did your best to make them as bearable as possible. Besides, it was only fair since you had to come to her affairs as well.

One thing had been grating on Jessie though. Your coworker Deacon.

He was one of those alpha, sickly charming types. She'd heard stories about him through you and your work friends and already didn't like him, though everyone else seemed to. Then she met him, him towering over her and giving her a handshake that was embarrassingly hard and long when they met for the first time. Jessie actually cocked an eyebrow at him over it.

What irked Jessie the most though was his thinly veiled interest in you. Worst part was, you hardly seemed to mind.

"Deac? He's harmless," you'd say.

Deac. Jessie glowered at the recollection.

She knew you loved her. You made no secret of that. But you were her girlfriend. Hearing about his - from Jessie's perspective - unabashed flirtations was getting increasingly difficult to tolerate. It was to the point now whenever he came up she practically bristled.

She'd never made much of a fuss about him before. He was your coworker, you were stuck with him and as long as you weren't feeling threatened or uncomfortable, she didn't want to create unnecessary complications or tension for you.

But tonight, as he leaned in to laugh at your witty conversation, his eyes all over you and a hand on your arm as he offered to get you a refill, her patience wore thin.

A silent, seething breath escaped Jessie as he stepped away to get you a drink.

"I'm right here, you know," Jessie said, a slight edge creeping into her voice. "I could've gotten you a drink." You turned, giving her a perplexed look.

"What? He was getting his own drink and just offered. You have a full drink, why would you go to the bar?"

Jessie averted her gaze with a huff and disbelieving smile on her face.

"You really don't see it?" Jessie asked flatly as she met your inquiring gaze. You made a face at her and she held back a scoff. "He's hitting on you. All the time."

"Jess," your voice imploring right away. "You're still on that? There's nothing. He's just friendly and he's like that with everyone. Noah in accounting? Now he's a creep. Deac is just a big teddy bear."

Now Jessie really did scoff. "Wow. Friendly. A teddy bear. Sure," she said dryly. "And no, he's not like that with everyone. Believe me." You rolled your eyes.

"I disagree," you returned as you folded your arms against your chest. You cocked your head at her, giving her a pointed look. "You know, Sam, or Teagan," you voice rising in emphasis, "aren't all that different from Deac. And you don't have a problem with them."

"They are not anything like him," Jessie replied, getting fired up. You sighed, but your demeanour softened once more.

"All I mean is they're all just very outgoing, good natured, sometimes borderline flirtatious types. That's just how they are with people. It doesn't necessarily mean anything."

"Oh, he absolutely means something when he flirts with you," Jessie replied without skipping a beat. You let out another brief sigh of exasperation.

"Jessie," you said as you held your hands together in emphasis, "I need you to trust me. There is nothing going on and nothing to worry about. I am very much in love with you and not interested in anyone else. Deacon included. And - if it makes a difference - even if, if, he liked me, it wouldn't matter to me."

"I do trust you," she said, her voice softer this time.

"But you don't trust him. Am I right?" You asked, a slight smirk tugging at your lips as you arched an eyebrow. "You don't need to be insecure, Jess. He could never sway me."

"I'm not insecure," Jessie told you, frown deepening. It was true. She wasn't worried you'd leave her. She knew you loved each other, and she knew you were - how should she put it - well satisfied. It was really more that she didn't like someone eyeing up what was hers. The feeling spurred a heavy pit in her stomach. She shouldn't think that way.

You weren't an object to her. Far from it. But she'd won your love and she loved and adored you. It was you and her, and even the thought of someone else picturing themselves with you left her less than pleased.

"You seem pretty jealous to me," you said, more in amusement than anything. Jessie felt a small wave of relief go through her at the hint of levity in your discussion.

"Maybe possessive is the better word," Jessie confessed in a hushed tone, averting her gaze before meeting yours again. She waited as you seemed to study her a moment.

"Is there a difference?" You inquired with seemingly genuine curiosity.

The corner of Jessie's mouth quirked up into a smirk as she took a step towards you, voice low.

"Jealous, to me, means I'm worried you're going to leave. Or I'm envious of anything to do with you and Deac. I'm not - it's my bed you're in at night," she finished closing the space between you, her eyes lingering on yours before she leaned into your ear to whisper, "my fingers, my cock, inside of you. It's me who makes your legs shake, who pleases you until you can barely string a sentence together." She softened slightly. "And it's me who gets to make you breakfast in the morning and kiss you goodbye on your way to work. And it's my hand you hold when you walk down the street."

She pulled back again enough to see you, satisfied with the light flush of your cheeks and the way your eyes followed her every move.

"Possessive though," she went on, pausing for a beat. She'd never expressed this to you and she should probably keep it to herself, but she couldn't will herself to stop. "Means that you're mine. And I don't appreciate someone else eyeing you up and trying to take you away, even if I know you don't intend to leave."

Jessie watched you carefully, spying the way you visibly swallowed and how your cheeks grew a shade darker. Most telling though, was the look in your eye.

"I'm yours, am I?" You finally asked, trying to hold a hint of defiance in your tone, but Jessie wasn't fooled.

She simply nodded. "Mhmm. And if you didn't know that, then I'm not doing a good enough job of showing you."

You touched the back of your neck while you smiled at her as your cheeks reddened further. Your smile shifted from coy to teasing.

"Yeah? Maybe I'm not entirely convinced."

Something churned deep inside of Jessie at your challenge. She narrowed her eyes at you as a salacious grin tugged at her lips.

"Baby girl," she warned gently with a slight tilt of her head, "that's a dangerous thing to say to me."

You gave her a cheeky smirk, tilting your head in the same manner. "I guess we'll see." You turned your head, gesturing away. "I'm going to the washroom. I'll see you later?"

Jessie studied you, gauging if you were truly offering what she thought you were. You gave her a wink as you walked away.

She smiled further as she appreciated your form as you retreated into the crowd. And you, of course, knew she'd devour you with her eyes.

She waited a few seconds before she casually started navigating through the crowd, her eyes not leaving you as she followed. A short while later she was rounding the corner to the hall of private bathrooms and caught your eye as you stepped into one of the rooms.

Jessie mused that was one perk of a showy party like this.

A few moments later Jessie was letting herself in and locking the door behind her. The bathroom was gaudy; marble floors and walls, adorned with gold trim and matte black fixtures. But her attention was fully transfixed on you.

Her eyes dragged up and down your body. You didn’t often wear dresses and heels, so this was a treat for her. You looked stunning, standing there with your hands clasped behind your back.

“And what exactly are you doing here?” You asked with a playful look. Jessie cocked a smirk for you.

“Making sure my girlfriend knows fully well that she’s mine and no one else’s. That even if some charming guy hits on her, she knows she belongs to me,” she replied easily, not breaking your gaze as she closed the space between you and placed her hands on your waist.

"I probably shouldn't find that so sexy,” you said, just a hint of breathlessness in your voice as you gave her a small smile.

Jessie didn’t miss a beat. She picked you up and set you down on the counter, your legs immediately wrapping around her waist. She smirked further.

"You probably shouldn't be at your work party with your legs spread looking to get railed by your girlfriend either," she said as she nipped at your neck.

"Oh fuck," you moaned, louder than intended. Your gaze darted to the bathroom door before returning to Jessie who chuckled. You gave a haughty tilt of your head in response.

"You're loving this, aren't you?" You reached down, cupping her and discovering a pronounced bulge underneath her dress pants. You moaned in appreciation as you began rubbing her.

"Mm," Jessie said as her shoulders rolled back at your touch. "Feel how hard I am for you, baby?" A wave shot through her at how your eyes fell shut at the comment and you opened them to give her a hungry look.

You continued to stroke her through her pants, your fingers making a point of teasing her head. "This is the only cock I want."

Jessie's chest rumbled and she dug her fingers into your thighs. "It better be," she said as she rocked her hips into your hand.

"It is," you affirmed softly as you held her gaze. "But why don't you remind me why it should be?"

"Jesus," Jessie relayed with a growing grin. She glanced back over her shoulder to double-check the door was locked before she dipped her head down and began kissing your neck once more.

Her hand worked its way under your dress and up your thigh before reaching your underwear. She gently tugged them aside and experimentally dipped two fingers along your slit. Her cock twitched under your hand and she audibly gasped, her knees nearly buckling, at how wet you were.

"God," Jessie grunt out. "The way you are absolutely dripping wet right now, you clearly love the idea of being mine." You whimpered in response, your hips bucking up and begging for more contact.

"Patience, baby. I'll have you cumming on my cock soon enough," she teased as she hooked her fingers into your panties and pulled them down your legs. She smiled at you with a wink as she tucked them into her pocket. She beamed internally at how your jaw fell at the gesture.

Your hand moved up from her bulge to start undoing her pants. Jessie watched your face the entire time in adoration until you started to push her pants down past her hips and she helped you, dropping them to the floor. You tugged at her boxer briefs right away and she chuckled as she shimmied them down as well, her cock springing up immediately.

She smirked at the way you bit your lip and silently writhed on the counter staring down at her length that stood at full attention for you. She dipped her fingers into you once more so they were coated in your juices and she pumped her cock up and down a few times with your arousal.

"God," you said as you leaned back against the mirror, watching her eagerly.

Jessie wiped her hand quickly before she grabbed the bottom of your dress and helped you move it up your body. She massaged your thighs and the juncture at your hips as she stared at your pussy, admiring and appreciating it.

"Fuck, I love you," Jessie breathed as she looked back up at you.

"I love you, too," you told her as you leaned forward and grasped her in your hand, pulling her hips towards your core and started jerking her up and down. She exhaled as a grin formed on her face.

"Hold on, baby," she chuckled as she reached into your purse and retrieved a condom. She eyed you as she held it up to her mouth and tore off the corner of the package. She'd barely opened it when you reached up and snatched it out of the wrapper and began sensually rolling it onto her, jerking her once more.

Jessie exhaled heavily as you teased her, but soon enough it was on and she held her firm cock at your sopping entrance. Your fingers dug into the back of her neck in anticipation as she slowly pushed herself inside of you, loving the way you gasped as she patiently stretched you out.

"Fuck, I love this pussy," she told you as you held her in a vice grip, Jessie blinking several times over as she struggled to come down from the initial rush of having your hot, wet tunnel surrounding her.

"You remember that," you teased as you rocked her hips into her.

Knowing you didn't have a ton of time, Jessie didn't draw things out like she normally would. Soon, she was thrusting into you, her hips slapping against your ass, your back against the mirror and your body shifting up and down it with every stroke. You felt fucking amazing.

She wrapped one arm around your back to pull you closer while the other held up one of your legs. She adored the way you panted and whimpered in her ear.

At one point, Jessie leaned back, wanting to change the angle and she glanced down to catch a glimpse of her cock pumping into you. She stopped mid-stroke.

"Uh," she said, eyes fixed on your lips stretched around her bare cock, just the ring of the condom at the base of her, "the condom broke."

"What?" You asked, shifting forward and glancing down.

"Fuck," Jessie breathed. "Do we have another?"

You didn't. Jessie let out a low grumble as she rest her head against yours, her aching cock sitting idle within the fluttering walls of your heat as you two contemplated what to do. She did her best to stay still.

"I'll eat you out. I'll finish myself off, and then we either just go back to the party, or," she gave a nonchalant shrug, "I take you home and fuck you through the mattress."

She expected you to laugh, but you didn't. Your eyes remained fixed on hers, your expression even and then you started to shift your hips against her. Jessie groaned.

"If I'm yours - like you say I am - then," you paused for a second before you rocked yourself more prominently against her, "you should get to be inside me. Properly."

Jessie frowned at you, doing her best to ignore the jolts of pleasure you were sending through her with every movement. Her mind was clouded over with pleasure. She looked at the counter idly before up at you again. "And what, just pull out?"

"Yeah," you said, as you laced your fingers behind her neck and pulled her in for a heated kiss.

Jessie started slowly pumping into you again without even realizing it. This newfound discovery had Jessie buzzing. Her fingers dug into you and soon she was pumping into you with full, firm strokes that had you whimpering even more so than before. Seemed you liked it, too.

"Shit, Jess. This is so hot," you whispered as you clawed at her, pulling her ever closer.

Jessie merely grunted as she thrust her hips into you. She couldn't discern right now if it was a true physical difference or just the thought of it all that was sending her to new heights, and honestly, she didn't care.

"Oh fuck," she gasped a short while later. "I'm gonna cum, babe."

"Don't stop, Jess. I'm almost there," you pleaded.

"Oh shit," Jessie winced as she tried to fend off her climax, but the way you were flexing around her was making it near impossible. Her jaw clenched tightly as she tried to hold back.

The aching between her legs was almost painful by the time you sunk your teeth into her shoulder, a muffled cry falling from your lips as you began to convulse around her. It set Jessie off.

She pulled out as quickly as she could, jets of cum shooting out of her cock as she withdrew, strings landing on your slit and others onto your stomach as she moved to hold herself above you.

"Shit," Jessie grunted still in the aftermath of her orgasm, her cock no longer pulsing in her hand. "I-I don't think I pulled out in time."

Her heart raced as she braved a look at you. She watched you apprehensively as you stared back at her, expression unreadable. You held her gaze as you reached down and began to stroke her, surprising Jessie.

"Guess now I really am yours," you said softly as your fingers wrapped more fully around her, slowly pumping up and down and coaxing her again. You grabbed her by the tie and pulled her in for a kiss. "I'd say the damage is done. No point in pulling out again tonight."

Jessie's jaw shuddered with a gasp, an indescribable feeling washing over her entire body. Her cock didn't even have time to soften, now fully hard already under your warm touch.

"Ready to go again?" You asked, locking eyes with her. She didn't even reply, she grasped the hand you had wrapped around her and lifted it to her mouth, giving you a soft kiss before she grabbed her cock and ran her length along your slit, making sure to tease your clit. She grinned at how your gripped the edge of the counter in response.

Soon, Jessie was inside you - entirely bare and raw - seemingly a drug of some kind, as you fucked with even more intensity this time around.

"We've been talking all night about how I'm yours. But I think you're mine," you taunted in her ear. "This cock is mine - the way my pussy had you cumming before you could pull out. The way you were straining for me just moments later. I'd say your cock - and you - belong to me."

A shiver went through Jessie's entire body. Her head felt dizzy with lust as she pumped abandonly into you.

"My cock belongs in this pussy. Nowhere else," she declared, voice shuddering as she locked eyes with yours to see you watching her intensely. Jessie's shoulders rounded out as she pulled you closer. "And my cum belongs in this pussy, too." Her eyes slammed shut as you flexed around her with an impish stare.

"That's right baby," you said soothingly as you caressed her cheek. Sweat beaded down her face and her feverishness continued to grow as she growled into you.

"You're going to walk out of here with my cum so deep inside of you and dripping down your legs. Deac is going to wonder why you're flushed, if your hair was this disheveled all night, he's going to smile at you not knowing that I claimed this fucking pussy just minutes before. That we wanted each other so bad we couldn't even make it home to fuck - I had to take you right here."

Your head fell back, eyes closed as strangled cries fell from your lips as you tried to muffle them. She watched, intoxicated by every nuance of your reactions.

"God, baby, I'm so close," you panted as you absently scratched at Jessie's back, your fingers digging into her shirt.

"Where do you want it?" Jessie asked, teasing, but also wanting to be sure.

"In me, in me," you chanted with no hesitation. You opened your eyes to meet her piercing stare. "I want you to fill me."

Jessie grunted as her gaze fell to see her cock pumping in and out of you, white bands of cum coating her. She adored the way your lips hugged her tightly as she stretched out you.

She kept her thrusts and circling of your clit steady as she fought to send you over the edge before her. Small huffs of exertion escaped her mouth as she watched you writhe and whimper until your body stiffened. You began to pulse around her and your mouth fell open in a silent cry as your climax took you.

She gripped your hips tightly and let the intensity that pulled incessantly at her finally overtake her. She held a laboured grunt in her throat as she pulled you flush against her and bottomed out as she spilled herself inside of you. She moaned deep in her throat several more times as she held your hips fixed against her while she rut primally into you.

In time, Jessie pulled out, kneeling before you in exhaustion. Her eyes immediately landed on your core, her cum starting to weep out of you.

She watched in awe, bringing her hands to your thighs, you obliging as she gently pushed your legs apart and watched it begin to seep and drip down you. She held back the urge to dive in, licking it up and having you cum on her tongue. Instead, she reached in and pushed the cum back into you with her thumb.

She looked up to you with a wicked smile. "I don't want it dripping out of you just yet."

[the-offside-rule]

Jenson Button (McLaren Era) - Formal

Requested: yes

Prompt: reader using Jensons name instead of his pet name

Warnings: none tbh

Jenson's fingers tapped against the steering wheel as he navigated the familiar roads home from the McLaren Technology Centre. The hum of the engine was drowned out by the cheerful voice of his girlfriend, Y/n, on the other end of the line. "Heya, love." She said, her tone a touch too sweet for the usual end-of-day call. "Could you do me a favor?" Jenson smiled, glancing at the clock. "Of course, darling. What's up?" He asked, beginning to drive down the long road down the MTC. "Well, I was thinking... can you swing by McDonald's and grab me some chips, maybe a burger and a chocolate shake? I'm craving it." She requested, her voice holding a peculiar edge.

"Yeah okay, darling. Burger, chips and a chocolate shake, got it." He replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. Y/n rarely asked for such specific fast food orders. "Oh, and Jenson-" She continued, emphasizing his full name instead of the usual pet names she used. "Make sure it's fresh, okay?" A small frown creased Jenson's forehead. "Not if you keep calling me that." Jenson replied. "What do you mean? I called you Jenson." Y/n said, kind of confused. "Why the sudden formality? You never call me Jenson unless something's up." Y/n giggled amusingly. "Nothing's up, love, I promise. I just thought it would be nice for a change."

"Well don't, please and thank you. I quite like you calling me my pet name." Jenson's skepticism lingered as he pulled into the McDonald's drive-thru. "Jenson, your parents gave you that name." He rolled the window down. "Yes, my parents. You, darling, are my girlfriend. I like when you call me love and if you don't I'm afraid I'll have to block you." He ordered the requested items, making a mental note to ensure they were as hot as possible by the time he got home. As he drove away with the bag of fast food, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Y/n's request.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Jenson's heart raced as he hurriedly navigated through the evening traffic, eager to reach home and see what he'd done done annoy his girlfriend this time. The anticipation of seeing her after a long day fueled his desire to press on the accelerator just a bit more. Blue and red lights flashed behind him, causing Jenson to let out an exasperated sigh. Pulling over and groaning, he rolled down his window to meet the stern gaze of a police officer. "Do you have any idea how fast you were going?" The officer asked upon reaching the car. Jenson offered a sheepish smile. "I might have been going a tad over the limit, officer. Apologies, I'm just trying to get home."

The officer raised an eyebrow. "Home, huh? And where might that be?" He asked. "Right down the road." Jenson replied, gesturing vaguely ahead. "I've been away for a while, you see. Just eager to get back." The officer eyed Jenson skeptically. "You expect me to believe that? You're in quite a hurry. Who do you think you are? Lewis Hamilton?" Jenson couldn't help but chuckle at the comparison. "No, but I've beaten him a good few times." He replied, smirking.

The officer's expression remained stoic. "I don't appreciate jokes, sir. License and registration, please." Suppressing a sigh, Jenson reached for his documents and handed them over. The officer scrutinized them before returning to his patrol car to run a check. As Jenson waited, he couldn't help but replay the encounter in his mind. He understood the officer's duty, but the delay was becoming increasingly frustrating.

Finally, the officer returned, ticket in hand. "I'm issuing you a speeding ticket, Mr. Button. Please drive more responsibly in the future." Jenson gave a fake smile and took the ticket. "I appreciate the reminder, officer. I'll keep that in mind." As the officer walked off, Jenson mumbled to himself, the words "complete arsehole" being repeated multiple times.

Once home, he found Y/n sitting on the couch, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You're back! Thanks, Jenson." He handed her the bag, studying her carefully. "Alright. What's going on? Why the sudden craving and the formal use of my name?" Y/n smirked, unable to keep the secret any longer. "Okay, okay. I just wanted to see how you'd react. I like getting reactions out of you." She smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

Jenson raised an eyebrow. "Really? You made me drive to McDonald's and speed home because I thought you were pissed off with me. I got a speeding ticket!" Jenson said, lifting the ticket. "And you have a Happy girlfriend who now has McDonald's." Jenson chuckled, shaking his head. "You're something else, Y/n. Next time, just ask for McDonald's without the elaborate plan."

"It's not as effective though, is it?" She teased.

[erinkeifer]

The Informant

[Anakin Skywalker x Padawan!Fem Reader]

Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3

Summary: So, Anakin found out that you informed on him and Padmé at the Temple, leading to the end of his romance? Oh, your mistake. Just wait until he barges into your quarters to settle the score fairly.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI | brutal smut | hate sex | angst | mirror sex | slapping | reader's serious injury during sex (head smashed against the mirror) | blood | PiV unprotected | hair pulling | cursing | degradation | dom!Anakin | sub!Reader | reader is toxic af | no comfort | no aftercare Author note: Yes, I haven't written many warnings before, but I consider this story to be one of my favorites that I've written. I've edited it many times - today I'm sharing it in a completely different form than it was meant to be, and it was supposed to be much darker. However, I don't want any content drama- I'm coming back after a long break and I want peace, so I assure you that every brutal move described in this story is motivated by immense sexual frustration on BOTH sides.

Word Count: 3,5k

Anakin stood behind the corner when you were selling him. He was there, gazing at your face, which seemed to be proud of itself and could barely restrain its foolish grin because you thought you were executing a perfect plan. "General… Unfortunately, they were there again, together… I want the best for Master Skywalker, and I can't help but be concerned that perhaps he puts… THOSE feelings above the gravity of the mission..." you spoke to Kenobi with that artificially emphasized solemnity from beneath which protruded the most insidious idea. Anakin clenched his fists, struggling to listen to your report deliberately designed to undermine him. He didn't know you had seen him with Padme. You didn't know he had seen you when you were informing. For a while, you were entangled in blissful ignorance, but soon everything was about to end in the worst possible way. ................................................................................................................. Weeks had passed since that incident, weeks during which Anakin ceased to be himself towards you - yet he had no intention of telling you why. In the first days, your training sessions became more intense - when you fell, he wouldn't lend you a hand, and when you took a hit too hard, he had no intention of apologizing, and your days didn't end with a smile he used to give you. You were sure that maybe he had worse days, perhaps the Council was giving him a hard time… There was also another option that you considered, and although you couldn't say it out loud - you counted on it the most. Troubles with Padmé.

Your unhealthy desire to take the place of that woman overshadowed your common sense, and you convinced yourself of it day by day, implementing increasingly risky and far-reaching ideas into your life. Your latest one was soon to show its effects- it was about to explode when early this morning, you learned that the senator you despised had left the Order's gates. The relationship between Anakin and Padmé had come to an end, and you were glowing.

On that day, you didn't encounter Anakin in the Temple. Your usual training took place with Kenobi instead, and although the older Jedi tried not to convey any negative emotions that day, you felt a crisis atmosphere in the air. You didn't know the details and were unsure of what exactly was happening. In the morning, you questioned your friendly, usually well-informed guards if they knew where your Master might be, but each person you asked seemed to have the same rehearsed version they were allowed to share. Were the details crucial to you? Probably not, as the only thing that mattered to you was to sense the right moment to implement your next plan. A plan titled: a caring, concerned Padawan who gets what she wants.

As you returned to your quarters in the evening, the corridors seemed darker than usual. With no significant missions left for the day, you had lingered a bit too long in the cantina, and it would be a lie to say that during your time there, you hadn't thought about Anakin. Where he was, what he was doing, what he was feeling… But what did his feelings truly mean to you, when your hands reached for the knife that, though invisible, stabbed Anakin straight in the heart? You didn't know yourself, but ironically, you were certain that the pain that would accompany your achievement would be swept under the rug. At this hour, you passed no one in the corridors- the atmosphere was so chilly that you instinctively quickened your pace to reach your quarters as soon as possible, to freshen up and forget all the tension. The doors, which you always had to unlock first, turned out to be unlocked- you probably forgot to do so the last time you left your place, and knowing your absent-mindedness well, you didn't dwell on it too much, simply closing them behind you and shedding your outerwear without hesitation as you made your way to the bathroom.

Though you felt like you were shining, you weren't shining at all. When you looked at your reflection in the mirror, you focused on the dark circles under your tired eyes, and your hair was a mess. So, you reached for the comb and painstakingly untangled each strand of your hair, helping yourself with your fingers. Finally feeling that your hair was suitable for a neat ponytail, you grabbed the nearest hair tie within your reach and tied your hair back enough so it wouldn't bother you while washing your face. The first splash of water was a relief for your face, but before the water reached the temperature you expected, the clogged sink managed to fill halfway with water. However, this didn't stop you from finally being able to apply your favorite cleansing gel to your face and wash away the dirt from the whole day. Sudden pain. Sudden pain stole your senses as you bent down under the running water. Instinctively, you grabbed onto the porcelain countertop when you choked on the water - not from a single drop, not from a stream accidentally spraying into your nostrils. Your face submerged in the water standing in the sink, and there was a hand on your neck that didn't belong to you.

For a moment, you felt like you were in nightmares, which, although rare, when they did occur, manifested in their most intense form. You thought someone or something was using the Force on you, but the touch squeezing your throat was real. Desperately, you gasped for air as the mysterious hand impulsively pulled your face out of the water, and when your lashes were finally free of water, the answer to all your questions was found in the mirror. "M-master…?" you mumbled with a muffled voice, feeling water rushing into your sinuses. Anakin stood behind you, his face practically devoid of any emotion, which probably scared you the most in this picture. His eyes, with dilated pupils that seemed darker than ever, stared at your reflection in the mirror lifelessly and without a hint of empathy. "What do you want to happen next?" he asked in a cold, hoarse voice. "Master, I think I don't underst…" "I'm asking clearly. What do you want to happen next?" he interrupted, sensing that you were playing dumb by responding this way to his words. "I… I… Really…" you started to stammer, lowering your gaze from his reflection in the mirror, but he was quicker to interrupt you again. You felt the strong grip of his second, mechanical hand on your shoulder as he turned you towards him, so that you leaned back against the sink, and your face, though much lower due to your difference in height, was inches away from his face.

"You know what happened. No one had to tell you. You know she's gone, and you know who's behind it." he continued, his hand that was previously on your throat now gripping your chin. "Master, I really don't…" you began, wincing in pain as his hand tightened almost to the point of bruising on your chin. "You damn well know who… And I damn well know who… All I want is to hear it from you." he added through gritted teeth, and at that moment, you felt a hatred unlike any you had ever felt before - not even when facing the worst, hostile scum on missions.

"I… I…"

"Exactly. You. You. And if something had tempted me earlier… I would have been done with you long ago, but I decided to wait, maybe nothing would happen, and I'd ruin your life…" Skywalker continued with deadly seriousness, and you realized how utterly hopeless your situation was.

"Anakin… I didn't want to! I didn't want it to happen this way! I…" you could have continued shouting, if Anakin's finger hadn't found its way in a silencing gesture over your lips.

"This way… Funny. Funny, because you did. You wanted it to happen, but according to your delusional script." Anakin spoke, and you preferred to stay silent. You listened and wished the ground would swallow you whole, most of all, terrified by the realization that everything he said was true.

"And you know, delusional scripts of filthy bitches like you rarely come true, don't they?" he continued, holding onto his terrifyingly serious tone.

Overwhelmed by shock, all you could manage was a numb nod of disapproval - you couldn't squeeze out a single word, and Anakin didn't even expect you to. "Let's consider, though… How it would look in your little, stupid head…" he added after a moment, lowering his hand from your chin, leaving your delicate skin reddened from the strong grip. "Assuming I didn't see or hear what you did in the council, and I lived in blissful ignorance… You'd now play the hero and pretend in front of me that you have shreds of humanity left in you and want what's best for me, wouldn't you?"

"But… I didn't say that I…"

"And you didn't have to. Just thinking it was enough, wasn't it?" Anakin folded his arms across his chest as he spoke these words, and you would be inclined to admit that beneath his controlled demeanor, he seemed on the verge of exploding at any moment. You wanted to run away, but you couldn't. You wanted to defend yourself, but you had nothing to defend yourself with. You wanted to speak, but you had no words. "It's nice to ponder like this… 'What if'… But we're here and now, and you still haven't answered my first question..." Anakin continued, and upon hearing the mention of the question, you raised your gaze to look at him. "What do you want to happen next?"

Skywalker left you in complete emptiness, posing the question once again. You felt so depleted that you had no idea what to expect - from him, from yourself, from everything. Your heart rate quickened with each moment of silence, and this time, Anakin seemed genuinely eager for your response. "Oh, don't bother. Especially since I know very well what you want to happen next." Barely had you processed your Master's words in your mind when two strong hands grabbed you at hip level and turned your figure back towards the mirror. You leaned against the porcelain sink with your front while he stood behind you, just inches from your back, his gaze fixed on your figure in the mirror wild and filled with hatred. "Do you know you've hurt me?" he asked after another moment of silence, placing his both large hands on either side of you, enclosing you. "And you know it's going to hurt?" he added shortly after, not giving you time to respond, assuming you knew well what you had done.

"I know." you answered with a trembling voice, not really aware of which of the two questions you subconsciously answered to him. "Good." he replied with a terrifyingly calm voice, then you heard the clinking of the belt from behind, sending shivers down your spine. "Bend over." he growled, and you did as he commanded, trying to sneak glances at him in the mirror opposite. "Give me that." he added after a moment, pointing towards the bandage scissors lying closer within your reach, and you obediently handed them to him. Anakin snatched the scissors from your trembling hand and without further hesitation, swiftly cut your thin jumpsuit at the waistline with one quick motion, without considering whether it would injure your skin. You hissed sharply as you felt the blunt blade irritating your skin, and just a few seconds later, a shallow, bleeding cut on your skin could be seen from the hole.

He had no interest in bothering with the zipper on your jumpsuit when he had a sharp tool at his disposal. The material split precisely at the cut, allowing him to tear it further and rip it around the circumference, so Skywalker didn't wait any longer. He yanked on the exposed fabric, and when he could afford it, he began to pull down the lower part of your torn jumpsuit. "You fuckin' slut…" he muttered when he saw that the part of the material he was pulling down revealed your bare ass without any underwear. You had your head bowed down, but upon hearing his words and being aware of what was happening, you smiled to yourself at the corner of your mouth. Your overly confident, slutty smile quickly vanished from your face as you opened your mouth in shock when Anakin entered you without warning - so quickly and desperately that part of the carelessly pulled-down fabric of your jumpsuit irritated his balls as he tried to bottom out. "Fuck…" he muttered through clenched teeth as you let out a long, dull moan. From his throat emanated a range of sounds that you had never heard before - even before he fully filled you, his breath was heavy and distinctly audible, but it was only now that you could hear the frustration pouring out of his vocal cords. His gaze in the mirror, aiming straight into your eyes, was both humiliating and arousing. You wanted it, and you couldn't hide it. If anyone was to destroy you after the failure of your plans, it was him - Anakin Skywalker. The man who was currently destroying you in the way you had dreamed of. "Anakin!" you yelled, your voice growing increasingly breathless by the second as he began to rhythmically pound into you. "What do you want? Should I go harder??" he grunted, gripping your hips tightly, occasionally tugging down on the shreds of your jumpsuit material that bunched up from his movements in frustration. He initiated it sloppily and desperately - without any preparation, standing behind you in his black robes, his cock protruding from the unbuttoned fly, teasing you with every dangling stride. Hopelessly, you nodded in agreement to his words, slowly allowing yourself to be completely consumed by the sensation he was giving you, but your lack of a clear response only fueled his frustration further. "Stop nodding and speak. I want to hear it." he demanded in a louder tone, his teeth almost constantly clenched. "I want… I want it harder…" you mumbled, unaware that you had just revealed to Anakin what he feared most - pleasure from what he was doing to you. He didn't want pleasure - he wanted a lesson that you would remember for the rest of your life - a lesson that would engrave into your mind that those who live by the sword, die by the sword. "You want it harder, you'll fucking get it harder." he whispered gruffly into your ear just before he began to thrust into you with all his length. With each forceful thrust, his partially exposed lower abdomen collided with the tattered fabric of your jumpsuit top, and with each deep penetration and withdrawal, you screamed in ecstasy. He wanted to see how he filled you inch by inch, so at one point, he hiked up part of his robe and looked down, proud of depriving you of your sanity.

"You fucking wanted this, huh? You fucking wanted this!" he grunted, instinctively quickening his movements, causing your body to arch to the point where the torn seams of your jumpsuit began to give way. When your eyes met again in the mirror, Skywalker couldn't resist and grabbed your tied-up hair with one of his hands that wasn't occupied with your hips. As you felt the intense tug, something inside you snapped – you didn't want to fight Anakin, but instinctively, you raised one of your hands, previously resting on the sink, and without knowing where you were aiming, you struck him in the neck.

"Whoa… woah… What? Don't like that anymore? What were you trying to do? Go on!" he paused his movements for a moment, holding onto the spot where you hit him for a few seconds before slowly continuing, leaving you completely disoriented and unsure how to explain. "Come on, slap me! Slap me!" he continued in a terrifyingly excited tone, and the slower he made his movements, waiting for your reaction, the more he motivated you to fulfill his demand. You swung your open hand towards his face, but from the angle you were in, you couldn't do it with force, and your hand barely touched and grazed his cheek.

"I said slap me, not grab me! Come on, try again, show me what you've go..." he interrupted as you made a second attempt, managing to slap him with an open hand to the face in the manner he expected. Initially, he fell silent in surprise, then let out a psychopathic laugh.

"Was that so hard, bitch?" he muttered through laughter, not giving you a chance to respond, completely disconnecting you from your senses as he began to fuck you with a speed your body couldn't handle. You bounced off him like a lifeless ragdoll as he used you like a fleshlight. Your babbling and moans were pathetic and unintelligible- clearly showcasing to Anakin how empty-headed you were at that moment, and he seemed newly recharged, ready to drain every last bit of energy from you. Both of you screamed, the mirror fogging up from your aggressive breaths, and your hands trembled, struggling to find stability on the porcelain sink. You saw sweat flooding him, his curly locks sticking to his forehead, framing his wild eyes, whose beautiful blue irises were barely noticeable with his dilated pupils. You saw the trace of your small handprint on his cheek, but the more aggressive thrusts you took, the blurrier your vision became.

"An… Anakin… I'm gonna… I'm gonna…" Sudden impact. A sudden impact momentarily cut you off from the world, and you began to see stars. Not from a spectacular orgasm, not from pleasure. His mechanical hand pushed the back of your head towards the mirror as your forehead shattered it into pieces, creating a spiderweb of glass adorned with your fresh blood. Perhaps both of you were shocked at that moment, so Anakin slowed his movements, but he had no intention of stopping, wide-eyed as he saw you disoriented and bloodied in the reflection of the shattered mirror. Seeing yourself, you felt like screaming, but you felt a hybrid of physical pain and the beginnings of an orgasm that robbed you of your voice. While adrenaline surged in Anakin to a dangerous level, he began to tremble. He began to pulse inside you, feeling on the brink of his own orgasm even amidst the awareness that he might have seriously injured you.

"M-master… I think… I think I'm bleeding." he heard your words as if through a fog, hearing only the buzzing in his own head signaling that he was about to climax. Your elbows buckled beneath you as his weight involuntarily pressed down on your body, and Anakin began to gasp chaotically with his head on your shoulder as his movements became erratic, and his warm seed filled you from within. You groaned with him, unsure if it was from pain or from finding yourself on the edge but not even attempting to explain it to yourself. Skywalker froze inside you for a moment, still pulsating, fearing that if he pulled out, his unstable trembling knees would give way under him, so he breathed warm breaths on your neck, unable to utter a word.

As soon as he pulled out, and you lost the support on his silhouette, you slid down, banging your knees against the cabinet under the sink and landed half-sitting on the floor. You saw Anakin tripled, looking up at him with tears-filled eyes as he stood, his hands trembling against the edges of the sink, and gazed at you with a hint of fear in his eyes. But as Padme returned to his mind, fear subsided, and he saw a successful revenge. He saw a conquest that wanted to be conquered, and he achieved it in the most unexpected way - unexpected even for himself.

"Anakin…" you whispered with a broken voice, smudging the blood flowing down your eyebrow with the tip of your finger, and he just watched, at a loss for words.

"It hurts… Can you…"

"I warned you it would hurt." he interrupted with a hoarse, dark voice as he fastened his belt and adjusted his clothes, clearly preparing to leave. Initially, he intended to leave without a word, took a few steps, casting a final glance at the shattered mirror, but paused at the door upon hearing your sobs.

"Grab a towel when you go to the Med Bay. Nobody wants a mess." he uttered in a cold tone without even making eye contact with you, then tossed you one hanging on the nearest hanger.

"Tomorrow morning, you're expected at training. I don't care what condition you're in. Alive or barely alive." he added before disappearing and slamming the door behind him, leaving you alone with your worries. You sat there, wounded and exhausted. Bruised and broken. Your Master - Anakin Skywalker - destroyed you, and you'll thank him for it.

[mrsdesade]

Hey, could you write a homelander x reader where she works at Vought and unknowingly gets his attention and he stalks her?

Hi dear anon, thanks for your patience!! I don't have much time to write full fics these days, because life is happening and I'm very busy physically and mentally, but I can happily offer some headcanons 💕

Homelander's obsessive behaviors headcanons

First of all, his romantic gestures, while seemingly sweet, are often rooted in his need for control and his inability to understand healthy relationships. His actions can be seen as manipulative and even frightening, especially when considering his overall personality and powers.

Constant surveillance: He would employ his super hearing and x-ray vision to keep a constant watch on you. He might use these abilities to monitor your home, workplace, or any other place you frequently visit.

Data collection: He'd collect as much information as possible about his current obsession: you. This could include your daily routines, social media activity, and even your deepest fears and desires. He might use his Vought resources to access private databases.

Preserving memories: Homelander might keep a collection of items that remind him of you, like a lock of your hair or a piece of your clothing. Oh God If you gift something to him, he's going to cherish this like a museum piece.

Love bombing: He'll shower you with love and attention, he loves doing it, especially at the beginning of the relationship, to reel you in.

Unwanted gifts: Homelander would often leave small, often expensive gifts for his favourite persons in unexpected places. These gifts could be anything from flowers to jewelry, and they would always be personalized to show how well he knows you. Often with small notes inside. Doll, baby, my girl, nicknames are on plate.

Sudden appearances: Homelander would frequently appear where you least expects him. He might show up at yor work, your home, or even a random location you're visiting. At least three times at week, minimum.

Testing your loyalty: He might create situations to test your loyalty to him. This could involve putting you in a difficult position or asking you to do something that makes you uncomfortable.

Excessive praise: When you two are together he would shower you with compliments, often going overboard and making you feel uncomfortable. He might even compare you to other people, always putting you on a pedestal. You're his precious treasure and he loves you so goddamn much.

Isolation tactics: He might try to isolate you from their friends and family at some point, making you believe that he is the only one who truly understands your needs.

Future planning: He might make elaborate plans for your future together, down to the smallest details, without ever consulting you. He'll make grand plans for the two of you for sure. This could include things like buying a house together or having children.

Gaslighting: If you decide to start to question his behavior, Homelander might resort to gaslighting. He could make you doubt their own perceptions and memories, making you believe that you're just imagining things.

Public displays of affection: Homelander might engage in very public displays of affection, such as putting his arm around you in front of a crowd, or giving you a very long, lingering kiss. This is partly to show off his "perfect couple" image, but also to mark his territory.

Obsession with physical touch: Homelander might find ways to touch you, in every moment, he need that, even if it's just brushing against them or holding their hand. He would crave any form of physical contact.

Nightmares and sleep disturbances: His obsession for you would consume his thoughts, leading to vivid nightmares and difficulty sleeping. He might even develop a fear of losing you really easily. Despite his outward confidence, Homelander has a deep-seated fear of being abandoned. This fear can lead him to become increasingly possessive and controlling.

-------

Thanks again for the request, enjoy! Kisses kisses! 💕

[thewertsearch]

He asks if you have a good winter hat. You nearly drop the radio in excitement.

Dave’s on his way too, so they can all play in the snow together.

Plus, Jade'll get to reunite with her 'grandson's' bunny, and we might finally get some movement on that plotline.

You wonder if it will always be like this. What sort of future does a new god have to look forward to? Will this malaise follow you for eternity? Will you be perpetually tempted to destroy everything you see, knowing that in just a few moments of recklessness, you will be left with nothing else to destroy forever? What will eternity feel like when a single moment of boredom feels like an eternity unto itself?

Some introspection here from the Sovereign Slayer, as Noir seems dimly aware that he’s under some sort of compulsion. He was created to be a violent murderer, and he's programmed to play that role in every session – which is fine by him.

But he was never meant to be a superboss. For hours now, he’s been operating entirely outside his normal parameters. He's wielding a power transcending this and every session, but he's stuck with the programming of a mid-level NPC. He's built to kill, as usual - but his destructive potential is too great, and he's killing too much, too fast.

There’s a mismatch here, and he can feel it.

You wish you could consult the clouds for answers. But they never show you anything.

More evidence that only Prospit-aligned beings can use Skaia's clouds.

Sorry, Jack. They're not for you.

You are now future Jack Noir. Presently, you are trapped in a single moment, which increasingly feels like an eternity. Your boredom is surpassed only by your all consuming rage and contempt for existence itself.

There's that bloody arm again, and it might be time to talk about it.

Now, technically, it could have come from almost anyone in the kids' session. The Carapacians all have red blood - but the thing is, all the notable Carapacians will escape the session safely. I think it's a pretty safe bet that the blood belongs to to one of the four kids - so who's our most likely target?

Well...

John was unharmed immediately before the Scratch, but that doesn’t preclude Jack from attacking him during its activation. It feels narratively climactic for the kids' semi-official leader to be mortally wounded while saving the session, and I think there's a decent chance that something like this will go down in the Act 5 finale.

Rose, of course, is soon to fall into the Blackout. I've been speculating that it could potentially hide her from Jack, but it's also possible that he could cause it himself. If he does attack her, she might be compelled to use more of the Horrorterrors’ power than she can control - and I can see that going south fast.

Dave's tied up in several days' worth of time loops, and it'd be hard to take him by surprise. We've probably heard from versions of Future Dave who know what caused the blood, and I think if he was about to be maimed, he'd be a lot more on-edge. Dave tries to hide his nerves, but he's not actually that good at it.

Jade can’t be harmed by Jack, which makes her the most interesting choice of all. I don't know how Jack could conquer the remnants of Becsprite in his heart - but if he does, we'll have lost the biggest advantage we have.

I'm honestly not sure. Right now, I think John's the most likely target - but not by much. Really, it could really be anyone.

[nyoomerr]

For the drabble request, I can never get enough shixiong!SY bingqiu. But only if you're up to it :)

ok it turns out i'm fundamentally unable to write a drabble as short as theyre meant to be, so here's over 4k words of shixiong!sy for your perusal 🤡 (+ a decent helping of cranky peak lord sqq and his wayward head disciple sy)

---

Shen Yuan… has possibly let himself become a bit too relaxed, since he first transmigrated. He used to spend every day on high alert: every cute little kid might be the protagonist, every mistake he made might have been logged somewhere for a petty revenge side plot later. He wouldn’t dare miss anything plot relevant, not when it might cause his doom. After all, ‘Shen Yuan’ wasn’t even a named character within PIDW - he was well and truly canon fodder!

But then, ah… Then Shen Yuan was accepted as a disciple on Qing Jing, and then he was a personal disciple of the notorious Shen Qingqiu, and then - 

Well, not even Shen Yuan can keep up that sort of hyper vigilance all the time, okay!! He’s the scum villain’s head disciple - basically a henchman! If he lived in fear for every moment he might be condemned, he’d never have a second to rest!

It isn’t Shen Yuan’s fault that the best way to relax in this world is to go on years-long expeditions off peak! 

…It might, maybe, be just a tiny bit my fault, Shen Yuan thinks, staring at Luo Binghe with horror. How does he manage to take such a long vacation that he misses the protagonist’s arrival onto Qing Jing? What kind of fake fan is he, ah?!

Luo Binghe has not introduced himself as such, but there is no way he can be anyone but Luo Binghe. His hair falls into perfect curls around a face so cute and round Shen Yuan wants to squish his cheeks until they turn pink, and he’s wearing an expression so determined and focused that it puts Shen Yuan to shame as the head disciple.

And he’s chopping wood. That’s the most recognizable part, obviously. 

Shen Yuan forces himself to step forward into the small glade he found Luo Binghe in, clearing his throat awkwardly. Luo Binghe whips around, and Shen Yuan nearly cringes at the nervous apprehension on the boy’s face.

“Ah, I didn’t mean to startle you…” Shen Yuan trails off. Luo Binghe stares at him and says nothing. Shen Yuan’s perfectly nice and friendly smile starts to slip. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before…?”

“Apologies to Shixiong, this one will be sure to cut wood further away from the main peak buildings, so Shixiong doesn’t have to see me again.”

“Wha - wait, wait, that’s not what I meant!” Shen Yuan cries, becoming increasingly concerned about just how long he’s been away from Qing Jing. 

For Luo Binghe to already be this wary of any Shixiong who looks his way… ah, Shen Yuan has basically already failed every single one of his loose plans to keep Luo Binghe from blackening! He wasn’t even there to witness Luo Binghe’s initial perfect white sheep days, let alone keep him out of the warpath of bullies and bitter Shizuns!

“This Shixiong is Shen Yuan,” he says, taking a few slow steps closer to Luo Binghe. Somehow, he gets the feeling that he has to be ready to catch Luo Binghe by the scruff if he tries to run off or start a fight while Shen Yuan is just trying to introduce himself, ah!

“This one is Luo Binghe,” Luo Binghe replies, dipping into a perfunctory bow.

“Yes!” Shen Yuan says. “I mean - well, it’s a good name.”

Luo Binghe’s expression only grows more wary. 

“And ah, how long has Luo Binghe been on the peak?” Shen Yuan asks, even though the look Luo Binghe is giving him makes him want to slink back off into the bamboo forest. He has to know - if he’s lucky, it’ll only have been a year or two, and Shen Yuan can -

“This one has been a disciple of Qing Jing for over three years, now,” Luo Binghe says.

“Hm!” Shen Yuan says, because what he really wants to do is yell but he can’t do that with this customer service smile plastered on his face. 

Inwardly, he allows himself to monologue out a list of swears that would’ve gotten his old online accounts temporarily locked. Over three years is too long!! The blackening has already started!! Luo Binghe has already started damaging his meridians by following that cursed fake manual, has already started training under Meng Mo, and most importantly has already given up hope of being accepted here and started farming resentment instead!

Shen Yuan is fucked!! What sort of half-assed blackening prevention plan starts this late!?

“Ah, so Luo-shidi must already be 15, or nearly there,” Shen Yuan says aloud, laughing nervously. “Are you, um, sure?”

Please, please tell this pitiful Shixiong of yours that you just misspoke!!

Luo Binghe looks at him like he’s an idiot. Shen Yuan can feel nervous sweat beading along his forehead.

“It’s just - well, Luo-shidi is quite small, for being 15,” Shen Yuan says, and then nearly bites his tongue in an attempt to correct himself. Who is he to call the protagonist ‘small,’ ah!! “Not quite small! Only a bit! Only - uh, only slightly smaller than I’d expect! It’s only that I’m already 19, and Luo-shidi is much - I mean only a little! - shorter than I am, so -”

Shen Yuan makes himself shut up. You’re making a fool of yourself in front of the protagonist, you idiot!

“This one will be sure to train more to get bigger,” Luo Binghe says, though it sounds a bit like he’s talking through gritted teeth.

“No, no, you’re training plenty!” Shen Yuan rushes to say. “Uh, that is - admittedly, I’ve been off peak for some time now, but when I was Luo-shidi’s age, things like chopping wood were a group chore, so if you’re managing it all by yourself, surely you’re… big and strong…”

Shen Yuan shuts up again. Luo Binghe stares at him some more, but there’s something in his expression that seems more considering that it had been just a moment ago.

After a long stretch of awkward silence, he seems to come to some sort of resolution, and takes a hesitant step towards Shen Yuan.

“Forgive this one’s ignorance,” he says, slow and careful. “The other Shixiong said it was a chore best done alone to build strength. Is that wrong?”

“Very wrong,” Shen Yuan says, nearly beside himself with relief. 

Good, very good! Luo Binghe hasn’t lost all hope for his time on Qing Jing Peak just yet, after all! Given the chance, he’ll still try to carefully raise the issue of his bullying to a responsible Shixiong to take care of!

Shen Yuan can so be a responsible Shixiong that takes care of reports of bullying for Luo Binghe!!

“Oh,” Luo Binghe says, edging even closer to Shen Yuan. “Then what does Shen-shixiong think I should do?”

“Luo-shidi doesn’t have to do anything about this,” Shen Yuan says firmly. “This Shixiong will take care of finding out who’s meant to be sharing this chore with you and make them do the rest of it.”

“There might be multiple people,” Luo Binghe offers, still speaking with a caution that makes it quite clear how likely he thinks it is that Shen Yuan’s assistance will vanish as soon as Luo Binghe complains too much. 

“Because Luo-shidi has been made to do this chore alone for many days, now?” Shen Yuan asks. 

Still looking a bit wary, Luo Binghe nods. Shen Yuan sighs, having expected that answer, and takes the final steps needed to get within arm’s reach of Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe watches him closely, his hands curling tighter around the ax he’d been using to chop the wood. 

Moving slowly so as not to spook him, Shen Yuan raises one hand to place gently on Luo Binghe’s head. He really is too short for 15, but Shen Yuan knows all the details of ‘why’ - having to work too hard with not enough rest, having meals withheld from him or being served with spoilt ingredients - any kid would be a bit small, when under those conditions.

Luo Binghe had gone stiff under Shen Yuan’s touch, and Shen Yuan takes a moment to pet the top of his head for a moment before saying anything else, hoping to get Luo Binghe to relax again. 

Ah, I really did mean to try and keep you safe, Shen Yuan thinks to himself, feeling regretful. He’d come to Cang Qiong with the intention of finding Luo Binghe early, after all, and had worked as hard as he had in order to be ready for Luo Binghe when he came.

But then he had worked too hard, and Shen Qingqiu had promoted him to head disciple, and suddenly Shen Yuan thought he might go insane if he wasn’t able to get off Qing Jing Peak and stay off for as long as he could possibly get away with, and - 

How stupid of him. Luo Binghe must have been taken in during the disciple selection the very same year that Shen Yuan had taken off on his extended field trip. How very, very stupid of Shen Yuan, to think that things wouldn’t go upside down the second he looked away - this is Luo Binghe’s story, after all, and it’s always been a bit of a tragedy.

“Then this Shixiong can only apologize to you,” Shen Yuan says softly, with perhaps just a bit too much sincerity. “And in the future, if you’re given this sort of work again, I’ll chop wood in your place.”

Under his hand, Luo Binghe peers up at Shen Yuan with wide, hungry eyes. Shen Yuan gives him a final pat before withdrawing his hand, and plasters his friendly smile back on his face. 

“Now, why don’t you get cleaned up, hm? I’ll meet you again later - this Shixiong of yours still needs to report back to Shizun that I’ve returned from my trip.”

Luo Binghe nods, still watching Shen Yuan with an intensity that would feel more at home on an emperor than a scrawny 15 year old, and Shen Yuan beats a hasty retreat.

Despite all the pretty promises he made to Luo Binghe, he’s going to have to think of something clever to actually be able to fulfill them.

After all, not even all of his meta knowledge combined would be able to save Shen Yuan from his Shizun.

---

Shen Yuan has been pacing outside Shen Qingqiu’s bamboo house for ten minutes now. Nothing he can think of is good enough to convince someone as petty and stubborn as Shen Qingqiu. 

Once, at the start of his time on Qing Jing Peak, Shen Yuan had tied his disciple robes wrong, unused to wearing anything quite so complex. Shen Qingqiu had sneered at his mistake in the moment, and then for every major event in the next five years straight he’d made a point to comment snidely on how well Shen Yuan has managed to dress himself.

That’s the sort of mean streak this man has!! If he doesn’t like something, he’ll keep harping on that one thing for years, even after that thing isn’t around to bother him anymore! How is Shen Yuan supposed to coax Luo Binghe out of the jaws of a man like that?

Ah, forget it, forget it! Shen Yuan would just - he’d come back another day! Greeting Shen Qingqiu wasn’t really necessary, Shen Yuan could just -

“I was under the impression that Shen Yuan was a head disciple returning from field work, not a child trying to avoid bedtime.”

Shen Yuan whips around, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end like a spooked cat. There, kneeling elegantly on his front porch not ten meters from Shen Yuan, is Shen Qingqiu.

“Shizun!” Shen Yuan cries, trying to force his grimace into a nice, polite smile. “When did - I mean - this disciple means -”

Shen Qingqiu closes his fan with a harsh snap, and Shen Yuan shuts his mouth so fast he almost bites his tongue.

“Well?” Shen Qingqiu asks dryly, and Shen Yuan hurriedly drops into a bow. 

“This disciple greets Shizun!” Shen Yuan shouts, his ears burning with embarrassment. 

Shen Qingqiu hums, and Shen Yuan risks peeking out from his bow to look at him. 

He does not look especially pleased.

With all the elegance of a wild cat, Shen Qingqiu unfolds himself from his kneeling position on the porch and glides over to Shen Yuan. 

“Too low,” he says, slapping at Shen Yuan’s wrists with his fan. “Or was Shen Yuan hoping there would be a replacement head disciple waiting for him by the time he came back from his trip?”

“Ahahaha,” Shen Yuan wheezes, carefully correcting himself into a bow of a slightly higher ranked disciple than the one he’d originally slipped into. “Of course this disciple is honored by the position and very very grateful for Shizun’s benevolence in leaving it to him even during his absence…”

“What advice does Shen Yuan think his Shizun has for him?” Shen Qingqiu asks sharply, and Shen Yuan winces.

“‘Talk less,’ Shizun,” he recites dutifully. It is advice that Shen Qingqiu has given him many, many times.

Shen Qingqiu sniffs haughtily and walks a slow circle around Shen Yuan, inspecting him. Shen Yuan tries not to sweat too profusely. He really had been hoping that Shen Qingqiu may have forgotten about Shen Yuan in his years away, ah!

Finally, Shen Qingqiu completes his inspection, stopping once more in front of Shen Yuan. 

“What sort of pathetic creature has Shen Yuan carved the bones of to make his hairpiece?” He asks, using his fan to prod at Shen Yuan’s hairpin.

“A Hundred Year Crystal Tortoise, Shizun,” Shen Yuan answers.

“And the leather of your belt?”

“A Golden-Footed Acidic Bear, Shizun.”

“And did you even bother to remove the -”

“- the needle hairs beneath the Bear’s skin before treating the pelt,” Shen Yuan interrupts. “Yes, Shizun.”

Shen Qingqiu scoffs. “How bold you’ve gotten, interrupting your Shizun.”

“...Sorry, Shizun,” Shen Yuan mumbles, deflating a bit.

“Still,” Shen Qingqiu sighs, and Shen Yuan peeks back up at him again. “You did decent enough, I suppose.”

Shen Yuan perks up, half-standing up out of his bow. “Thanking Shizun -!”

Shen Qingqiu whacks him over the head with his fan. “If Shen Yuan’s trip had been only a single year, instead of nearly four!”

Shen Yuan very quickly gets back into the proper deferential position. 

“Fleeing so quickly after being promoted, only to stay away for this long - I hope Shen Yuan is comfortable sleeping on the ground, because I’ve long since given up keeping the side room in my house for an absent head disciple. I filled it with cursed artifacts and dusty books two years ago.”

“Shizun -!” Shen Yuan protests, starting to stand up again. He’d liked that little room, damn it! It was the one decent part of being promoted to head disciple in the first place, even if it meant sharing a roof with this asshole!!

Shen Qingqiu whacks him again, and Shen Yuan obediently shuts up.

“Foolish boy,” he scolds, before promptly turning on his heel to stalk back to the bamboo house. “Hurry up, then,” he calls behind him, “I want to see if you still make tea as dreadfully as you did before.”

Shen Yuan makes a face at Shen Qingqiu’s back. Without looking behind him, Shen Qingqiu uses his qi to send a single leaf flying to Shen Yuan’s head, slapping him on the forehead right over where Shen Yuan’s brows had bunched together.

Shen Yuan smooths his face out into a perfectly polite smile once more. This asshole, he curses inwardly, he really is scum!! The lowest of the low!! A bully!!!

“Tea, Shen Yuan,” Shen Qingqiu calls once more, and Shen Yuan hurries to catch up.

---

Later, after Shen Yuan has dutifully given a retelling of his adventures over the last few years, and after Shen Qingqiu has grilled him on every mistake he made and how stupid that was of him and how shitty his tea still tastes, Shen Yuan finally manages to bring up Luo Binghe.

“This disciple met someone new this morning,” he says, pouring Shen Qingqiu more of his apparently awful tea. 

“Was Shen Yuan sure they were new? Perhaps it’s been so many years your brain has started to forget the faces of the idiots here in favor of whatever foolish beasts you’ve been studying.”

“Someone new,” Shen Yuan confirms, pretending to ignore Shen Qingqiu’s very pointed glare. “He was a disciple even younger than Ning-shimei, and you only picked her out the year before I left.”

“Ah,” Shen Qingqiu says, and all of a sudden Shen Yuan thinks that perhaps his Shizun has never been truly irritated with him in the past, because this expression is far more acidic than anything Shen Yuan has seen before.

“A-ah…?” Shen Yuan says, stupidly.

Shen Jiu sets his cup down with a harsh clink. “Shen Yuan should ignore that little beast. He won’t bring you any good news.”

“Shizun, this disciple likes beasts best,” Shen Yuan says. “Is he so bad?”

“Ignore him,” Shen Qingqiu repeats frostily. 

Shen Yuan swallows. This… there’s no way that he’ll be able to convince Shen Qingqiu to give Luo Binghe an honest shot in this one conversation. He can’t bet on being able to eventually wear him down, though, either - even if he does eventually convince him, if it takes a year to do it, that’s also not any good. Shen Yuan needs to be able to help Luo Binghe now.

Okay. This is fine. Shen Yuan has - he has so many very good ideas, all of them very well thought out and full of strategic benefits. He can use any one of these very good and smart ideas.

“I understand, Shizun,” Shen Yuan says, “That beast won’t be a shidi of mine, then.”

“Good, now -”

“But what about as a pet?”

Shen Qingqiu stares at him. Shen Yuan stares back.

“A pet,” Shen Qingqiu repeats. 

“A pet,” Shen Yuan agrees. “Shizun, I already said that I like beasts best - if I can’t raise Luo Binghe to be my shidi, can’t I raise him as my pet instead?”

“Don’t be foolish,” Shen Qingqiu snaps. “Beasts aren’t for keeping.”

“Sometimes they are - Cang Qiong has a whole peak dedicated to such a thing,” Shen Yuan points out. Shen Qingqiu’s scowl grows more fierce. 

“Qing Jing is above such dirty work,” he spits.

Shen Yuan swallows again, his hands clenched tightly in his lap. He’s already started down this path; he may as well place all his bets on making it through.

“Then perhaps Qing Jing is not for this disciple after all,” Shen Yuan says, trying to keep his voice steady. It still comes out a bit reedy, but at the very least, his voice doesn’t crack over the words. 

Shen Qingqiu’s eye twitches. “Speak plainly - Shen Yuan has already spent several years neglecting his duties. How much farther do you intend to stray?”

“Shizun so graciously held the position of head disciple open for this one,” Shen Yuan hedges. “On that topic, isn’t it possible for head disciples to choose to spend a decade or so on a different peak of their choice, to encourage diversity in education and cross-peak relationships before the head disciple becomes beholden to their peak as a lord? Perhaps I could take in a pet on a different peak, with such a method.”

“That’s a custom reserved for older disciples,” Shen Qingqiu spits, “intended to benefit them in the years directly leading up to their ascension as a peak lord, not when the head disciple is just a little whelp with a century ahead of them before they can wear a lord’s crown.”

“No such rule is written anywhere, Shizun.”

“Then I’ll write it,” Shen Qingqiu hisses. “Shen Yuan, you’ve had your fun these past years - now you are to stay on this peak.”

“Then I want a pet,” Shen Yuan says, tilting his head up defiantly. “It’ll benefit Shizun, too: you won’t have to feed or clothe him anymore, nor train him to be a cultivator.”

Not that you were doing any of those things for Luo Binghe before, ah!! Shen Yuan thinks, trying to focus on that feeling of indignation. If he just thinks about that - about the horror of coming across Luo Binghe in that clearing earlier, too scrawny to be 15 and yet wary enough of the world he may as well have been an adult - then Shen Yuan can hold his ground. 

If he just thinks about Luo Binghe as a neglected kid, and he just thinks of Shen Qingqiu as that child’s abuser -

If he just thinks about that, then Shen Yuan can meet the eyes of the man who has taught him and promoted him and housed him in the side room of his house, and he can demand this one thing.

“With what funds would Shen Yuan be able to feed and clothe his pet?” Shen Qingqiu asks sharply. “With what free time would he train him not to bite?”

“This one is the head disciple of Qing Jing Peak,” Shen Yuan says. “If a head disciple couldn’t manage that much, they certainly couldn’t deserve to ascend as a peak lord in the future.”

Shen Qingqiu falls silent, unfurling his fan and raising it high up his face until only his eyes peered out the top of it, watching Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan’s hands twist in his lap, but he keeps his gaze steady.

“A head disciple does not run away from the position,” Shen Qingqiu says. 

“Nor does a master run off from their pet,” Shen Yuan agrees.

There’s another moment of quiet as they both watch each other. When Shen Qingqiu speaks again, his voice is firm, like someone reciting basic peak rules and not the terms of the most batshit insane agreement Shen Yuan has ever brokered.

“You will stay on Qing Jing,” Shen Qingqiu says, “and you will accept the head discipleship position without fuss.”

“Yes, Shizun.”

“No more trips. No more pretending to forget to introduce yourself as my head disciple. No more pushing your pathetic disciple brothers at me with paperwork that you clearly filled out in some sort of foolish scheme to have me consider them over you.”

Shen Yuan winces. “Yes, Shizun.”

“You will not receive any additional allowance, for any reason, outside of the funds normally provided to a head disciple. Any pests you pick up will not sleep in my house, nor will you be allowed to request room in the dormitories for any such creature. Those resources are for disciples, not beasts.”

Shen Yuan hesitates. Luo Binghe can’t sleep in the rundown woodshed forever, and he wants to protest the idea that the dorms are for disciples, as if Luo Binghe was ever allowed in there in the first place.

Shen Qingqiu taps one finger on the table. “Answer, Shen Yuan.”

“This disciple agrees under one condition,” Shen Yuan says. “Using his personal funds, this disciple would like to request permission to make moderate renovations to a peak structure in order to improve the quality of kept wood.”

Shen Qingqiu scoffs. “Disciple Shen Yuan’s personal funds will be drained by feeding an animal - you will not be able to afford the standards that Qing Jing exacts for renovation projects.”

“This disciple has been collecting favors from An Ding. They will be repaid, and this disciple will be able to afford the project.”

“Shen Yuan had best not be caught collecting any such favors forcibly,” Shen Qingqiu warns, which is very distinctly a ‘don’t get caught blackmailing people’ warning and not a blanket ‘don’t blackmail people’ one.

“Of course,” Shen Yuan agrees. “This one is the personal disciple of Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu - how could I get caught in such a way?”

Read: you’ve made sure I understand how to not get caught when doing something shady, at the very least!!

Shen Qingqiu waves his fan once, twice - he’s irritated, but doesn’t necessarily disagree.

“Fine,” he says at last. “Permission for a renovation to that ugly woodshed is granted. And Shen Yuan’s answer to all other stipulations?”

“This disciple agrees.”

Shen Qingqiu slaps his fan closed in one palm. “Then Shen Yuan is allowed a pet. I won’t interfere further.”

Shen Yuan nods. He expected as much; Shen Qingqiu won’t egg on any further bullying, nor will he stop Shen Yuan from taking any measures he pleases when it comes to Luo Binghe, but he won’t help Shen Yuan dissuade the current bullying.

That’s fine - already, this is enough to help Luo Binghe.

“Thanking Shizun,” Shen Yuan says, bowing his head slightly. “This disciple will not disappoint.”

After all, how hard could raising the protagonist be? This world revolves around Luo Binghe; all Shen Yuan needs to do is make Luo Binghe’s everyday life a bit less miserable, give him just one person he can trust. Luo Binghe will manage the rest himself, by nature of being who he is - what he is. 

Yes, this - this is the best way.

---

Outside the bamboo house, crouched beneath a window so still his muscles ache and his head feels woozy from how shallow he’s kept his breathing, Luo Binghe listens to his Shizun and Shixiong move on to discuss cleaning out the side room now that Shen Yuan has returned to the peak.

A pet, he thinks, his eyes blown wide, his fingers digging deep into the ground beneath his knees. He can feel dirt caking the underside of his fingernails, and the scars he leaves in the ground are very much like an animal, indeed.

A pet, he thinks again, over and over on loop in his mind, his pretty Shixiong’s voice fading to background noise. He thinks of Shen Yuan gently patting his head like one might coax a dog, and he thinks -

Yes, a pet.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

thinking about book 6 battle simulations

I was thinking a lot about book 6 lately! (Not for any particular reason, I was just ruminating, haha...)

During the examination segment, Riddle, Azul, and Vil were put into one group and Jamil and Leona were put in the other group. Idia then put them into VR simulations in which (simulated) Trey, Jade, Rook, Kalim, and Ruggie approached the subjects to upset them. This is for the purposes of STYX to gauge their combative capabilities and blot accumulation. What I noticed on another read of these parts was that Idia makes sure to inform all the subjects they are about to enter a VR simulation BEFORE they dive in... and yet despite this, group 1 (Riddle, Azul, Vil) was still caught off-guard when Trey, Jade, and Rook attacked them. Meanwhile, Jamil in group 2 automatically defers to Kalim but Leona is the one who notices something is fishy about the situation. Now, now... this is interesting 👁️ Why might this be, I wonder~ (You bet I'm going to analyze the heck out of these small details!)

***Main story spoilers up to book 6!!***

First thing to consider: it's possible that perhaps the characters don't fully understand what "VR simulation" is, as most of them did take a while to come to their senses. Of the 5 subjects, Riddle is the most likely to fall into this category. He seems to be slightly confused by the concept of a "virtual space" when Idia explains the examination to them (which likely conflicts with Riddle's very traditional understanding of "tests"). Furthermore, Riddle has expressed in Endless Halloween Night that his mother did not allow him to play video games or to watch TV so he'd usually do crosswords or solve other puzzles for fun. He's not completely technologically inept (like Malleus), but Riddle does have a somewhat limited scope of how items and procedures are to be used, especially if it lies beyond its normal means. It's likely that he has not thought of VR simulation being used in the scenario in which he finds himself in now.

The other 4 subjects, however, most likely understand what VR is and shouldn't be confused by the simulation. Azul is very savvy and keeps up with trends, which can factor into his business(es). He even brings up streaming as a potential source of revenue in book 6; man has his fingers on the pulse of pop culture to know what will sell. Vil, being a celebrity and the leader of the Film Research Club, must have an understanding of various technologies used to achieve certain effects (especially as director of his own projects). Jamil constantly deals with Kalim's requests and, being in Kalim's social bubble, must get exposure to all kinds of crazy technologies. Leona, being a knowledgeable prince, surely must understand the concept of VR simulation.

Okay, so... why did they (mostly) still get "tricked" by the simulation anyway? The key words today would be "trust" and "dependence".

Thinking about it, there's one thing that separates group 1 from 2: the boys in group 1 have a tendency to rely on others for support and validation whereas the boys in group 2 are consistently shown to be more independent than their peers (even if they, too, seek validation). Let's go through them one by one!

GROUP 1

Riddle

Riddle is presented as a tyrant that rules with an iron fist, particularly in book 1 where he stars as the main antagonist. However, it's also pretty blatant that Riddle has become increasingly aggressive due in part to others enabling him. Ace specifically calls out Trey for this, saying that his failure to intervene or to quell Riddle's temper has resulted in Heartslabyul students suffering for it. Cater is also complacent, as he and/or Trey often follow Riddle's orders and remove Adeuce from the dorm multiple times in book 1. Riddle relies on these upperclassmen to listen to him and carry out his bidding, and he feels validated when they do. It's a lesson he has learned from his mother. He is the most powerful, and therefore he should be the most correct. Notice how Riddle is quick to anger when others refuse to obey him and how often he demands for them to conform. He becomes enraged when the Heartslabyul mobs rebel and chuck an egg at him. But what hurts him most of all is, perhaps, Trey turning too. Riddle was mad about the mobs acting up, yes, but he still did not overblot. Not yet, at least. No, Riddle overblots only AFTER he tries to attack Ace with the rose trees... and Trey steps in with his UM to overwrite Riddle's collar, turning it into cards. Trey's relationship with Riddle cannot be understated here. In this very moment, Trey, Riddle's childhood friend (one of his first friends), vice dorm leader, silent yes man, his most trusted confidant, has betrayed him. He is proving Riddle wrong, that the most powerful mage is not the most correct. "Are YOU going to tell me that I'm wrong too? After all I've done to protect the rule of law?! [...] I... I refuse to believe this!"

From these examples, we can clearly see that Riddle is someone who is reliant on others--not that he isn't a capable mage, but rather he is reliant on others for his own sense of self-worth. Indeed, even in his post-OB flashback, he indicates feeling proud and excited when his mother praises him for good grades or successfully performing a spell. This is reiterated many times over in book 1, in which Riddle feels satisfied and even smug when his students fall in line, and spirals into uncontrollable rage when they don't. There are a select few whom Riddle has chosen to place his faith in, and Trey is one of them. Trey, who gave him his first slice of strawberry tart and has been supporting him as his vice for over a year now (since Riddle became dorm leader in his first week as a first-year student; now is the start of Riddle's second year). That's why he feels so hurt when Trey is suddenly chastising him, telling him that he's behaving irrationally.

If we reexamine Riddle's post-OB flashback, you'll notice that Riddle says he is lonely without every outright stating the word "lonely". The phrasing makes it sound as though Riddle does not understand his own loneliness, like he doens't even know the word or want to acknowledge it as reality. He is awkward and unsure around Trey and Chenya, who invite him out to play. He follows his mother's rules because he believes that is what will bring him happiness. He wonders why, in spite of following all those rules, he still feels hollow inside. Then, once Riddle has awoken, he confesses that he always wanted to play more with Trey, and that he wants to talk with everyone after a meal. Riddle. at his core, craves companionship rather than dominating his peers. Trey was one of the few friends he ever had, and so Riddle puts a lot of stock into his support. This may be why he was quick to believe the fake Trey in the simulation, and why he looked so shocked when Trey started attacking him. Here is a boy who has already been betrayed once, experiencing that same betrayal again at the hands of his childhood friend. How scared must he be of losing his oldest friend, of Trey turning his back on him or seeing him as a monster? 😭

Azul

Due to the bullying he experienced in his childhood, Azul works very hard to maintain a new image of someone who is cool, confident, and composed. Part of that is passing himself off as someone who is large and in charge, while posing Jade and Floyd as his lackies who do whatever he tells them to. The reality of the matter is that the twins are very much... there to do their own thing, and they just kind of go along with Azul's schemes because they seem to be a lot of fun. When you stop to consider it though, Azul definitely puts a lot of trust into the Leech brothers even though they're both shady and can be flippant at times. It's the twins going around and advertising Azul's services to the student population. It's the twins who help him expand his business and acquire new items (as all three's Dorm Uniform vignettes are about the Octatrio conspiring to acquire the rights to and/or advertise their new drinks). It's the twins who are asked to run the Mostro Lounge whenever Azul is absent. Time and time again, Azul falls back on Jade and Floyd. They've been with him since middle school.

In book 4, both Azul and Floyd insist that they aren't really "childhood friends", but they do consider each other "equals". As Azul describes it, "I strongly doubt Jade or Floyd have any binding allegiance to me. This is all and elaborate game of pretend to them. [...] If I made a poor choice as leader--or even simply a boring one... They would turn on me instantly and seize the dorm leader seat for themselves." Floyd follows with, "We ain't got any plans to challenge him, either... for now, anyway. Aha ha! [...] We stick with [Azul] now 'cause it's fun. If it stops bein' fun, we drop him like a bad habit. Easy." The twins and Azul are both very aware that their relationship is a temporary and transactional one. Azul himself has even fully considered the possibility that Jade and Floyd may one day turn on him. This is all true--however, I also believe it's possible that the Octatrio are not being entirely truthful to themselves and do actually care for one another beyond the confines of their business ties or "having fun". In book 3, Jade and Floyd sense that something is wrong, and their immediate thought is to go check on Azul because of this gut feeling. Jade warns Azul of the consequences of misusing his UM. They are also the first to check on Azul after his OB and insist that he rest and find it within them to gently tease him over the situation. Even the way they address each other is "special". Jade and Azul have a tendency to be polite and use the honorific "-san" after everyone's name... except for each other and Floyd. Floyd, meanwhile, tends to give everyone a nickname... except for Jade and Azul. They drop these naming conventions within their group because that's how much they know and trust each other. Further proof of this is that when Floyd first meets Azul in the post-OB flashback of book 3, he calls Azul "Octopus-chan". Azul used to have a nickname, but no longer has one. This implies that a lack of a nickname actually indicates that Floyd is more intimate with someone than if he had nicknamed them. The same goes with Jade and Azul, who are usually so formal and polite.

I've already established that Azul acts in ways which indicate that he is close to the twins, as much as he tries to deny it and come off as tough. He drops the honorifics for them and he trusts them to do his bidding. What I find most telling, however, is when Jade and Floyd check up on him right as he's about to OB. "Jade! Floyd! Ahhh, you've finally come back to me," Azul says (if you listen to his voice, he sounds SO relieved). "Would you believe that thanks to these FOOLS, I've lost all of my contracts? Which is why I'm going to need your powers now. Come on, give them to me!" This is notable because, prior to this, he was forcibly ripping powers out of mob students. But now with the twins--Azul makes a CONSCIOUS decision to ask Jade and Floyd for them to willingly give up their powers to him. Azul is emotional and acting without tact here, but he STILL stops to ask the twins for them to surrender their magic. He cares about getting their consent specifically. When the brothers deny him and Floyd says Azul has become lame, that's when Azul snaps. His loyal henchmen are refusing his request and he's lost all his accumulated wealth. He's going to become the weak, friendless crybaby he once way all over again.

Knowing all of this, it makes sense why Azul was as startled as Riddle was when the simulated Jade attacked him. Azul claims that he anticipates this day--but he still seems to disturbed when it actually happens. It's true that perhaps this surprise comes in part from Azul having no indication that the twins were getting bored of him, so this is coming out of left field in his perspective. But... it could also be that he's hurt by the sudden shift, even if he and the twins have been telling themselves all along that they'd toss each other out without a second thought once they lose interest. This calls back to Azul's concerns right before he overblots: that his "business partners" (whom he refuses to call his friends) have lost interest in him and will now leave him alone and with nothing. He relies on the brothers not only for labor, but as his company and his confidants. When that's taken away from him... what does Azul have left that's worth anything?

Vil

Vil is another person who typically passes as very independent. He looks after himself quite well and is often the one nagging others to do the same. The thing with him is... he's still a celebrity at the end of the day, and a celebrity like him is always aware of his public image and the eyes on him. That's Vil's Achille's heel: as a celebrity, he is constantly concerned with how others perceive him. This is a lesson he learns in book 5--that he shouldn't let other people's judgment of him or a silly popularity contest determine his self-worth. Ah, but let's remember... book 6 begins like a mere DAY after book 5. Sure, Vil's character arc may be over, but that does not mean that he has suddenly completely changed. Up until yesterday, he was aggressively training to overcome his rival and to show the whole world his true beauty. Vil still, to some degree, finds value in how he looks and how others see him, as it strongly ties into his career. To this end, he sees Rook as a valuable individual.

Now, there's a lot of contention about whether or not Rook is a good influence on Vil or not, as some interpret his commentary as derogatory or unnecessarily critical. I'm not going to get into that; here, I am going to speak plainly about how Vil himself views Rook's feedback. In Vil's Labwear vignettes, he confides in Trey that he relies on Rook's keen observational skills to reflect the truth back to him. A celebrity must look at his best, and he can count on Rook to not mince his words and point out even the most minute of changes at a quick glance. (Vil himself is also extremely strict with himself, but lacks the superhuman abilities that his vice dorm leader does.) Rook has been doing this since long before he even transferred to Pomefiore, critiquing Vil's performances and such, not just his looks alone. This led into long discussions and debates between the two, which demonstrates how much Vil values Rook's perspective. Even back then, Rook was one of Vil's greatest supporters, but not exactly a totally blind "yes man". He is offering the kind of feedback that Vil seeks, not empty, sugar-coated niceties. This is why, in spite of his betrayal at the end of book 5, Vil eventually accepts it, as he trusts Rook's keen eye and judgment. What's interesting about book 6's examinations is that Vil seemingly takes charge of his group. When approached by the simulated classmates, Vil steps up and, after a moment of silence, says, "No... It's nothing. Let's go." (Vil is known as a skilled actor and can easily sniff out an act himself. Was the silence hesitation as he, Azul, and Riddle reevaluate the scene? Hard to say, but I'm assuming that STYX's state-of-the-art tech was able to perfectly simulate Rook, and thus confused Vil and co. for a while.) Rook strikes him with a spell, and that invokes a great emotional reaction from Vil, who seems to be the most aghast of the group. The fake Rook then declares that he's going to claim the dorm leader seat from Vil, which shocks him. "As you know, I appreciate beautiful things. Hence... I can hardly allow someone who's acted as ugly as you to occupy the Fairest Queen's throne!" The scene then cuts away to a battle. Now, while we don't get any extra dialogue from Vil to show his reaction, one interpretation could be that he was stunned into silence. Why is this a believable occurrence? Because the fake Rook called Vil out for "ugly" behavior. This is significant because back when Vil was overblotting, he was desperately shouting for people to "not look at him" because he's "so ugly". Here, ugliness does not mean literal ugliness or something that is visually unappealing. The "ugliness" being spoken of refers to being morally rotten, as Vil was speaking on his guilt after resorting to dirty tactics to try and take out his rival (when he had previously sworn to win on his own merits alone). The simulated Rook might be referring to this, which induces great shame in Vil, who is aware of the weight of his sins. Heck, book 6 even starts with Vil taking accountability and sincerely apologizing to the whole NRC Tribe for causing them trouble. Vil blames himself for their team losing, as it was his OB that forced them to fight and physically wore them out before their big performance. "What does it matter who forgives me?! I can't... I can't forgive myself!" He may still have lingering guilt regarding this incident, hence why he's the one predominantly reacting when the vice dorm leaders betray group 1. His mirror and huntsman, who speaks only the truth to him, now tells him of his ugliness. What else can that be, if not the truth reflected back at him?

GROUP 2

Jamil

To be clear, Jamil did not automatically go after the simulated Kalim. He automatically defers and tries to go along with his dorm leader (and only starts fighting once Leona declares the simulation for the sham it really is). Why? Surely Jamil is sharper witted than that. To this, I say... of course, it's just that Jamil's so used to being a servant that he reverts back to submissiveness as soon as he's put in a circumstance where there's a power dynamic. He’s not the one relying on Kalim—Kalim is often the one relying on him. You need proof of Jamil's servile mindset? He was intentionally talking down his own skills ever since book 4 and, according to Azul, has been purposefully maintaining painfully average grades (which, in of itself, takes a lot of effort). Admittedly though, those are conscious choices, not unconscious ones. But how about back in book 5, when Vil announces him as one of the lead vocalists and Jamil's immediate reaction is not to accept it, but to humble himself and insist that Kalim would be better suited for it (when Kalim actually isn't)? Jamil has to stop himself, back up, and accept the nomination, which he has earned for himself, rather than relinquish it to someone less deserving. Years and years of serving someone else, forced to play the part of the inferior servant, will beat that attitude into his mind, regardless of how much he resents the position.

Even now, Jamil feels like he usually has to follow someone else's lead. Leona, the upperclassman and dorm leader, provides that lead for him in the VR simulation. This leadership + independence is something they would butt heads over later in book 6, as Jamil begins to act overprotective of his current charge (Leona) as he does with Kalim. While Jamil has played the part of Kalim's attendant and childhood friend, the reality is that Jamil cannot stand those roles. He desires to stand out and to be recognized--something which is evident in book 4. Before he brainwashes the Scarabia students, he's always framing himself in a positive and helpful light to them and speaks humbly about his abilities. After he brainwashes the Scarabia students, he has them heap him with praise that he had never gotten in his childhood. In the post-OB flashback, we see Jamil's parents scolding him for outperforming Kalim, even in something as simple as a game. The headmaster of a great arcane academy overlooks him in favor of someone far less capable.

Jamil knows he can be great, but he's intentionally being told to not reach those heights. He feels stifled and trapped, and no one understands his plight that he cannot escape from. This results in Jamil distancing himself from others and coming to rely on himself and himself alone to make his wishes come true. He can't rely on his family, who are beholden to their legacy of being servants to the Asims. He can't confide in friends because none of them are quite like him, and Kalim would ignorantly brush it off. He can't tell third parties because, as Crowley as demonstrated, they dismiss him outright. Jamil, as he acts throughout book 6, is doing so in an effort to find his own strength and to be able to act on it with the freedom he seeks. To play support not because he has to, but because he, the individual, wants to. As Jamil states before overblotting, he wants to "be free" from these precarious circumstances where a wrong move could doom him and his family... but he only has so many liberties to work with. This leaves him in a strange limbo situation where he still isn't fully independent but desperately wishes to be. We see him fighting against the restraints, and to varying degrees of effectiveness depending on the context and his state of mind within that context.

Leona

From a young age, Leona seems to have worked tirelessly to obtain recognition. Like Jamil, Leona was in such a position (second-born prince) that, despite his efforts, he kept being rejected and beaten down again and again. As we see in his post-OB flashback, this is what eventually broke Leona’s spirit and made him develop a pessimistic outlook on his prospects for the future. The thing is, even though Leona does not really have hope for himself, he still manages to inspire hope in other people, from underclassmen to the students of his dorm. Book 2 is entirely about Savanaclaw looking to Leona to save their own futures, and him trying to do so for their sakes. His club mates extol how he can so quickly hone in on their best skills and advise them on how to sharpen those skills. Jack admires Leona’s plays, so much so that he wished to one day play alongside Leona. He’s even able to get beastmen of different species to get along and live peacefully under his rule when this has historically been difficult for his older brother to manage. All in all, Leona has all the makings of a leader. He stands out from the crowd, knows when to leverage his power and intelligence (playing smarter, not harder), and commands with ease.

… That being said, Leona’s presence can be so powerful at times that it’s also isolating. This was the case for his childhood, which is depicted to us as many palace servants being fearful of Leona’s devastatingly strong magic. He also uses this strong magic against his dorm mates when their intentions clash in book 2–and he comes close to killing someone in the process. He’s also just notorious in general for being grumpy or unfriendly toward others, including one instance in book 5 when he seems upset that you’ve showed up in his classroom. Leona drives people away from him, whether because of his strength or because of his prickly attitude.

At the same time, i would also describe Leona as a tactician that keeps some degree of distance from those he commands. He makes it clear he's willing to use others to achieve his own goals and does so many times over. Book 2, when he tries to take out Malleus to help his dorm leaders while also trying to prove to himself that he's capable. Book 3, when he helps Yuu and co. dissolve the contracts including one of his own he made with Azul, etc. Leona knows how to best use his own abilities, as well as those of others. That's what makes him so formidable--he can read others and judge the situation extremely well, and he knows when it is smart to fight and when to tactically retreat (such as in book 6, when he immediately surrenders to STYX agents rather than make a scene). Leona is a self-sufficient man.

There’s the question of Ruggie, of course. Leona is often depicted as lazy and relies on Ruggie to do many daily things for him, such as laundry or fetching food. This obviously throws a wrench into the claim that Leona is more "independent" than those in group 1, doesn't it? He doesn't even come close to Jamil, who actually does all of these tasks himself. Well, not exactly. I don't think "independence" here really comes down to that alone. Riddle, Azul, and Vil all relied on Trey, the twins, and/or Rook to some significant degree to inform their own senses of self. Jamil had this belief of deferring to his "betters" (the Asims) instilled in him, regardless of his personal feelings on the matter. And Leona? Leona does not significantly rely on Ruggie for his self-worth (dude was 100% going to sand him in book 2). Yes, Leona was likely looking to help his dorm members in part to prove to himself he is capable of leading a pack, but he gives up when he realizes it was a fruitless effort. He doesn't become reinvigorated to keep it up or to try again, even when his dorm members (Ruggie included) plead to him. Leona is acting selfishly, and he refuses to acknowledge their perspectives--he's set in his own ways and is driven by his own thoughts, not those of the people around him. Perhaps this is what allows him to discern truth from lies with such clarity, as it is Leona who rouses Jamil to his senses and leads the charge against the VR simulation Kalim and Ruggie.

[chimcess]

Waterlog || pjm (6)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Word Count: 9.4K+ Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: ANGST, crying, mental health issues, talking about mental health, I'm so soft for them it's actually wild, angst, trauma, panic attacks, kissing, ableism, mention of past alcohol abuse, talk of previous sexual encounters, talks of bullying, probably poor swimming terminology, I also have no idea how swim events work so might be wrong about that too, talks of possible inappropriate coach-athlete relationship, lots of insecurities, survivor's guilt, lots of guilt and shame actually, reader needs to be kinder to herself, we all deserve a Jimin, he's still best boyfriend, SMUT, smut warnings under the cut...

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Smut Warnings: virgin!Jimin, both of them are inexperienced, bad past sexual experiences, vaginal fingering, praise, public sexual contact, denied orgasm (unintentional), very vanilla and tame all things considered

Jimin stood a few feet away, his hands tangled in his hair as he smeared a thick layer of gelatin through the strands. The sight of him working so meticulously brought a smile to my face. It was a familiar scene for synchronized swimmers, their hair slicked down with the sticky goo to ward off chlorine’s wrath. But I knew a few racers who swore by it too. Jimin had never bothered before I pointed out how his hair was looking increasingly parched from our relentless days in the pool. I had shown him how to do it a few weeks ago, and now it was a daily ritual for him.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, fighting the urge to reach out and trace my fingers over the smooth expanse of his back. The phases of the moon inked down his spine were an irresistible temptation; I longed to press my lips against the artwork.

The event had been a last-minute switcheroo—originally slated for solo swimmers covering 250 yards (10 laps in this community pool), but changed when the organizers realized the length of the meet would be an endurance test in itself. Now, competitors were grouped into teams of five, each swimmer tackling two laps. Jimin was content with his team but jittery about being assigned breaststroke, his weakest stroke. Yet, I had no doubts. After months of grueling practice, his team wasn’t about to falter.

“It is what it is,” he muttered, rinsing the gelatin from his hands. “I’m more bummed about having to redirect our donations, but at least it’s still going to cancer research. Can’t complain too much.”

“Just have fun,” I offered. “Trey got to pick the charity because he pulled in the most personal donations from your team. Just do your thing and it’ll be great.”

I fiddled with the collar of my polo shirt, still struggling to accept the coach’s uniform of polo and jeans. It seemed every other coach in the pool wore it, but I felt more like a middle-aged man at a barbecue than a swim coach. The Sketchers I wore didn’t help. Jimin had picked the dark blue color for me, which was comfy enough, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I looked ridiculous.

“You look great,” Jimin said, catching my eye in the mirror.

I snorted, rolling my eyes. He’d been saying that all day, but I struggled to take him seriously. My reflection told a different story—frumpy and awkward. At least the bit of makeup I’d applied managed to make me look somewhat alive.

“I’m serious,” he insisted, adjusting his swim cap. “You look nice in that color. I even like the eyeliner thing you did. You look pretty. You always look pretty.”

I smiled, wanting desperately to kiss him but feeling too on edge. We’d sworn to keep our relationship under wraps. This year was bound to be chaotic, and the last thing we needed was reporters sniffing around if the word got out. We were confident we could manage it, but as I let my eyes roam over his mostly naked body, and with the thrill of his compliment still fresh, I wasn’t so sure.

How was I supposed to keep my hands to myself when he looked like that? His presence was almost a tangible force, and the temptation was just too great. 

“Thanks,” I said, trying to mask the tension in my voice. “Are you almost ready to join the others? William seemed really excited to work with you.”

He shook his head, a pout forming on his lips, and the sight of it made my heart race. 

“Socializing is important,” I teased, reaching out to touch his arm. “What would people think if you spent all your time locked up in your changing room with your coach?”

A mischievous grin spread across his face before he leaned in and stole a quick kiss. I gave him a warning look, though the smile I couldn't suppress gave away my true feelings. 

“I think they’d take one look at you and understand.”

I giggled, “Such a flirt.”

Jimin wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me close. The heat of his bare skin against mine sent shivers down my spine. It had never really occurred to me that he might be doing this on purpose. Hoseok’s words still echoed in my mind. Right now, Jimin seemed at ease with physical intimacy, but I knew better. If I tried to take things further, he would retreat and change the subject. 

This was something we’d have to address when we got home. For now, I wanted to see how far we could push things. If he wanted to stop, we would. But I didn’t mind being the guinea pig for this exploration.

I hopped onto the bathroom sink, wrapping my legs around one of his. We had taken over the family restroom at the event center, Jimin having convinced the others he needed solitude to get “in the zone” before his swim. I trailed behind him dutifully, my sunglasses barely hiding my excitement.

Jimin’s hands traced down my sides as I wrapped my arms around his neck. He fit against me like a perfect puzzle piece. When his fingers slid under my shirt to grip my waist, I couldn’t help but grind my hips against his thigh. The jeans dulled the sensation, but I sighed in pleasure. Jimin froze.

“Sorry,” I murmured, nuzzling into his neck, mortified. “Got carried away.”

“It’s okay,” he replied, his voice deep and rugged, stirring something primal within me. I bit back the more selfish, needy side of me and just held him. If he couldn’t see my face, maybe he wouldn’t know how desperate I was. “Do you want to do it again?”

I leaned back to look at him. His shyness was evident, but he wasn’t scared. I needed to be sure before getting excited.

“Do you want me to?”

He nodded, “Yes.”

“Are you sure? We can talk about it later if you want.”

Jimin shook his head, his grip on my waist tightening. The sensation was almost too much to bear. I suppressed the intense arousal for his sake. I wasn’t going to get off on his thigh, especially with these jeans on, but I was willing to go along if it meant something to him.

“I want to make you feel good,” he said softly, as though confessing a secret. “I just don’t know if I’ll be good at it.”

“Baby,” I cooed, gently caressing his face. He avoided eye contact. “Hey, look at me.”

He did.

“Don’t worry about that stuff,” I whispered, kissing the tip of his nose. “Whatever we do together is going to feel good because we’re together.”

He shook his head, resting his forehead against mine. He seemed anxious, almost sad. I wished he’d open up more; it might ease his burden.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” he groaned. “I want you so bad but I get nervous.”

I nodded. “That’s okay. You make me nervous too.”

We stood there, both caught in our tangled emotions. We had arrived early so Jimin could scout and time his warm-up routine before the event. I felt conflicted—my body was slick with desire, and despite knowing he was upset, I still wanted him to touch me. The fact that I was even keeping track of time for a quickie was almost criminal.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Chim,” I breathed, kissing his cheek. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“Is it because you don’t want to or because you’re worried about me?”

I didn’t have a good answer. I didn’t want to make him feel guilty, but I was so afraid of hurting him that I struggled to articulate what I wanted. My fear of rejection was overshadowed by concern for him.

“Can I touch you?” he asked.

I nodded, “Of course you can. I’m just worried about you right now. You seem upset.”

His hands slowly traveled up my shirt. I leaned back slightly, granting him better access. His hands ventured higher, and he admitted, “I’m not very experienced. It makes me feel insecure.”

His hands stopped just below my bra. “I know you’re older and have been with more people.”

I nodded, understanding his hesitation. I didn’t need the whole story to grasp what he was trying to tell me.

“I’ve only been with one person,” I confessed. “You don’t have a reason to be insecure. It’s just me. Just us.”

He kissed me, and my fingernails dug into his shoulders. He pulled away, and I nearly cried out in frustration. He was driving me insane.

“It was one for me too,” he said, his hands tracing down my back. “It couldn’t… perform.”

The pieces fell into place. He was a virgin. It all made sense now.

“Did you ever…?” I asked, kissing up his neck.

“No. She told a bunch of her friends, and I got picked on for a while. I never tried again. Swimming took up so much of my time that it never came up.”

My heart broke for him. I wanted to know who had hurt my beautiful boy. I took a moment to calm myself, planting gentle kisses on his skin to soothe him.

“Fuck her,” I said softly.

He chuckled, his hands moving back to my stomach, then lower. I bit his ear playfully, and he moaned, slipping his hand into my pants. I could barely contain my pleasure. 

“We’re not having sex here,” I said, trying to ease the pressure. “I won’t touch you unless you want me to.”

He nodded, his gaze focused on my lap. He was still touching me over my panties, and the sensation was almost unbearable. I was almost ashamed of how wet I was, but after months of frustration, it felt almost justified.

“What time is it?” he asked.

I lifted my wrist. “We have twenty minutes before warm-ups.”

He nodded, slipping a finger into my panties. I jolted at the cold touch. He leaned in and kissed my cheek.

“Do you want to stop?”

I shook my head, “Not if you don’t want to.”

He looked into my eyes as his finger gently traced up and down my folds. I sighed in relief, letting my eyes slip shut, focusing on the pleasure he was giving me. 

His finger pressed against my entrance, and when he felt no resistance, he pushed it in all the way. I moaned, opening my legs wider. His movements were tentative at first, but soon became more confident, his strokes deep and deliberate. My body was on fire with need.

“Right there,” I choked out, leaning back into the mirror.

His fingers hit the same spot again, and I shuddered, trying to muffle my cries. Jimin’s touches were more assured now, making my toes curl.

“Yeah?” he cooed, adding another finger. My eyes rolled back in ecstasy. “You’re so perfect.”

I could feel myself shaking, my hands gripping his arm for support. I was so close, and my muffled moans were becoming harder to control.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

My eyes flew open. I looked at Jimin, then the door, and back to him. His pupils were almost entirely dilated, and he was flushed a pretty pink. His fingers were still deep inside me.

“Tara?” a voice called out. “Are you in there?”

“Wrong bathroom,” Jimin called out, fingers still moving. I watched him, biting my lip to keep quiet. “Sorry.”

“Oh! My bad.”

The man’s footsteps faded away.

“Time?” he asked.

I checked my watch and sighed. Jimin slowly withdrew his fingers, and I almost choked on my own breath when he put them in his mouth. 

“Later,” he promised.

It was a promise that weighed heavily. I fought between being his girlfriend and his coach. The girlfriend wanted to forget everything else and keep him here. The coach knew better and that I would regret keeping him from something so important to him. 

“Let’s go kick some ass,” I said, kissing him one last time before sliding off the counter. “You leave first. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

He scoffed and took my hand. “I’m not leaving you after what we just did.”

“Such a gentleman,” I giggled, leaning into his side. “Make sure no one’s around, and we’ll leave together.”

We were the first ones at the pool, a handful of reporters already lurking around the bleachers, eager to catch the first glimpse of the swimmers. Jimin and I had let go of each other before entering the pool room, our roles as coach and trainee now firmly back in place. My steps slowed as I turned to him.

“I’ll hang back,” I said, my weariness of the press still gripping me. No one seemed to recognize me yet, and Jimin was an effective buffer. “Go and play nice.”

He flashed me a grin. “I’m an American sweetheart, angel. The people love me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, sweetheart, you better start talking. We’ve got warm-ups to do. Unless you want to cramp up and lose. If that’s your plan, be my guest.”

As Jimin charmed the cameras, I mentally reviewed our plan for the day. Regardless of the outcome, we were hitting the town for food and drinks. It was a perfect way to build rapport and expand our network. The more connections we made, the more likely someone would pass our name to a sponsor.

It struck me as odd that Jimin wasn’t a sponsor or ambassador for any major brands despite his popularity. When I asked him about it, he mentioned Hamilton’s belief that endorsements would be a distraction. His mother thought Hamilton was just jealous of Jimin’s success. I had to side with Nayeon on this one.

I was already working on securing a deal with Nike or Adidas. Their sportswear was among the most recognized worldwide, and getting Jimin’s face out there would set him up nicely for life after the Olympics. He had at least one, maybe two, more Olympics before retirement, and sponsors could provide the financial cushion he needed while he focused on swimming.

I’d reached out to an old contact at Speedo, who was eager to get the endorsement process rolling. Miguel, the rep I’d always dealt with, was thrilled about the newest hot swimmer in town. A shipment of gear was on its way, and I was awaiting confirmation from advertising about a potential campaign. I hadn’t anticipated this, but Speedo seemed eager to be one of Jimin’s first endorsements. I planned to discuss it with him once the charity event was over.

“Ready?”

I jumped, Jimin’s laugh ringing in my ears. 

“Yeah, yeah,” I teased. “Laugh it up. Just take off your clothes and get in the water.”

Jimin stuck his tongue out at me, peeling off his jacket and tossing it on his gear bag. His flip-flops followed, and before long, he was in the water. I stood at the edge, watching him as he began his laps. This was more about stretching than training, and I reminded him to take it slow.

The pool began to fill with other swimmers practicing their strokes. Jimin and the others tagged each other in and out, getting used to the relay transitions. I watched with pride. His breaststroke was impressive. His progress was a testament to his hard work, and I felt honored to be part of his journey. Relationship aside, he was dedicated, and it was a pleasure to work with him.

“He looks good,” Coach Tyler Moore said, his gaze fixed on Jimin. “Better than when he was with that other guy. Kid’s a beast.”

“Good for a short guy,” Nicole, another coach, joked.

Jimin’s height was always a topic of discussion. His shorter stature seemed to be a disadvantage, especially against the taller Olympic swimmers. Most of the men in the category were at least six feet tall, and the women were often taller than Park, myself included.

“He’s a great swimmer,” I replied. “He’s fast and strong. Could probably bench-press a bear if he tried.”

Tyler chuckled. “Do you think he’ll place at the Olympics?”

I nodded. “Of course I do. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Girl’s a recluse,” a familiar dry voice drawled beside me.

I chuckled. Summer Lewis, an old friend from high school, had unexpectedly shown up. It was a welcome surprise that eased some of my nerves.

“Thought hell would freeze over before she was back in public,” Summer said. “Do you even leave the house?”

“Yes,” I said, trying to keep the smile on my face. “Obviously. I’m here right now.”

“How are you feeling?” she asked, glancing at me as the others dispersed to speak with reporters. “Leg holding up?”

“Yeah. I still get some pain, especially in the cold, but I’m managing. Alive, so I can’t complain too much.”

The same couldn’t be said for Namjoon. I pushed that thought aside. There was no room for survivor’s guilt today. I was happy. Everything was coming together. He would be happy for me. But he’s dead.

I took a deep breath, my anxiety escalating. The reporters were closing in, and the thought of interacting with them made me physically ill. My stomach churned, and I fought to keep the panic at bay. It was irrational, but I was sweating like a pig.

“Do you miss it?” Summer asked, gesturing toward the pool.

“All the time,” I admitted, a bead of sweat trickling down my neck. “Hey, I’m going to use the bathroom real quick. Let Park know if he starts looking for me.”

Summer nodded. “We’ll be starting in ten.”

“I’ll be back before then.”

Jimin looked my way as I glanced back at him. He gave me a thumbs-up, and I nodded in return, signaling that I’d be back shortly. He needed to stay focused on the water and his team.

I squeezed my hand into a fist, tucking my thumb underneath my index finger and popping it through the other side. I waved my wrist, signaling that I needed to use the restroom. He nodded, and I saw him relax a bit. Good. I just needed a few minutes to collect myself.

I splashed water on my face, my reflection in the bathroom mirror staring back at me. Today was overwhelming. My anxiety was through the roof, and the makeup on my face felt like a mask. It looked fine, as it always did, but it only made me feel more insecure. I looked like I was trying too hard, and everyone knew it. God, I was such an idiot.

And then there was Jimin.

I let a single tear slip. It was inappropriate and disrespectful. He was so nervous and scared, and I’d brushed off his vulnerability because of what? I hadn’t had any in a while? I was no better than the men I despised.

I gave myself two minutes to cry, letting the guilt and shame flow out. Once my watch beeped, I dabbed my face with tissues and fixed my hair. Whatever was going on with me would have to wait. Jimin was counting on me.

As I opened the bathroom door, I collided with a solid chest. I stumbled back, barely catching myself on the wall. The person I bumped into remained still.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, adjusting my clothes. “Are you okay?”

“Perfectly fine.”

The voice was unmistakable. 

Standing in front of me was Matthew Hamilton, his blonde hair starting to silver and slicked back with too much hairspray. His pale blue eyes, devoid of warmth, still unsettled me. He was built like an ox and as healthy as ever, but age was catching up.

“Good to see you, Otter,” he said, his tone dripping with boredom. “Seems like you got stuck with my leftovers.”

I was too furious to speak. How dare he speak about Jimin like that? I had to hold myself together before I lost control. I was already at my breaking point, and his condescending attitude was the last straw.

“Too bad they couldn’t find a swimmer up to your caliber,” he continued, seemingly oblivious to the offense. “Even with a limp, you deserve better than Park. Kid’s got no spirit, and don’t even get me started on the drinking.”

I scoffed. “Jimin doesn’t drink.”

“Not anymore, maybe,” Hamilton said casually, as if trying to make small talk. “He used to drink like a fish until his brother died. Working with him was a nightmare. Glad you’re not dealing with that shit with your bum leg.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my leg,” I snapped, at least making him look slightly chastised. “And for the record, that ‘nightmare’ you keep talking about beat your personal best in his last competition. So if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do than listen to a has-been who doesn’t know when to shut up.”

I shoved past him, barely moving him an inch. My steps were heavy as I stalked down the hallway, my anger searing through me. I knew my face betrayed my emotions, and the cameras would catch every detail. It was almost enough to make me turn back and hide in the bathroom.

But I had someone counting on me, and he was far more important than protecting my pride.

Jimin was standing with the group when I returned, three minutes to spare. He clocked something was off right away, and so did Summer.

“What crawled up your ass?” she asked.

“Some dumb bitch,” I huffed, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself. “I bumped into an asshole on my way out of the bathroom.”

“Are you okay?” Nicole asked, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Do we need to tell security?”

I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it. I think I gave him enough of an earful to keep him the hell away from me.”

I didn’t want to reveal who had bothered me. It would only cause unnecessary drama and upset Jimin. We had an event to focus on. 

“Let's go over the plan one more time.” 

Taking over as head coach, I directed the team. The others were happy to hand over the reins, and the boys took direction well. We reviewed the order of events, their best times, and their confidence levels. After a pep talk and some words of encouragement, it was time for the boys to swim.

Jimin was third in our group of four, and I watched him intensely. How well he performed today would set the tone for the rest of the season. He was signed up to compete in the breaststroke event at the Olympics, along with other solo swimming events. I knew just how skeptical people were about his chances. Today’s performance could reignite interest in him, which was crucial for securing sponsors.

Jimin took his place on the block, laser-focused and ready to dive in as soon as Trey tagged him. Trey was the fastest in the pool today, giving Jimin a head start before the others were halfway back across.

I held my breath. Jimin was a bullet in the water. Not as perfect as I wanted, but much improved. He reached the touchpad and pushed himself back across the pool. Team 3 was catching up, but Jimin would finish first. I watched as he gave one final push and tagged in D’Angelo.

Take that, you old bastard, I sneered internally. My anger surprised me; Hamilton deserved my contempt. No one gets to talk about Jimin like that. Ever.

D’Angelo butterflied us to victory. Our team hugged each other as the announcer declared our win to the cheering crowd. The bleachers were filled, the audience screaming their praise at the four men. They basked in the glory. All I could do was stare at my pretty boy’s smile in awe.

I really did love him.

Even if I didn’t tell him right now, I knew in my heart that I did. I went up against Matthew fucking Hamilton for him, came to this charity function, and kept it together. Now, I was going to talk to some news reporters, all because I loved him.

I love him, I love him, I love him…

“You’re a damn good coach, Y/N.”

I turned to smile at Summer. She was beautiful, her brown eyes warm and kind. She reminded me of Giselle, but her features were sharper, her nose broader. I remembered us cutting up after placing in nationals right after we turned 21. I hadn’t thought about her in so long I forgot what it was like to miss her.

“So are you. D’Angelo is one of the best I’ve seen for his age group. How old is he?”

“Sixteen. Turning seventeen next month. Hope he’ll be Olympics-ready next time, but I don’t know if he’ll stick with it.”

“He will. You can see it in his eyes.”

D’Angelo was talking to Jimin, the high schooler bubbly and starry-eyed. He had a slight stutter and kept apologizing about his tics. D’Angelo had Tourette’s and clicked his tongue and winked a lot. He attached himself to Jimin once they got comfortable, and my boyfriend told me he had followed the younger swimmer on social media.

“Where does he go to school?”

“Pioneer High,” she replied. “His family moved to Ann Arbor a few weeks ago. He was going to school out here in Allendale.”

What a small world.

“Does he need a new coach?” I asked. “I’m out in Saline. It’s only twenty minutes away from Ann Arbor.”

Summer seemed excited about the prospect of us working together. She said this was their last meet as coach and student, and she was sad to see him go since he was the only person serious about swimming professionally on their team. I gave her my contact information and asked her to pass it on to D’Angelo’s parents. I saw potential in him and wanted to keep that fire in his eyes.

“He’s going to be so excited.”

“Well, he’ll have to wait until after the Olympics,” I reminded her. “I’m up to my neck in work right now.”

“What about weekends?” she countered.

“Maybe Saturday,” I sighed. “We’ll see. I’m not sure if I want to commit to it right now. I’ll be in hell until July. Between Nationals and all the other competitions Hamilton signed him up for, we’re not getting any breaks.”

Summer hummed, eyeing the reporters. They had gone to speak with the boys, all of whom seemed eager to share their happiness about the win. St. Jude’s would be getting a hundred thousand dollars from today’s event. Reaching into my pocket, I asked Summer if she had recorded the race.

“Nicole did,” she told me. “She sent it to the group chat already.”

“Excellent,” I grinned. “Jimin’s mom wanted to see him swim. She was so disappointed she couldn’t come.”

I felt Summer watching me as I unlocked my phone. Watching the video, I was pleased at how well-shot it was. You could see all of our boys on full display. I thanked Nicole for the video and saved it. Pulling up Neyeon’s number, I sent the video and promised her to have Jimin call her as soon as he was available.

“You two together?”

I looked at Summer, keeping my face neutral.

“Sorry if I’m overstepping,” she laughed. “It’s just…you two seem very close.”

I raised an eyebrow. Lying wasn’t something I did often, and this felt wrong but necessary. I didn’t want anyone to know about us. It took one person saying the wrong thing, and we’d be up shit’s creek come July. Our relationship was frowned upon by SafeSport and would be considered imbalanced.

“We’re not.”

Summer did not look convinced.

“I’m not going to tell anyone, Y/N. You’re just a trainer while he’s still in Michigan. A stand-in until Bunch finds him a new coach. We all know that, and you’re not breaking the code of conduct.”

“I’m not a temp,” I sighed. “We haven’t disclosed anything yet. I wanted to wait until after the Olympics, but I’m afraid I’ll have to step down before that happens.”

Summer placed a hand on my shoulder. “He’ll be in Colorado in April, right? Tell Bunch your job as coach is over and you won’t have anything to worry about.”

“You don’t get it,” I shook my head. “Ozzie wants me to be his permanent coach. That’s been the expectation this entire time, and I know Jimin would want the same.”

“Well, he can’t have his cake and eat it too,” she said, glancing at the reporters. “Get him to understand the position you’d be in. I’m sure if you told him your romantic relationship would make you look bad, then he’d be more willing to get help elsewhere.”

“He wants to finish the season with me by his side. It was the only compromise he was willing to listen to.”

“Put your foot down. Find other options. Christmas is around the corner. Spring won’t be too long after that. You should step down before Oswald finds out. Don’t screw yourself over, babe. You’ve worked too hard for this to let some kid take it away from you.”

I snorted, “He’s not doing anything wrong.”

“No,” she argued. “He’s being selfish. You both are.”

I knew she was right. I should have waited until I was no longer attached to him in this way before starting anything. I knew it from the beginning, and I still allowed myself to be in this position. Summer had a point. Finding him a permanent coach before we went to Colorado in April was a good idea. If I was just a trainer, then nothing would be inappropriate, and I could still help him out in the gym.

“Are you looking for anything?” I joked.

Summer laughed. “Girl, I’d love to work with that boy, but I don’t think we’d line up this year. I have kids now. I can email you a few recommendations.”

“Thanks, Summer. I don’t know how big of a deal it’s going to be, but I’ll talk to Bunch about it.”

“Anytime, Otter. I’m just speaking from my experiences. He might tell you something different. Don’t spiral over it. I know you.”

I always hated that stupid nickname, but I had to put on a smile. Cameras were coming our way, and I needed to be sure I was on my best behavior. For Jimin’s sake.

The interview went better than I expected. I didn’t have to talk about myself a single time, and it didn’t look like any of the reporters here knew who I was. It wasn’t pleasant, but I couldn’t complain. We spoke for five minutes before they moved on to the others. Taking that as my cue, I went to collect my athlete.

We had a lot to talk about tonight.

Jimin smiled when I approached. The other three boys greeted me just as eagerly, and I was more than happy to hand out my praises. D’Angelo and Trey went to mingle with the losing teams. Paul went to find Nicole, leaving Jimin and me alone.

“You look upset,” he said, handing his duffle bag over when I held out my hand. “Something the matter?”

“No,” I shook my head and smiled. “Nothing’s wrong. I just need to talk to you later.”

“Is it bad?”

“Not bad,” I reassured him. “Something private. I don’t want to do it here.”

“Okay, Coach.”

That night, as I lay in bed, I thumbed through the email Summer had sent me earlier. Jimin had been invited out with the other boys, and I had pushed him to go. I told him I had paperwork and reports to handle, that he should enjoy his night off. He seemed reluctant but left anyway.

The truth was, I wasn't ready to have this conversation with him. Every time I tried to bring up our relationship, he brushed it off, saying he was fine with waiting until after the Olympics. But I knew better. It would look worse if we waited until he won a medal to disclose everything. I was his coach, temporary or otherwise, and it was my responsibility to make sure boundaries weren't crossed.

I should have never come here. Not when I knew exactly how I felt about him before I did. I was such an idiot.

Finally, ready to face the music, I called Ozzie. It was still early in Colorado, but I knew he'd answer. I never called him unless it was important. Maybe, if I was lucky, Whitney would pick up, and I could chat with her first. She always had a way of helping me get my head straight before unleashing my worries on Ozzie.

"Hello?" No such luck tonight.

"Hey, Oz," I greeted, the worry in my voice making me want to hang up. "How are you?"

"Fine. What's wrong, Otter?"

I sighed, "I fucked up."

"Tell me about it."

So I did. I spent half an hour unloading everything that had happened since I moved to Michigan. How attracted I was to Jimin, but how I pushed those feelings aside to coach him. The months of slowly building longing. Sushi night in Detroit. The date when I came back from visiting home. The kiss on his couch. The brief sexual encounter this morning (though I left out most of those details). I told him everything.

To his credit, Oswald just listened. He only spoke every so often to clarify something or ask about a small detail I left out. As my story came to a close, the pit in my stomach felt like someone was sitting on me. My hands began to tremble.

"I'm so sorry, Ozzie," I cried. "You trusted me, and I fucked it all up."

"You didn't do anything wrong," he finally said, his voice soft and gentle. "Summer was being dramatic earlier. What you two do is your business as long as you disclose it."

"But-"

"Katinka Hosszú and Shane Tusup are married. Coach-athlete relationship. They've disclosed it, and they're fine. You and Park are doing the same thing. I'll let everyone else know, and you'll be fine once the Olympics come around."

"I just don't want to be a bad person, Oz."

"You're not," he soothed. "You did the right thing by telling me. I'm happy for you, Y/N. You've been alone for too long, and that kid needs someone like you in his corner. He's been through a lot."

Wiping my face, his words brought back my encounter with Hamilton. The words he used to describe Jimin were so far from reality, but I still couldn't find it in me to not believe him. Matthew was a jerk, a stupid one at that, but he was sincere in his annoyance.

"I ran into Hamilton today. He said some shitty things about Jimin. Called him a drunk."

Ozzie cursed under his breath.

My heart rate sped up. So it was true? But that didn't make sense. Jimin didn't even drink. I had never heard of a drunk who didn't drink. Unless he was in recovery.

I thought about my dad. He'd been sober for five years now. It was one of the only compliments I could give his new wife. She kept him on the straight and narrow. Imagining Jimin in my childhood basement, too drunk to stand up, crying for a wife that wasn't coming back felt wrong. I could never put him in that position. That wasn't him at all.

"That's something you should talk to him about."

"But it's true?"

"To an extent," Ozzie admitted. "I wouldn't call him a drunk, but the kid can hold his liquor. He was worse a few years ago, but he's been great for a long time. Hamilton is just exaggerating."

But I had a gut feeling he wasn't.

"Thanks for talking to me, Oz."

"Anytime, Y/N," he chuckled. "And delete that damn email. He doesn't need a new coach. You're working magic on him."

"Night."

"Night."

Tossing my phone on the bed, I slammed my laptop shut and put it on the nightstand. Today had been a disaster. We came here and won, did exactly as well as I had hoped, but it felt hollow. I didn't know who to believe. Summer's concerns were valid from an academic coach's perspective, and I understood her worries. It was strange to me as well. Ozzie was a far more reliable source, but it felt too easy. Things were never that simple for me, and it was difficult to calm down enough to believe what he said.

Curling into a ball, I stared at the front door. He'd be back soon, and I'd have to explain my strange mood. I knew he'd be upset with me for sending him away after saying we needed to talk, but I hoped he'd forgive me once I explained why I needed space to think. So many decisions needed to be made, and I knew I would only hurt him if I tried to do anything before screwing my head back on.

For now, I decided to go by Ozzie's advice. If any issues came up, we'd deal with them together. As a team. Jimin would prefer it that way, and I could take some of the pressure off my shoulders.

A beep. A wiggle. Another beep. The door opened.

"Stupid keycard doesn't work right," Jimin grumbled to himself, slipping out of his shoes. "I knew there was a reason it was so cheap."

I slowly sat up and watched him. His hair was in his eyes, and his skin looked a little pale, but he seemed to be in a good mood. I couldn't smell alcohol either.

I wanted to punch myself in the face.

I wasn't ready for that conversation yet, but I knew avoiding it would only make things worse. If I let my mind wander, it would spin the worst story ever told, and I'd constantly be checking to make sure he wasn't drunk.

Jimin didn't drink, I told myself. Jimin's been doing great.

He went straight to the bathroom, giving me a few minutes to collect myself. I needed to be honest but cautious. If I told him word-for-word what Hamilton had said, it would only make him feel bad. Starting with the good news first might help. Maybe learning that we didn't have to hide our relationship status going forward would ease the sting of his old coach's words.

I would have to approach this delicately. The toilet flushed. The water ran. The bathroom door opened. It was showtime.

"Had fun?" I asked him, knees pressed against my chest.

He smiled at me, "They're all really nice. Wish you were there."

"Next time," I promised. "Want to put the TV on?"

Jimin shrugged, "Sure. Food Network?"

"Chopped might be on."

It was actually Iron Chef, but we both liked that show too, so we kept it on. I tried not to stare at Jimin as he got undressed. He only wore a shirt and boxers to sleep, so it was very distracting. I needed to be focused and ready for anything.

Climbing into bed, he wrapped an arm around my waist and buried his face into my side. I was still sitting up, cradling my legs, but Jimin's whining finally got me to relax. Sliding down, I wrapped my arms around his neck and let him throw the blanket over me.

This was my happy place.

"I missed you," he mumbled, fingers playing with my hair.

"I missed you too," I told him. "Sorry I've been weird."

"What's wrong, angel?"

I felt my eyes welling up. "Good or bad?"

"Good."

I took a deep breath.

"I told Coach Bunch about our relationship. He said we'll be fine, and he's going to put in a disclosure form with the board for us. We'll probably get an email to sign a few documents in a couple of days."

He kissed my forehead, a large, toothy grin overtaking his entire face. I couldn't help but smile back. I knew it would make him happy. Gripping my hair, he yanked my head forward for a kiss. He couldn't stop smiling even as our lips collided. His joy eased some of my anxiety about the conversation that was to come.

"I'm so happy right now," he giggled, kissing me again. "I can finally show you off like the pretty girl you are."

Relenting, I tightened my grip around him. I needed to focus on the good. Jimin wasn't going to get mad at me for being honest, and I had to hope Hamilton being a jerk wouldn't burst our perfectly formed bubble.

"I ran into Coach Hamilton today."

Jimin's smile dropped in sync with my heart.

"He said some things," I averted my gaze. "It upset me. That was my issue when I came back from the bathroom."

"What did he say?"

I shook my head, "It doesn't matter. He doesn't matter."

Jimin cupped my cheek.

"You were upset before you went. Why?"

I sighed, burying my face in his neck. It was easier to talk to him when I didn't feel his eyes on me. It never ended. The anxiety. The shame. The guilt.

"I just felt so bad about the bathroom thing. You told me to drop it, but it's still there. I don't want to make you feel pressured. I want you to feel loved when I touch you. I just want to make you feel good, Jimin."

"You do," he soothed, kissing my head. "You make me feel amazing. There's nothing wrong with the things we do. We're going to be okay."

I couldn't help but cry. I loved him so much. I could never, ever, let him go. He was everything I ever wanted. Perfect.

"And then, here comes this goddamn asshole," I cried, the words spilling out of me like a busted dam. I was past the point of no return, the fury and frustration rolling off me in waves. Any semblance of calm had fled, replaced by a raw, unfiltered torrent of emotion. 

"He kept yammering about my 'bum leg,' saying you were no good, calling you a drunk. I don't know what came over me, but I just snapped. I never lose it like that, but I did. And now, I feel like I've ruined everything—your meet, your moment. And to top it all off, I went behind your back and talked to Ozzie—"

"Stop." Jimin's hands were on my face, his grip firm but gentle, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Stop it. Please, don't hide from me. You didn't ruin anything, angel. I promise. I'm so happy we won, and you talking to Bunch is the best gift anyone’s ever given me."

I shook my head, unable to accept his words. The day had spiraled into a nightmare, and I felt responsible for every second of it. I couldn't celebrate with him, couldn't touch him, couldn't even look at him. I was a failure. I was a mistake. This whole thing was a mistake. I was going to ruin his career. His life. His—

"One," he took a deep breath. "Two," then another. "Three," he kissed my forehead. "Come on, angel girl. Breathe with me."

I blinked, following his lead. One deep breath in. One big exhale out. One breath in. One breath out. One, two, three, four; five. Ten, nine, eight, seven; six. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. 

"There you go," Jimin mumbled. "Just calm down. I'm not mad. I promise you I'm not mad."

I nodded, my breath catching up with me. With my head cleared, the weight of my earlier words hit me like a sledgehammer. So much for being gentle and kind. I wanted to punch myself in the face. God, I was a horrible girlfriend.

"I'm sorry," I murmured. "That was unnecessary. And selfish. And wrong. I promised myself I'd stay calm, and then I just freaked out on you."

Sitting up, I wiped my face roughly, angry at my tears. I was too old to act like this when I was upset. I needed to learn how to stay composed and communicate. No one wants to deal with a crybaby who explodes all the time.

"It's okay to be upset," he replied. "That's a lot to handle alone, and you did so well today. I want you to know you can have these moments with me. It's what I'm here for."

"But you shouldn’t have to."

"I want to," he said, grabbing my face again. I hadn’t realized I had looked away. "I want to because I love you."

Automatically, I laughed. My disbelief was so great I was positive Ashton Kutcher would jump out of the bathroom and tell me I was getting Punk’d. But this wasn’t 2003. It was 2024, and no one had thought about that blemish on MTV’s record in over a decade. This was just me and Jimin in our hotel room, and he was telling me something profound, and all I could do was laugh.

He cracked a smile. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," I shook my head, almost giddy with joy. "Nothing. I don’t know why I can’t stop laughing."

His smile widened. Sitting up, he leaned in and kissed my cheek. I squeaked, giggled, and threw myself at him.

My mood swings had to be exhausting. I knew I had to be as well.

But he loved me. Jimin loved me. Even if I was the most exhausting girlfriend, he loved me.

"I love you," he repeated, his eyes soft and glowing with unmistakable fondness. "I don’t like it when you talk about yourself like that."

"I love you, too," I whispered back like a secret. "I’m sorry."

He shook his head. "Don’t feel bad for telling me these things. You’re not ruining anything for me. I’m just happy you’re giving me the privilege to hold you when you’re down. You’re a suffer-in-silence type."

I snorted. "Woe is me."

Jimin leaned back and took me with him. Laying across his chest, I got comfortable and stared at him. He was the prettiest man I had ever seen. He needed a haircut soon. It was past his ears and too hard for him to manage. I’d let him go early next week so he could fit in a trip to the barber.

"There’s nothing wrong with your leg, by the way."

I snickered. "I told him the same thing. May or may not have called him a has-been, too."

That made Jimin laugh. The sound was like music. I loved it when he was happy. I was worried he was putting his feelings aside to make me feel better, but I had to force myself to let him come to me on his own time. Whatever Jimin wanted was what I wanted, and if he wasn’t ready to tell me about his past yet, I would accept that.

Because I loved him. And he loved me. I smiled. He loves me.

"You have questions, right?"

"About the drunk comment? Sure, but you don’t have to say anything. You can talk to me or not, and I’ll still be here."

He regarded me for a moment before nodding. "Thank you."

I simpered. "You’re welcome."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Wanting to break the tension, I made a show of stretching my arms above my head. Yawning melodramatically, I curled up against his side. Jimin’s arms wrapped around my waist as if they were always meant to be there. As it turned out, a new episode of Chopped had come on.

Jimin was very pleased with this, and we lapsed into a comfortable silence as we watched the chefs open their baskets. We had gotten lucky enough to only miss the introductions. For their appetizer basket, they got mofongo (something I had never heard of before), English peas, sparkling cider, and catfish filets. I marveled at the ingredients. I would have been utterly clueless.

"What’s mofongo made of?" I asked Jimin.

"Mashed up fried plantains," he replied calmly. "They put garlic paste and chicharron in it. You’d usually eat it with beef broth, but it can change depending on the recipe. It’s a Puerto Rican dish. I only heard about it after swimming with Luis Rivera at Nationals. It’s really good."

"It sounds good. Summer? Her family is Nigerian, and if we were lucky, her mother would bring these massive pots of food to our training sessions when we were in the U.S. Olympic swimming team back in 2012. I dream about her jollof rice. And the soups? Don't even get me started."

I watched as one chef used the mofongo to create a marinade for his catfish and raised an eyebrow. Points off for lack of creativity. Another person had taken the mofongo and turned it into a thick gravy. Both seemed like safe choices, but at least they were using it. The other chef hadn’t even touched it. They were very focused on a pot of boiling potatoes and frying the fish.

"Boiling more potatoes seems pointless," I muttered.

"Let him cook."

I snorted. "Yes, sir."

Jimin was right, of course. A few moments later, the man was mixing the potatoes and mofongo together to make a hybrid of sorts. After that, he assembled his fish pie. He used the cider to make a base gravy for the fish and peas, added in a few other veggies for more flavor, and piled on the potatoes. I did not think I would like the flavor of fish with heaps of mash on them, but it looked delicious as he plated them. Far better than the other two’s strange and avant-garde style.

It just wasn’t something I would consider an appetizer.

"That’s an entire meal," Jimin scoffed. "He’s going home."

"Get out of my head, kid."

He kissed my cheek. "Make me."

"Punk."

"You love me."

"I do."

"Say it again," he giggled.

I rolled my eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he sighed happily. "I’m so happy I can just say that now. You have no idea how hard it’s been to just... not say it."

I thought about the semi-panic attack I had in Hoseok’s car and laughed. He had no idea how much I understood where he was coming from.

"Say it as much as you want, love," I kissed the underside of his chin.

We had both been right. The judges thought the pie was too much to be an appetizer. 

The hiss of the shower jolted me awake, the sound slicing through the thick, restless silence of the early morning. I fumbled groggily for my phone. The screen lit up: 3:17 AM. The bed beside me was a cold, empty expanse, and a tight knot of worry coiled in my gut. I slipped out of bed, the chill of the floor biting at my feet, and crept toward the bathroom door.

“Chim?” I called softly, barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder might shatter the fragile night.

“Yeah?” His voice was close, too close to the door for him to be in the shower. 

“Can I come in?” 

The moment of silence that followed was heavy, like the air before a storm. Then came the soft click of the lock, and the door creaked open just enough for me to see him. As I’d feared, he was still fully clothed, slumped on the toilet with that distant, haunted look I’d hoped never to see again. It had been months since he’d looked this lost.

I slipped inside and closed the door behind me, the small space barely accommodating us. We were so close our knees touched, but I didn’t care. He needed me, and I wasn’t going anywhere.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, my voice barely a breath.

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed on some dark chasm only he could see. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, broken only by the steady drip of the showerhead. Eventually, he reached over and turned off the water. The steam billowed around us, wrapping us in a dense fog.

"Her name was Jackie," he said finally, his voice a whisper lost in the fog. "She was a friend of Annie’s. We were in college, and Annie practically forced us to go out so she could double date with Tom."

I hummed softly, encouraging him to continue. I didn’t understand why Jackie was surfacing now, but I had a sinking feeling she was the girl he’d mentioned earlier—the one who had made him feel small and worthless. Jackie. What a godawful name.

“She was one of those people who wore a mask around her friends and was someone else entirely when we were alone. I was 18, and she was pretty, so I let it slide. We had things in common, and we laughed a lot.”

He paused, drawing a shaky breath. “Her friends thought I was weird and didn’t want her with me. They’d been tight since middle school and still acted like high school mean girls. I didn’t care much for them either, but Jackie always said she didn’t care what they thought.”

My heart twisted in my chest. I had a gut-wrenching feeling where this was going, and it made me sick. My poor baby. I placed a hand on his knee in a futile attempt to comfort him.

“We’d been seeing each other for a few months, but we hadn’t done more than a few kisses and hugs. I was gearing up for my first professional championship swim meet, and she was buried in schoolwork. Double major or something, I don’t really remember.”

He took another deep breath. “Our clothes were off, and I was so nervous. She seemed okay with it. We just got dressed and watched a movie. We both knew that things weren’t going anywhere.”

“That’s normal, Jimin,” I murmured, trying to fill the void of silence. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He shook his head. “She told her friends, who told their friends, who then told everyone in my frat about what happened. Then she was too much of a coward to face me and acted like nothing had ever happened. I was humiliated, mortified. I just didn’t want to have sex anymore. The drinking started after, but that was more a side effect of being in a fraternity with undiagnosed depression.”

I was at a loss for words, so I stood up. Jimin watched me as I lowered myself onto his lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held him tight.

Even if it wasn’t some grotesque horror story, it was still a deep, festering wound. Trauma was trauma, regardless of its shape or size. This morning had uncovered more than either of us was willing to admit.

For Jimin, it was confronting his fears of rejection. For me, it was the struggle to finally move on from guilt and shame. Namjoon's face came to mind, and I had to make my brain stop itself from going there. He would want me to be happy. He would want me to live. I relaxed into him, hoping that we could both find a way to heal.

Jimin sucked in a few deep breaths before his arms enveloped my waist. He hiccuped once, then twice, and finally, he began to cry.

I buried my face in his hair, my own tears mingling with his. It was heart-wrenching to see him in such pain, but I felt deeply honored that he was finally allowing his walls to come down. For all my talk about suffering in silence, Jimin was far more adept at hiding his pain than I was.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “You didn’t deserve that.”

He cried harder and nodded. “I know,” he wailed.

I didn’t want to talk anymore. Holding him in my arms, this beautiful, broken boy, I wished I could keep him locked away in this bathroom forever, safe from the cruelties of the world. I didn’t care if my legs went numb from sitting or if the grip he had on my ribs was starting to hurt. Jimin cried, and I stayed in his lap, a silent promise to be there, come what may.

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio @tae-with-some-suga @sumzysworld @chimmisbae

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To a Tea 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc. 

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU 

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk. 

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you. 

Summary:  A demanding customer grows increasingly needy.

Character:  Raymond Smith

The title is a pun, don’t @ me.

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved. 

Six days in a row and you’re ready to keel over. Amid your busy schedule, you hadn’t a chance to fill your quickly dwindling cupboards and fridge. So, after a ten-hour shift on your feet, running all around the tables and between tea rooms, you expend the last of your strength on a quick trip to the shop. 

It isn’t too far out of your way. It’s just a half-block away from your stop. You could wait until tomorrow, your day off, but you’re dying for a strawberry shortcake mochi before you tuck into bed. The rest of your night isn’t too unusual; you’ll be happy to fall asleep to an episode of the same old sitcom that you know by rote. 

You yawn over the bask hooked over your elbow. You have your mochi and a few other staples to get you through; eggs, oat milk, and your favourite brand of granola. You rub your forehead as a stitch threatens to imprint itself permanently. Tomorrow you’ll do a proper shop. 

You stop just before the cashier and peruse the discount shelf. Those chocolate-covered gummy worms are deadly. You shouldn’t. 

You reach for the package, eyeing it up, blinking away another yawn. Those will only have you waking up with a sore tummy. 

“You’d be better off with the dark chocolate, or even the peanuts,” someone says. The timbre is dulcet but firm, and strangely familiar. 

You look over at the figure standing around the side of the shelves. You fear you might be hallucinating as you stare at Raymond. He has a square of protein chocolate in hand but sets it back where he got it, making certain it and every other bar is straight. 

“Oh, hi?” You stammer.  

The tea shop is busy and you’re certain you’ve probably crossed paths with at least one customer outside store hours, but never like this. If anything, you both look the other way and carry on. Instead, he’s intent on you, shifting to face you fully as he sets his shoulders, clutching his hands before him. 

“Though I do suppose you’ve already got the ice cream, it hardly matters what else you add to your lot,” he muses. 

You look in your basket then at him. Is he judging you? Mr. Black Tea, plain. You hang the bag back on the hook. As you do, he steps forward and you shuffle back on your heels. He pulls the bag in line with others, rescinding his hand with a flutter of fingers. 

“If you’re in the mind for something sweet, there’s a place near here, it has a sticky toffee pudding more worth the expense,” he suggests. 

You don’t know what to say. You haven’t seen him since he muttered about your apron strings. In the two weeks after, you assumed he might not come back. As particular as he is, you thought you’d gone egregiously over the line. And yet, you’d forgotten about him for all the other bodies passing through the door. 

“Thanks, I’ll look into that,” you say. 

“Mm,” he hums and his eyes flit up and down behind his lenses, “you sound different.” 

“Do I?” You reach to scratch your neck. 

“You look different too.” 

You tilt your head and give a confused grimace, “well, I...” you glance down, “suppose I'm not wearing my apron.” 

“Must be it,” he agrees, “you sound tired.” 

“I guess... yeah,” you take a breath and let it out slowly.  

It’s strange. He’s not a customer here, there is no need to please and yet you feel you must. You poke the tip of your tongue out then hide it behind your lips. 

“Not in a bad way,” he assures you.  

“Right, thanks,” you say in a fracture, “that’s nice, but uh, I... I’m just on my way home.” 

“I know,” he says. 

“...so then I’ll just be--” you point towards the checkout and falter, “what did you say?” 

“Yes, down Trafalgar. I know. It’s late,” he peers over towards the transparent walls along the front of the shop, “these parts aren’t too safe this time of day.” 

“Trafal--“ you begin but can’t finish, “Raymond.” 

He blinks, his expression scarily placid. 

“Details,” he says evenly, “it is best to keep note of them. It is dangerous not to mind them.” He raises a finger, “one might not notice the shadow that walks behind theirs or the window they left open in the kitchen.” 

Your lip trembles as your heart sinks, “have you... have you been following me?” 

“Following... that sounds sinister,” he gives a crooked expression, “no, no, I would consider it... I keep you safe.” 

“Safe. From what, exactly?” 

He narrows his eyes and his lips straighten thoughtfully.  

“Well, from men like me.” 

His words turn your blood to ice. Men like him. What does he mean? 

“I...” you take a step back and he moves with you. You put your hand up to stop him as you still, “Raymond, do not come any closer.” 

“You don’t understand, I wouldn’t hurt you,” he says, “that’s what makes me different. Not like those other men.” 

“I mean it,” you warn him. “If you come any closer, I will make a scene.” 

Your adrenaline courses through you. You’re awake now. The yawns have dissipated and your eyes are wide. 

“Ah, and that’s where I am like the other men,” he shrugs, “it doesn’t matter if I come closer to you right now. Hardly matters. Because I can wait. I have waited. And when I...” he steps towards you and you put the basket between you, his stomach pressing against it, “come closer, you will not even see me coming.” 

You stare at him, horrified. His blue eyes gleam and he reaches to straighten his glasses. He smirks and his brows draw up coyly. He leans in and you lean away. Then suddenly, he backs off and tugs his cuffs straight, then fixes his tie. 

“Don’t forget to close your window,” he says as he spins on his heel, “wouldn’t want some nocturnal creature creeping in.” 

You gape after him as he saunters off. You can’t quiet move as disbelief has you stuck to the spot. It’s all so sudden. So unexpected. How could you ever predict something like this? The uptight man from the tea shop, a stranger really, a face who disappeared for a whole fortnight, and he’s just shaken your entire world into disarray. 

Men like him? You don’t even know who he is. Only his name and how he likes his tea. 

[astromaxi]

Hi!! I saw your post about being open to req's and was wondering if you could do a yandere jjk x reader one!

Snow leopard hybrid gojo would not leave my mind and i've been rotating a scenario in my head about reader smelling a bit too much of other men. But they aren't dating and gojo's is starting to go insane about it and so confronts reader bout it.

i mean you could do it without satoru being a hybrid, i don't really mind. i'm just craving for a yan gojo rn

I AM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE

HOLY SHIT- SCHOOL SUCKS

BUT I'M ALMOST DONE YAY

Warnings: slightly possessive Gojo, crappy writing, maybe full on possessive Gojo, Gojo having a scent kink thing, so mdi (?) 18+ (?), Gojo really loving your smell and but also calling you smelly (I’m scening a slight theme with my writing…)

As always lmk if I miss anything and this isn’t proof read so grammar mistakes 🫶

———-

Fem reader!

‘Jesus Christ I want to quit my job’ was all that was running through my head as I walked up the sets to my home, my feet crying out for relaxation after the horrible treatment of a 9-hour shift. All I want to do right now is to curl up in my bed and cry.

I open my front door, and at the same time, my phone starts to ring off. Huffing I close the door and set down my bag, I awkwardly shuffle through my pockets to see ‘Gojo’ lighting up my screen. An exaggerated sign escapes my lips as I answer the call. “Hello?” My horse voice spoke out, “I’m coming over! I see you off of work” a very happy Gojo responded to me, I looked down at my disgusting work clothes and the overall quality of how I felt, “Gojo- look, I don’t feel like hanging-“ “Great! I’ll be over in 5 minutes.” Was all I heard before the abrupt sound of the call being hanged up. I roughly made my way to my bathroom, if Gojo is coming over might as well look decent.

The thing with Gojo is, that he has been becoming increasingly clingy to me. Especially knowing days when I have work it’s almost as if there’s some sort of thing growing inside himself. I tend to brush him off whenever he buries his head into the crook of my neck, his long lengthy arms curled tightly around my stomach, or when he invites himself to stay the night but insists that I wear his clothes. I brush it off as Gojo being himself as he is usually very overly touching with everyone in his life- but sometimes- sometimes, it feels a little off.

I sighed as I heard my front door opening and closing I wrapped a large towel around my body. I run my fingers through my wet hair as I cringe at it being tangled up. I slip on an old hoodie and a pair of shorts, using the towel to dry my hair I set out of the bathroom and I’m immediately pushed against the wall nearby. My vision gets clouded by a mop of white hair and twitching light grey ears, as Gojo buries his head into the crook of my neck.

“Mm-Gojo!” I yelp in surprise as I place my hands on his solid chest trying to move him off of me

Keyword: trying

Gojo slips his hands down my arms, creating goosebumps in his wake as he grabs my hands with his own and places them around his midsection. His own hands find home on my hips as I feel an aggressive sign flow out of him. “M’ not Gojo, it’s ’Toru to you” his voice is horsed, and Gojo buries his head more into my neck- if that’s even physically possible. “You smell like other guys.” Gojo bluntly says,

I raise my eyebrows at him, my hands are mindlessly playing with his Snow White hair. “What do you mean ‘Toru?” I ask, the man-child before me lets out a groan. He raises his head from my neck and stares at me with his ocean-blue eyes. My heartbeat picks up as I feel my face heat up. Wordless Gojo tilts his head to the side, his eyes turn to something more obsessive. His pale hands travel up my body to cup my face, the air in my lungs gets stuck in there.

“You smell. Every day, every single day you always smell and it’s driving me insane.” He leans into me, our lips inches apart as his eyes dart down to my lips. “You should only smell like me, only be with me. I can give you so much baby.” His right-hand caresses the side of my face. I shake my head

“ ‘Toru you..” I let out a shaky sigh “You don’t want-“ “I know exactly what I want baby.” Gojo cuts me off, his breath growing more aggressive.

His lips move to the shell of my ear. “I want, no- need you baby. I need it so badly you don’t even know the depth of it” he whispers in my ear as he goes back to face me. “You need me to, I’ll prove it to you.” I nodded my head, allured to the words Gojo was feeding me, our lips connected as he immediately pressed the kiss. His arms cage me against this wall. My knees feel like they are going to give out.

“I’m going to show you just how much I need you baby.”

—————

A/n: this isn’t really that yandere, kinda forgot about that while writing this LMAO

[thollandneedy]

Hey girl! I'm literally SO OBSESSED with your writing

Can you make a little oneshot where Y/n pranks Peter that she's pregnant, and he just freaks out? Ty <3

April’s Fool- Peter Parker

A/n: Omg my first request aft my comeback! 🥲🤍. Btw i already done this prank with my bf, and he almost died do i got inspo from that situation😂

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex, fake pregnancy

Don’t forget to share, like, comment and leave your ideas here

Bellah’s Masterlist 🪻

“Peter?” Y/n calls her boyfriend's name when she hears the door to her house open.

“Yes?” The boy answers from afar, and Y/n quickly gets up from the floor, arranging a positive pregnancy test and a pair of baby shoes on her bed, along with a letter congratulating the new dad.

For Peter and Y/n, the first day of April was a day when they planned increasingly absurd surprises, praying that they could pull off a prank on each other without the other finding out. This year, unlike every year since they were fourteen, Y/n had fallen for one of Peter's pranks, saying that she had failed the year because she had only gotten one bad grade. Parker, being the darling of the teachers and coordinators, managed to plan a fake riot in order to scare his girlfriend. After a crying fit and an intense existential crisis, Y/n decided to take revenge.

Her mother's best friend was a few months pregnant, and after finding some little shoes from when she was a baby lost in her parents' closet, Y/n decided to pull the best prank possible.

 Pretending to be pregnant

And as generic as it might seem to some people, for Peter it would be a nightmare on earth. Parker, because he lived with his aunt, had always tried not to give her a hard time and to give her everything she had once given him. A few months ago, he had been offered a change of position at Stark Enterprises, and his duties as Spider-Man were increasing, as were his responsibilities at school because he was in his final year. 

His focus was divided into two: studies and Spider-Man

In this world, monetary security was also a part, as it was a consequence of his studies. Of course, one day he would love to start a family, but that was a desire further down the line that, if realized now, could be detrimental to the life he had always hoped to have and provide for those he loved.

In addition to the hidden drama classes that Y/n took, she also decided to get her mother to act with her when Peter came to visit, as he did every day after his internship. Because he lived a few blocks from Y/n's apartment, his evening routine had a small part dedicated to his girlfriend. Parker took off his shoes, placing them next to a decorative plant that was positioned near the kitchen, where Y/n's mother was already ready to start the tense atmosphere. The woman stared at Peter with a closed face, while in her hands was a cup of chamomile tea, which spread its scent throughout the room. 

“Hello, Mrs. L/N” 

The woman continued to stare at him without reaction.

“I didn't know you liked tea. Y/n told me you hated it.” Parker gives a half-hearted smile, smoothing his brown hair with one of his free hands.  

“I don't like it, but today I needed to calm my nerves. Maybe you should too.” The woman in the colorful overalls says in response, getting up from the island stool positioned in the center of the kitchen and walking into the living room without exchanging another word with the newcomer.

Peter looked at her in confusion, but headed towards the end of the corridor that led to his girlfriend's bedroom. Before entering, she asked him again if he could open the door, to which he replied:

“Get in here pronto, Peter.” His girlfriend complained in a low tone, causing the young man to rush inside. 

The brunette closed the door behind him, keeping his brown eyes on his girlfriend, who was sitting on the end of the bed with her hands behind her and breathing irregularly. Peter approached slowly, feeling his heart beat faster every time he sensed his girlfriend's insecurity in her gaze. With trembling lips, the superhero asks:

“What happened?” Even though Peter already knew that something bad had happened, he still made a point of asking first, trying to soften the impact of a possible shocking revelation. 

Y/n takes a deep breath, concentrating on her Hollywood moment. The girl slowly moves away from the present she was hiding behind her, revealing what she had assembled on her bed. Peter feels the floor catching his feet, and the words escape his mouth like the air in his lungs. 

“ Dude.” Peter stares at his girlfriend, who cries silently. “Y/n for God's sake I'm going to have a heart attack.” 

Parker, with hurried steps, looks directly at the test, which was positive. He looked around for a red pen that could possibly have been used to tamper with the test result, but there was none. The hero's hands began to shake, and his mouth couldn't say a word except:

“Holy shit”

Y/n was holding back the pain he was feeling with all his might, for his thirst for revenge was greater.

“I don't know what to do.” Y/n decided to speak in a drunken voice.

“ Your- your mother she-she.” Peter points to the door, feeling his feet getting weaker and weaker, trying to ask Y/n if her mother knew about the pregnancy.

The girl just agrees, hugging her body and lowering her head.

“Oh my God, I'm literally going to shit myself” Peter sits down on the floor, running his fingers violently through his hair. “OH MY GOD”

“Peter! Stop freaking out. We need to do something” Y/n asks her boyfriend for support.

“We didn't do it without! I'm sure of it. I remember. My God, I didn't even know I could get someone pregnant with me- OH MY GOD HE'S GOING TO BE A MUTANT!" Peter shouts, getting up suddenly.

“Peter!” Y/n gets up together.

“HE'S GOING TO EAT YOUR ORGANS Y/N. HE'S GOING TO EXPLODE IN THERE.” 

“PETER PARKER!” Y/n catches her boyfriend's eye.

“My God, could it be that my cum is radioactive and the condom has melted?” Peter wonders for a second.

“What?” Y/n looks at him confused and teary-eyed.

“What if he's just like me? And he gets stuck in your womb and can't get out again? I only learned to stop getting things stuck in my hands after four months of being Spider-Man. IT GETS WORSE! WHAT IF HE'S NOT LIKE ME? Y/n, if you've fucked Marcus, I'll kill myself in front of you right here and now. I hate that guy.” Peter can't control the whirlwind of thoughts invading his head.

“Do you really think I'd cheat on you?” Y/n asks offended.

“No, fuck no! I don't think so, but... when did this happen? My God, I think I need to see a doctor. A DOCTOR! I CAN'T AFFORD THE BABY'S HEALTH INSURANCE”

His girlfriend just slams both arms into his legs, giving up talking and collapsing into heavy sobbing. 

The brunette takes a deep breath, feeling his body drenched in nervous sweat. The boy, trembling, crawls in front of his girlfriend, who is collapsed at the foot of the bed, looking for support from her boyfriend, who is on the verge of crying too. The hero touches his girlfriend's knees, caressing them briefly in an attempt to calm her down. Peter looked once more at the shoes and the positive pregnancy test, and then his rational side shook him hard, bringing him back to the reality he would have to overcome at that moment. His girlfriend was coughing between loud cries and sobs, while Peter couldn't think of what to say to calm her down. 

“I'm dropping out of MIT.” The brunette said after a second of silence.

The girl wiped away the tears that fell down her red face.

“What?” Y/n asks, feeling her heart stop.

“I'm going to study here in New York to be closer to you... well... you two.” Peter lays his head on his girlfriend's lap, who just listens to his declaration attentively. “I'm going to quit Stark's internship and get a home-office job so I can help you with him or her. How far along are you?”

Y/n feels her heart heavy, and answers while holding back a real cry.

“More than a month.” He replied, feeling like he was going to fall apart at any moment.

“ Damn it, love. Why didn't you tell me?” The girl just stares at him, trying to make him remember his brief outburst. “Oh... never mind.”

“I-I didn't want to end your dream.” Y/n cries, now a real cry as she realizes that she has chosen the right boyfriend to share her life with, even in difficult times. After so many disappointments in love, and men who she knew wouldn't give up even a night of drinking and gambling to be in her company, she had finally managed to choose the right one.

“Love.” Peter brings one of his hands to his girlfriend's cheek, caressing it with his thumb. “You're my dream”

The girl smiles through her tears and bends down so that her lips meet his.

“Peter?” The girl calls out.

“Huh?”

“It was a prank. APRIL FIRST, YOU MORON!” The girl stood up screaming and went to her dressing table, where a cell phone was hidden behind some make-up brushes. She took it out and finished recording the reaction of her boyfriend, who was static once again, realizing that he had been caught for revenge.

“I swear to God, one of these days you're going to kill me with your fucking crazy ass ideas." The brunette nodded, putting his hand on his heart and bursting into laughter after all the nerves he'd built up. “How did you get a positive test?”

“Marie, my mother's best friend is pregnant. I asked her to take the test and my mother gave it to me this afternoon. The shoes are mine. I found them in my parents' closet.” The girl wiped her crying eyes, sat down next to her boyfriend, and then hugged him, allowing the pain to wash over her.

“Did your mom get in on this too?” The brunette laughed louder, feeling his stomach ache, and then he collapsed into a sob of relief. “I hate you” 

“You love me” The girl wipes away the older man's tears.

“I really do. But don't ever do that again in your life. I was about to have a freak-out”

[purinfelix]

I didn’t see anything on your requests about not doing a fic based off of a song? I was wondering if you would want to do one based off of Thunder by Lana Del Rey!

just do it, don't wait ✶⋆.˚

pairing: joao felix x reader summary: in which it dawns on you that your 'no-strings-attached' relationship with joao might've become more than you bargained for w/c: 838

a/n: absolutely love this!!! i typically write most of my fics based off of songs so i'm totally open to taking requests of songs you guys want fics based off of - also anon hope you don't mind bc u didn't specify who u wanted it for so ... ofc its joao <333

It was a peaceful morning, and you were lying in bed thinking about how you had never noticed how quiet this time of day could be before. Not until you had had another person in your bed, and their soft snores were the only things you could hear, until you had to worry about how turning over might wake them up, or how loud your own thoughts seemed to be in comparison.

Shifting as quietly as you could, you watched the morning sunlight drip in through the shades, speckling Joao's features. Your eyes traced his nose, his cheeks, his lips, a small smile spreading on your own. You think about it for a minute - reaching out and touching him, waking him up so you can tell him face to face how you feel. But the thought is forgotten as fast as it comes to you.

You weren't sure how this thing between you two had started, but every memory since then was as clear as it could be. Every dinner date, sneaky kiss, midnight meeting - just thinking about the time you had spent with him, regardless of how sparse, was enough to make you blush. But a couple weeks ago, on a morning not unlike this one, it suddenly dawned on you just how far you had let yourself go.

Since then every glance, every brush of a hand was enough to send you spiralling with the horrible realisation that you had in fact fallen for him. What had begun as an occasional hook-up had in fact turned into the last thing either of you wanted it to be, and you didn't know how to bring this up to Joao, because you were sure the minute you did you'd be kicked to the curb and left for the next girl - not that you had any evidence that he had a rotating roster, but considering that he was a famous footballer, you didn't need any.

So you set out on a mission to break up with him before he could break up with you, which you were sure he would do the minute you mentioned your feelings. That way, you would be saving yourself the pain by getting to walk away from this as the one having made the decision. If it was your choice to break up, surely you'd be happier.

The next time you saw him though - at a dinner he had arranged for the two of you, which you were sure cost more than your rent for a month - you couldn't do it. Sitting across from him, indulging yourself in playful conversation and the game of exchanging increasingly daring glances, your own cowardice got the best of you and your mission was forgotten.

Since then, you had been trying to find a big enough pocket of conversation to slip in the suggestion as casually as possible, running into a ridiculous excuse each and every time. One time it was too late and the thought of leaving him to go to bed after that hurt too much, another he had just paid for your lunch and you didn't want him to think you had used him. Any scenario you avoided, your mind was eager to do as many backflips as possible to excuse it.

And here you were, waking up in the aftermath of yet another late-night rendezvous you couldn't bring yourself to turn down. Sitting up in bed as gently as you could, you stared at his bedside table as you had come to do so many times. You looked at the bracelet and watch he had taken off last night before climbing into bed with you, the cologne you could recognise with your eyes closed, the book you had let him borrow - without a single page turned.

Standing up and gathering your things, a routine you were ashamed to have known so well, you were eager to leave before Joao woke up and had a chance to rope you into spending more time with him. As you did you thought about how, regardless of how much you tried, you couldn't bring yourself to hate him. Through all of this, he had been nothing but absolutely perfect with him and it was your fault for falling and ruining what you had going. You had been right with him when you had agreed to keep your relationship casual, and a secret for the sake of his career, you had agreed to every invitational and reciprocated every move.

You found yourself stopping once more in the doorway of his bedroom, looking back. As you did, you watched Joao stir ever so slightly, he really did look beautiful in the morning light. He was mumbling to himself, and hearing your own name amongst his other incoherent words caused your stomach to flip. Watching as he turned around to reach for the now-empty space where you usually lay next to him, you bit your lip hard. Resisting every urge within you to rush back to him and the knowledge that you'd likely be back far too soon, you turned around and walked away.

[chvoswxtch]

hi! could i request a fic where frank is helping reader with urges to relapse in s3lf h@rm? or maybe they already relapsed? if this is not something you’re comfortable writing please feel free to just ignore this :) i’m struggling w/ this lately so it’s just self indulgent for me lmao and your writing is ADDICTIVE. you have such a talent and i hope you’re doing well!! x

my sweet sweet sweet nonnie. I am sending you all the love I possibly can. I am so sorry that you are struggling. I know what it's like to struggle with this, and I promise you it does get better. I know everyone says that and sometimes those words can sound so hollow, but I mean it from the bottom of my heart. it can't rain all the time darling 🖤

I hope you are doing well today, and I hope this brings you the comfort that you need. thank you for trusting me with this, and know that I love you and am so proud of you

just a quick psa to everyone on my frank taglist, because this is such a sensitive topic, i'm not tagging anyone in this one. if you are not comfortable with this topic or if it could be triggering for you, please sit this one out. you will not hurt my feelings, I promise.

warning: mentions of depression & self harm word count: 775

let it out.

Frank noticed everything. He was trained to look for subtle clues of threats everywhere, to anticipate them and quickly conjure a counterattack, or eliminate them before they even got a chance to strike. After that tragic day in Central Park, his sense of hypervigilance only became even more extreme. 

Which is why he knew that things were getting bad for you again.

He could see it. That bright sparkle in your eyes that could put the stars to shame grew more and more dim until it was nothing more than achromatic ash. The heaviness weighing down on your chest that turned the subconscious act of breathing into a relentless struggle and made your movements lethargic was like an astral presence only his eyes could detect. He could hear it in your voice, the melodic warmth replaced by an echoing numbness. It seemed as though each day another of your vibrant petals withered and fell until you were rendered a bare and hollow stem.

It killed Frank to see you like this. He wanted so badly to help, he just didn’t know how. You wouldn’t talk to him about it, wouldn’t tell him what you needed. But he didn’t get upset with you, because he figured you might not even know what you needed. He was growing increasingly worried because nothing he was doing seemed to help at all. Fear was an emotion Frank very rarely experienced, but he was terrified that he’d lose you to your own cruel mind. 

Things were bad right now, but it would pass. You’d fallen from the clouds of progression, backsliding until the cold hard impact of relapse bruised and rattled your bones, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t find your way back up again. It didn’t erase all the breakthroughs in your recovery. And if you couldn’t make it back up on your own, Frank would carry you himself.

Frank sat with you in the bath, enveloping you in the comfort of his body and the hot water, hoping it would soothe you. Taking care of yourself had become as hard as getting out of bed, but it was okay. He could help you with that. He’d washed your hair, taking his time to massage your scalp before gently rinsing the shampoo out completely. His large and calloused hands slowly and tenderly lathered your skin in the suds of your body wash, not missing a single inch of you. 

Your face was as blank as a pure canvas, but there was raw sorrow in your eyes and agony building up along your lash line. Frank held onto you tightly, tracing your self-inflicted scars with the pad of his thumb, applying pressure with each stroke while he spoke quietly in your ear.

“I know it hurts, baby. But you ain’t gotta let it out that way. You can get the hurt out without hurtin’ yourself. You gotta feel it, sweetheart. I know you don’t wanna, I know it feels like it’s too much, but you can’t distract yourself with a different kinda pain. It ain’t gonna make this one go away.”

Frank knew you were listening. He could see the saltwater slipping down your cheeks, your expressionless face slowly morphing into a portrait of unrefined grief. He pressed his lips softly to each of your scars, holding you even tighter in a protective embrace.

“It’s gotta heal from the inside, baby. I know it’s hard, but you ain’t gotta do this alone. I’m right here, sweetheart. Just let go, I got you.”

He could tell that you were fighting it. That you were scared once you opened that door, a tidal wave of misery would devour you entirely and trap you beneath the current until you drowned, but he wasn’t going to let that happen. His deep voice was laced with sincerity and promise as he spoke into your ear again.

“I got you.”

The choked sob that caught in your throat broke his heart. The wail that tore from the depth of your soul was the worst sound he’d ever heard. Your shoulders shook from the impact of your overwhelming emotions, but when you shattered into a thousand jagged pieces, Frank was there to collect them all. He’d patiently help you put them all back together, no matter how long it took. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, gently rocking you as he soothingly ran his fingers through your hair, pressing a reverent kiss to the crown of your head.

“There ya go, that’s it. Let it all out, sweetheart. Take as long as ya need, I’m right here. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. Just let it all out.”

[reikunrei]

feeling incredibly averse to posting this but i'm just gonna drop my kofi link here in case anyone wants to help me get out of my increasingly shitty situation living with my parents

more info below ig

after having given my parents nearly $100k over the last four years, i'd love to be able to actually leave. my future job situation is still up in the air (i've submitted for about a dozen positions and the only one i've heard back from and interviewed for hasn't gotten back to me yet), and i haven't been able to build up any savings because, again, i was (and still am) helping my family afford rent and bills, and probably the taxes my parents are behind on, but if i think about that, i'll get too angry. no joke, i've given my family, at the bare minimum, 85% of my income over the last 4 years. the rest of it has gone toward medical stuff and, now, my car

at this point, with the combo of my mom refusing to lower her standards and my dad's seeming refusal to hunt for a new full time job, i don't see how they won't continue to bleed me dry. my dad even has a bad habit of taking money out of my old savings account that he's a joint owner on or whatever from when i got it set up when i was 16, even when i stopped actively putting money in it, so now any time it gets its automated $1 transfer from my checking account, he'll just take that $1 without consulting me. i'm not exaggerating, even if it has $1-2 in it, it'll be gone within a week

i've even put off starting on testosterone because of this. i wanted to start it like 3 years ago, but kept putting it off because of money issues and wanting to save as much as possible. i got really close to actually starting it this year, but because of how messy everything is, i put it off again bc having one more thing on my plate, especially when my parents are already weird about me being trans, was not something i wanted to deal with

not to mention, we're still currently not living under a lease in our house that we're, as far as i'm aware, still tens of thousands of dollars behind in rent on (again, my dad refuses to disclose our financial position honestly with any of us) and it's developed many, many issues bc the landlord, even before we were behind on rent, is shit and refuses to actually fix anything. and my dad loves to just ignore things unless we beg him to do something

i'd love to be on my own (in the, much more affordable, midwest) by the end of summer. i by no means want to rely on donations and i have other avenues i'm working with to make money (i still have my current full time job, but i'm going through my old belongings and selling a lot online), but i'll take any help i can get atp because i'm truly at my wits end. i'd start doing art commissions again if i could, but doing that from 2020-2022, partially on top of my full time job, absolutely wrecked my right hand and i'm still in enough pain that i can't make it a regular activity

idk how much else there is to say. there's more i could say but... i don't really wanna air all my dirty laundry here. i'm miserable in so many ways and it's just become increasingly clear that my dad expects me to constantly cover his ass. my younger brother gives money too, but he manages to go on big cross-country and overseas trips with friends, so i think i've been stuck with the burden of giving the most money. there's so many more things going on in the world rn and everyone is stretched thin so i don't expect much, or anything, but. idk. might as well throw it out there, right?

i’ve also since taken down the gfm i set up last year when we got our first eviction notice bc, while we still need the money, i don’t feel right keeping it up for multiple reasons, including “i don’t want to give any of that money to my family” and it feels too… serious to keep it up when i could just throw out my kofi instead

i just want to make sure i have some sort of safety net to catch me if i move before anything job-wise is finalized. i need to be able to afford a place to live for at least a month so i can job-search while physically being in the area i wanna move to, which would ultimately make it easier for me to find a job at all. i'm working on being more firm with giving less money so i can actually have the means to move and be safe and comfortable, but... that never lasts long in this house

anyway. that's it, i guess. thanks for reading