#and my friend circle has been getting smaller and smaller with years

[jonny-b-meowborn]

Dude I miss the feeling of being in love. Like no one ever loved me back and I've never been in a relationship, so I can't miss that, and while I'd love to date someone, I just really miss the feeling of having a crush on someone

[seiwas]

contains: suggestive, slight mentions of alcohol, a lil bit cheesy but when is love not, unedited happy birthday, my love 🥺

hajime doesn’t care much about his birthday.

at least, not as much his mom and oikawa do, with lit up candles and striped party hats in his rumpled godzilla pajamas. it's greetings at midnight, on the dot, no matter what—even through the crackling sound of static over ocean waves.

he definitely doesn’t care about it as much as his college friends do, with them slapping his back and elbowing his side until his ribs hurt just so he can down another shot for the 'nth' year of his existence.

(they try with all their might to get him past the 5th, but he's driving tonight; and if there's anything about hajiime stronger than his tolerance, it's how resolute he is—firm in his beliefs and even more with his principles.)

so, hajime doesn't care much about his birthday.

but you do, and when he says things like—

"it's not that important, we don't have to."

—all you hear is, 'bla bla bla, it's important, bla bla bla we have to.'

you prepared a picnic for him, among all the other activities you planned for today.

this morning, you served him a hefty stack of pancakes with a rice bowl full of his favorites (that he took a bite from oh-so-sweetly, only to push it to the side before gripping your thigh, deciding that he wanted something else for breakfast instead).

then, you went on a hike. just a short trek up his favorite spot an hour out of town. hajime likes being under the sun; he loves the heat, the sweat that trickles down the divots of his muscles because they mean hard work. a good effort. a sign of trying.

he loves tackling you the most in this state—sticky and sweaty, a little slippery. you hate how it mixes in with your sunscreen, but love how hajime feels against your skin, arms wrapped tightly around your waist, and chin tucked sloppily against your neck.

so you let him.

(and even though you tell him he gets a pass because it's his birthday, he knows that isn't true. you always let him do this, anyway.)

his favorite roast beef sandwich, then a shower and dessert (yes, together) later have found yourselves here, at the cusp of sunset, a drive up at your favorite spot overlooking the city.

you prepared a picnic for him, packed all his favorite snacks and berries; made a small chocolate cake with the letters 'hbd hajime ♡' in even smaller fondant cut-outs. simple and minimal (because you know he would prefer it). you intended to watch the sun go down cuddled up in the few blankets you brought, but the weather’s been gloomy for the past 30 minutes, and even worse than that—it's begun to rain.

hajime can sense your stress, he always does, and when he rubs circles on your back telling you, "it's not that important, we don't have to."

you only feel the need to prove him wrong.

if you push forward the chairs in the middle row of his suv, you'll have enough space at the back. and if you park the car to face the view, you can still catch the twinkling of city lights when it turns dark.

the cogs in your brain turn and your brows scrunch as you remain silent, so much so that it begins to worry him.

rain patters against the windshield, and hajime leans over the center console, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"it's okay, babe, you've done so much for me already. we can go back—"

"no," you look him in the eye.

because, it is important.

hajime, the man you love and have loved for the past 4 years; the most hardworking, determined, and considerate man you've ever known was born today, 26 years ago.

and hajime might not care about his birthday because he doesn't think it matters all that much, but it matters to you, because this has been the most important day of the year to you since first meeting him.

"give me a bit," you twist to face the back, "excuse me," urging hajime to move to the side as you cross the center console to the seats at the middle row. you push the seats forward and bend over the backrest, hauling your picnic basket, blankets, and pillows to the now vacant and spacious trunk.

"i can help—" you hear his door handle click.

"no!" you shout from the back, "remember, we agreed! birthday boy relaxes and enjoys!"

he isn't happy about it, and you know he'll insist that he can only relax and enjoy if you're relaxed and enjoying, but you work quickly enough that he doesn't get to argue.

when you call him to the back, you've set up the entire space. the picnic mat is laid out, pillows placed comfortably in areas you both can cuddle in. a bunch of berries and crackers are laid out in a makeshift food section, along with a few bags of chips and the small chocolate cake you stayed up last night making. you serve water as your drinks because hajime prefers it that way.

the sight that greets him is more than anything he thinks he deserves, but what truly takes the cake is you, sitting on the palms of your feet with your baby hairs matted to your forehead and the sweetest smile reaching your cheeks. you hold up your phone to show a live youtube video of a setting sun in some place, somewhere in the world, and amidst the rain pattering against the roof of his car, hajime thinks he would rather have this over a real sunset, somewhere in the world, without you.

he crawls over to where you are, careful to avoid the food you set up. his cheeks hurt from smiling, eyes crinkling as he takes your cheeks in the palms of his hands, squishing them together before kissing you with all the love he can't put into words.

hajime doesn’t care much about his birthday.

but as he parks the car in reverse, positioning the trunk to view the city lights down below, he sees the twinkle in your eyes and can’t help but love how happy his birthday makes you.

[calliopesdiary]

“mini-me”

synopsis; your little sister captures the hearts of your boyfriends, you may even say she has a little crush on james.

contents; sexual activity mentioned, fem!reader, reader has a cute lil sister, poly!marauders, james has baby fever, you have baby fever, i have baby fever, everyone has baby fever

warnings; none! just a brief mention of sex but nothing bad (;

a/n; i’ve been daydreaming about this fic for so long

“NESSIE! FINALLY MY BEST FRIEND IS BACK!"

roared a thunderous James Potter who’d spotted your little sister— Vanessa.

Nessie was all over the boys, and they were all over her. she was a first-year hufflepuff and a true sweetheart.

Sirius silently adored how similar you two looked, it was like looking at twins— except one of them happened to be five years older than the other.

He was too afraid and stubborn to admit it, but Nessie gave him a heavy dose of baby fever.

was she a baby? no, not even close. but something about her cheeky smile, the way her robes hung over her like how a child pretending to be an adult’s would, and how her hand (which was considerably smaller than his) slid into yours lovingly at any given time.

maybe it was just that he wanted to see you as a mom, or that he longed for a family that was warm and loving.

“y/n, dear.” Sirius caught your attention quickly, even though you were watching James ramble on to Nessie like it was an oscar award winning film.

“hm—?” you hummed, attempting to pry your eyes away from the sweet scene.

“what do you think i’d-be like?”

“what do i think what would be like?”

“you know, having kids.” he could tell from your flustered expression that to were certainly not expecting that.

“o-oh… w-well…”

luckily the conversation had been interrupted by one Nessie.

Nessie ended her conversation with James, earning a “hey!” when she walked away from him.

“Siri.” she tugged in his sleeve.

“yes, darling?”

she blushed at the pet name, and started twirling her hair.

“um.. will you guys take me to Hogsmeade…?”

“Hogsmeade? Ness, only third years and over can go to Hogsmeade—“

“Professor Mcgonagall said if i went with you then it would be alright!”

She tugged on Sirius’ slightly oversized leather jacket once more, as he stumbles from the unexpected tug.

“whats going on in here— AGH!”

Remus stumbled backwards as Nessie pounced on top of him like some wild animal who was about to feed on him.

“hi— oof— hi Nessie.”

Remus was taken aback by the little first year jumping around in him in a circle chanting;

“i’m going to Hogsmeade!”

“Ness, he gets it.” You groaned from your position on James’ lap.

“Get off!!” Nessie shoved you with all of her pre-puberty force.

“N-Nessie!” you ‘gently’ hit the bedpost as Nessie locked herself onto James.

“What candy is she on? Pixi Stix?”

“Oh, suck my dick, Moony.”

“Gladly—“

“Oi!” Barked James.”

“whats a dick?”

“Nessie—..”

HOGSMEADE was beautiful in summer time.

obviously— it wasn’t summer yet, but with April coming to a close and blossoming like a flower, you could basically say it was summertime.

you walked along with Remus and Sirius, as Nessie was hanging around with James as they skipped ahead down the alleys and walkways of Hogsmeade.

you adored James, and how sweet he was to your sister, she was such a sweet kid and deserved the love.

"James?" Nessie stopped skipping for a moment, keeping a steady walking pace instead.

"Hm?"

"Do you love my sister?"

"I do."

"so why don't you marry her?" Sirius burst into a quiet laughter, and Remus tucked the hysterical boy into his chest.

"i- marry her? i'd love too, but we're a bit young."

“but Snow White was 14 when she got married.”

“Oh.” James was clearly a bit flustered, his cheeks turned to a shade of pink.

Remus watched his lovers interact with Nessie, and it sparked something deep inside him.

Remus (until now) had ruled out a happy ending for himself.

being a lycanthrope, he never wanted to pass that burden to his child. so he couldn’t— no, wouldn’t have kids.

but somehow, someway, as he watched you with your little sister. he realized how badly he wanted you to be a mom.

for the first time, Remus realized that he could live happily.

“Remus? are you alright?” You tapped his shoulder rapidly, and he snapped out of his trance.

“Y-yes, sorry I got distracted.”

“you don’t have to apologize.” you smiled brightly up to him, the smile he was so in love with.

the smile he wanted his kids to have.

*

you four dropped Nessie off back at her common room, and Sirius immediately sprung onto you, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“Siri?” you asked through soft giggles.

“I can’t wait to have a kid with you.”

[queerly-autistic]

Right, I think it's time for some positivity, and also a reality check (and I mean that in the most loving way possible) regarding the campaign to save OFMD. I've seen a lot of people saying 'it's been nearly a month, we should have been picked up by now', and whilst, yes, some cancelled shows have received very quick movement to other streamers, it's absolutely not the story for all of them. We've seen numerous shows follow different journeys from cancellation to pick-up, and there's no way of knowing what journey we might be going on.

Are we in the fast lane where we get picked up the next month (lookin' at you, Lucifer and The Expanse)? The middling lane where it takes months for a pick-up deal to be hashed out (lookin' at you, One Day At A Time, The Tourist, and Warrior)? The slow lane where we keep pushing for years and then eventually crowdfund a film (lookin' at you Veronica Mars)?

I think we have to consider the fact that OFMD being cancelled was a last minute thing that blindsided the cast and crew (and shocked people across the industry). So we're going into it in a different position to other shows that had maybe had a hint/suggestion that cancellation was coming before it happened. This is because if there are rumours of cancellation circling, it gives a chance for feelers to be put out to other networks/by other networks before the actual cancellation is confirmed. That didn't happen here. Which is important.

It's not just wham bam thank you ma'am and now you've been picked up by Netflix (or insert streamer of your choice). It's a negotiation. It's a process. It takes time. There is a very good reason that people heavily suspect that Brooklyn 99 had already been picked up before the cancellation was officially announced, and that the cancelled-to-new-home-in-24-hours thing was pretty much just a marketing stunt. No way was that all negotiated to the point of announcement within a day,

There are many reasons why any potential pick-up elsewhere might take a bit more time. For example, if David is (hopefully) juggling interest from multiple different networks, then that has to be hashed out and negotiated to make sure the best deal is reached for everyone. Also, OFMD is potentially a more complicated show to negotiate than we imagine: at a very basic level, it has a large ensemble (a large international ensemble), which would need to be discussed and negotiated, and it's filmed in New Zealand, which would need to be discussed and negotiated. That doesn't work against it in terms of 'it's more complicated, so it won't be picked up' but it could very well mean that the time needed to negotiate a pick-up is longer.

Remember: One Day At A Time had a much smaller cast (which wasn't an international cast) and it basically had one single studio set (being a sitcom), and that took three months to be saved.

I chatted with my friend, also a fan, who has worked in television production previously and is currently working as a screenwriter, and she confirmed just how much time, discussion and negotiation this stuff takes. She basically said: yep, this all takes time and this is very normal. And this is coming from someone who is very firmly in the 'I am refusing to get my hopes up because I can't bear to get hurt again' camp of trying to save the show.

On that note, I think it's important to address David's silence, because I've seen a few people panicking about that. There's a very good chance that if he is in negotiations right now (and I do not know if he is, he might not be!) then there would be a lot he wouldn't be able to talk about. And he knows that we dissect every single syllable of his posts, so posting anything would be risky. Negotiations are tricky things that involve juggling multiple balls (and torches and knives and chainsaws), and a lot of push-and-pull, back-and-forth, variables-upon-variables, and so going silent on social media would be absolutely what I would expect from him if that was happening.

It's eerie for us because we had a burst of activity from David, a lot of noise and a lot of confidence, and then...nothing. That's jarring, and anxiety-inducing. But I want us to think of it this way: David did a big post about being back in New York, about things looking up, and then he went uncharacteristically silent, which is what would happen if things were going on that he couldn't talk about. I have no idea what, if anything, might be going on, but it's important not to see this as a bad thing.

As someone on Twitter, who also works in the industry (they work as an actor) said the other day: in this business, no news is good news.

(also important to note: if he suddenly reappears on social media, that also doesn't mean that any negotiations have fallen through, and we should all panic; anything could be happening, and I know we're little anxiety gremlins - me included, bigly - but until we are definitively told that this is over and there's no hope, then it's not over and there is hope)

There's no way of knowing what is going on, or how long whatever is (or isn't) going on might take. This might be a sprint, but it could just as easily be a marathon. The show not being picked up immediately does not mean there is no hope, as we have seen with numerous other shows. Look at fandoms like Shadow and Bone, who are still fighting tooth and nail for their show because they refuse to give up on it. They haven't given up, and neither should we.

We need to decide if we love OFMD enough to fight for it long-term, to settle in for a long battle, and keep pushing for as long as it takes. And I think, as difficult as it might be, we all know that this show, and its cast and crew, is worth it.

[peeves-gurl]

Thighs

Fred Weasley × BigThigh! Female

i literally have no idea where this is coming from after a year of writing nothing.

Summary: She hates her thighs, but her boyfriend loves them, and he wants to make sure she knows.

Warnings: established relationship, self hate, body dismorphia, lots of fluff, pet names (sweetheart/baby/darling/ love), mention of pregnancy, 18+ MDNI!!

FEMALE CHARACTER HAS NO NAME, AND NO SPECIFIC SKIN/EYE/HAIR COLOUR (partly because i couldn't make my brain come up with so many details😭)

smut: oral fem recieving, thigh fucking, face sitting, unprotected p in v, praise, body worship, hickeys? idk

She looked at herself in the mirror, light makeup highlighting her features beautifully. The thin straps of the sundress hanging across her shoulders, the top resting just above her bust, not exposing much, but not showing anything either. The fabric was a light powder blue with tiny flowers along its length, and it hugged her figure perfectly. It was the perfect summer dress, upto her mid thigh.

She looked alright in her opinion, good even, but for her thighs. They were too thick, with too many stretch marks. The cellulite was dimpled and heavy, and jiggled with each movement of hers, and it truly disgusted her with herself. She was okay with her body, and honestly thought she was attractive when she was dressed well, like today, but her thighs were always the problem.

Gritting her teeth in annoyance, she flung open the door of her wardrobe that she shared with Fred, and picked out a different dress. It was a pale pink one, loose and long, and extended beyond her knees, hiding her biggest insecurity. Still slightly grumpy, she completed the finishing touches to her look, when she heard her boyfriend's voice from the door.

"You ready love?" Fred called out, leaning against the doorframe.

"Yeah. All done." She smiled, grabbing her purse and slipping on her sandals, before walking towards the handsome man. He was dressed in a white tank top vest and blue jeans, and a blue and white floral shirt wrapped around his broad shoulders, completing the summery look.

Fred held out his hand to her, and she delicately placed her much smaller one into his, and he gently pulled her closer to himself. Placing a tender kiss on his lips, she smiled up at him, admiring his beautiful eyes and perfect freckles and his signature Weasley hair that she loved so much.

Fred's eyes trailed down her body in admiration, before he turned back to meet her eyes with a puzzled look.

"You didn't wear that dress?" He asked sincerely, hoping to finally see her in it since she had been so happy buying it weeks ago.

"Not in the mood." She lied, and he nodded convincingly, though he was anything but convinced by her answer.

"Gorgeous, never the less," he said, complimenting her as he always did.

"You more," she smiled, kissing his cheek.

Since buying the dress, it was the only thing that she had talked about. She gushed over how her bag and sandals went perfectly with it, and how she'd style her hair whenever she'd get the chance to wear it. And now, she stood there, wearing something else, and Fred was sure there was more to it than she was showing.

They hurriedly locked their place and apparated to their destination, Lee Jordan's housewarming party. It was just a close knit celebration that he and his girlfriend, Andrea, were hosting together, since moving into their first appartment in London.

She blended quickly among the known faces, smiling and chatting with all their old friends and then joining Andrea and Angelina in a small tour of the appartment. The entire party then ended up in the living room, and she, along with Fred, George and Angelina hopped around their circle, enjoying the little reunion they were having with the entire gang from Hogwarts.

Fred couldn't help but look at her. He always thought her to be the most beautiful woman in the world, and himself to be the luckiest man in the world, to be able to call her his girlfriend. He loved looking at her hair, her soft makeup and her smile, but today it wasn't as big as it always was, and he knew it wasn't as real, and it physically hurt him to not know the reason for it. He was sure it had something to do with her dress, because every time someone complimented her tonight, there seemed to be a bit of hesitation before she uttered her usual 'thank you'.

She'd been saving it up for some 'special occasion', and as soon as Lee had called to extend an invitation to the party, she had been delighted at the idea of getting to wear it the way she had wanted. Fred was happy that she was happy, and now she wasn't, and he didn't know why.

It was nearly midnight when the party ended, and Fred and George finally bid goodbye, ready with their plan to spend the next day together at their shop, as per usual. She hugged Angelina, and then got hold of Fred's hand and apparated them back to their front door. Fred unlocked it and hung the keys in their spot as she headed back to their room to change into her pajamas. The feeling of her thighs touching each other under the dress made her want to throw up. She felt disgusting in her body and she just wanted to cover herself from head to toe and bury herself quietly into the blankets.

Her expression must have given it away, because Fred walked into the room right as she took out her pajamas.

"Hey," whisper into her ear, kissing her neck softly, and his hands circled her waist. "Don't change just yet, love. I haven't had the chance to admire you properly tonight."

"The dress is a bit uncomfortable", she replied, trying to stop her voice from breaking.

"Just a few minutes, please?" He requested, and she complied, twisting around in his arms to finally face him. His eyes were so full of love for her that it nearly made her cry, and when he leaned down to press his lips to hers, a stray tear managed to find its way down her cheek.

"Baby what's wrong?" He asked, gently wiping the tear away.

"Nothing, just tired," she lied.

"Why didn't you wear that dress today?" He asked again, and she repeated her previous answer of not being in the mood to wear it.

"Don't lie to me," he condemned softly, and she knew she was caught. "Tell me love, why didn't you wear it?"

The singular tear that had made its way out of her eyes was now followed by many more, and before she knew, she was a sobbing mess in front of her boyfriend. Fred pulled her into himself and comforted her, his hands gliding over her back and just letting her know that he was there, and he would be there forever.

When she had finally calmed down, Fred gently guided her over to their bed, and sat down, as she stood before him with puffy and swollen eyes. He slowly pulled her onto himself, making her straddle his lap and resting his hands across her back.

"What's the matter Princess?" he coaxed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "It's something about that dress isn't it?"

She breathed in deeply, contemplating weather she should tell him or not. Of course she can tell him, he's Freddie, her Freddie, and he'd always understand.

"Ihatemythighs" she blurted out in a single breath, only to find Fred looking down at her, amused.

"Try saying that slower baby? I'm not that smart," he joked, earning a small smile.

"I hate my thighs," she said finally. "They're fat and ugly and they move around a lot, and that dress reveals them too much."

"Don't say that darling!" Fred said seriously, upset over what she'd just said about herself. "I've seen you try that dress on and you looked gorgeous!"

"Those trial room lights make everything look good, but I look horrid in that dress." She said.

"Do not say that about yourself," Fred scolded. "You're the most beautiful woman I've seen, with the most beautiful body and the most beautiful thighs. I won't hear anyone talk like that about you, even if you're the one saying it."

"You'd obviously say that, you're my boyfriend," she reasoned.

"I'm not lying sweetheart, I swear. You don't have to be insecure about anything." He said, only to be matched with a blank look from her.

"You don't believe me." He stated in disappointment, settling his hands over her thighs, through her dress, his fingers steadily moving towards the hem. "Can I?" He asked cautiously, not wanting to make her any more uncomfortable. She took a deep breath before nodding, allowing him to flip it up and run his fingers on the smooth skin.

"I love you. Every thing about you is perfect. You've got the most beautiful face, and I can't stop looking at it. Your eyes, your lips, your cute button nose," he said, leaning in to peck it. "I love your hair, and you look gorgeous when you leave it down. I love your neck, and that tiny freckle on your collarbone." He buried his nose at the base of her neck, breathing her scent, and nibbling gently.

"I love your boobs, and I can't stop thinking about them when you're not around, and your bum too," he smiled cheekily as his hands trailed up her thighs to gently squeeze her ass, and then returned to their previous place. "I love your arms, the way they wrap around my neck when I kiss you. And those damn hands, those fingers, could very well be the death of me." He smiled, kissing her exposed shoulder, and then her upper arm a few times.

"And your stomach is so soft darling. I love just looking at it, thinking if someday you'd let me put a baby in there?" He smiled, earning back a smile and a nod from her. "Your pussy, baby. I'm not even going to say anything, because you know she's better than drugs. And I love your legs, especially when you show them off in pretty skirts and dresses. I love it when you wrap them around me and pull me closer when I make love to you."

"So pretty," he whispered, caressing her thighs, barely audible. "Such beautiful thighs baby, so soft. I want to bury myself into them right fucking now."

"Freddie, please" she whispered back, not even sure what she was pleading for.

"Can I baby? Please?" He said, running his fingers over the smooth skin, and she nodded without thinking.

Fred's arms looped around her back, holding her tight to himself as he stood up and turned them around. He gently lay her down on the bed and got on between her legs. Leaning down to kiss her deeply, he whispered praises to her, making her feel so loved.

He kissed her neck and collarbone, leaving a few stray hickeys, and then pushed the straps of her dress aside to show the same love to her shoulders. Looking up at her for confirmation, he slipped her dress off her body and tossed it away in the room.

She was there now, in nothing but a pair of panties, and she could feel her usual confidence seep back into her body. She reached for Fred and pulled him back in, kissing him passionately and lovingly. Her hands fisted his shirt and pulled it off him, soon followed by his tank top vest, leaving his torso as bare as hers.

"Hmm that's how I like it," he encouraged into the kiss. Soon enough, he moved to her breasts, biting and sucking, and the room was filled with her moans. He kissed his way down to her panties, and she lifted her hips to let him pull them down. He placed her legs over his shoulders, and she shut her eyes in anticipation.

Instead of going right to her clit, he began to kiss and caress her thighs. "They're so pretty sweetheart. Why would you ever dislike them?" He whispered, teasing the skin with his teeth. He licked up the length of her left thigh, but stopped short of where she needed him. He began to suck and nibble the flesh there, drawing moan after moan from her throat. Soon enough, he was repeating his actions on her right thigh, and she was getting hornier by the minute.

Finally, his tongue reached where she wanted, and her eyes rolled back into her head at the feeling. Her fingers found themselves intertwined in his hair, pulling and tugging each time he did something more pleasurable than he'd done previously. Her walls had began to clench around nothing, and the pleasure she felt was too much to hold back. She was so close to her climax, moaning Fred's name, at the edge of bursting, when Fred stopped his actions and pulled away. Groaning, she sat up to face him, as he smiled through his slick covered lips.

"Sit on my face," he demanded with a grin.

"What? No." She said breathlessly.

"Please baby, it's not something that we haven't done before," he reasoned.

"But my thighs are really big and you..."

"No buts, come on!" He said, lying flat on his back, waiting for her to climb onto him.

Still not very sure of the idea, she positioned herself, but didn't put any weight on him, choosing to hover over his face instead. A blush crept up her neck and made its way to her face at being so spread out in front of him.

Fred smiled and licked a stripe from her entrance to her clit, and her head hung back at the feeling, as he picked up right where he had left off. Seeing her pleasure, his hands caressed her ass, before he pulled her onto himself entirely. He moaned at the feeling of being between her thighs, and began eating her out with even more enthusiasm than before.

She was so lost in her pleasure that she forgot her insecurity and began grinding down his face once his tongue entered her, and her moans were reciprocated with his own. She was coming in mere minutes, and it was probably the one of the best orgasms she'd had.

As she came down from her high, she shifted back from his face, sitting on Fred's chest now. His eyes were drowsy and his face was covered in her slick, as he smiled up at her. She immediately felt something hard behind herself and instantly reached her hand out, unzipping his jeans and letting her hand slide under the waistband of his boxers to reach his dick. Fred groaned in pleasure when her hand brushed against his sensitive tip, and instinctively jerked his hips forward.

"Don't," he grunted, almost sounding pained. "I won't be able to hold it in."

"Then don't hold it in, Freddie." She smiled, leaning down to kiss him, moaning at her own taste all over his mouth. She quickly whispered a soft "I love you," only for him to hear.

"Want to fuck you baby," he said. "Please."

She let go of him at his request, and climbed off him. Her hands busied themselves with getting rid of his jeans and boxers, as he lay on the bed watching her. As soon as he was completely undressed, he sat up, and then proceeded to get off the bed, much to her confusion. He walked over to ger dresser, hurriedly tossing everything off it onto the chair next to it. He came back towards her then, offering his hand to her, and she took it, following him off the bed.

"Going to fuck your thighs today, baby." He declared, "Need you to know how much I love them. Is that okay?"

She nodded, letting him sit on the sturdy wooden table, with his back against the mirror, and stood right between his legs. One of his hands rested on her waist as he finally took his length in the other and guided it to her slit, rubbing it through her wetness and letting his head fall back against the mirror in pleasure. She had enough of his teasing now, so she quickly took matters into her own hands. Her fingers pulled away his own from his dick, and she wrapped her palm around him now. He let her take the lead, both his hands clutching onto her waist, and holding her in place. Spreading her hickey covered thighs a little, she guided his tip through the gap. He thrusted forward in relief, and he brushed perfectly against her clit, giving her just as much pleasure as him. His head now rested on her shoulder, and his moans went straight into her ears, turning her into a complete mess.

It was slow at first, since they had never tried this before, but once the pleasure built up, Fred's thrusts became more confident and sure, until he was close enough for them to become sloppy once more. She was just as close, her clit throbbing with each stroke against it.

"I'm so close baby," he whispered hoarsely. "Where do you want it?"

"Inside Freddie, please!" She replied, barely able to keep her eyes open. He immediately pulled her onto himself and she was straddling his lap now, her hand guiding his tip into her warmth. She sat down as soon as the tip was inside, completely sheathing him, and burying her face into his chest.

"So warm love. So good." He moaned, thrusting up into her mercilessly.

"You're so big Freddie. Could never get used to you," she said back in her state of complete haze. Her walls fluttered around him, and he connected their lips, his tongue intertwined hers as she came hard. Fred followed seconds later, his moans swallowed by her as their lips remained connected, and his warmth coated her insides.

She once again buried herself into his chest as they stilled, her arms in their rightful place around him, and his softening dick still inside her. He held her close to himself, warm breath fanning her back as his head rested on her shoulder.

"Baby?" He whispered after a few moments of silence, and his voice was laced with his usual mischief.

"Hmm?"

"Do you like your thighs yet? If not then I'd love to try again."

[atopvisenyashill]

patterns of abuse with jaehaerys

this post made me deeply depressed and i reread f&b which was my first mistake.

tldr i’m making the argument that jaehaerys definitely sexually abused saera and alysanne, and likely viserra and gael, and also i hate this man. if you disagree and want to say so *nicely* that’s cool but if you hardcore love jae and don’t want to hear criticism, maybe just scroll past bc i’m not nice to him at all (obviously, i’m accusing him of csa lol).

breaking this down by each woman, so there’s 6 sections: saera, viserra, daella, gael, alysanne, and alicent.

saera targaryen

If she were the king’s firstborn, or better still his only child, she would be well content. Instead she finds herself the ninthborn, with six living siblings who are older than her and even more adored. Aemon is to be king, Baelon most like will be his Hand, Alyssa may be all her mother is and more, Vaegon is more learned than she is, Maegelle is holier, and Daella…when does a day go by when Daella is not in need of comfort? And whilst she is being soothed, Saera is being ignored. Such a fierce little thing she is, they say, she has no need of comfort. They are wrong in that, I fear. All men need comfort.

that’s septon barth’s opinion on her and barth is always right. simply put, she’s a deeply neglected child who acts like a brat to get her parents attention because she’s learned the only way they’ll pay attention to her is if she’s causing a problem.

Before she was eleven, she was stealing wine and ale instead. By twelve, she was like as not to arrive drunk when summoned to the sept for prayer.

The king’s half-witted fool, Tom Turnip, was the victim of many of her japes, and her unwitting catspaw for others. Once, before a great feast where many lords and ladies were to be in attendance, she persuaded Tom that it would be much funnier if he performed naked. It was not well received.

stealing alcohol at 10 and being a committed alcoholic at 12 is not normal behavior. it is a sign of something deeply at wrong at home. also, the way she kind of, sexually humiliated tom, someone who is too “innocent” to even realize she’s sexually humiliating him…gives me the ick re: how she views sex.

Saera had learned the art of getting anything she wanted from her father: a kitten, a hound, a pony, a hawk, a horse (Jaehaerys did draw a firm line at the elephant). Queen Alysanne was far less gullible, however, and Septon Barth tells us that Saera’s sisters all misliked her to various degrees.

i don’t like this. nothing wrong with giving your child gifts (see ned going above and beyond to get arya not just instruction on how to fight but also a specific style that would gel with being smaller than your average opponent) but in conjunction with “jaehaerys ignores saera unless she’s pressing him for an expensive gift which he immediately gives her and alysanne doesn’t get why he caved so quickly” its an alarming dynamic.

also speaks to how isolated saera specifically was, that the only siblings that like her (aemon and baelon) are usually out and about, and there’s a clear wedge between saera and her sisters, even viserra.

The screams were coming from Tom Turnip, who was lurching helplessly in circles trying to escape from half a dozen naked whores, whilst the patrons of the house laughed uproariously and shouted on the harlots. Jonah Mooton, Red Roy Connington, and Stinger Beesbury were amongst those patrons, each one drunker than the last. They had thought it would be funny to see old Turnip do the deed, Red Roy admitted. Then Jonah Mooton laughed and said the jape had all been Saera’s notion, and what a funny girl she was.

again with sexually humiliating tom.

it continues with her friends. it’s not unusual for a 15 year old girl to want to fool around with other 15 year olds but alys and perri are all guilt ridden and upset and alys is with child. it reminds me a lot of cersei sexually abusing taena in affc. when she’s caught (now, mind you, she’s been marched in front of her parents sitting on the throne and not brought to them in their private rooms. she’s being treated right off the bat as if she’s guilty of a crime and not guilty of being a shitty teenager):

“She went from denial to dismissal to quibbling to contrition to accusation to justification to defiance in the space of an hour, with stops at giggling and weeping along the way,” Septon Barth would write. “She never did it, they were lying, it never happened, how could they believe that, it was just a game, it was just a jape, who said that, that was not how it happened, everyone likes kissing, she was sorry, Peri started it, it was such fun, no one was hurt, no one ever told her kissing was bad, Sweetberry had dared her, she was so ashamed, Baelon used to kiss Alyssa all the time, once she started she did not know how to stop, she was afraid of Stinger, the Mother Above had forgiven her, all the girls were doing it, the first time she was drunk, she had never wanted to, it was what men wanted, Maegelle said the gods forgave all sins, Jonah said he loved her, the gods had made her pretty, it was not her fault, she would be good from now on, it will be as if it never happened, she would marry Red Roy Connington, they had to forgive her, she would never kiss a man again or do any of those other things, it wasn’t her who was with child, she was their daughter, she was their little girl, she was a princess, if she were queen she would do as she liked, why wouldn’t they believe her, they never loved her, she hated them, they could whip her if they wanted but she would never be their slave. She took my breath away, this girl. There was never a mummer in all the land who gave such a performance, but by the end she was exhausted and afraid, and her mask slipped.”

What does Jaehaerys ask after all of this? “Have you given any of these boys your maidenhead?” Her response:

“True?” said Saera. It was in that moment, with that word, that the contempt came out. “No. I gave it to all three. They all think they were the first. Boys are such silly fools.”

Now mind you, Alyssa and Daella have both died of childbirth recently and her parents are mad she had sex as a 16 year old bordering on 17 year old, and not the fact that she like, at best peer pressured her besties into having sex and now one of them is pregnant. jaehaerys has only asked if she’s still a virgin.

“I will be married,” the princess said. “Why shouldn’t I be? You were married at my age. I shall be wedded and bedded, but to whom? Jonah and Roy both love me, I could take one of them, but they are both such boys. Stinger does not love me, but he makes me laugh and sometimes makes me scream. I could marry all three of them, why not? Why should I have just one husband? The Conqueror had two wives, and Maegor had six or eight.”

i keep trying not to give my opinion and just lay it all out but the thing is i’d just be reposting the whole scene because it’s just filled with so much weird sex stuff. if you don’t remember it, go reread it. it doesn’t feel (to me) like regular “george is bad at writing sex” vibes but “george is purposefully trying to skeeve you out” vibes but i am willing to admit i could be wrong and he really just doesn’t understand what he wrote.

anyways remember how i said saera acts out to get attention from her parents? all she’s done here is act out, her “crimes” are basically nonexistent; beyond how alys feels about being pregnant, saera consensually had sex with boys around her age who aren’t married, and then blithely compared herself to some asshole relatives. if your teenager idolizes dick cheney that’s probably worrying but not a crime! this is not how jae treats it however.

When the princess heard his words, she rushed toward him, crying, “Father, Father!” but Jaehaerys turned his back on her, and Gyles Morrigen caught her by the arm and wrenched her away. She would not go of her own accord, so the guards were forced to drag her from the hall, wailing and sobbing and calling for her father.

The king was angry and unyielding, for his shame was deeply felt, and he could not forget Saera’s taunting words about his uncle’s wives. “She is no longer my daughter,” he said more than once. Queen Alysanne could not find it in her heart to be so harsh, however. “

saera tries to escape.

This time the princess was not allowed to return to her own chambers. She was confined to a tower cell instead, with Jonquil Darke guarding her day and night, even in the privy.

Princess Saera watched from the window of her cell. Jonquil Darke, her gaoler, made certain that she did not turn away.

that’s as her dad is murdering stinger btw. is he a creepy 19 year old? yeah. but like, making your 15 year old watch you murder her 19 year old trust fund baby stoner boyfriend sure is something.

so then they sent her to the silent sisters where she’s beaten all the time and has to pray all the time and she runs away, becomes a sex worker and literally never looks back.

The truth did not come out until a year later, when the former princess was seen in a Lysene pleasure garden, still clad as a novice. Queen Alysanne wept to hear it. “They have made our daughter into a whore,” she said. “She always was,” the king replied.

“You need her as a Dornishman needs a pit viper,” Jaehaerys said. “I am sorry. King’s Landing has sufficient whores. I do not wish to hear her name again.”

but before we move on, let’s look at one more related ick, when saera’s sons show up to the great council:

From Essos came three rival competitors, grandsons of King Jaehaerys through his daughter Saera, each sired by a different father. One was said to be the very image of his grandsire in his youth.

after her drinking, acting out, and jaehaerys’ focus on calling her a whore, explicitly pointing out that one of her grandsons looks just like jae is a choice. i know they’re super inbred. it’s still uncomfortable in context.

viserra targaryen

alysanne makes no sense here but i’m just gonna quickly explain instead of lay it out or we will be here all day bc viserra’s engagement is completely nonsensical. theomore manderly is old, ugly, has a shitton of heirs, and viserra clearly doesn’t want to marry him. also if she wanted to be queen, why is she going after baelon, aemon is still alive. anyways jaehaerys is no help here, then she goes to baelon for help, but she’s also super drunk.

Frustrated, Viserra next turned to her brother Baelon in hopes of rescue, if court gossip can be believed. Slipping past his guards into his bedchamber one night, she disrobed and waited for him, making free with the prince’s wine whilst she lingered. When Prince Baelon finally appeared, he found her drunk and naked in his bed and sent her on her way. The princess was so unsteady that she required the help of two maids and a knight of the Kingsguard to get her safely back to her own apartments.

she gets drunk with some friends again, goes riding, breaks her neck. i wanted to point out this pattern of drinking and acting out at a young age. as well as this pattern of targaryen daughters who aren’t “meant” for a brother and are promised to men who are old and with heirs

daella targaryen

i wanted to add daella because her getting married at 15 makes as little sense as viserra, and her match to a old man with several heirs is equally nonsensical. but also this:

“I would never marry her,” the boy said, in front of half the court. “She can barely read. She should find some lord in need of stupid children, for that’s the only sort he will ever have of her.”

where did vaegon get that mouth.

Daella was not clever, even her septa had to admit. She learned to read after a fashion, but haltingly, and without full comprehension. She could not seem to commit even the simplest prayers to memory. She had a sweet voice, but was afraid to sing; she always got the words wrong. She loved flowers, but was frightened of gardens; a bee had almost stung her once.

Jaehaerys, even more than Alysanne, despaired of her. “She will not even speak to a boy. How is she to marry? We could entrust her to the Faith, but she does not know her prayers, and her septa says that she cries when asked to read aloud from The Seven-Pointed Star.”

The queen always rose to her defense. “Daella is sweet and kind and gentle. She has such a tender heart. Give me time, and I will find a lord to cherish her. Not every Targaryen needs to wield a sword and ride a dragon.”

so daella is 12 at this point.

Her sixteenth nameday was fast approaching, and with it her womanhood. Queen Alysanne was at her wit’s end, and the king had lost his patience. On the first day of the 80th year since Aegon’s Conquest, he told the queen he wanted Daella wed before the year’s end. “If she wants I can find a hundred men and line them up before her naked, and she can pick the one she likes,” he said. “I would sooner she wed a lord, but if she prefers a hedge knight or a merchant or Pate the Pig Boy, I am past the point of caring, so long as she picks someone.”

i just don’t like this. other “simple” targs are not required to marry, like vaella and aelora, two of daeron ii’s grandfaughters so i don’t get why daella is pressured into marrying before she’s even of age. at least jae 2 forced rhaella and aerys because of a prophecy? what is jae’s reasoning for so sexualizing his daughter?

gael targaryen

this one is definitely a reach but i’d like to point out that this is basically all we know about gael:

Princess Gael, a sweet, shy child of seven, became the queen’s constant shadow and support, even sharing her bed at night.

and our information on how she dies is so shady:

A sweet-natured girl, but frail and somewhat simpleminded, she remained with the queen long after her other children had grown and gone, but in 99 AC she vanished from court, and soon afterward it was announced that she had died of a summer fever. Only after both her parents were gone did the true tale come out. Seduced and abandoned by a traveling singer, the princess had given birth to a stillborn son, then, overwhelmed by grief, walked into the waters of Blackwater Bay and drowned.

how does gael get pregnant by a traveling singer when she never leaves her mother’s side? why doesn’t anyone in court know gael got pregnant and killed herself until after aly and jae both die and how was this even found out?

am i implying that jaehaerys sexually abused all four of his daughters? yes because he literally sexually abuses his own wife.

alysanne targaryen

“I am forty-two years old,” she told the king. “You must be content with the children I have given you. I am more suited to be a grandmother than a mother now, I fear.”

King Jaehaerys did not share her certainty. “Our mother, Queen Alyssa, was forty-six when she gave birth to Jocelyn,” he pointed out to Grand Maester Elysar. “The gods may not be done with us.” He was not wrong. The very next year, the Grand Maester informed Queen Alysanne that she was once more with child, to her surprise and dismay.

he uses the birth that killed their mother and that is condemned by rhaena and alysanne as reckless and cruel of rogar to force on her. that birth.

at this point as well, he had abused saera and daella, then they’re gone, then viserra starts drinking and dies, then jae marital rapes aly into having gael, giving him access to another young girl to abuse…i’m aware this is a very uncharitable reading of him but…

alicent hightower (and kind of alyssa targaryen)

Ser Otto’s precocious fifteen-year-old daughter, Alicent, became his constant companion, fetching His Grace his meals, reading to him, helping him to bathe and dress himself. The Old King sometimes mistook her for one of his daughters, calling her by their names; near the end, he grew certain she was his daughter Saera, returned to him from beyond the narrow sea.

saera is the one he fixated on yet again but notable that he’s fixated on his daughters as he dies and not his sons, despite jaehaerys turning to drink after aemon died bc he was so upset.

He announced his intention to wed Lady Alicent of House Hightower, the clever and lovely eighteen-year-old daughter of the King’s Hand, the girl who had read to King Jaehaerys as he lay dying.

The Hightowers of Oldtown were an ancient and noble family, of impeccable lineage; there could be no possible objection to the king’s choice of bride. Even so, there were those who murmured that the Hand had risen above himself, that he had brought his daughter to court with this in mind. A few even cast doubt on Lady Alicent’s virtue, suggesting she had welcomed King Viserys into her bed even before Queen Aemma’s death. (These calumnies were never proved, though Mushroom repeats them in his Testimony and goes so far as to claim that reading was not the only service Lady Alicent performed for the Old King in his bedchamber.)

i know it’s just mushroom being a perv but a rumor that 15 year old alicent “serviced” jaehaerys existing besides rumors that he mistook 15 year old alicent for the daughter he last saw when she was 17 - and viserra was 15, gael 19, and daella 15, all around alicent’s age and all died before age 20. all the targaryen girls that weren’t born “for” a brother exit the narrative after some sort of sexual abuse that centers around jae, as teenagers; daenerys was born for aemon, alyssa for baelon, and maegelle for vaegon before they both fucked off and maegelle was too pious (and too old). this idea of being “for” a brother leads directly to alyssa’s death before 30:

“You were made for battles, and I was made for this. Viserys and Daemon and Aegon, that’s three. As soon as I am well, let’s make another. I want to give you twenty sons. An army of your own!” It was not to be. Alyssa Targaryen had a warrior’s heart in a woman’s body, and her strength failed her. She never fully recovered from Aegon’s birth, and died within the year at only four-and-twenty.

and alysanne being “for” jaehaerys is how he excusing sexually abusing her into a risky pregnancy. essentially what i fear is that because saera, daella, viserra, and gael aren’t “for” someone, jaehaerys gets it into his mind that that are for him. even without him raping them tho, that subtext is there! he is entitled to saera’s virginity and calls her a whore multiple times, even decades after she’s left, and murders her boyfriend in front of her. he claims a weird sexual ownership over his neurodivergent daughter daella and his alcoholic, depressed daughter viserra, and we get zero information on gael’s pregnancy or his reaction to it. but jaehaerys deciding his daughters are “for” him certainly has a basis in canon just judging from the erratic and worrying behavior of his younger daughters.

jaehaerys is a creep and i hate him and i don’t know how much of this is on purpose (like, will aegon vi or dany find out jaehaerys was a shady pedo and it shatters their world? will dunk and egg find it out and it affects their plot somehow? did george just put it in there to make a comment on power and monarchy and misogyny, similar to aegon iv raping the bracken women? or is just there for window dressing creepiness, like “i will pepper in the fact that jaehaerys is sexually obsessed with his daughters” thing?) or if george just made jaehaerys sexually obsessed with his daughters on accident?

on the one hand, it seems out of character for george. he romanticizes drogo thru dany’s eyes but it’s clear he’s meant to be seen as a creep (dany talking about being pregnant followed by “she had just turned 14” is sickeningly jarring for a reason) and also, drogo dies bc of his own pride. sansa doesn’t like any of the old dudes touching her; she is at least marginally freaked out by her wedding night, the unkiss, and lf & dontos taking liberties with her, and rightly. the story that’s told about the mountain raping a girl and making the father pay him is meant to disgust us. the walk of shame is a harrowing chapter to read, because whatever cersei’s crimes, this sexual humiliation is not something she deserves. on and on. yes, we all hate the way arya is sexualized in the mercy chapter, but crucially, she’s not blithely and happily seducing these pervs, she’s going hard candy on their asses. is this just messy set up for something like that?? i think, given how little dany knows about her family’s crimes that somehow learning jae sexually abused (and maybe even impregnated) his own daughters after she herself experiences sexual abuse would be huge. the same goes for aegon vi learning that sexual abuse runs rampant in his family tree; would he empathize with saera hiding out in essos to escape the sexual abuse of her father, see some of elia and his own plight in her? in gael?

or did george really just. not realize how sexually obsessed jaehaerys was with his daughters?

idk how to end this. where’s the winds of winter george i need answers.

[ukiiseikou]

you know i fade to grey without you.

kazuha kaedehara x gn! reader, figure skating au.

a/n: soooo y/n is kinda a flop in this one, and the pacing is kinda all over the place. this was my first ever piece i wrote (despite being published after the scara one) so please excuse everything wrong!! thank you! part of complementary figures, 2/? read wanderer's here.

you used to be good at figure skating. now? not so much. your body was taller and your limbs less under your control. a car crash sealed the deal, and your legs never really felt like your's anymore.

junior world champion used to be a title you had, but now? top ten at sectionals was often out of reach, much less any big international podiums. you settle with entering yourself into those small challenger cups, and if you're lucky, manage to snag a medal or two.

at least you never gave up on it.

your coach says its a good thing - your tenacity and grit, but even you can tell her hugs has become more fleeting and more like pats on the back over the years, dismayed at yet another two-footed or unlanded jump. you see how the skaters in the later groups looked at you - or more like, not looked at you. you were way under their league, an insignificant number on the scoreboard, a grey spot at the bottom.

you know figure skating. the feeling of ice against blade, the gliding, the wind in your face, the way the world around you blurs as you spin and launch yourself into the air. even the drowsy, orange tinted memories of watching mao asada's triple axel on repeat in the car at 5am, and the biting ice of the bath you have to lower yourself into at 1 in the morning, replaying your mistakes on the small screen you grasp between your hands. four years ago, you've said you wouldn't have it any other way. but those were bygone days, and now you were barely scraping by.

kazuha kaedehara, on the other hand, is figure skating's golden boy.

you remember how the commentators yelled over the broadcast as the last notes of his free skate sounded, the way your own teammates launched themselves out of the white plastic chairs crowded around the small TV and erupted into cheers and whoops. you swore you saw your coach wipe away a tear. the energy was electric, and even you felt your fingers tingle and your feet itch as you focus on his figure, his costume bright red against the white of the ice.

"oh my goodness, what even was that skating? spectacular! impeccable, just impeccable. why, i say we'll be seeing an olympic gold medal around his neck in three years. yes! kazuha kaedehara from inazuma, what a wonderful showing! a pure figure skater, the consistency, the artistry, the technical mastery, the interpretation. my friends, this is a one in a lifetime talent!"

praises like this echoed throughout the figure skating world for the next two years, and you heard it first-hand every single time. for some reason, despite being ranked number one around the entire world, kazuha kaedehara finds it in his heart to bless the smaller competitions you were at and take away the medal of some poor kid who only wanted to get some international recognition.

you've seen him so many times that he says hi to you in the hallways now (even though he probably doesn't even know your name). flashes that sweet smile that's captured the hearts of thousands across the globe in your direction as he tilts his head. you always settled for a nod and a smile as well, before brushing past him. this time, you faintly hear him call after you, shouting good luck, and you simply wave back in acknowledgement.

boys come later, first, you gotta pull yourself together.

you've been skating for your entire life now, but the chill of stage fright still gets to you. the feeling of your throat closing up as the speakers boom your name, you hop, gliding in a circle as you approach your starting position. you breathe in through your nose, and out through your mouth.

the first few notes of your music start, and for a moment you panic as your foot roots itself to the ice. but your body moves on its own, your arms flying into the air as you push off your blade. the feeling melts away into pure adrenaline as you make your first round across the ice rink. this is it, your most difficult jump, the one you've never landed properly since the crash. you've done this before - four years ago, you can do it again.

you stare at the spot of ice you'll take off from, faintly, you think to yourself of how kazuha kaedehara probably does the triple axel in his sleep, but the thought is quickly swept away as your body twists forward. there's no time. your leg rises and the dark blue seats, dotted with spectators, blur into lines. you're in the air, wind whipping in your ears.

you make contact with the ice, but lurch forward. fuck. you desperately try to save it by bending your knees, but no luck. you pitch forward and your face nearly hits the ice as your arms and hands brace for impact. a wave of disappointment washes over you as you pick yourself up. you can't even hear the music anymore, relying purely on muscle memory as you skate through your program.

you can see and hear it all already: the wince in the commentators voice as he comments on your incorrect entry or off-centre axis; that one fan that's been following you forever probably just fell to his knees; the newspapers that only the people from your hometown reads - "y/n l/n cannot deliver anymore"; your coach who turns away with a hand over her eyes; your mother trying to contain the sigh that ultimately escapes from her lips.

a wave of disappointment washes over you, but you've got two minutes of program left, and at this point you're just happy you finished alive and with no broken bones, even with two falls and a downgraded spin. as you bow, you see him, bright red against the blue seats of the audience, clapping.

he's insane.

"y/n l/n, i just don't understand," your coach murmurs, after the quick squeeze she gives you as you step out of the rink, out of breath, "you hit it all in practice, it is just - the nerves, my dear? what is it? are your knees hurting again? we'll work on it, okay?"

it's always the same questions, the same disappointed look before she collects herself at the kiss and cry and pats you on the arm, handing you the jacket you've had for years now. the little girl behind you hands you a grey and white cat plushie that she picked up from the rink, and you smile at her, holding up the plushie to the camera as a pang of bitterness settles in your gut.

you and your coach exchange tight smiles before the camera. your coach's eyes turn to squint at the screen that displays your score. you settle instead for playing with the ears of the cat, waiting to be defined by a few set of numbers again. you finally hear your name announced, but you don't even look up to the display, you can only nod with finality as the speakers blare out your score for the whole venue to hear - not enough to qualify to the free skate. it feels like a guilty statement as it hangs over you like a dark cloud.

your coach pats you on the back absentmindedly, before standing up to fuss over your teammate, the one who will probably make it into the free skate.

you wave at the camera before it, too, turns away from you in urgency as the next skater takes to the ice. you tune out the polite applause as you stand from the seat, feet tired and head heavy.

it's always like this. you, washed out against the colours of the arena.

as you turn the corner in the hallways, you see him again.

"i just saw you - in the stands. how - how did you get down here so fast?"

"you were standing there for a really long time, got me worried a bit, actually," he smiles apologetically, "sorry, was that weird?"

"no - i mean, thanks for worrying," you do what you always do, angling your body to brush past him, but his words stop you.

"i liked it - your program."

you raise an eyebrow at him, and when you turn around you're startled by his bright red eyes.

"but i fell, like, twice," you break eye contact, averting your eyes.

you can see his arms move as he shrugs, "things happen. but i liked it. i really like the way you skated. did you choreograph it yourself? i think i saw that listed in your profile."

your eyes snap up to meet his, and he has the same smile that he shows everyone - sincere and charming.

"you read my bio?"

he lets out a gentle laugh, "sorry, i don't mean to be weird. i just - always liked your programs. i was wondering who choreographed them, then i saw it was you. it clicked! only someone who knew the music in and out could skate like you."

"i don't think anyone would want to skate like me," you give him a bitter smile, squeezing the cat between your arms, "but thanks."

he shook his head, "i was there at the junior championships, in the audience - when you won gold? i always wanted to skate like you."

you frown, "you're world number one."

"and i'm a terrible choreographer," he supplies helpfully.

"i don't think i should be your golden standard," you move to leave.

"wait! what i mean is - your skating, it’s... colourful. i can't put it into words, it's ethereal, fascinating, human, it changes people," words spill from his mouth and kazuha's hands suddenly grasp your's, eyes wide and shining, "can you show me? how you do it?"

"wait, wait," you blink, and he pulls out of your space, his eyes apologetic, "my skating does not change lives."

"it changed mine," he says quietly, and you laugh.

"sure, i changed the life of olympic favourite kazuha kaedehara! why not."

"no, really," he sounds out of breath, "didn't i say? i saw you. i actually wanted to leave the sport then, i wasn’t making much progress, but you made me want to skate. now that i’m here… i've been entering these competitions so that you could see me. i wanted to catch your attention."

your head feels like it's going to burst. he even looks slightly frustrated at the thought that you might have never noticed him.

your mouth open and closes like a fish, until you finally settle with: "everything you just said was true?"

"everything," he affirms.

you avert your gaze, "fine. this is me taking notice, alright? one lesson, that's all you get, kaedehara."

"hold your hand out more, you look like a flamingo, not a swan," you bark at kazuha, who laughs as he sits on the floor of the ice. you skate towards him, holding out a hand, "and i can't believe you fell on a double toe loop."

"things happen," he shrugs, grasping your hand as you pull him up.

"you asked me for an olympic level program, so put in some effort."

he laughs again, bending down to brush his nose against your cheek, but you push him away, huffing.

"do it again, this time properly."

"do i get a good job kiss afterwards?"

"i'll think about it," you grumble.

one lesson blossomed into something else, and now you've found yourself the partner of figure skating's golden boy, after he unceremoniously asked you one morning as the two of you walked together into the rink.

you finally quit, but not after several conversations from kazuha lamenting the loss of art from the world, but you've become a choreographer, and every new season he cuddles up to you, asking if you can choreograph a piece to his new favourite piece of music. you’ve also realised that kazuha kaedehara does not land triple axels in his sleep, if the sleepy mumblings of "don't fall!" and "ah, blast, i fell." was any indication.

people call his skating ethereal, colourful, life-changing, and all he does is smile at the camera and say "it's because of y/n, they inspire me."

you watch as he picks up speed from the far end of the rink. you're going to be busy this season, helping the younger ones with their programs. so, the next time you see him, he's at the olympics. his costume bright red against the white of the ice.

he points at you when he finishes, panting and out of breath. he laughs as he sees you clap, your dream blazing alongside his own. right now, even at the top, no other person matters, you're the one who brought colour into his life, after all.

guys... if shit sucks, hit the bricks!!! real winners quit! please ♡ and ⟳ if you enjoyed thank youuuu please support your authors!

[tgmsunmontue]

Saga of Solitude 5/?

Nepo!Baby Bradley and his life at USNA and afterwards. DADT fully in force. IceMav AU. (Begun prior to 'It's not who you know' - the non-angsty version).

PROLOGUE (He remembers)

HANGSTER FIRST MEETING (Lonely Nights - set 2009)

Updating ~weekly (longer chapters).

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

ONE (2000) TWO (2001) THREE (2002) FOUR (2003)

CHAPTER FIVE – 2004

              He spends three weeks in a submarine and it helps cement his decision to attend flight school, if they accept his application. There is of course the natural competition between everyone, it’s simply how they function, each striving to be better, make those around them better, but also support them and drag them through it if they have to. His third year at USNA wraps up and he’s facing his summer break. The entire year has gone well, no terrorist attacks, although there is definite heightened security since.

              The routine is easy now, he’s an upperclassman, has Natasha and then a smaller circle of people he considers friends, if nothing close to what he has with Natasha. He’s aware that a significant chunk of upperclassmen think that he and Natasha are together, and the one time he checks in with her about whether she’s okay with that she’d just shrugged and said it had stopped the guys expecting her to pay any of them attention. No one asks, and they never correct anyone. When they head out to have leave together no one bats an eye. When they mention having spent some of the previous summer together it’s the same.

              He finds out why Natasha doesn’t talk to her family. Teenage pregnancy. She’d refused to get married to the guy, someone she won’t even tall Bradley the name of, and the shame of either the pregnancy, or their daughter not obeying them, they’d kicked her out. Her application with USNA had already been accepted, her place guaranteed and Bradley doesn’t need to ask to realize what her decision must have been. He briefly feels awful about introducing Tamsin and Petra to her, but she seems to take great joy in chatting to them on the phone and drawing and sending them pictures, so he lets that guilt melt away.

              They’ve both been asked to return to USNA and assist as upperclassmen for Plebe Summer, something he feels immense pride in, glad to have made a good enough impression that he’s being held up as a role model to the new recruits. Of course it makes their leave almost non-existent and they decide to spend it together, which he knows will only fuel rumors that they’re a couple. They go to San Francisco for five days at the start of their leave, and he finally gets to meet Natasha’s sole family member that has anything to do with her, and the way his eyes travel up Bradley’s body leave him blushing furiously. That he’s hot doesn’t help at all.

              “Oh, it is nice to meet you,” Christopher says, shaking his hand and Bradley looks to Natasha with a raised eyebrow and she’s just shaking her head.

              “Nice to meet you too. Bradley.”

              “Mmm. I have heard a lot about you. She didn’t ever mention just how delightful you looked.”

              “Because to me, he isn’t very delightful to look at. There are nicer views.”

              “Hey!” Bradley objects, out of principle more than anything, and Natasha is already cackling and pushing past Christopher with her bags but Christopher is looking at him seriously, completely different to the over-the-top flirtation of a moment ago.

              “Oh my god. You’re…” Christopher makes a limp-wrist gesture which sends Bradley’s eyebrows up in surprise.

              “Uh. Don’t ask don’t tell…” he says, throat tight, wondering where the fuck Natasha has gone.

              “Oh honey, I am not part of your weird cultish military shit. And I wasn’t asking, I was confirming. Holy shit. No wonder Tadpole likes you so much.”

              “Tadpole?”

              “Shut up!” Natasha calls out and Bradley grins.

              “I’ll tell you the story later,” Christopher says, voice low and conspiratory and Bradley nods, hitching his bag over his shoulder. Christopher jerks his head toward where Natasha can be heard grumbling. “Sorry, only got the one guest room. She’s already claimed the bed probably, so you’re on an air mattress.”

              “That’s fine, not the worst place I’ve slept by far.”

              “You’re my guest, I’d like to hope not. I’ll let you guys get settled then we can head out and find some food.”

              He leaves Bradley at the door and Natasha is smirking at him.

              “You couldn’t have told me?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

              “Sorry, his sexuality isn’t exactly something I drop into casual conversation. We’re at USNA remember. Repression is being ingrained into us.”

              “Okay, would you hate me if I asked him out?”

              “No. But his boyfriend might.”

              “Oh. Yeah. Okay.”

              “They can take you clubbing. I’m sure you’ll find ways of enjoying yourself here.”

              She’s right, and she’s smug about it. During the days they do touristy things and just spend time relaxing, occasionally working out. In the evenings Christopher and his boyfriend Patrick take them dancing or clubbing. Natasha comes along once, but then tells them she doesn’t want to sit around getting hit on by anyone so instead either goes to the movies or stays at Christopher’s apartment.

              He’s spent previous weeks on leave in New York, having sex with strangers, but this is a completely different experience. One he’s not going to forget in a hurry. For a start he has never had so much sex in such a short period of time, and it’s good sex, the guys that Christopher sends his way clearly more experienced and keen to give him good experiences or teach him how to give better blow jobs. It’s like each of the guys has undergone a screening process, and when one slips that he’s an ex of Patrick’s he realizes that maybe they have been. He can’t bring himself to care, not when he’ benefitting and enjoying it all.

…           …           …

              They get to Ice’s house and there’s a welcome home party and he can’t believe how big Tamsin and Petra have grown. It’s a vastly different experience to their brief time in San Fransisco but he’s glad they have two weeks and Natasha seems to take her role as surrogate big sister seriously, the four of them watching movies, or lying around with slices of cucumber over their eyes. Sarah snaps a picture of them like that, gets it printed and gives copies to both him and Natasha, along with a pile of other photos she’s taken while they’ve been staying.

              Of course, his birthday comes and he’s twenty-one. Maverick hands over an envelope and a key and he looks at it blankly.

              “What’s this?”

              “The deed to the house. It’s to go to you on your twenty-first birthday.”

              “But… what am I going to do with a house?”

              “Live in it?”

              “But… I’ll be deployed or away…”

              “Bradley, it’s the house your parents bought. What you do with it is up to you. I’d like to still live there of course…”

              “Of course! I mean, if you’re not moving in with Ice, then of course you can stay there. It’s just… nothing has to change right? It’s just a piece of paper?”

              “It’s just a piece of paper. And we’ll help navigate any legal stuff. And we won’t be moving in together any time soon,” Ice states, voice soft, but his expression is sad and Bradley wishes things were different.

…           …           …

              Tom wants to wrap himself around Maverick and never let him go. The amount he’s been away on deployment makes every moment they have together even more precious, and he’s starting to second guess his own rules, even if they’ve kept them both safe. He has two kids and an ex-wife which is a damned good cover, even if his best friend comes and stays frequently. He isn’t telling anyone that doesn’t already know, and no one is asking him, even if they have their suspicions.

              He hates the fact that Pete is now effectively homeless, not that Bradley would ever kick him out of the house, but Tom wants him to have somewhere that is his, and maybe not his alone, but something that would just light Pete up from the inside. The way flying does. He pauses mid-thought and thinks back to a couple of years ago, the Beechcraft and the airstrip, Mav taking Bradley up in the air. Huh. Not a plane, not yet, but there were hangars out there. And a hangar beside an airstrip is probably somewhere Pete would consider living if he thought it was a legitimate option. Not that he himself would want to live beside an airstrip, but this isn’t about him.

              He makes a few calls. Then a few more calls. He’s got to consider leases, and taxes and whether it might just make more sense to rent. He doesn’t want to rent though, wants to make some sort of large gesture and present it as a fait accompli that gives Maverick no wiggle-room to turn it down. He feels pretty confident it wouldn’t be turned away regardless, unless Mav was feeling particularly difficult on the day. Then he gets a call, someone had heard he was looking, and it’s an old Navy hangar, located at the very same airstrip and it feels serendipitous and he agrees to come out and have a look.

…           …           …

              Of course, with how much mentoring he’s doing with the Plebes come the questions, and he remembers his conversation with Ice, a couple of years ago now. When they ask him questions about his parents he simply pulls a face and shakes his head, ignores his own peers, fellow Firsts, who he can see from the corner of his eye who were shaking their heads at the Plebes, trying to stop them from simply asking.

              “My dad was a naval aviator who died in a Top Gun training incident in eighty-six and my mom died of cancer in ninety-four. I was raised by my step-father after that. Any other awkward questions you want answers to?”

              It’s probably why they never ask him or Natasha anything, and another First slaps the Plebe on the back, mutters I tried to warn you off asking but he doesn’t feel upset about it at all. It’s not at all a lie, even if his step-father would be here in a heartbeat if Bradley needed him to be. He knows that both Ice and Mav intend to attend his graduation in formal roles, and while they might night get to acknowledge their roles with each other in such a formal setting he doesn’t care. They want to be there and they’re planning to be there, special leave already requested and granted long ago, considering they’ll be in uniform.

              He and Natasha both work hard, both at their studies and also on their physical fitness. Their applications for flight school were submitted months ago, he really wants to go with her, can’t imagine not going without her. They’re both consistently in the top two or five percent, which he knows bodes well for them. Knows that their involvement with extra curriculars and being friendly with pretty much everyone has them well liked and respected. He just has to be patient and wait.

…           …           …

              They both look at the envelopes, slapping them on empty palms. They look identical, but unlike his USNA acceptance letter, this is a single piece of paper and it could be flight school acceptance, or a decline.

              “On the count of three?” Natasha asks and Bradley admires her courage.

              “Yeah. Three.”

              They rip them open.

…           …           …

              “I knew it!” Maverick screams, his joy palpable through the phone for their Saturday afternoon call. “Ice! Ice! He got in! Hold on, let me put you on speaker…”

              “Of course he did… well done Bradley. Congratulations.”

              He blows out a long breath, because he’s glad they have seemingly unshakeable confidence in his abilities. God, he never wants to disappoint them.

              “Thanks. Natasha got in as well.”

              “She’s a very capable young woman. Proud of you both. Please pass that on to her.”

              “Yeah, thanks. I will.”

              “Yeah, we’re both very proud. You can go back to work now. I’m going to go outside and talk to my godson…”

              He hears Ice mutter something in the background, not clear enough to make out, but then Mav is telling him off for rolling his eyes and he can just imagine what he said, the gentle laughter between them and he can’t help but smile.

              “So. did Ice tell you he bought me a hangar?”

              “He did what?” Bradley asks, because such a move seems like something Mav would make, rather than Ice.

              “He bought me a hangar. Said that I was obviously always welcome wherever he was, but that he knew I needed my own place and that I now had a space for the plane I’ve been eyeing up.”

              “You’ve been eying up a plane? Wait. A hangar. For you to live in? What about the house? You aren’t moving out are you?”

              “No. Of course not. But I’m going to be there as often as you are, probably less considering Ice has become a lot more, uh, relaxed about his stupid sleepover rules. The hangar isn’t currently habitable anyway. But there’s this P-51 Mustang I’ve been looking at. It’s beautiful.”

              “He proposed to you with an aircraft hangar. Oh my god, that’s so… romantic and practical of him.”

              “He didn’t propose.”

              “Mav. If a guy bought me an aircraft hangar what would you think about the guy?”

              “That he was crazy in love with you, and utterly committed… oh shit. I’ll call you back.”

              He is not surprised when he doesn’t get called back.

…           …           …

              He hadn’t expected it.

              They hadn’t warned him.

              The emotions of the day, coupled with the fact that they’d asked every single member of the 1986 Top Gun class there, along with a few other friends of both his parents. He clearly has the biggest cheering section and he feels like a mess inside, although outwardly he’s all smiles and calm togetherness. Four years of training helps with that at least. Ice and Mav are both up on the stage, part of the VIP section, along with several others who are still serving, and he recognizes them from his birthday a couple of years ago.

              “Did you know they were all going to be here?” Natasha asks, and he shakes his head, throat working against the tightness of his collar.

              There are photos, Ice agreeing to so many photos with newly minted graduates and Bradley lets them all go, fights his way through the crowds to find Mav. He and Ice can stage photos later, there will always be times when they’re in uniform. Just the fact that they’re here is more than enough and he’s so happy that he has had them supporting him every step of the way.

              “Captain Mitchell.”

              “Midshipman Bradshaw. Congratulations. Your father would be very proud. I flew with him you know?”

              Bradley blinks.

              Blinks again.

              Hopes his internal dialogue somehow is being telepathically beamed into Mav’s head.

              You are such a dick. Hopefully his expression does enough to convey his exasperation.

              “Really? I didn’t know that sir.”

              Mav gives him a shit-eating grin and Bradley wishes Ice were there to hit him around the head. Not that he would, not in this setting, but damn he sees why he’s always so tempted.

              “I’m going to have a photo with all the graduates who are going to be heading off to Corpus Christi for flight school. I think they want us over there.”

              It’s chaos. Positive and energetic happiness with everyone feeling the sense that they’re about to begin their careers, that they’ve made it through what is meant to be the hardest part, even if Bradley secretly thinks flight school might be even more challenging, it’s only for eighteen months. He manages to get photos with Maverick, Natasha and Ice and nearly every available combination. Then there are photos with the 1986 class, and he ignores the fact that several of the other men seem to shed a tear.

              Then it’s dispersing, the crowd thinning and families are gathering, taking more photos and he can see Sarah pushing through, the hands of Tamsin and Petra clasped and he grins, starts heading toward them, already thinking that Tamsin has grown a couple of inches, can see both his sisters pulling Sarah toward them before she decides to let them go.

              “Natasha! Natasha!” Petra screams, and she’s running across the quad, hair streaming behind her with gold and navy ribbons mixed in, running past him and Natasha is grinning broadly, bending down to swoop Petra up in a hug. Bradley stands back up from where he’d been just about to scoop her up himself before she’d breezed past him.

              “Wow,” he says to Sarah as she comes to a stop to stand beside him.

              “Hurts doesn’t it?” Sarah says, not really asking and Bradley nods, murmuring a quiet yeah under his breath. He doesn’t begrudge Natasha the joy and love of his sisters, love isn’t in finite supply, it’s just a little hurtful to not even warrant a hello. He has to remind himself that Petra is only seven.

              “I love you Bradley,” Tamsin says, arms coming around his waist to give him a hug, as if she can tell how he’s feeling and he hugs her back.

              “Love you too Tam.”

              “You’re dressed up all fancy like Daddy and Papa.”

              “Yeah. You look pretty fancy in your dress too. Is that new?”

              “Yep. Mom bought is especially for today!”

              “We can look fancy together.”

              “Congratulations Bradley, we’re all very proud of you.”

              “Thanks.”

              “Are you proud of me? I go to school too,” Tamsin says, and Sarah looks heavenward and Bradley wonders if she’s been fielding questions like this for a while.

              “I’m proud of you, going to school can be really hard work somedays,” Bradley says.            

              “Daddy!” Tamsin says, and then Ice is there, pressing his cheek against Sarah’s in greeting and nodding at Bradley again.

              “Bradley! Up!” Petra demands, appearing at his side and Natasha is grinning.

              “Hello to you too Miss Petra, happy to be of service.”

              There are a few people doing a double take as they see who he is standing with, who he is clearly family with, but he cares less now. He’s finished here, no one can claim he played any favoritism card. He knows flight school will be different, wants to be in the air as soon as possible.

              He can’t wait.

CHAPTER SIX (2005)

[joocomics]

off my face in love with you (18+)

from ─ ⋆ dinna’s holiday special *ੈ✩

pairings: jungsu x fem!reader

genre: smut wc: 3k

summary: your neighbour finds out you’re alone on new years eve, because you and your bf broke up, and invites you to join his party

contains: sub!reader, unprotected sex, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, body shots, light exhibitionism kink, pet names, creampie, ft. gaon in one scene

For the first time you’re alone on New Year’s Eve and it feels strange.

Since your now ex boyfriend decided to cut ties with you just the day before you’re not even able to make new plans. Yes, you can easily go celebrate with some of your friends, but the thought of having to spend half the night answering everyone’s questions about why are you not with him, and why did you break up after three months, exhausted you enough already.

As you hold up your bag to search for your keys, you hear the door of the apartment next to yours unlock.

“Hey, Y/N.” The familiar voice rings nicely in the hallway. “Long time, no see.”

“Hey, Jungsu,” you say, not able to hold back from checking him out when he turns around to lock the door.

“What are you and your boyfriend doing tonight?” He asks, glancing at you with interest.

The sudden mention of your ex catches you off guard, and you stay silent for a while. You haven’t told anyone yet.

“Uhm actually… We’re not together anymore, so...”

“Oh, sorry.” Jungsu furrows his brows, and tucks hands into the pockets of his ripped jeans.

“Don’t worry about it.” You force a chuckle.

“Wait, are you celebrating alone?” He takes a peek at the wine bottles before shooting you a questionable look.

You nod, but before you get the chance to let him know that you don’t mind it, he scoffs.

“That’s not right! You should come at my place then.” He takes a step forward, making the distance between you smaller. “I’m having a small party with friends it would be fun.”

“Oh, are you sure? I don’t want to—”

“Please,” he cuts you off. “You can’t stay alone on New Year’s Eve, I’d love it if you join.”

You give him a warm smile as you hold the bottles against your chest. It sounds nice, you could really use some distraction.

You accept his invitation, telling him you’ll be there.

For a moment you don’t even realise both of you are maintaining eye contact with ease. The interest you had towards him when he moved in the building last year comes back again with a spark that has you already anticipating the night. You’ve always spoken to each other like regular neighbours despite the fact you both attend the same university, and often times, you’ve found yourself wondering about him; about his mysterious personality, about his life. But then you met your ex, and the questions you imagined one day asking Jungsu left your mind.

“Cool,” he runs a hand through his hair, heading to the staircase. “Can’t wait to see you again, Y/N.”

You watch him disappear down the stairs, and realise that there’s still something very appealing about him that seems to pull you in just as much as it did before.

He mentioned the party was going to be small, but it looks quite bigger than what you imagined.

“You have a lot of friends.” Your eyes roam around the room as you both stand behind the kitchen counter.

He pours you a drink and you don’t hesitate to sip it. Jungsu is the only person you know here, and you have to loosen up. It would be nice to expand your circle, you don’t remember when was the last time you made a new friend.

“Most of them are friends from my faculty, but some of them I’m not sure I actually know to be honest. Another one?” Jungsu smirks after you nod and slide your empty glass towards him. “So when did you split up If you don’t mind me asking?”

“Yesterday.” You reply, looking down flustered. “But we both knew it was coming, so it feels like it’s been longer than that.”

Jungsu stays silent. He takes his drink in hand and lifts it up.

“His loss,” his softer tone gets muffled from the blasting music and everyone trying to speak over it, but you still hear him, and you instantly blush. “Cheers.”

You both swallow your second drink, and you feel how your body becomes lighter.

A dark haired stranger headed towards you with a wide grin catches your attention. He’s holding a bottle of tequila in one hand and a colorful bowl in the other.

“Body shots!” He yells and immediately more people begin to gather in the kitchen. “Who’s going first?”

“This is my new roommate by the way,” Jungsu turns to you, then back to the guy who’s already preparing the ingredients. “You’re going to see him more often unfortunately.”

“Kwak Jiseok, my pleasure.” He winks at you playfully, jerking up the bowl.

“Y/N,” you smile, trying to figure out if your guess about what could be inside is correct.

“Wanna go first, Y/N?” Jiseok reaches over the counter.

You gulp nervously looking at the cut up white paper, attempting to gather the courage to just go for it. You want this night to be fun; you don’t want to hold back, because you were dumped the day before New Year’s Eve by someone who’s not even worth it.

“No pressure.” Jungsu puts a hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No,” your lips curl up, as you shove your fingers into the bowl. You pull out a sheet of paper, and Jiseok whistles excitedly while clearing up the counter. “I want to.” You meet Jungsu’s gaze for a moment, before unfolding it.

“Who are you gonna choose as your partner?” Jiseok asks.

Even if you knew some of the people in this room, you’re almost sure you would’ve still picked Jungsu.

You turn to face him with a raised brow, and he smirks in agreement. He leans against the counter, crossing arms in front of his chest.

“Great, now tell us Y/N, where are you or Jungsu…” Jiseok makes a pause for a fake dramatic moment, “… drinking from.”

You look down, almost swallowing your tongue. The more you reread the words, the more your heart speeds up its rhythm.

“Belly button.”

“Classic,” Jiseok comments while others cheer you on.

“You choose.” Jungsu says, getting rid of his sweater that was on top of a plain white t-shirt.

It seems like the better option is you to drink off of him - the shot will help you loosen up some more, and it will also let you get used to having physical contact with him, even if it’s just a little.

“I’ll take the shot.”

You try not to stare too obviously at Jungsu who is now suddenly shirtless. He walks past you with his toned upper body, and swiftly gets on top of the kitchen counter.

Your palms start to sweat, as you get closer, and your attention instantly fixates upon his black jeans that nicely form his thighs and waist. You’re having a hard time even blinking.

“Don’t forget the lime.” Jiseok slides the plate in your direction, and you carefully grab one.

You know where to begin, you’ve seen people do this before, but Jungsu laying on full display like this with his perfect figure slows down your actions to the point you forget what you’re supposed to do.

When you guide the piece to his mouth, Jungsu parts his lips, taking it between his teeth.

You continue onto the next step by licking over the surface of his chest. You run your tongue without putting too much thought into where exactly - every part of his naked skin excites and intimidates you the same way. You sprinkle salt on the same area, then grab the bottle to pour the booze in his navel.

Blocking out the view of multiple eyes following your every action, you lean over to lick off the salt with the top half of your tongue before going for the shot.

Droplets of tequila slide down Jungsu’s lower abdomen when you begin lapping it up. The burning sensation invades your mouth the more you slurp of the drink, trying to swallow all of it as quickly as possible.

After you’re done with the shot - your lips marking his skin with one last kiss at the end - you shift position in order to take the pulp side of the lime wedge from his mouth into yours.

At this point your body is so electrified you move as if you’re on autopilot mode with everything feeling as strong as ever at the same time.

Jungsu feels your soft lips gently touching his, as you lean in to pull the lime away. Some of your sweet scented hair falls to tickle his face, but he completely ignores it when he feels your hand unintentionally brush over his belt, as you hover over him.

He sits up, watching you suck the citrus fruit with your eyes squeezed while the audience applauds your performance.

“Well done,” Jiseok whistles, this time handing the bowl to his roommate. “You’re next.”

Jungsu doesn’t waste time in shuffling the papers, and instead pulls the first one he touches.

“Chest,” he tosses the paper onto the surface. One word, but it made his skin run dangerously hot.

He has to admit, something in him shifts after you quietly and without hesitation jump on the counter and sit in front of him with your legs dangling on both sides of his body. Your eyes sparkle with subtle delight, but also something more.

“I’ll have to take this off.”

“Do it,” you tell him with a little courage from the liquor.

Jungsu opens up your shirt one button at a time until it falls off your shoulders, and his gaze captures the arousing sight of your breasts inside the pretty lace.

When his tongue finds a spot on your neck you instantly get covered in goosebumps. It’s like he pressed a button inside you, that doubled the arousal lingering under your skin.

For this step, one lick is enough, but Jungsu makes another stripe, and another, until they turn into a soft nibble, that really allows him to get a taste of you. The texture, the sweet taste, and the way your breaths hitch under his mouth, they’re all so addictive he finds it difficult to stop.

After he pulls away he notices that your face got even redder than it was a moment ago, but you couldn’t control it - every time no matter if it’s physical or eye contact that you two make, your heart skips a beat.

He carefully creates a trail of salt on the wet side of your neck, then lets you bite on the lime, before giving you a signal to push your boobs together. The liquor falls into your cleavage, forming a pool of alcohol Jungsu couldn’t wait to drink from.

In a matter of one second he licks off the salty trail, then buries his tongue into the crook of your breasts, slurping the shot and simultaneously sucking on your skin. Your brain turns into mush from the unison of all the things he does with his mouth, and the multiple different feelings they awaken inside you. If this is how he drinks a body shot, then how does he kiss?

A moment later he nips on the lime wedge, but instead of pulling, he leaves the piece to rest between your teeth, as he sucks on it, subtly touching your lips with his.

If it wasn’t for the booze that gradually helped you become more shameless, you would’ve contained yourself from letting the lime fall from your mouth, so Jungsu can press his lips into yours.

You make the first move, but he’s the one to deepen the kiss right away.

Once you begin to move in sync, exchanging alcoholic taste and saliva between sloppy kisses, the adrenaline really hits you. You’re in need of more touch; more closure; more him, so your legs wrap themselves tight around his lower body.

His hands move up your thighs, eventually crawling up your bare spine. They brush over your bra, while yours get lost into his hair.

At this point both of you are completely numb to your surroundings; the only thing you can feel outside your bodies was the thick sexual tension in the air, that’s also more than obvious for everyone else in the room. You hear whistles from different directions; whispers and excited chatter, but they all fade down when Jungsu speaks against your ear.

“Let’s go somewhere more private.” The tipsiness starts to creep into his voice, and now it sounds low and even more seductive. “Unless having an audience is what you want. I won’t judge.”

“No… Only you.”

Jungsu’s lips curl up from satisfaction. He wants you; a lot, and he was ready to have you right there and then if he had to.

“Just asking,” he says, peeking at Jiseok who’s trying to distract people from staring at you too much. “Thought you might be into it since I’ve witnessed a few of your fucks.”

You stare at his smug smile, trying to make sense from his words.

“You’re vocal, sweetheart.” Jungsu chuckles meeting your wide eyes.

“You’ve heard us have sex?” You cover up your blushed face after he nods at you amused. “Oh my god, this is embarrassing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Jungsu takes your hands, pulling them down with a gentle grip. “I like your voice… I like it a lot.”

It doesn’t take long for both of you to move to his bedroom.

While Jungsu locks the door, you take off your pants and lay down on the bed, eager to feel him on top of you.

When he turns around his jaw drops, not expecting to see you already in your panties for him. The corners of his eyes crinkle, as he watches you spread your legs seductively.

“Aren’t you coming?” You tease him, tilting your head to the side. It seems like he unbuckles his belt too slowly, and as if it takes him extra time to walk to the bed.

Or your desire for him has just reached its highest point.

“I am.” He smirks, still eating up your curves with his gaze. “You’re so beautiful…” His weight falls slightly on top of you, as he settles between your legs. “I’ve wanted to tell you that the day I saw you for the first time.”

You think of asking why he didn’t, but the urge to kiss him is stronger, and you smash your lips against his mouth. His palm travels all over your body, from your thigh to your breasts and neck; the more he touches you, the more your desire builds up, leading you into swaying your hips.

Jungsu slides down your underwear with one hand, and when he finally reaches for your sensitive spot you cannot help, but moan right away.

He rubs slow gentle circles on your clit, making you not only more wet, but also more needy and impatient. Because of that, you’re the one to break the kiss, arching your spine.

“Jungsu…”

Hearing you moan his name makes him instantly smile in the crook of your neck, as his lips brush against your skin. His fingers speed up their pace, as he begins to cover you in wet smooches. He sucks aimlessly, creating scarlet patches on the surface of your neck, simultaneously groaning at the increasing pressure in his pants.

Soon enough he lets his fingertips glide down to find your soaked entrance.

“F-Fuck…” Your voice comes out desperate; deep from your throat like you’ve been starving for touch and attention.

The way he bents them swiftly before pumping them furiously inside you makes your mouth open for a silent wail. Going silent for a moment helps you notice how the squelching pool of arousal fills the room with lewd noises.

“Ah, baby… You feel so good,” Jungsu grunts, biting the sensitive flesh under your ear. “So tight… Can’t wait to fill you up.”

His comments turn your head even more woozy than it already was, and you keep your eyes shut.

Jungsu lifts up to kneel between your legs. You squirm so much, and your head is constantly moving and tilting left to right, as if you’re dreaming. As he keeps up the steady pace of his fingers moving in and out of you, he decides to double the sensation by using his other hand to stimulate your clit.

He rubs the soft bundle of nerves with three fingers in a pretty quick way, that has you gripping on the cushions.

“Ahh, d-don’t stop, p-please, Jungsu… please…”

When you feel you’re about to crumble, you hurry to cover your mouth with your palms.

No one can hear you from the loud gathering on the other side of the door, but you’ve never felt the need to cry out so much before and you weren’t sure how to handle it.

Jungsu makes sure to not stop thrusting as you go through your climax. He gnaws on his lips, as your tight pussy keeps his fingers nicely sucked in with its intense pulses. He’s knuckles deep, and the squelch from the slipping pleasure is like music to his ears, while you on the other hand are feeling so ecstatic that you don’t even notice it anymore.

He takes out his fingers all sticky with strings of your arousal. Your thighs tremble as he spreads them in teasingly slow motions.

“Did you like it?” He asks, enjoying how wet you are.

“A lot,” you say through a raspy voice.

After he takes off his boxers Jungsu sees you sitting up.

“Wanna get on top of me?” He raises a brow, hoping you’ll say yes, although it’s written everywhere on your face.

You nod, biting your lip.

The second you sit on his erection, you both gasp in sync at how amazingly it fills you with ease. You reach behind your back to remove your bra.

Jungsu humms satisfied to finally see what’s underneath.

You watch him lower his attention to your hips rolling up and down his length, that’s making you feel warmer with each passing moment.

“Mhmm, baby… feels so good,” he groans, shutting his eyes, but not letting go of your waist. His fingers grip harsher from the on going gentle sounds you produce, getting him more worked up.

His cockhead presses lightly against your cervix, teasing the warm knot that’s forming in his tummy, but it’s not enough; he needs more than that.

Jungsu pulls you by the arms, and you gasp surprised to suddenly drop on both palms. Your fingers instantly grip the cushion for support when he gropes your butt cheeks, separating them as much as possible, and starts fucking up into you with force.

“Fuck, J-Jungsu—“

His hands hold you steady in place, letting his cock move in and out of you from the perfect angle.

The pleasure intensifies with every thrust against your sweet spot. It invades your entire body, and you begin to sweat everywhere. The only thing that hasn’t melted away from your mind is the realisation that you’ve never felt anything like this before. The delight is so strong, so satisfying and it only keeps getting better to the point you feel there’s a possibility of you braking down.

“J-Jungsu.. gonna… I—“

The cushion muffles your whine when his hips freeze while yours are pushed all the way down his cock, kept steady in one place.

Jungsu pants heavily in your ear from delaying his climax.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” He caresses your hair after one of his hands moves up your back. “But I want to feel you a little bit longer.”

He humms in bliss from the way you clench around him as you rest on top of his chest. He keeps twitching and teasing your walls too; you’re both so close to cumming, but if you do, you know you’ll have to return to the party.

Just when Jungsu shifts his feet to start moving again, you unexpectedly speak out.

“I lied,” you mutter, lifting a little bit to face his confused expression. “Not to you, to my ex. All of my orgasms were fake.”

Jungsu’s suspicious features soften after you finish your sentence.

“I had to pretend every time and finish myself off while he was in the shower.”

He blinks at you a few times as his pretty reddened lips slid upwards the more you speak. He cannot resist the laughter, remembering all the times he heard you acting your orgasms from the other side of the wall. You did an impressive job.

The lazy laughter slips from his lips, and it sounds so addictive you can’t help but laugh along with him. You manage to catch your breath after his hands cup your warm face.

“I won’t let this happen to you again, beautiful.”

As your bodies stick to each other from sweat, he gently moves your hips up a bit, and wraps his arms tightly around your figure. His eyes stop on your soft parted lips, and drink from your whimpers after his cock meets your g-spot once again.

This time the rush comes in an even more overwhelming wave. It washes over you, forcing Jungsu to quicken his hips as much as possible.

You cuss under your breath when his hand grabs a handful of your hair to pull on. The rough, but still gentle action makes the sensation even better. You don’t even realise when you’ve started whining his name again, but Jungsu did. It sounds so captivating coming from your mouth in such weak pleasing melody.

He can get used to it.

“Fuck, should I—“

“Cum inside me,” you cut him off. “Please, cum inside me, Jung—“

Jungsu buries his face against your neck. Your skin muffles his last few moans, as he shoots his orgasm the second he hears your begging. His fingers grip on your hair and hips harshly, as you reach your peak not long after. Your walls hug around him tightly from overstimulation while he loads up your void with his warm essence.

It feels heavenly. Your heart races so quick, as if it’s close to bursting from having to bare such intense emotions.

You’re not able to resist the temptation to glide on Jungsu’s length a few times, feeling his cum spill from you all the way down.

You look into each other’s faces - flushed, woozy and glistening from sweat and lust.

Your eyes widen at the same time when you hear everyone from the living room starting to count the remaining seconds to midnight, and the sound of the fireworks exploding in the sky.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise in advance for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[sea-buns]

hey to a gorgug liker what do you think about his nightmare section from sophomore year? cause I feel like the horror there is less “ah my grandparents were racist” and more “fuck am I being a stereotype? are the people who hate me right about me?” cause wrt to his having to modulate between barbarian and artificer in fhjy it’s like. idk

oh boy do I have thoughts

Tbh, I had zero recollection of the racism stuff until reading this. It was just SO MINOR. His trial in the forest felt really lackluster to me. I feel like everyone else's really dug into an issue at the core of their character and his felt more like "everyone is getting a trial, what do we do for gorgug?" And idk if that was just a bad delivery/call on Brennan's part or if it could have been helped by Zac engaging more in it but it just. Didn't feel like anything. It was a lot more about the dice than the horror of the claustrophobia and the bugs and you've never fit in anywhere you live to make yourself smaller wherever you go you're just the loser who hits hard. Like yeah I guess there was an overarching theme of Gorgug gaining confidence in himself but it was done very poorly imo.

And I think his trial in the forest was wrong for putting such an emphasis on his intelligence. I think that would have been much better suited in fy, back when he was still being heavily bullied, but beyond that it felt like a quick and easy thing for them to grab. Yes, he had insecurities about his intelligence with all the complications with Zelda. But, to me, the focus of fhsy was his HEART. It put a spotlight on how his social circle has grown, and his bully is his friend now, and he's not alone anymore. His interactions with Ayda, the friendship book, trying to help Fabian, I believe in you spring break, it's Gorgug keep going. I made a post earlier in the season (including a great addition by another user) that I think articulates that emphasis on his emotional intelligence very well.

Fhjy HOWEVER. I think it's doing everything that sy failed at. It's giving him space to have an inner conflict. It's addressing lots of little issues and conflicts he's had over the campaign and combining them into one coherent piece. Like, guy was in a relationship pretty much all of fy, and then dealt with the fallout in sy, but I don't think we've EVER seen as much quality relationship development with Gorgug as we have in jy. He and Fig spent an entire summer together trapped in a tour bus and no season has indicated that bond and friendship more than this one. He and Riz have found something to bond over, meanwhile in previous seasons there was pretty much zero one-on-one personal interaction between them. Fabian expressed sadness over Gorgug leaving the Owlbears, because it was the only thing they had that was just for them to hang out and be friends.

Just with that, we're already doing leagues more with Gorgug's character than we ever have. And I haven't even STARTED on his barbificier journey, oh dear god lmao.

Gonna preface this bit with a post I made before the season even started. It was about Zac's steady improvement in his performances with every PC, and how I was predicting that it was gonna culminate into a Gorgug that does him the justice he deserves. It was initially supposed to be a criticism, but I got a little lost in the sauce of loving my boy lol. Still very relevant to the topic of this ask!

God, where do I START?? Addressing his relationship with rage? I'll be honest, I didn't think that would ever be used as a character arc. And I'm not even sure why I've felt that way. I just didn't think... I didn't think about how he might've had a dislike for his own rage. Like, the WAY he rages isn't bad by any means, but I don't think it ever crossed my mind how actually harmful his lessons to sing to combat rage were. No, I did not like the way Porter went about teaching him (a bit too unsupportive of his capabilities and reminiscent of shitty teachers for my liking). But his point about EMBRACING anger; that rage is not bad and does not— should not— need to be stifled. THAAAAT. That opened up such an interesting dialogue for Gorgug.

I do appreciate the beginnings of Gorgug's interest in artificing in fhsy. I think the crumbs of it back then did a great job of leading into his larger commitment to multiclassing. And I think what he's been doing with it this season is exactly what was lacking in his section of the nightmare forest. His trial was a puzzle, based entirely on die rolls, where his solution after failing even when he's assisted by the enemy is to essentially give up. I understand that facing their fears was the whole point of the trials, but his section came off as incredibly anticlimactic and unfulfilling. Just the fact that it was a trial based on stat numbers more than the development of the character itself.

Where junior year succeeds in actually showcasing his intelligence and the evolution of the worth he holds in himself is with the hands-on approach it takes. Yes, the academic rolls are still dice and stats, but there's a physical manifestation that wasn't there before. Gorgug is smart when it comes to getting his hands dirty. It is in the practical applications of his skills that his brand of intelligence shines the most.

And while, once again, I did not LIKE Porter's heavy resistance to multiclassing....I have to admit that I don't think Gorgug would have had such a boost in confidence without that struggle. Even if my boy had trouble expressing it to Porter verbally, HE STOOD UP FOR HIMSELF. Instead of simply rolling over and agreeing that he wasn't built for a technical class and it was stupid to try– he was DEFIANT.

The kid who said "I'm a dumbass. Eat me you stupid bug." took on FOUR CLASSES. Three school years worth of artificer simultaneously. AND stayed with the Owlbears. AND went along on party missions to help Kristen's candidacy. AND was always on deck to help the party with the overarching plotline.

AND HE ACED IT!!! THE FIRST BARBIFICER THAT THE AGUEFORT ADVENTURING ACADEMY HAS EVER SEEN!!!!! He is paving the way for every unprecedented multiclass that follows.

Just in comparison to who he was in the previous season, the amount of drive and self-worth he's gained is astounding. In my eyes, it's done more than enough to makeup for the way his development fell flat in sophomore year.

i hope this fulfilled the ask in the way you were hoping! i told you i'd get carried away lmao. writing a bunch about any of zac's characters is always such a joy. gorgug had always been my favorite of the bad kids but i always found myself wishing he went deeper, y'know? and now it's real. my precious anxious boy has been handled so well. and watching zac's growth as a performer has been such a blast.

thanks for the ask! :D

[ranaissingle]

In My Mind

Masterlist Summary: Reader exists in the same circle as Austin and has been head over heels in love with him for years but she never speaks up over the course of their friendship until a new years party. Rating: T Word Count: 2.1 k ( I swear this was meant to be a short whip I have no idea what happened)

Warnings: Unrequited love lol (can you tell I'm feeling angsty?) A/N: Hey girlies, it's been a hot minute haha. School kinda got in the way and then I had to learn (for the zillionth time) that men ain't shit (besides our lord and savior Austin Butler of course). I quite literally have no inspiration so please do send me some requests. I'm thinking of doing another angst fic about Hanahaki disease... How do we feel?

────── ⋆⋅✦⋅⋆ ──────────── ⋆⋅✦⋅⋆ ──────

When Austin told you he had started dating Vanessa Hudgens you felt like you wanted to die. Yes. Die. The world seemed to close in on you as he continued explaining how they had met and how he had asked her out. Each word was another knife in your throat and every admission of his love for her tore your heart into smaller and smaller pieces.

But you sat there and listened. You listened as he detailed their first kiss, their first date, his confession, and hers to him. It took each ounce of self-control to not get up and scream. Scream at him for not knowing how you felt and scream for the heart that had broken.

But you kept your mouth shut. You helped Austin plan all the valentines day dates, the birthday trips, and each anniversary date. Every single thing he had done for her and every girl he had been with since had been painstakingly vetted by you. You were happy to help him, but the fact that all your preparations were for another girl was a hard pill to swallow.

Everything came to a head when he started dating Kaia Gerber. She was beautiful. in every way imaginable she was conventionally attractive. Her skinny legs, straight waist, and small hips made you want to collapse in on yourself. She was perfect in every way. She was everything you were not. Tall, skinny, and beautiful.

Austin was smitten. He had developed a habit of dating skinny models and he had yet to break it. You were anything but surprised when she caught his eye when he asked you if you had her number, when he took her out for the first date, and then eventually when they started dating. It was routine for you now.

He would meet a girl, become infatuated, date her, dump her, then move on to the next one.

But at least you stayed constant. You had been constant for well over a decade at this point. That was more than any of the other girls could say. So you were content, until the New Year's of 2022. It was December 31st, 2022 and Austin had just broken up with his latest fling and had elected to spend New Year's as a free agent. You had never really had a date on new years because your previous relationships always ended before the fateful day or started after. You had grown accustomed to accompanying the same leather chair in the corner of your living room while you watched your friends with their respective partners mingle about your house. You sipped champagne as you watched couples drunkenly sway together as the countdown began to draw dangerously close to midnight.

1 hour to midnight

You spotted Austin out of the corner of your eye and you felt the iciness in your heart melt when he smiled at the people he spoke to. He was in the middle of a group of 4 other people yet still looked ethereal. His hair shone under the kitchen light and the crinkles around his eyes made you want to run your fingers over them.

You watched him. You watched how his lips moved. You traced his figure with your eyes until you reached his hands. His fingers picked at the cuticles of his nails. It was his nervous habit. He always resorted to picking at his cuticles whenever he was around people he didn't know well. It had led to many last-minute manicures before photoshoots to help deal with the redness it left.

30 minutes to midnight

You slowly pushed yourself off the comfortable chaise and made your way over to him. Maybe if you were with him he would feel so nervous, and it could save you from a last-minute call to the nail salon where you had to beg for an opening. You slid in next to him and smiled at the people around him. They barely looked away from Austin to greet you, but you were fine with that. Austin was the star, not you. You slipped your hands in his hand and tugged it behind your back to keep it out of view from those around you.

Austin thrived off of physical touch. He needed it like the air he breathed. Whenever he was feeling nervous or overwhelmed being enveloped in a hug from you or even just having your hand in his was enough to calm the nerves and allow him to breathe. Austin looked down to where you were pressed into his side.

You knew him so well that even from across the room you knew he needed grounding. His chest swelled with pride for a reason he couldn't quite pinpoint. His conversation with those around him continued without a hitch and when the countdown started to broadcast on the TV, they all made their way to their respective partners leaving you and Austin alone at the kitchen island.

15 minutes to midnight

You kept Austin's hand clasped in yours as the countdown numbers descended. Neither of you planned on moving or letting go. The warmth of his hand reached places all over your body and practically heated you up from the inside.

7 minutes to midnight

Austin leaned his head down to whisper into your ear, "If I didn't know you better I'd say that you end up single on New Year's on purpose." You heard the smile in his voice.

"Do you?"

His brown furrowed together, "Do I what?"

You matched him with a grin of your own.

"Know me better." The half tilt of your head made his stomach churn.

His laugh was smooth and boisterous. He brought his other arm around your shoulder to bring you closer to his side. Your heart slowed as you relaxed into him and abandoned your unnecessarily alcoholic drink on the kitchen counter.

5 minutes to midnight

"Hey." Austin's voice cut into the still air of the room. His eyes were trained on the TV and you looked up at his jaw as you waited for him to finish his sentence.

"Do you… do you wish you had a date? For New Year that is." The question caught you off guard and you twitched as you pressed into his side.

"uhm, I-I. I gues-" You stuttered when you couldn't seem to form a cohesive response. Your heart started to accelerate again and your breaths came out in short pants.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself once more to better be able to form a cohesive sentence.

"Well, I guess no one wants to be alone on New years. But that is just how it always seems to happen." You paused a sudden feeling of bravery came over you. The most likely culprit of such a feeling being the alcohol.

"And the person I would like to be with is almost always in a relationship during the New Year." You focused your gaze on the suddenly very interesting kitchen tiles. You had previously told Austin about someone that you had a crush on for years. You had tried to keep it yourself but Austin tended to pry when it came to matters of love but as much as he tried to wrangle the information out of you about who it was, you had kept tight-lipped and unwavering in your resistance to respond.

"Oh?" His eyebrow quirked up as he looked away. It seems he had also taken a sudden interest in the wall decor you had across the room.

"Is this the same guy you've told me about before?" His voice was deep and his throat bobbed as he spoke.

"Yes, it is actually. The very same."

"Haven't you been into this guy for years Y/N?"

"Yes, I have."

"And you are still into him? Why? He is the stupidest man in the world if he hasn't noticed by now." His chuckle was low but you could tell he didn't actually find it remotely funny.

You looked up at him and wished that he would understand from your eyes that you were talking about him, that you were in love with him.

But you had been in love with him for nigh over 10 years and the dolt had yet to come to any significant realization regarding your feelings so there was no use hoping for something like that now.

"Well, I would stop loving him if I could, but as soon as I feel like I can get over him, he does something that has been crawling back." You shrugged lightly and took another sip of your drink before placing it back on the counter.

3 minutes to midnight

"And it doesn't help that he is my best friend." You were skirting around the dangerous territory with that statement. You knew you were. But you were so tired that all the previous reservations and rules you had so painstakingly followed, disappeared.

Austin's eyes widened in confusion.

"Best friend? You have another best friend?" Austin was too slow for his own good.

You shrugged before replying, "Nope, I only have one best friend."

He let out an exasperated sigh

"So I'm not your best friend?!" Your eye twitched.

"No Austin. You are my only best friend."

"So who are you in love with?" Your fingers twitched. You were going to strangle him.

"I am in love with my one and only best friend."

Silence

Austin tensed next to you and you awaited the sting of his rejection that you had spent the better part of the last 10 years preparing for.

2 minutes to midnight

The silences echoed in the room despite the growing cheers of those around you. The timer was steadily counting down the seconds and you wanted to vomit.

The bile rose in your throat when the counter reached 30 seconds. Awaiting his rejection was arguably worse than the rejection itself.

10

9

8

You pushed away from him. His previously comforting warmth had twisted something in your gut and now you wanted to vomit.

6

5

His hand traced your back as you slid away before it fell back to his side. He stuttered out a "W-wait."

But you didn't want to

3 Austin yanked you back until your face was back in his chest and his arm was around your waist. He moved his head into your neck and pushed his nose into your hair before taking a deep breath.

2 Your breath caught when he pulled your head away from him to look into your eyes. 1 He kissed you. He kissed so hard you could have sworn you had fireworks behind your eyes. His hands were everywhere. Crossing your neck, cupping your hips, and splaying across your back. He kissed you until neither of you could breathe anymore. You wrenched away from each other and gulped down large breaths of fresh air.

His hand shakily pressed against your cheek and you looked up to meet his eyes. You didn't want this to be something that only happened because it was the heat of the moment. You wanted it to mean something to him. You wanted him to love you the same way you had for years. You didn't want this to be mean nothin-

"I love you." You had the timbre of his voice memorized. You knew it was Austin speaking but you still looked around you dreading the possibility of him not speaking to you.

But your face was still cupped in between his hands and his eyes were on you.

your eyes were wide as you looked at him You felt stinging and then a prick of tears in your eyes. They fell slowly down your cheeks one by one and Austin kissed each of them away.

All at once you need him on you all over again. You had gone years without so much as a kiss on the cheek from him and you would be damned if you continued in that fashion.

So you pulled his lips hard against you and kissed him until your lips were numb and swollen, and even then you didn't want him off of you.

────── ⋆⋅✦⋅⋆ ──────────── ⋆⋅✦⋅⋆ ──────

well, this was probably shitty so forgive me. It has been a while since I posted so figured I needed to back in the groove of things haha. I think I might do a professor x university student Austin fic next so watch out for that lol.

[paperclip-skz]

Words Are Overrated

fem*Reader x Jisung

*WARNING*

contains: oral (f receiving), teasing, orgasm denial, nicknames, first time, hickeys, and praising, let me know if I missed anything.

WC: 3.8

*********

It all started at a party. 

You and some friends were celebrating a birthday, you weren’t sure whose birthday it was, you knew it was your friend’s friend of a friend…you got roped into this party because your friend was complaining that you didn’t get out enough. 

You groaned at her annoying bickering. So, here you are, standing in the kitchen of a stranger's home holding a red solo cup full of soda close to your chest. Your friend stood by you for a good portion at the beginning, but you lost her when yet another stranger (supposedly her friend) dragged her along to the living room, made to impersonate a dance floor. 

You watched her from afar, she had a glowing smile as she danced with her friend. You liked dancing, but you didn’t like crowds. And from the growing party it was enough to avoid the supposed ‘dance floor’, you are perfectly content watching everyone else move their bodies along to the music. 

You can tell your friend is overly drunk by the way she rocks her hip frantically to the beat, you bring the solo cup up to your lips to hide a slight giggle. 

“So you're hiding too” The contents of your drink practically spill out of your lips when you jump. 

You turn around ready to defend yourself, but you're stunned by the eyes you meet. Big, brown, boba eyes, and a small smile adoring his round cheeks. He has a slim, small button nose that scrunches when his smile reaches his eyes and his hair falls perfectly in front of his face, not enough to cover his curious eyes but enough to cast a shadow over his forehead. 

The words get caught in your throat as you bore into his stare. “You okay sweetheart?”

You stammer trying to relocate your voice. The slight laugh that escapes you sends the mystery man chuckling as well. 

“Jisung” he holds out his hand. Get it together Y/N. 

“Y/N” You take his hand, and you give him a small smile. 

Jisung points his head in the direction of the dance floor. “Your friend?”

Your attention is back on your friend, aimlessly grinding away on some helpless soul who’s probably too stunned and too drunk to know what to do with his hands.   

The sight makes you laugh again, “Yup, that's my friend. Been with her since freshman year.” you pause to look back at Jisung “Wouldn’t change her for the world” You take another sip of your drink. “You here for the birthday…person?” 

The smirk he paints is nothing but smug, “Yeah something like that.”

Suddenly you and Jisung jump at a person shouting in a far corner “TRUTH OR DARE” he slurs his words and stumbles a bit before making his way back into a room. 

Your friend springs behind you out of nowhere, jumping up and down. How is she stable enough to do that? “We are soooooooo playing truth or dare” she mumbles. 

“Oh no, no, no, that's not happening” but by the time you finish your sentence she’s already dragging you by the hand and replying with many sloppy versions of “yes”. 

You sit down in a small bedroom in an even smaller circle, there are maybe five of you in the room. All spread out to make somewhat of a circle. Your friend is the first to speak, “So, who’s gonna start?”

It starts with what you would expect, someone is dared to take a shot and another is forced to confess they have a crush on someone you don’t know. It’s pointless and you can’t help but think you're transported back to high school. 

You start to roll your eyes until you hear a familiar voice behind you, “My turn?”

“Ahh, the birthday boy himself” someone in the room shouts. Jisung steps into the center of the circle, making a show of looking around, thinking of who he might ask. So that’s what he meant earlier.

His big wondrous eyes land on you and that smug smile returns. He kneels down to be face to face with you, “Truth or dare”.

His voice is low and husky, it sends a foreign chill down your spine. It takes you a moment to find your voice, but you answer, no less than a whisper “truth”.

“Where is the craziest place you’ve gotten a hickey” his eyes stare into your soul.

His eyes distract you from his question, it makes you stutter. “I-”

But your friend is already answering for you “HA, Y/N hasn’t gotten anything since sophomore year of college, and even then, she's more vanilla than ice cream”. 

Embarrassment snakes under your skin. You want to crawl under a bridge and die. Everyone is staring at you and you can’t tell if their snickers and laughs are because of the alcohol or because of you.

You’ve never been embarrassed because of your inexperience, it's the stares that want to make you slither into a hole. It makes your knees come up to your chest, a useless attempt to hide yourself. 

You're too distracted to notice the way Jisung stares at you. His eyebrows are raised in surprise and his big eyes won’t leave your shrinking frame. The room is fairly silent, aside from a snicker here and there, until Jisung finally speaks. “Have you ever given a hickey?”

You’re shocked by his bluntness, it's like he’s completely ignored the people in the room. Your face scrunches up in confusion feigning innocence. “I-..isn’t that a little straightforward” 

“Would you like me to use code words?” his lips tug into a smirk, “Have you ever given or received a small red mark from biting, licking, kissing, and or sucking the skin?” 

Crimson has certainly taken over your features. You try to clear your throat, “No, I haven't given nor received a hickey” you finally answer, your voice betraying you on the final word.

His eyes linger on your lips for a second, until they dart back to meet yours, “would you like me to show you?”  

The breath you’ve been holding all night suddenly becomes evident when it catches in your throat. 

“Yes, yes she would like you to show her” Your friend, who’s been listening the entire time just like everyone in the room, eagerly answers for you. 

You chuckle shyly. Jisung keeps his stare on you, ignoring your friend completely. “Well, what will it be sweetheart?”

The use of his nickname for you sends a shiver straight down to your thumping core. 

“I-”

*****

Days have passed since the party. Getting out of that room was so awkward, but you managed to get out without any memorable scratches to your pride. Not until, Jisung sprinted to you so you both could exchange contact information. 

You gave him your number but didn’t think he’d do much with it. You figured he was just as drunk or high as the rest of the party and was saying all that stuff just to get you riled up. 

But, the next morning after the party, Jisung texted you asking how you were. After that morning, conversations with Jisung became easy and friendly. Sometimes, he ventured into flirty territory, but never like he was at the party. 

Eventually, you liked talking to Jisung more than anyone, and at times, you were excited to get home and vent to Jisung about your day. Until he asked the question you had been dreading he asked. 

“Do you wanna hang out sometime?” 

You shoot up from your bed. You had been lying down on your back talking to Jisung on the phone, a new normal you quickly loved. 

“Um,” your mind goes blank. What should I say? Does he mean just hang out or is he referring back to what he said at the party?

“Just hang out we don’t have to do anything, I just want to see you” Your heart swells with warmth, but disappointment also clouds you. 

“Yea! Sure that sounds great. How about tomorrow? I’m free then.” 

“Sounds great, meet at your place around 2?” His voice sounds hopeful. Maybe he just wants to hang out. 

“Sounds perfect, I’ll text you my address” You hang up the phone after you both exchange your goodnights. You can’t decide what you are feeling, excitement that Jisung is coming over, disappointment that all he wants to do is ‘hang out’, or hopeful that maybe this could lead to something more. 

Whatever it may be, it has your pussy screaming for attention. The dampness gathering in your panties is starting to make its way down the curve of your ass. You groan into your pillow, knowing full well you won’t be able to sleep while your core is begging to be touched. 

You lie back down on your bed, squeezing your thighs together. It's not enough, the friction your thighs give isn’t enough to ease that need within you. 

You close your eyes, trying to think of something to help, but all you see are big, brown, boba eyes. You smell strawberries and his hot breath breathing down your neck. 

Your hand has already found its place inside your sleep shorts….

****

The next day, you’re tidying up your apartment for Jisung. You set up some snacks by your couch knowing he’s gonna wanna watch a movie of some kind and clean up the kitchen counter. You both were talking about what to watch when he got here, but you can’t help but think that doesn’t matter. You're not going to be able to pay attention anyway. 

You stand a few feet back to look at the room you’ve just cleared, taking in a sigh to admire your handy work. 

Knock, knock, knock. Your heartbeat slams against your ribs as you make your way to open the door. 

Jisung stands there with a small smile, and flowers in his hand. You clutch your chest praying your heart won’t explode. 

Roses, he got you roses. “Wha-” 

“My mom raised a gentleman and I would be doing her an injustice if I didn’t bring a lovely girl some lovely flowers” 

The corner of your eyes threatens tears, but once you take hold of the flowers Jisung is guided into your apartment. He sets his shoes down in front of the door while you place the roses in a vase with water. 

“There beautiful Jisung, thank you” You turn to look at his stretched smile, a smile that reaches his eyes. 

“Anytime sweetheart” he’s been using that nickname anytime he gets since the party. You stand there and linger for a second until he's distracted by the display in front of the TV. “You did all of this?”

He walks over to the couch slowly, mesmerized by the food. “Yeah, it's nothing really” You shrug it off like it is a normal Saturday and you are not secretly begging for his affection.

He whispers something you can’t hear just before he settles into the couch. “Well, what should we watch first?” 

****

You and Jisung are huddled in your own placement on the couch, separate from each other's bodies. You both decided on some action movie, but you haven't been paying attention to it for the last 30 minutes. 

Is this really all he wanted to do? Does he really just see me as a friend after that party? Doubts cloud your mind until you hear a sigh leave Jisung. His eyes are glued to the TV, but everything about him is tense. 

You turn to look back at the movie and notice that the main protagonist and the love interest are intertwined with each other. Oh. 

The two characters are kissing heavily, their hands roaming each other's bodies in desperation. The main protagonist leans to kiss her jaw, while the woman throws her head back in pleasure. The camera changes angles to capture the beating red spot the man has left. 

It makes you wonder, what if Jisung left that on you? Would he be gentle, coursing every sound that could leave your lips? Or would he be rough, creating a small bruise on your neck indicating that you're his?

It makes your core pulse and your panties begin to fill with your arousal. The attempt to squeeze your thighs together subtly goes unnoticed, but you wish it didn’t. You wish Jisung could see how needy you are at this moment and just pounce. 

Automatically, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and shut your eyes tight. You beg your frustration to disappear. “Sweetheart, you okay?”

You whip your head around, eyes open and in shock. Was he watching me this whole time? You hum and nod your head, giving him a small smile too. You try and play it off nonchalantly, but he doesn’t seem to buy it. He studies your face like it's an art piece at a museum. 

“I don’t think so, so I’m gonna ask again” he turns his body so he is completely facing you, and scoots closer to you, “Sweetheart, are you okay?” His eyes are serious. 

His hands are on his lap and your body is screaming for them to be on you anywhere… everywhere. You decide to face him, turning your body to him, but pulling your knees up into your chest. The tight friction of clothes against skin rubs at your folds just slightly. You're holding your legs tightly, praying he doesn't see its effects. 

You hum once again, and he narrows his eyes. “I am, I’m just…” you can’t come up with the words. How DO you say, I’m needy for you but I don’t think you want to touch me in any way, but I can’t stop thinking about your hands on my body? “Confused” is what you decide on instead.

“Confused?” he questions, tilting his head like a curious animal. 

“Yeah,” you turn your head back to the TV “What did he leave on her neck?” innocence—the perfect act. 

Jisung chuckles, “Are you serious?” You meet his sarcastic response with wide eyes. “Oh shit, you are. Umm… it was a hickey” he explains. 

“Oh” you sigh, leaving your mouth in an ‘o’ shape. 

“You’ve never seen a hickey?” Jisung is staring at you, with something different in his eyes. You can’t tell if it's hunger or disgust. 

You shake your head, “I’ve never seen one, given one, or received one…remember” You add a slight smile at the end, trying to trigger his memory. He wouldn’t have forgotten, would he?

“Right, but… I guess I assumed… I don’t know” he fumbles with his words. 

You linger on his eyes for a movement, trying to determine what he is looking at you with. Is it lust? Affection? Appaul? 

“You keep staring at me like that, and you're not gonna like what happens next” 

Those words send a cold chill through you, “Why? What happens” 

“If you keep staring at me like that, I’m gonna kiss you, and I don’t think I have the willpower to stop” 

There it is, confirmation that he does want you just as bad as you want him. You keep staring at him, thinking it's enough for him to take the hint, but he doesn’t budge. 

“Y/N, if you want to do this, you have to use your words. I need to hear that you’re okay with this” 

Without a response, you climb over to him on your hands and knees and swing your legs over his waist. “Words are overrated” and you crash your lips onto his. 

Jisung doesn’t kiss gently or tenderly, he starts with passion; with desperation. He doesn’t wait for the hunger he feels in the pit of his stomach to stop, he lets it take control. His tongue swipes along your bottom lip and the second you gasp he takes the opportunity to plunge his tongue inside your mouth. He dances along your tongue making you moan. 

One of his hands grasps the nape of your neck holding you in place while the other bears a steel-like grip on your waist. Your hands find a perfect place around Jisungs neck pulling him impossibly closer to your body. 

Reluctantly Jisung pulls back, admiring the way your lips are plump and swollen from his assault on them. “Do you want me to show you what a hickey feels like?” You nod your head frantically. 

Jisung leans into the crook of your neck, kissing a sensitive spot that makes your hips stutter. He groans at the friction and latches onto your neck. You can feel the evidence of his boner pressing into your clothed core, and it makes your skin vibrate with want. 

You feel him suck and lick at a spot repeatedly, while he holds you in place with his hands. The sensation makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, your toes curl, and your moans grow louder. 

All too fast, Jisung pulls away admiring the small red bruise he’s left on your skin. You steady your hands on his shoulders and gasp for breath. His eyes plead with yours, “can I- can I try?”

“Only if you want to Sweetheart” that damn nickname. Not as fast as Jisung, you lean in close to his neck, kissing a spot just below his ear. You delicately latch onto that spot and a small whimper escapes him, as you suck and lick at that spot, you try and remember exactly what you felt him do to you. 

You pull back when you think your ministration was enough. You see a small red mark on his neck, and something in you begins to boil, you want to leave more marks like that on him, you want him to be covered in the marks that you’ve left. “Looks good doesn’t it Sweetheart?” 

You bite your lip as you rake your hands over his chest, bundling the fabric of his shirt into your hands. He takes it as a sign to remove it, he throws the contents onto the floor and your hands claw at his skin. 

Jisungs hands press against your lower back bringing your body close to his chest. One of his hands grabs hold of your ass, lifting you slightly for him to pin you to the couch. He’s towering over you, one hand next to your waist and the other by your head. His breath is heavy against your heated skin. 

Immediately his lips find a place back in your neck lapping at the skin, while the hand that rests by your side comes up to fiddle with the bottom band of your shirt. “Ji” you moan between kisses. 

He pulls back, worry evident in his eyes. But the second he pulls away, it's enough room for you to lift yourself to remove your shirt from your body, freeing your captured breasts. You internally pat yourself on the back for wearing one of your lacy bras. 

Jisung curses under his breath as he takes in the sight of you. “Ji” you breath locking eyes with him “kiss me”. 

He leans in with a small smile, kissing you tenderly. His movements are slowled as his tongue delicately swipes over yours, until he trails kisses along the corners of your lips, down your neck, and then to the valley of your breasts. He applies the same amount of pressure when he kisses your neck, sucking and biting the skin of your breasts. The feeling sends your back arching and your breasts pressing against him. 

As Jisung focuses his mouth on one breast, his hands knead the other, his fingers pinching the hardened nipple. 

“Ji please” you cry. The coil in your stomach is building, but you need more. 

“Aww, Sweetheart, you need to be touched?” Jisung lifts his head. His eyes bore into yours, distracting you from his hand snaking down to your clothed cunt. His fingers rub lazy circles over your sweats, making you sigh at the relief. 

He sits up just for a moment to slide your sweats and panties down your legs and then he's back, hovering over you and a hand pressed to your bare pussy. 

His fingers rub more lazy circles over your folds, making you squirm under his touch silently asking for more. “What are you trying to do Sweetheart?” you turn your head away from him, hiding your embarrassment. “Don’t get all shy on me now” his finger grazed over your clit which made you whimper, your hand slams over your lips to stop the sound from escaping, but it's too late, he already heard you. 

“Jesus, you sound beautiful” he finds the spot again, paying special attention to the sensitive bud, “I bet I can make more of those sounds, I bet I can make you scream”. His circles become frantic as he chases your high. 

Your hands find themselves grabbing anything they can, pillows, cushions, blankets, anything you can grab to try to keep yourself stable. “M close” you moan. 

That coil starts to twist inside you, and your legs begin to shake. But right before Jisung can let that wave crash over you, he removes his fingers from your clit. The cry that leaves you sounds desperate, but that's exactly what you are, desperate. Desperate for Jisung to make you cum. You whip your head up and lean yourself against your elbows. 

Quickly, Jisungs fingers have been replaced by his tongue. Lapping away at your sex, he doesn't pay attention to one specific spot. His talented muscle dances around you, dipping inside your walls, twirling around your clit, and licking at your folds. 

That familiar feeling is quickly back and building faster than you can warn him. Suddenly you're crying out his name and you're a shaking mess. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave as you coat his face in your arousal. 

Jisung licks the arousal dripping out of you and then lifts his head up. “You taste just as beautiful as you sound” he licks his lips, gathering the rest of your arousal. 

Jisung slowly crawls back to you and kisses your lips, his tongue instantly entering your mouth. You taste your arousal on him, salty and sweet. 

Your hand snakes down to his hardened cock, stroking it over his sweats. He whimpers from your touch and pulls away from you to look down at where your hands meet. A new wave of confidence hits you. You're making him feel good, he’s lost control because of you, you're doing this to him. 

“Aww, Baby needs to be touched?” you mimic his words and he meets your eyes with a dark stare, but it only makes your grip on his length tighten. “Come on Baby, use your words. Tell me what you want” your challenging tone sends a chuckle to vibrate through Jisungs chest. 

You can see his lusted fogged brain turn until something clicks. He leans in close, ghosting his lips over yours, “Words are overrated” 

[lostmyremembrall]

Thank you very much for your reply. I'll drop you my request 🤭

I was thinking of a story where Reader is a Slytherin and is part of Tom's circle of "friends" but she's the one person who's considered a bit less because of her personality so she is ...more sort of..reserved?

Tom gives them the task of researching his family and past (so all the Gaunt and Riddle thing) since he trusts her enough and she is one of the few purebloods who has an open mind and therefore wouldn't judge or use it against him.

And maybe at a meeting after the summer holidays at hogwarts or maybe a meeting at Malfoy Manor or whatever place you decide, you can also choose the year...The Death Eaters notice a change in her, Tom as well and he points it out to her when they are alone and she says something to him about something that happened when she went to the Muggle world for a while (she had several hooks up with a Muggle even though she knew it was wrong).

You can decide Tom's reaction 🥺 and I have a half idea how to continue it but I don't want to make this request so long and specific. I apologise. And thank you very much again. ❤️

-🪻

𝓓𝓸 𝓝𝓸𝓽 𝓓𝓲𝓼𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓽 𝓜𝓮

𝑇𝑜𝑚 𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑥 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝑅𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑆𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑇𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛

Y/L/N was a strange one.

One of the few that Tom couldn’t get a read on. As she stared up at you with her large eyes, unblinking, just staring, it was impossible to surmise what on earth was going on inside her head.

Even now as Lestrange, Black and Yaxley rustled, their arms around each other singing ‘Nous Noblesses Fières’, she trailed behind them closely, watching, her eyes paler in the sunlight streaming in from of a window.

“Stop gawking, Y/L/N,” Lestrange, who had noticed her usual eerie eyes, pushed her away, causing her to stumble into a few students walking past them. 

Some of his knights had questioned why she even joined. She was the least of a pureblood fanatic of them all. Tom continued to watch her as she regained her composure, her textbooks close to her chest, and resumed walking beside them again. His theory was that justice mattered very little to her – to her, it was simply loyalty. 

Blacks obeyed him.  Malfoys followed him.  Lestranges worshipped him. 

Simply thus, Y/L/N chose him.

Yaxley once suggested that Y/L/N was just slow. That, when she turned those large eyes to the meeting, the class blackboard, to Tom, there was just nothing going on inside her brain.

Yaxley couldn’t have been more oblivious.

Tom never missed the intelligence that flashed in her large eyes every so often at the meetings. When she watched through her lashes with her doe eyes, she did not just watch. No, she observed, studied, collecting every subtle information available from her environment as the cogs turned busily in her brain.

In the silence of the meeting, Tom could almost hear her cogs turn. In the dim light of the Room of Requirement, her eyes gleamed: “I could do better. I know better.”

And still, her lips remained shut.

Tom decided to clear his throat, his knights immediately growing quiet. “Y/L/N,” he murmured, enjoying the sight of his knights that turned around with his single utterance of a word. Y/L/N included.

She was mildly shocked, Tom noticed her eyes slightly widen, if it was even possible to get any larger.

“Walk with me,” his lips curled into what he knew to be an inviting, benevolent smile.

“What?” Yaxley was perhaps even more shocked. “But Tom, we’re heading to lunch–”

But Yaxley was quickly interrupted by Tom’s cool voice, “Yes, I’m well aware, thank you, Yaxley.”

From the corner of his eyes, Tom watched Yaxley shrink smaller in between the shoulders of Lestrange and Black. Tom composed himself before flashing a smile down at Y/L/N once more.

“Transfiguration, was it?” he cocked a brow, offering his arm, “I’ll walk you.” He watched with great satisfaction at the shock that crossed her face, unaware that he had her schedule memorised.

She hesitated, her sharp eyes wavering in between Tom’s before landing on the three of his knights, still flabbergasted and taken by shock at the event that was unfolding in front of them. They all knew what this was. A private word with the Dark Lord himself. It was a praise, or a prestigious, private mission. Yaxley was barely standing upright, clinging onto his two friends as Y/L/N essentially got promoted before his eyes.

In the end, without a word, she placed her hand on his arm. An acceptance.

Tom smiled contently before swerving to his left. “Behave yourselves,” he raised a cautionary brow, leaving the three defeated shoulders.

Y/L/N was barely watching where she was headed as they navigated through the corridors, her eyes glued to the side of his face.  He bit down on his lips. And here he thought he was excellent at reading people. Her eyes revealed nothing, he noticed as he stole a glance from her. There was no infatuation, admiration, intrigue or curiosity. As if she were some sort of a soulless doll capable of perfectly mimicking human behaviour. It was not the kind of attention he was used to, and most comfortable with, if he had to admit.

“What are your thoughts on my knights, Y/L/N?” he decided to break the silence.

Tom thought he saw a slight crease appear in between her brows, momentarily before it disappeared. For once, her eyes left his features and trailed down his necktie in contemplation.

“They’re reckless.”

Her voice was breezy and composed, reminiscent of a ghost, almost translucent and serene.

Tom nodded contently at the astute observation she’s made. Chanting pureblood supremacy that loudly in midday was certainly not going to cast a positive light on any that associated with them.

“Why ask me?”

Tom cast a smirk down at her, knowing full well what she was asking. She tilted her head, inquiring, why was I chosen? Not Lestrange, not Malfoy, but me?

“Quiet people have the loudest minds,” Tom recited as if singing a tune. “Have you read Hawking? A muggle astrophysicist.”

Y/L/N’s brows furrowed, perhaps not even comprehending the word ‘astrophysicist’. She regretfully shook her head. “Sorry, no. I haven’t read many muggle authors.”

He hummed, having expected the answer. “Well, you will be learning about muggles, alright,” he murmured.

“You see, Y/L/N,” noting the confusion that was evident in her eyes, he glanced down at his watch and led her away from the crowd to a more secluded corner by the window, just by the stairs.

Ignoring her eyes that wearily watched the other students heading into Transfiguration class, he placed his palms on her arms.

“This is going to be a delicate mission,” he started, choosing the words carefully.

“The time has come for me to face my roots— essential to the direction of our future.”

His voice lowered to a whisper. “I need you to use this break to search about my father. His lineage, his whereabouts, everything.” He licked his lips briefly before continuing. “You can see how sensitive this information will be.”

Y/L/N pondered for a moment before nodding.

“I cannot leave this crucial task to those buffoons,” he cast a sideway glance to the direction they came from before his eyes trained on hers once more. “You would never disappoint me, Y/L/N, will you?”

Tom saw with satisfaction the surge of pride and determination in her narrowed eyes. She muttered, “I won’t, my Lord.”

He nodded contently and stood upright. “I will be looking out for your owl then,” he beamed at her as she walked off, disappearing into the Transfiguration classroom.

Yes, acknowledgement went far when it came to garnering your follower’s full dedication. Y/L/N will go far trying to prove herself better than any other followers. She was going to do anything within her power and connection to finish the job and succeed.

He sighed and turned on his heels, a proud smirk playing on his lips as he hummed the tune of Nous Noblesses Fières. The lonesome steps of his shoes echoing in the hallway as he congratulated himself on a job very well done.

-----

As he had expected, Y/L/N did not disappoint as an owl arrived a week before the spring semester began: a promise of what he had asked for in the claws of a barn owl.

Tom briskly walked towards the secluded section of the library, near the restricted section. His hands in his pockets, he sauntered through the shelves, peeking around the corners for any sign of Y/L/N. 

Tom backtracked when he spotted her, sitting and gazing out the window at the rain droplets that were meandering down the panes.

“Y/L/N?” he called out to her.

Tom couldn’t help the slight shock that surfaced in his raise of brows as Y/L/N turned her head. She looked drastically different. Barely recognisable, as her large eyes, embellished with dark eyeliner turned towards him. A tint of garnet was smeared on her lips. Even now as he stood by her, flabbergasted, her eyes softened into a smile that he had never seen on her before.

“What happened to her?” “I don’t know her anymore.” The murmurs and whispers of his knights returned to him. The school has been buzzing since the beginning of the term. It made sense, the kind of reaction that she elicited in his knights, Tom thought. People rarely managed to surprise him, but this– it was enough to elicit an amused smirk out of him at the mere fact that she managed to do so.

He approached the desk, “You look…” 

But, his voice soon trailed off at the sight that greeted him. As he rounded the table, Y/L/N’s uniform became more visible, revealing the skirt that came down to mid-thigh, much shorter than before. Her blouse, with the top buttons now unbuttoned, revealed her cleavage. Underneath the collars, Tom caught glimpses of a lacey black bra and a necklace, shaped like a robin taking flight.

He had been standing there for a while like a fool, a man outlandishly staring at the opening of her blouse before Y/L/N’s voice brought him out of his stupor.

There was a quiet “My Lord?” Tom had to shut his mouth close and tear his eyes away from her shirt’s opening.

He sat down across from her, trying to compose himself. He cleared his throat, “Right, your findings."

In her large eyes, he thought he saw a shimmer of amusement. Without breaking the gaze, she stood up to lean over the table. His heart began to hammer against his ribs at the sight of her cleavage mere inches from his face.

 “Are you finding my blouse distracting, My Lord?” she murmured in a hushed whisper, a smirk ghosting her maroon lips.

“No, of course not,” he responded, perhaps too quickly, hoping desperately that Y/L/N was not as observant as he deemed.

The luck, however, did not seem to be on his side. “If you say so,” with a slight shrug that indicated she wasn’t buying it, she leaned further towards him. Tom couldn’t help but grip the arms of his chair as he watched Y/L/N crawl over the table towards him. Painstakingly slow, like a feline predator that was inching around its prey.

Tom swallowed hard, wanting desperately to look around them for any passerbys, who would have certainly had a full view at underneath her skirt. Yet, as much as he willed himself, his eyes continued to flicker between her challenging gaze and the curves of her hips.

Soon enough, Y/L/N reached him across the table which felt too short yet too long. She slid herself down the desk and towered over him, laying her palm against his chest. Underneath her hand, his heart hammered away loud and fast. He parted his lips to protest, but no sound came, like his voice was taken away.

She inched closer towards him, and one by one, mounted her legs on his seat. Straddling his thighs, she cast her eyes down at him. His eyes darted back and forth panicked, searching for any signs of life that may be coming towards them by happenstance. 

“What are you–,” Tom breathed out, just to be cut short as Y/L/N began grinding against him.

“Your father is a muggle, named Tom Riddle sr.,” she started, speaking in that soft translucent voice. Puffs of her hot breaths reached his left ear and down his neck, sending a tingly sensation across his body. “Old money. Living with his grandparents in his manor,” she continued. There was something about a muggle village in Yorkshire. Something about an old Slytherin family in the area.

But for the life of Tom, he was barely staying focused enough to understand her words. His grip on the arm grew tighter, his knuckles turning white. He sighed deeply at her fingers that traced his cheekbones to his temple. His head dropped back against the chair, almost pleading to the heavens at her fingers that began running through his hair. He was just about keeping himself from returning the touch.

Y/L/N watched him underneath her through her lashes as his cheeks grew flustered. Her voice trailed off, leaving only the sound of his heavy breathing as his chest fell and rose. Tom did not dare close his eyes, watching her lips inch closer to his little by little, closing their gap. His grip loosened, and with his trembling hands, he slowly wrapped around Y/L/N’s waist. Her lips had never looked more enticing. Eager to devour them, Tom reached up to meet her lips, only for her to recoil at the last moment. Her heat had left him with a cool void. 

Y/L/N giggled. She was clearly enjoying this.

“I’ll tell you the rest soon,” she whispered excitedly, her eyes giving off another shimmer. “Meet me in my room tonight.” Her fingers delicately brushed the strands of his chestnut hair out of his face.

It was as if the voicebox had suddenly been returned to him, unbound by the spell. “What happened, Y/L/N?” he managed to breathe out.

Y/L/N certainly was not expecting his kind of reaction. Her expression clouded, staring at his expression that grew sober by the second at her hesitation. “Nothing,” was all she said after recovering from the shock.

This time, it was his turn to tilt his head, seeing right through her lies. Her fingers stopped twirling with his hair, and for a moment the two sat in each other’s embrace, waiting for the other to say anything.

His brows furrowed as he tried to put the pieces together. The eyeliner, sure. The lipstick, dismissible. But, this 180 degrees of change was… alarming. If he remembered it correctly, there were only a few things that could explain it – many of them unfavourable and troublesome to the adjustment of the developing mind of their age.

His hesitation to stop this heated moment grew into a conviction at the sight of her biting her lips. There was something clearly wrong that she was afraid to admit. As the leader, he had to be aware of any life-changing problems that his knights were facing. Problems that could become a liability to the entire cause, even those of his most competent ones. 

Intuiting that there was nothing more to be said or done, he patted her left thigh with a sigh. “Come to my room when you’re ready to talk,” he looked upright into her eyes.

Defeated, she slid off of him and stood up, quietly watching him pick up his satchel to leave. He gave a curt nod to her, and left the desk.

He was just about to round the corner of the shelf when she spoke up behind him.

“I hooked up.”

Tom slowly turned on his heels to face her, who was now refusing to meet his gaze. Her lips were pursed as if she had nothing more to say, staring out the corner of her eyes at the leg of the desk.

Her eyes flickered once to his to survey his reaction. “With muggles, for fun,” she murmured before growing silent once more.

Sexual liberation, then, he heaved a sigh. Things he had imagined were far worse. It was understandable, considering the repressive culture of the purebloods she grew up in. 

He approached the girl that was still squirming, ready to be scolded. Without the sexual boldness that drove her to the ecstasy of bringing men to her knees, she looked far smaller. He thought he was able to see the remnants of Y/L/N that he knew from before.

His fingers delicately tilted her chin up. Fear swirled those large doe eyes as they looked up at him. Pleading. Begging to still entrust her as one of his most trusted knights. 

“Come to my room tonight,” Tom murmured. His eyes flickered briefly to her lips, reminded by their close proximity of their heated exchange. “I’ll show you the real meaning of having fun.”

She allowed herself a sigh of relief, knowing that she was still in good standing.

Tom returned with a pat on her arm, his palm lingering. His eyes, however, gave a menacing glint one last time before leaving her with the words, “Don’t disappoint me, Y/L/N.”

A/N: So sorry this took so long! I hope you liked it :) Unlike my series dedicated to dom!Tom or sub!Tom, I wanted to try to balance both elements to illustrate the complex power dynamic between the reader and Tom. Sidenote: Apparently, most of the current British nobilities are descended from Norman-French origins (since the Duke William of Normandy defeated the Anglo-Saxon King in 1066). Which might also explain why the Black family's motto is French "Toujours Pur." So, decided to make their pureblood supremacist song French. Apologies if my French translation was inaccurate!

[helsex]

So I saw your tags under the mcytblr confession blog and I agree. As much as I love zines I’ve noticed three had guest artists and writers and sometimes would have the same people. Like the first two might have the same guest artist and then the third one has a guest writer that’s in one of the previous zines. I know the way to fix this is to run your own zine but there’s not a lot of resources on how to run a zine.

I say this as someone who was in the Geminitay zine, there was not a lot of us compared to bigger zines, I think there was 30 of us max? All of us had different skill ranges and I don’t think anyone from that zine is in the upcoming zines as well (going off the ones with public contributors)

Yeahh...

I have never really been in other fandoms so I can't speak for if or not it's a common issue elsewhere but it's definitely a common issue in the mcyt community (specifically hc I suppose because that's predominantly my fandom). I said it in the tags and I'll say it again, this place can feel very... clique-y.

I'll be the first to admit my art is not very good so the fact that I've been rejected from a ton of zines isn't something I take personally, but I know several artists way more skilled than me who have also been rejected because they just aren't 'In' with the right circle. I've completely stopped applying to any because I can literally always predict exactly the people who are gonna be in it, and it's always the same handful. Zines started as something small, physical, and sometimes rough. When they moved to an online thing they were for the community, but now...now they just feel like the same circle of friends working on a collab project.

Which is fine! I have absolutely nothing against the popular artists in this fandom, they are so creative and skilled I have a lot of admiration and respect for their art.

But at the same time it feels a little like they do have a 'monopoly' on the entire zine space as it were. Same moderation teams, same participants. And absolutely yeah you can make your own but because the focus is so much on the 'main' zines it may never get traction or participants.

Not to mention, running any project or managing any amount of people especially people you don't know is hard (speaking from experience), and a lot of people in this community are young. Personally I do not think it would be wise for someone younger to undertake such a thing, but because of the current biases they're never getting in a zine any other way, you know?

I hope this doesn't come off as me whining or shitting on popular folks because I'm not, I'm just pointing out something I've noticed after being here years that's kinda sad and disappointing.

But on a positive note, the Gem zine was really heartening to see, so many smaller artists I'd never seen before finally getting their chance :) I hope we can get more like it

[justjams2003]

Between Two Gods: 1-Public Display

This is highly inspired by @oh-for-fic-sake's work which I have been binge reading recently on my second blog. Now, I am a firm believer that the MCU and DCEU should not mix. They don't belong together. But this idea just had me salivating and I'd do anything for good smut. If you'd like a prequel or sequel, I'd be happy to oblige. If there even are still people who read a/b/o fics, other than myself.

Pairing: Thor Odinson x reader x Clark Kent

Summary: While you and your mates are at the knot-friendly beach, you can't help but want to get frisky.

Warnings: threesome, mxm, fxm, mxfxm, p in v, semi-blowjob, a/b/o, knotting, meantions of heats and rutting, exhibitionism, voyeurism, public sex, mixing of universes, talk about pregnancy (but no actual pregnancy), afab reader, no mention of skin colour or weight. If there are any more please do tell.

Word count: 2,7k

You’re not sure how exactly you ended up in this situation. You’re the most envied woman on the planet. Gossip blogs, and news articles were all over you. The first mate of two in thousands of years. And not any two either, mated to the two strongest alphas on the planet, and beyond. Thor Odinson, the God of Thunder, prince of the nine realms. And Superman, the God amongst men.

Not everyone knew about Superman, everyone did know about Clark Kent. Mated to one of the most famous journalists and the God of Thunder? All to this young twenty-year-old girl. It was a shock to be sure and you can’t help but drink up every moment of it.

Even now, as you relax on the omega/alpha beach you can’t help but love every second of it. Thor, as usual, has gone off to make friends. His beautiful long blonde sand colour hair sways in the win as he jumps to slam the volleyball back up in the air. His stomach muscles strain and you can’t help but feel yourself get hot and heavy.

“You enjoying the view?” Clark asks with a smirk pulling you closer to his side. “I’m sure he can smell you from all the way over there.” You smirk, leaning into to him. “And you’re telling me you aren’t enjoying his preening too?” The man of steel chuckles.

“How can I not? I’ve got the prettiest omega in the world stuck to my side with another alpha who loves fucking her with me.” You smirk, pushing one of his legs between your own and grinding his knee against your slit, begging for some sort of friction. “Speaking of fucking...”

You can hear him groan and roll his eyes. You can’t help but smirk at his reaction and pull yourself closer to him. Slotting your nose against his neck, scenting his smile and Thor’s own mark on the man of steel. Licking and nipping at that very same sensitive spot. You can tell Clark is struggling with his own mind, his hand gripping tighter to your ass.

“Omega, you’re testing me...” he mutters, trying to keep his composure and tune out your mewling noises. Or the fact that these already small swim shorts get even smaller. Tighter and tighter every time that you lick and suck on those sensitive nerves of his.

“It's a knot-friendly beach, no one here would care. In fact, I’m pretty sure they’d even enjoy the show.” You whisper into his ear, making small circles on his chest and then trailing lower. “Yes, everyone else on the planet too. I’m not exactly keen on having my cock plastered on the daily planet.”

You groan out, then see Thor very well heard how frustrated you are and you’re sure smell it too. “Fine, I’ll ask Thor then.” You huff, going to stand and give him the best puppy eyes you could. You know very well he’d do it in a heartbeat. Public knotting isn’t just normal on Asgard but smiled upon. Even done to boost morale.

You remember how strange he found it. When you and Clark met him for the first time, seeking him out after the attack on New York, you had gone into immediate heat. Sending both the boy into a rut. Thor insisted on taking you there and then, but with much, much self-control from Kal, you three managed to make it back to you and Clark’s farmhouse.

Kal grabs you by your wrist, he knows if your go to Thor he’ll make a big spectacle of it. Everyone will be involved and invited to watch. If he does it perhaps it can happen more quietly. He grabs you by the back of your neck, he himself sitting more upright. He pulls you in close and whispers in your ear.

“You want to be fucked?” He asks, knowing the answer, he can smell the answer from you. You smirked, biting your lip and giving a curt nod. He also smirks and lays back down on his beach chair. He tilts his head to his growing cock and nods. You gasp out with a wide smile, “You mean it?” He smiles and nods again.

“This is a knot-friendly beach. Nothing done here should be new or even considered publish-worthy.” He shrugs, more so reasoning with himself than with you. He loves seeing his little omega so excited. You reach down his shorts and allow his massive cock to spring free from its imprisonment.

You can already see his bright blue irises turning an intoxicating black-blue colour. Like that in which the creepiest sea creatures drift in the fast ocean. A colour you and Thor both like to call sex-blue. Thor also had his very own variation of sex-blue.

The pre-cum leaks from his throbbing, red and sensitive tip. Like a kitten, you lap it up with your cute pink tongue. From the very top down to the base of his hairy abdomen. He watches your every move. Like a starving child, you lick every inch of him, wetting him with your own spit.

Then you move his legs in between your knees. You pull on the green bows tying your bikini bottom together. Clark's eyes consume every inch of you, watching the small cloth fall and reveal your mound. “See? I told you and Thor there is a good reason for me to wear these.” You giggle, rubbing your slit against his base.

“So, this was planned all along?” He grunts out, grabbing you by the hips and lining your body up with his. You can’t even reply before he spears you, filling you up from the inside. All that you can let out is a yelp and then a loud moan. He too throws his head back with a groan.

“I can’t ever get over how tight you are, perfectly moulded, huh?” He allows you to get comfortable. And then lifts you back up and down on his huge cock. You throw your head back, it was always such a new feeling to you. One you crave far more often than you cared to admit.

Thor’s senses were going crazy. He can smell the arousal from you and from Clark. He loves it and if he could bathe in the smell he would. In fact at home, he even tried to. Every chance he has, he gathers both of you in the nest you made and fucks the both of you silly. Then after he tries to soak up as much of the scent as he can.

And now he’s sure every other person here can smell it, but none are covered in it like he is. None can join anytime they want as he can. He just loves it. But Thor is smart, maybe not smart like Tony or Bruce. Yet he knows the game his other Alpha is getting at. He also knows what his Omega is getting at.

You want everyone to know and Clark rather keep you both all to himself. But that’s what the older Alpha is there for, to satisfy both of your needs. “My, my, my, what do we have here?” His voice is deep and low and your walls seem to clench tight at his deep dominant voice.

Thor notices instantly, he knows he has that effect on you both. Clark pulls you deeper into him. He barely even notices the other Alpha there, his own instincts flooding him with lust and nothing else. Privacy seems to be at the very back of his mind right now.

“Everyone can smell you two, all wet and sticky. Being fucked silly.” You let out a loud moan at his words and the God can’t help but chuckle. Then he attaches his lips to yours. Dominating your tongue and swallowing your moans. “You like that, huh? Do you like everyone watching you? Such a slut.”

He grabs you by your neck and whispers in your ear. His other hand cupping your tit through the neon green bikini. He twists and he pulls on your covered nipple. Lapping up your mouth. He loves the thrill of knowing that his words only make you bounce faster on Clark’s cock.

“You hear that, my pretty boy, she likes everyone seeing you fuck her silly. Fucking her so good.” Thor bends down low, whispering in Kal’s ear. Sticking his nose into his neck and pulling the scent from his mark. To everyone out there in Metropolis, Superman is the man.

He’s the one who gives orders and doesn’t take shit from the government. He’s the one in charge, saving lives and calling the shots. He’s the one strong enough to carry the weight on his shoulders. But at home, he plays an entirely different role. At home, he’s Thor’s pretty boy.

Clark comes home to an Omega, ready to be coddled and scented all over. To let his frustrations out. Someone who will gladly listen to him and sit when he asks and spreads when he asks. And then his own Alpha comes home. Coddles the both of them and tells him what a good job he did, taking care of their Omega.

Someone to praise and someone to praise him. The perfect dynamic, for you too. Easily filled and by the time your next heat comes around, you’ll be off the pills and pupped up before you know it. At least that is what both the boys are hoping for, they work hard every day to convince you of it... You’ve been a bit hesitant so far.

Though right now that’s far from where Clark’s focussed. Right now all he can think about is Thor buttering him up real good. “Look at that, she’s pulling you in with that delicious pussy of her’s” He forces his eyes open, forcing him to look, knowing it’ll bring him to the edge.

That it does, the man takes you by the hips and flips you over on your back. Fast enough that you only notice that he’s deeper inside you. Thor can help himself, he can’t help but reach down and rub your sensitive clit. Red and pulsing, begging for attention.

That’s enough to bring you over the edge, your legs shake and your walls clench around him. Clark can’t help but watch you pour out around him. Clenching and pulling all at the same time. This too pushes him further, he latches his lips onto yours.

The man of steel can feel himself growing bigger and bigger. He can feel himself forming around you. Pushing himself deeper, until he can feel himself right up close to your cervix. He is finally thrown overboard when Thor grabs him by the neck and gives him a sloppy deep kiss.

You can feel his hot seed pour into you. Like the first hot water to hit your back at the start of a shower. Overcoming and overbearing. Nothing else is there but the two Alphas. One deep inside you, pumping his hot seed into you and the other one throat deep into that same Alpha.

That is until the high begins to fall and you notice the crowd that had formed. Whispers going around, “Look at how big he is!” “How does that even fit?” “If I were her I’d be ripped open.” Clark can’t help but peacock at their shock. Pushing further into you as his hot cum fills you.

His knot is still big, even after the high has worn off. He’s not even sweaty or out of breath! You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to keep up with them. As your chest is heaving, your legs feel numb and shaky. You feel so full and pressed and pulled.

“It seems we’ve got a crowd.” You try to giggle but you’re still chasing after your breath. “Yes, even after I tried so hard to avoid it.” He groans, pushing out his last few pumps of cum before his knot finally calms down. Until he can finally pull out of you, drinking up the way that cum just pours out of you.

“Is this you avoiding a crowd?” You can’t help but chuckle at him. His hands are quick to swat at your ass. “Hey, little miss, this was your idea. Don’t get snippy with me.” He commands, pulling his soft dick back into his swim shorts.

Finally, Thor stands back up but your eyes grow wide. His shorts also have a massive tent, not to mention soaking wet with what you can smell as pre-cum. The God of Thunder knows good and well that Clark would like to get out of this without anyone knowing it's him.

This omega of theirs is bring out a much wilder side to him. Thor gives Clark another sloppy, wet kiss. “Go on, get us some drinks. Anyone asks or takes any photos you bring them to me, got it?” He nods, his cheeks red and flushed, from pride, embarrassment and excitement all bundled into one. "I’ll take care of them.”

And with that Clark gave you a kiss and was jumping to follow his orders. Thor stands in front of you, covering you with his body. His colossal cock is hard to miss. Seeming needy and ready for only one thing. His stature is huge, standing more than 5cm taller than their Superman.

The God of Thunder and the prince of the nine realms bares his teeth and growls at the people gawking. The same way he would when addressing his people. When commanding his military force, when charging into battle. It’s an Alpha command, one not even Kal-El can dismiss. Simple and clear. Leave and forget who you saw.

Not a single one disobeyed. They all drag their feet and most of the Alphas hang their head low. Each and every one of them baring their neck. He turns back to you, he sees you soaking all over again. “You like that, little omega? Does my little princess like me having to command all these people, all these Alphas, to stop gawking?”

He pulls you closer by your feet. Scenting his and Clark’s mark on your neck. Licking and sucking all the spots he knows so well. “To stop staring at this beautiful pussy. At what’s mine?” You bare your neck, knowing you’re going to get one hell of a punishment for manipulating Clark like that.

“Why don’t I throw you over my shoulder? Parade you around town, since you want everyone to look.” You gasp, he wouldn’t! He chuckles at your reaction. “I don’t think my pretty boy would like that very much and he’s not the one being punished here.” You bite your lip, he knows that you know what you did.

Just then Clark returns with the drinks. Thor smiles at him, tying the strings of your bikini back up again and picking you up. He places you down on your feet, “Go, clean yourself off while the Alpha’s talk, yeah?” He gives you a light smack on your bottom. You know defying will only worsen your situation. You jump and scurry off.

Thor smirks and pulls Clark into his lap. Grabbing the drink and taking a long sip. Superman can feel his Alpha’s dick on his back. Huge and heavy. He can feel him scenting his mark and growing even bigger. “So mean of that little one, huh? Using you like this...”

He trails off, pulling Clark just a bit closer and grinding into his ass. “I might just do the same. Just look at what you do to me...” Kal can’t help but moan and lean into Thor at the thought. His chuckle is dark and ruthless. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I can feel it.”

Thor’s hands wander, groping Clark's wet and semi-hard cock. “It’s okay pretty boy, we won’t do that, not yet anyways. Considering that that little one needs a punishment. You can choose after all.” They both can help but grin at the thought, watching as your soaking body walks across the sand.

[seeminglydark]

good news! i finally got a job after being unemployed for a few years. it’ll be at least a year or two before i’m able to move out due to trying to pay off my credit card debt but i’m excited that i’ll be able to leave town and get away from unsupportive family. i’m trying to spend as little money as possible on entertainment stuff and i have a massive book collection that i’m excited to read and sell some of it i don’t feel like i need them anymore. you’re comics have been very helpful for me to be able to understand and express myself. it has given me a lot of joy since finding it especially after the loss of my cat a month ago.

any tips for a queer punk trying to escape and start over with no support system?

happy pride month! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

ANON! I'm so proud of you, thats incredible! i am wishing you all the best on your journey forward and out. it sounds to me like you already have a good handle on things, paying down your debt is a great place to start. depending on how much debt you have, (most of my advice is US based I'm afraid, since thats where i grew up as a poor lonely punk so hopefully it can help you, or someone else) you may be able to find a financial counselor or coach, (not adviser!) to help you get rid of some of it immediately. there are ways to 'challenge' things on your credit that have been there for a while, and many times the creditors will either drop it cuz they dont want to deal with paperwork, or reduce it to a much smaller payable sum because to them something is better than nothing. a lot of cities has free nonprofit programs to help with this, and other non profit organizations offer them as well depending on your community. This will also help improve and build your credit score cuz even a punk might need to buy a home or rent an apartment one day.

i know there is an allure to big name cities when you move, i lived in one myself while poor as dirt and it kinda sucked (Austin tx specifically) because it was so expensive. look into where you want to go before moving there, look at cost of living, and public transit, things like that. it looks like youre waiting a while before going, look into job transfers so you might not have to start completely fresh from the bottom.

thrift stores are great but they are getting more expensive by the year, but when youre a poor guy in a new place, dumpster diving might be an option. please dont ever get a mattress from a dumpster ok? bedbugs are a thing and often why those are thrown out, but other things like tables, chairs, shelves etc. check your local papers and neighborhood boards, sometimes hotels and such renovate and when they do they auction furniture off dirt cheap. Thanks Mr Marriott for furnishing my house for like 40 bucks in 2005!

When you move out, if you are still struggling financially, you can look into fixed rent apartments, you usually have to get on a list, but there are places out there to help you get on your feet. a REALLY good resource for many things if going to be your local library. librarians are like gods and they know SO MUCH that can help you.

speaking of libraries. you do deserve a little joy, i would think about perhaps getting a electronic reader, did you know that you can rent books and audio books from libraries with one? plus it reduces the bulk of books you may have to move later. i know the vibe is different from getting to touch the pages, but the pleasure of reading is still there. The library is also going to be a great place to meet people and find a circle of support and new friends. many of them have clubs and community activities ranging from book clubs to everything in between, you can even suggest a club yourself that they might consider hosting. don't deprive yourself of happiness, itll be helpful on the days when it gets hard to move forward.

its been a hot minute since i was alone and starting over, and things have changed a lot so im not completely sure all of this is still relevant, library is ALWAYS a good place to start. if my followers have any advice, please feel free to chime in the comments as well! im so proud of you anon, and keep us updated as life goes on. <3