#and standardizing the space between dashes

[llycaons]

one thing I love about my job is they let me into excel spreadsheets and I can be as anal as I want making them all look good

[abbotjack]

Abbott with a ‘sir’ kink just feels right

(ps love your writing)

Oh absolutely—Jack Abbot with a ‘sir’ kink doesn’t just feel right—it explains so much. Man spent years in the military, still walks like command never left his body, and the second you call him "sir"? His jaw ticks. His breath catches. The air shifts. This is very him—and very you, ruined by him. 18+ ONLY. Do not interact if you’re a minor.

warnings/content: sir kink, emotionally repressed man finally losing control, rough sex, power dynamic tension, mentions of military trauma and death, alcohol (beer), reader is a fourth-year resident, Jack is Not Gentle™ p.s thank you so much to everyone who’s left kind words about my writing lately. it means more than you know <3

You weren’t supposed to be on shift. Memorial Day, supposedly protected on the schedule. But half the roster called off and you got the text at noon from Dana: we need you.

Jack was already in the trauma bay when you walked in—sleeves stained, voice low and clipped, the kind that made everyone fall in line without thinking. He didn’t say a word when he saw you. Just handed you a pair of gloves.

Now it’s past midnight. You’re outside the hospital, undershirt sweat-stuck to your spine. You could’ve walked home—it’s not far—but when Jack mutters, “You need a ride?” with his keys already in hand, you don’t say no.

His truck smells like unscented soap, clean cotton, and the faintest trace of leather—lived-in but scrubbed down, like everything else he keeps close. There’s nothing on the seats. No wrappers. No dust. Console organized, glove box latched. The kind of vehicle that’s been through things but still runs quiet—because he keeps it that way.

There’s a trauma kit in the backseat. You know without asking. Probably an extra pair of scrubs folded under it. Probably gloves in the door pocket, a stethoscope stuffed between the seats.

He drives with one hand on the wheel, wrist loose, posture upright. No music playing. Just the low, occasional murmur of the police scanner tucked under the dash.

He doesn’t talk while driving. He doesn’t fill silence for the sake of it. Jack Abbot isn’t wired for background noise. He reads intersections like patients—measures, anticipates, adjusts. Everything he does has a reason.

Even the way he glances over at you at the red light, like he’s making sure you haven’t slipped out of his orbit yet.

“You eat today?” he asks, like he already knows the answer.

You shake your head. “When would I have?”

He doesn’t respond right away. Just lets out a breath through his nose, turns the wheel one-handed.

“You’re coming back to mine,” he says.

Not a question. Not even an offer.

Just... routine.

You don’t answer. You don’t have to.

You’ve done this enough times to know there’ll be cold beer in the fridge, maybe leftover pasta—if Robby didn’t steal it last time he dropped by. Jack won’t say a word when you kick off your shoes at the door like you live here, too.

The house is dark when you step inside, but it smells like cedar and clean soap and something warmer beneath it—wood polish, maybe. His kind of clean. The kind that comes from knowing where everything belongs and putting it there, every time.

He moves through the space like it’s muscle memory, like the floor was built to match his stride. The quiet step of his prosthetic against the hardwood is as familiar to you now as the creak in the cabinet hinge he still hasn’t fixed.

“You want one?” he calls from the kitchen, already pulling open the fridge.

You murmur a quiet yeah and drift in, leaning your hip against the counter as he cracks two beers open. He sets one in front of you without looking. The cap lands in the little dish on the windowsill with a soft clink—just like all the others piled inside it. A dozen, at least. Maybe more.

The house is nice. Not just for a guy like him, but nice by any standard. Exposed beams. Matte black fixtures. Shelves that look like they belong in a magazine but you know he built them himself. It’s the kind of place that doesn’t need decorating because it was built right the first time.

You take your beer and head into the living room. Sit where you always do.

He follows, lowering himself into the armchair across from you with practiced ease. Weight shifts left, then the soft tap of his prosthetic finds the floor. You know the rhythm of how he moves—how he balances, how he settles. He doesn’t hide it. Doesn’t explain it. And you’ve never needed him to.

You glance at him.

“What,” he says.

“You always sit like that,” you reply.

He arches a brow. Not challenging—just neutral.

“You lead with your left,” you clarify.

“I don’t think about it.”

You nod. “Yeah. I know.”

You both sip in silence for a while. There’s a radio scanner in the corner near the window. It’s on, low. Something crackles and fades out.

“Why do you always work Memorial Day?” you ask.

He shrugs. “Don’t like being told to take the day off.”

That makes you smile. “So, spite.���

He doesn't smile back, but his voice shifts just enough to tell you it landed. “Something like that.”

You stretch your legs out. Rest the bottle on your thigh. “You ever miss it?”

Jack looks at the wall behind you—not through you, just past. Not escaping. Recalling.

“No.”

You wait.

“I miss the parts that made sense. Waking up every day with a mission. Knowing the rules. Knowing what mattered.” He looks at you. “But I don’t miss the heat. The sand. The sound a man makes when he thinks he’s going to die.”

You nod, slow. He’s not looking for sympathy. You don’t offer it.

You shift a little on the couch, not even thinking before you say, “Do you miss the authority? Like... being called ‘sir’ all the time?”

He glances at you. Not sharply. Just long enough to let the question hang.

Then he looks away again. Back to the bottle in his hands.

“I miss not having to explain myself,” he says. “That’s about it.”

You smile a little, trying to cut through it. “Well, you’re still kind of terrifying when you want to be.”

His mouth twitches. Almost a smile.

You tip your head toward him. “Sir.”

Just a murmur. Barely there. But he hears it.

He stills.

Doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t answer.

He just... sets his beer down.

Carefully. Quietly.

Jack leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped like he’s walking himself through something he already decided an hour ago.

He doesn’t raise his voice.

“Don’t say that unless you mean it.”

He holds your gaze, steady. Doesn’t push. Doesn’t move.

Just waits—like he’s giving you a last chance to pull back, even if part of him knows you won’t.

And when you don’t—when you just sit there, breathing quiet and not taking it back—

He stands and crosses the room—measured, quiet, with that same deliberate ease he always has right before everything changes.

You set your beer down without thinking.

When he stops in front of you, he doesn’t speak. Doesn’t touch you.

Just looks at you.

You’re still sitting, hands loose in your lap, heart loud in your chest. You tilt your head back to meet his eyes.

“Still sure?” he asks.

You nod.

That’s all it takes.

He leans in—both hands coming to your face, one curling against your jaw, the other threading into your hair—and kisses you like he’s been trying not to for a long time. His body tilts over yours, braced, sure.

It’s not gentle. It’s not rough. It’s need—heat, breath, a scrape of teeth. You tilt into it, fingers catching the front of his shirt, anchoring yourself like you’re afraid he might pull away.

When you stand—rising into him—it’s instinct, seamless. That’s when his hands find your waist, gripping like he’s finally letting himself touch what he’s wanted all along.

“You want this?” he asks, breath hot against your cheek.

You nod, already breathless. “Yes.”

He steps back—not far. Just enough to let you follow.

You do.

No words. No second thoughts. Just the sound of your breathing and the quiet creak of floorboards beneath his steps.

The bedroom is like the rest of the house—dark, clean, minimal. Black sheets. Hardwood floors. A space that’s only ever held him, until now.

The door barely clicks shut before he’s already working your pants down—no fumbling, just intent. Mouth on your jaw, breath hot and uneven as he pulls them past your thighs.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he says, almost under his breath.

You do. Of course you do. Every look, every shift in his voice, every beer he handed you with his jaw clenched too tight.

You step out of the last of your clothes. He does the same—fast, practiced, stripped down to nothing but need.

He backs you toward the bed, then pushes you gently by the hips. You go easily, falling back onto the sheets, legs parting before you even think about it.

Jack stares.

His body over yours—solid, scarred, familiar—but his face?

Wrecked.

“This,” he says, low, like he’s not even speaking to you, like he’s talking to the version of himself that told him not to touch you. “This was always gonna happen.”

Then he’s on you.

No teasing. No delay.

Just his mouth, hot and heavy between your legs, tongue dragging slow and purposeful until you’re arching off the bed with a sound you barely recognize as yours.

You grip the sheets. His shoulders. Anything.

He doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t even look up.

Just groans low into you like he’s addicted to the way you fall apart under his hands.

You’re already shaking when he pulls back, mouth wet, chest rising.

“Turn over,” he says, voice wrecked.

You hesitate just a beat—enough to see the way he breathes when you do it. When you shift onto your stomach, hips lifted, arms bracing.

You hear the sound of the condom, fast. Efficient.

And then—

Jack’s hand on your lower back. Steady.

And the way he slides into you? Slow. So deep it knocks the air out of you.

He curses under his breath. Grips your hip with one hand and the back of your neck with the other—not to force you down. Just to hold you there. Like he needs you solid. Still.

You moan into the mattress. He groans above you, pace already building.

Every thrust is measured. Heavy. Earned.

“Fuck, you feel—” he breaks off. “I can’t—Jesus.”

You push back into him, and he snarls something low and wordless. One of his hands slides around to your front, fingers finding you again.

“Come for me,” he growls. “Right fucking now.”

And you do.

Hard.

So hard your voice breaks.

He groans—sharp, wrecked, desperate—and follows you over the edge with one last thrust, hips grinding against yours as he comes with a sound that tears right through your spine.

You both collapse, tangled, shaking, breathless.

Nothing moves for a long time.

You stare up at the ceiling, lips parted, chest still rising and falling.

Then, quiet—almost lazy—you murmur, “I guess I should start calling you that more often.”

Jack doesn’t lift his head, but you can feel the tension in his body change. Loosen. Settle.

“You do that,” he mutters, voice half-buried in your neck, “and I’m not gonna make it to shift tomorrow.”

You turn toward him, drape an arm across his chest, skin still hot against yours.

“Guess we’ll test that theory.”

Jack exhales, something low and rough in his throat—just close enough to be a laugh.

[usedpidemo]

Girlfriend experience (Twice Tzuyu)

“I need your help.” 

You’re typing up your next application letter when you’re suddenly interrupted by Tzuyu’s familiar voice. “Sure, what’s up?”

There’s no way you’re turning down a request from Tzuyu. 

She pauses for a moment, contemplating her next words carefully, knowing regardless of the outcome, everything will never be the same. 

Then, she speaks.

“Can you be my boyfriend for a day?”

—————

You don’t take it seriously. For one, you know damn well you don’t deserve to breathe the same air as Chou Tzuyu, let alone earn the coveted title of ‘boyfriend.’ It’s already a privilege to share rooms with her in college, how much more to be her personal tutor. Sure, she loves to mess around with you every now and then, but even by her standards, this is one joke too out there to make.

“Okay Tzu, very funny, but come to me when you actually need help with something,” you tell her, chuckling, unable to hide your toothy smile before returning to your computer screen. 

You overlook the intent behind her stare. 

“I’m serious. I really need someone to pose as my boyfriend for a day,” she replies, to the point. Another thing about living with Tzuyu is that she’s always straightforward. There’s no beating around the bush with her; everything she says is the truth. So why aren’t you taking her plea with a little more genuine concern?

“Yeah. Me. Your boyfriend. As if that’s gonna convince anyone,” you reply, typing away at your keyboard, unfazed by her statement. You still don’t buy it.

“Yes. I believe you can be my boyfriend.”

You laugh again. More sarcastic than amused this time. “Real cute, Tzu.” You face your roommate with an unamused grimace. “Now what do you want from me?”

“Do I need to slap you to prove I’m not lying?” Tzuyu returns your mockery with a contemptuous glare of her own.

Still under the impression that she’s toying with you, you playfully challenge her. “Sure. I don’t think you’re being serious—”

A thunderous echo ripples between the space between you and Tzuyu, immediately closing the gap. Everything happens in an instant. You’re sent swerving back, along with your swivel chair. A bright sore blot forms on your cheek, the pain not registering right away. A little more applied force on that hit and she would have dashed your head against the wall. 

“Oh—damn.” You groan, pressing a palm on the reddened area, flush with blood, as if a bump had formed from the sharp impact. “All right, I believe you now.”

She’s shaking her head, her expression intense, humorless. “Now will you hear me out?”

“Yes!” you shout at her, inflection teetering on screaming, nodding your head in agreement.

“Great. Go fix up your face first, then I’ll explain everything,” she says before turning away and walking out the front door, leaving you on your own to fix yourself.

—————

Tzuyu doesn’t even come back to the apartment by the time you clean up yourself. It’s late in the evening when she bursts in, bringing a few pairs of freshly bought expensive outfits. It’s part of the package living with one of the richest women in your college. Her entire wardrobe is fitted with nothing but designer clothing, jewelry costing up to the hundreds of thousands, and tailor made outfits designed to fit only her and her alone. Her casual attire could be your Sunday best. Her pajamas could be your everyday wear. It’s as if her entire personality is to be a model—and if she were, she’d be the face of every brand and on the front cover of every fashion magazine in existence.

“I know this sounds outrageous, but I want you to be my boyfriend even for a day,” she repeats herself, the idea still too incomprehensible for your brain. You could listen to it again and again. For anyone, the thought is nothing but an impossible fantasy, but for Tzuyu to personally pick you, even if it's only make-believe, is something special. 

You have more questions than answers. “Yeah, but why? Why do you want a boyfriend for a day?”

“I’m visiting my parents for the weekend. Well, I’m forced to.” 

In contrast to her extravagant lifestyle, she’s sharing takeout chicken with you. More often than not, you eat the same food, with Tzuyu often deferring to you for choices. Usually fast food, it’s actually her preference.

“Okay, so what does this have to do with having a boyfriend?”

She takes a sip of her sake. “They expect me to have one by the time I graduate.”

“Okay and? What happens if you don’t?”

“Arranged marriage. I promised my parents that I would find a boyfriend by the time I turn 25. It’s how I got to be independent, how I got into college”  —she faces you, her lovely eyes twinkling— “and how I met you.”

Observing Tzuyu, you notice a few details. The most obvious being that she’s pretty, even when chomping on a chicken leg’s bone. The second is her worried gaze. This is something that’s clearly been bothering her for a while. She has deferred to you countless times for multiple academic projects ranging from research to exams, each request building more and more trust, to the point where you’ve become her closest confidant, in addition to being her roommate. Unlike before, this is not a test with a defined system and something easily manipulated and planned for, and you can’t really prepare any better either.

On your end, she pays generously; you’re only applying for an internship because your course demands it. You could start your business with the money earned from helping her. But her payroll will eventually stop.

“Listen. We might never see each other again when we graduate in a few months, and I’m sure you’re tired of me asking for your help when you could be doing more,” she says, tone gloomy, nervous. “But this is more you being the only guy I can trust—this is my freedom on the line. Even if I mostly hated my time here, it’s still better than whatever life they want for me.”

You don’t question her reasoning, even if that last bit sounds hyperbolic. Surely it can’t be that bad. You and Tzuyu have a lot more in common than you realize: you don’t like the college grind, you’re both admittedly reclusive, and you’ll miss each other’s presence when the time comes.

“Couldn't you try getting someone as a stand-in? I’m not even in the top 100 most handsome guys in the student body. It’ll never fly.”

She chuckles, showing flashes of positive energy for the first time in a while. “Nope. They’d fumble the script so bad it wouldn’t be worth the shot. I’d figure since you’re like one of twelve people I constantly talk to, I could trust you to be a convincing enough boyfriend.”

“Does it have to be a boyfriend? Why not a girl?”

“I wish. I’d love to bring Sana along, and she’d be such a joy for them, but boomer parents, am I right?”

You both share a hearty laugh. 

“Anyway,” Tzuyu puts away her plate, having finished her share of dinner to present you three shopping bags full of newly bought clothes. “These are all yours, just wear the one you like the most to our date. Plus I don’t think I ever bought you new clothes?”

“Nope, nope you haven’t.” You shake your head, remembering that your current computer setup, PS5, Lego collection, and closet full of jackets and joggers that’s been collecting dust in the corner of your room were all paid under Tzuyu’s name. 

—————

“You never told me they were still living in Taiwan,” you say to Tzuyu, watching the ground from your airplane seat, which happens to be next to the wing. You’ve never been on a flight before—until now. Something you should have admitted, but your pride got in the way. “I thought you said they owned property here!”

Tzuyu blushes in shame. “Did I?” she questions herself, before suddenly recalling, “Oh yeah! I lived here when I was in fourth grade. It was only one year though. I loved my schooling here; they didn’t.”

None of what she said fully registers in your brain. What does occupy your head is the idea of plummeting 30,000 feet from the air. Even with all the safety measures, your mind races with a hundred scenarios ending in your sudden and tragic demise. 

As the plane begins to move before eventually ascending, you can’t stare away as outside scenery turns into vague blurs sweeping by. In just a few moments, you’re so far high that you can only see clouds. It sends your brain into overdrive. Meanwhile, Tzuyu’s completely relaxed, having placed a sleep mask for the 15 hour flight to come. She doesn’t have to see at your worst, repeatedly cursing over the sound of music playing through her earphones. At least you’re comfortably secluded in first class, where each pair of passengers occupy their own private cabin for sleeping, eating, and even showering. No one can hear you scream.

The staff can’t come fast enough, even if closing the blinds is the simplest thing you can do. 

—————

On arrival, Tzuyu’s surprises keep coming in droves. A personalized driver and car awaits at the airport’s exit, carrying all your luggage by himself. He’s got his own expensive suit, opening the rear passenger doors on your behalf.

“Welcome home, Miss Chou. And this companion of yours is?”

“My boyfriend,” she warmly tells the driver, eliciting a curious look from him towards you. You’re not doing anything wrong—yet—but you can tell by his expression that you’re not giving off a good first impression. “I’m taking him to meet my parents.”

“Of course. Where shall I drive you? Shall I take you directly to them today?”

“No. I’d like to spend the rest of the day at my own place.”

“Certainly. Penthouse it is.”

After a leisurely half-hour drive through the city, the car pulls up in front of a high-rise building. The front entrance alone can be its own five-star luxury hotel and resort. Tzuyu says only millionaires are able to buy and own flats here, which makes her ownership of the penthouse even more absurd. Only now you’re witnessing the fullest extent of her wealth after seeing brief flashes throughout college.

Her lavish penthouse welcomes you from the moment you step off the elevator. Despite being away for years, the place looks as good as new, well-maintained in her absence. Every single room is twice the size of your whole apartment back home, with countless amenities and utilities dedicated to a certain purpose. There’s up to five bedrooms, each decked with their own king-size mattress and as many bathrooms to accommodate up to four guests at a time. The whole setup is topped up by a background of the city skyline seen through floor wide glass windows.

You don’t really have any words to say at this point. You’re just soaking it all in, filled with wonder and awe.

“All this and you still chose to live in a regular ass dorm,” you comment, pressing one of the piano keys, its sound echoing all over the massive place. “You’ve got to be fucking shitting me.”

“Didn’t really have a choice,” she says, pacing in and out of the rooms, her voice reverberating throughout the living room. “I had to get close to someone, and having my own place was not gonna help whatsoever.”

“Christ—” you mutter to yourself, still taken aback at how fucking expensive Tzuyu lives. Someone of her kind shouldn’t be pretending to act like everyone else—struggling to get by and having to grind their ass off. She doesn’t need anything beyond a high school diploma and some common sense; she should be enjoying herself, living a larger than life lifestyle that others will be jealous of.  

Still, this shouldn’t be stressing her out. Despite her numerous rebuttals, she could have easily placed someone else in your shoes right now, someone more capable to face her seemingly stringent family. 

You can only draw it up to rich people problems, something you’ll likely never experience in your lifetime.

“Would you like to go out for dinner later? Or would you like for us to just have delivery instead?” Tzuyu asks, approaching you with an endearing smile and an enticing offer: on her hand are a dangling pair of keys with a prancing horse etched on them. 

She has you under her spell, if everything else wasn’t convincing enough.

“Name me a nice place to eat and I’ll think about it.”

—————

You end up staying out way later than intended. 

It’s a miracle her car doesn’t have a single dent by the time you return to the condominium. In the time you’ve spent with Tzuyu, you’ve grown more comfortable with the girlfriend role given to you. You don’t even wait for the valet driver to open her side of the door; the act comes naturally. She steps out of the vehicle, one leg peeking through her dress, and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. She reaches out her hand for you to take, and it feels like a habit you’ve been doing for years.

You’ve gotten your fair share of jealous looks over the past few hours. Even now, bystanders in the front lobby are making a scene out of you being together. All of them are asking the same question: how does someone like you have a woman like Chou Tzuyu by your side.

Deep down, you recognize it’s an act, a part of the show. Tzuyu knows this too. She sells her parts like she’s selling her beauty: naturally well. On the other hand, you are showing tiny cracks on your face, only crumbling after you disappear from everyone’s view behind that elevator.

“So, are you ready for tomorrow?” she asks you, friendly and soft as ever.

You sigh, unable to find it in you to answer. Even as you open your mouth, you lack the conviction to give off a confident response, and it shows in your word choice. “Maybe.”

Tzuyu furrows an eyebrow, frowning. “What’s up?”

You can’t even look at her as you talk, only finding some semblance of relief watching the city from your view. Lovely, just like Tzuyu. “What if this doesn’t work,” you tell her, tone low, evidently anxious. What if—”

“Don’t overthink it,” she turns you toward her, brushing a hand up and down your shoulder. For a moment, you see her eyes gleam with the night life’s reflection. “Even if it all goes horribly wrong, the blame completely falls on me. Remember that.”

“I might never see you again. Hell, you might never go back,” you reply, your doubts not quelled in the slightest. Neither of you care that you’ve got your hands on each other, unwilling to let go.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” she says, unfazed by your pessimism. “At least I made up for everything you’ve done for me, including this.”

“Really? As if you haven’t been doing that since I first helped you—”

Tzuyu laughs, her cheeks flush in embarrassment. “I got nothing better to spend it on. Might as well do it on someone who actually deserves it.”

You’re not sure whether to feel elated or flattered by that statement. Your rosy cheeks say the former. Perhaps this is a consequence of spending way too much time with her, or that you’ve been putting plenty of investment in your role. Either way, you’re better off spending the remainder of your night not overthinking about it. It’s been a long day. 

“I’m going to bed. It’s getting late, and you said we’re getting picked up early tomorrow.” 

“Right. I completely forgot, too. I guess we must have been having too much fun together, huh?”

Neither of you even bring up the fact that you were holding each other close the entire time, bordering on romance. It’s probably for the best.

—————

“Hey.”

Tzuyu’s feathery voice brings your attention back to reality. For most of the ride, you’ve been mindlessly staring out the window. From passing cars to idle trees, from long stretches of highway to winding mountain roads. Chatter inside the vehicle passes through your ears like radio static. Thoughts racing in your mind comprise numerous outcomes and what-ifs, none of which you’re able to see the ending. Never mind the fact that she’s looking her most divine, her most prim, perfectly suited for such a special occasion. The less you think about what’s ahead, the better.

She doesn’t make it any easier, especially when she’s leaning forward with her seatbelt, her warm expressions invoking sweet innocence and genuine concern. Her fingers are twiddling with yours, gripped to the leather seats, trying to get as much of your interest. “You all right?”

You swallow down a nonexistent lump in your throat. “I’m fine. What is it?”

“My parents are asking what your favorite food is so they can prepare it for you.” 

“Tell them I like beef,” is your immediate response before looking out the window again. She doesn’t press you any further, thankfully leaving you with your thoughts for the rest of the drive.

The car eventually stops in front of a large gate. Not a sign of security in sight, except for a pair of cameras positioned on both ends. After a brief scan, the entryway opens of its own accord. You’ve left the city so far behind, you might as well be high above the sky. 

A couple more miles of driving till you finally reach your destination: a large mansion with a fountain statue in front of the entrance. A dozen expensive cars are parked right outside, all covered in sheets for safety. None of these details are surprising considering you’ve previously seen Tzuyu’s wealth firsthand. You’re starting to believe the rumors about her being the heiress of some business empire are true.

The driver needlessly announces that you’ve arrived before he steps out to open the passenger doors—Tzuyu first, then yours.

To think you’d end up getting involved in family affairs straight out of a soap opera.

Tzuyu looks you in the eye, reaching out her hand with a reassuring nod. No words, just shared confidence and a slither of hope between you both. Despite the initial hesitation, you hold her and together, you enter the unknown.

Inside, more lavish decor greets you everywhere. Stuff that’s more alienating than welcoming. It’s a daunting presence being here that you end up forgetting to remove your shoes before entering, despite the butler’s admonishment. Tzuyu ends up snapping you back, and you quickly swap your footwear for theirs before advancing. Mercifully, there’s only two pairs of eyes in the room watching, but one is observing you through a harsh gaze.

The servant leads you out to a garden where you finally get a glimpse at Tzuyu’s parents for the first time. Also laid out on the lawn is a large table with different kinds of food being prepared by other butlers. Unsurprisingly, she runs ahead to greet them, leaving you on your own to introduce yourself to them.

“Welcome home, Tzu,” says both Papa Chou and Mama Chou to their daughter while she runs to her father, throwing a huge bear hug. She gives her mother a similarly loving embrace after.

Meanwhile, you’re taking little steps down the stairs to the garden, continually reminding yourself not to fuck up. 

“Oh! Right—” Tzuyu looks in your direction, notices your plodding pace. She’s pointing you out to her parents like you’re the most important person in the room. “That—that’s my boyfriend over there.”

At this point, you can easily fold a dozen different ways. Piss your pants, shit on them, run away like a spotted convict. You know as much about her family as anyone else in your position; the information given to you is incredibly scarce and vague at best. But you’re bound to Tzuyu’s hand like a string to a yarn. Your only saving grace is the hope that this event is a quick dine and drive and not some grandiose festivity.

It doesn’t help that the entire time you’ve spent with Tzuyu, not a single minute was spent on acting like her boyfriend.

All eyes fall upon you. It should have been a familiar feeling, something you can easily adjust to, but it isn’t. This is different. It’s not the same as being around friends and no-name strangers. Family judgment lingers on, especially after you’re through. Every little move counts.

Bowing to her parents, you pull your attempt at a friendly smile, falling somewhere between the line of goofy and awkward. “Great to meet you, Papa and Mama Chou.”

Your ‘girlfriend’ looks at you with a heightened sense of pride, convincing enough to be sincere. She’s hard carrying you in the acting department. Smiling more softly, she adds, “Shall we eat?”

—————

You and Tzuyu are seated opposite her parents on the large table, with a scrumptious feast filling in the space between. Food is eaten in small increments, with most of the lunch spent on lengthy conversation. It’s more of an interrogation and less of a friendly scene. 

“So—how did you meet?” asks Papa Chou, tone as typical of a protective father, cold, calculated, and stern. 

“He was my roommate when I got into university,” Tzuyu replies, constantly shooting quick glances at you, eating your share leisurely. Both of you agreed that unless asked, she’d take on the role of your mouthpiece.  You’re nodding; you’d say the same thing—and it’s one of the few things that’s true. “It was a chance encounter.”

“A roommate? As in—you moved into a dorm?” 

“Not exactly a dorm, but an apartment close to campus. The dorms were too small to fit all my stuff in.”

“You should have just moved into the dorms,” he says, aggressively munching his meal between sentences. “How can you sleep peacefully at night knowing he’s just right next door?”

“All right, let’s not offend our guest here.” Mama Chou interjects, trying to change the course of the conversation. You’d immediately refute him if your mouth isn’t filled with food at the moment. She faces you, asking, “So, how long have you been dating?”

Now you’re swallowing hard, caught off-guard by the surprise question aimed at you. Tzuyu’s hands are tied; she’s watching, but she won’t be saving you.

“About three years,” you say, staring back at your ‘girlfriend,’ looking for a lifeline by simply staring at her. You’re in love; no you’re not. “Some of our schedules overlapped too, so we helped each other out.”

“Yeah,” adds Tzuyu, nodding in agreement. “Without his help, I wouldn’t have passed some of my classes. If nothing else, he’s been nothing but kind and gracious to me.”

“That’s great to hear.” Mama Chou smiles; she’s clearly the friendlier and more approachable of the two parents so far. “I’m glad our daughter has a friend she can trust in college. But do you not have other friends too?”

“I’ve made a few friends besides him too.” Tzuyu interjects, stepping in right as you’re about to continue speaking. She presents a photo of her social circle at a restaurant, consisting entirely of the women she’s close with, including a fellow Taiwanese student. You met most of them because of her. “I hang out with the girls more than him, so don’t worry.”

“They’re all pretty.” Mama Chou looks at the picture with delight. On the other hand, Papa Chou remains stone faced and unimpressed. She’s pointing her finger at the girl to her daughter’s right. “Especially her.”

“Oh, her? That’s Sana from Japan. She’s my best friend actually,” replies Tzuyu, grinning toothily recalling her. “And the two behind her are Japanese too—Momo and Mina.”

“So it’s a multinational university? That’s cute.” 

“We’re still few and far between,” she corrects, putting away her phone. “It’s just that we happened to enter university at the same time, and we’re all foreigners, so we bonded through our shared experience living far from home. We’ll be graduating together in a few months.”

Her mother continues to nod concurrently, turning her attention away from her daughter to you again. “So what happens after you graduate? What are your plans?”

Initially, you hesitate, reaching a crossroads. You can follow the broad outline given by Tzuyu: something about opening a restaurant franchise, following her family’s footsteps in running a business empire, or say it as it is.

“I—don’t really know to be honest,” you tell her, glancing at Tzuyu, and she blinks rapidly, her smile wobbling. To everyone else, she looks calm otherwise. “I’m focusing on my studies right now, and I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.”

“What course are you taking?” 

“Mechanical Engineering. I want to work with cars and all that.”

“So you like cars, hm?” Papa Chou interrupts, leaning his head forward with intrigue. “Tell me—you watch F1? You better be!”

“Absolutely!” You’re staring at him, taking control over the conversation, growing comfortable with your newfound position.

“What’s your team? You better not say Red Bull or Ferrari.”

“McLaren.”

“Driver?”

“Lando.”

He laughs—heartily. He’s offering his hand for you to shake, which you do. You’re then tugged forward by the harsh tug of his grip, much to the amusement of everyone else. “I think we’re gonna get along just fine.” 

Before you know it, you’re being pulled aside and dragged away from Tzuyu and her mom, leading you to the other side of the mansion.

—————

“Good God,” you say, your jaw agape, blown away at what Papa Chou is presenting you: an orange McLaren F1 tucked away inside an enormous garage filled with other luxury cars. “This—this is my dream car.”

“Handsome, right?” He’s leaning by the door, grinning like a child. “It’s got a thousand miles on it too. Wifey doesn’t really like it, though. Says it takes up too much space in the garage.”

“Shit—sorry for my language—how’d you end up buying this?” you ask, swinging open the opposite butterfly door, admiring the interior. “There’s just no way this is real—”

“It’s as real as real gets.” He cuts you off, chuckling at your utter disbelief. “I bought it off some English comedian, then I had it restored and repainted. Says he’s crashed it a few times. Maybe he has, as you kids say, skill issue.”

“So—why are you showing me this?” you ask, turning to him as you’re both seated on opposing passenger sides.

“I was going to give this away to the one who was supposed to marry her,” he says, holding his side of the steering wheel. “But she wanted to live away from us. Very far away.”

You raise your eyebrows, curious.

“Tzuyu is a good person. She’s kind, compassionate and looks after those she’s close with. But she’s also blunt and to the point,” he continues, facing you mid-conversation. “If she feels that something is wrong, she won’t hesitate to call it out. She doesn’t care whether you’re friend or family. She trusts her intuition first above everything. So for her to have a boyfriend only means one thing: she really has full confidence in that person.

“I think you’re a good guy, and I thank you for helping her. But I don’t want my daughter to come home with a broken heart. I would tell you to leave her alone, but I don’t think she would want me to say that. So, I only want you to promise me this one thing.”

“And that is?”

“Make her feel she’s not alone.”

You blink. Again. A few times for good measure. There’s a lot to comprehend and digest, even when it’s been simplified to a simple promise. You’re not sure whether you can agree to that. It may be a straightforward command, but it’s one with a lot of weight borne on its shoulders.

“Promise me that you won’t leave her alone when you go back. Believe me when I say I haven’t seen her face shine that bright in years. I want to see my daughter smiling like that again when she comes home in the future. So I know she’s in good hands. Make sure she does not regret her decision.”

You look away, hesitant, uncertain whether this is still all for show or a genuine reminder. Now you realize how deeply connected you are to Tzuyu. You don’t remember life before meeting her, and you can’t imagine a life after her.

“I will.”

It isn’t the answer you want to give. You’re still trying to fully grasp everything. However, it is the answer that he wants to hear.

—————

After lunch, you and Tzuyu are left to your own devices. Your private talk with her father is played off as a fun discussion about his love for cars, completely disregarding the actual content of your conversation. Probably for the best; such an occasion demands a positive vibe overall. You spend the afternoon exploring their gigantic mansion, amazed by the vastness of the place over the grandiose material taking most of the space. If not for the presence of a butler at every corner, you can easily get lost for days.

“How long did you live here till you moved out?” you ask Tzuyu, examining a childhood photo of her with her family, including someone you haven’t met—her brother.

“Lived here during my teens. Was homeschooled throughout my primary years. Moved out when I was sixteen entering senior high.” She notices you taking a hold of her family picture, particularly noting her brother. “He’s also studying abroad, too. Not as far away as me, but still far from home.”

“Does he know?” You turn to Tzuyu, lifting an eyebrow.

“Of course he does,” she says, facing you with that trademark gummy smile. “He thinks you’re cute, if you’re wondering.”

“No, no. I meant—”

“Oh—sorry I misunderstood,” she replies, laughing, blushing with embarrassment. “But he was the one who convinced me to move out. He told me if I don't experience everything for myself, then I’m not living.”

You agree. You’re worlds apart, from completely different backgrounds, different upbringings. And yet, you’ve been brought together by some divine intervention, finding common ground to stand on. 

“So—what did my dad tell you in private?” she asks, her eyes wandering back to the photo, lasering in on her father.

You pause, reluctant to reveal the truth, even if she’ll most likely believe you. “Not much. Just showed me his car collection.”

She grins. Innocent as it may look, she knows that’s not the full truth. “He told you something about me, didn’t he?”

Your heart is racing. For how dependent she is on you, she can be rather intelligent and clever. 

“He definitely told you something. I just know.”

Tzuyu looks around and finds no one in sight. After double checking, she takes you by the wrist, dragging you along. She moves quickly, even through her heels. She takes you up the stairs and into an unexplored room, releasing you forward without care once inside. While you’re staggering and struggling to stay planted on your feet, she shuts the door behind you both and locks it.

There are no cameras in the room to catch you, and the blinds are completely closed off. It’s just you two again. 

“That’s quiet enough.” Tzuyu steadily approaches you with a new demeanor—a straight, serious attitude reminiscent of her father. “I shouldn’t have to ask twice. What did my dad tell you?”

You were going to explain everything without the extra theatrics anyway, but admittedly you’re now feeling more secure to admit in private. Their security cameras can catch strange sights, but not sounds. Hell, maybe the little stunt she pulled could be more suspicious than anything else.

“He told me to look after you. Make you feel not alone,” you say, unable to look her directly in the eye, your gaze wandering left and right. “He also said that you’re in good hands because of me.”

Tzuyu remains silent, only staring right at you as she draws ever closer. She doesn’t know exactly how to react or what to say in light of your confession. You can tell the moment the wind in her sails has been knocked out: when you said love.

“How did he come to that conclusion?” she asks, the gap between you only breaths apart.

“He said that you trust your intuition more than anything,” you reply, tone low but straight, mustering the strength to meet her halfway. “And that you haven’t been smiling like that for so long.”

She furrows her eyebrow, taken aback by the last statement. “Really? He did not—”

“He really did. I’m just telling you everything as I heard it,” you say, grinning through your teeth, laughing. There goes the little tension between you.

“Can he not—” Tzuyu cracks, strutting around you, toward the lone king-sized bed similar to the one in her penthouse. “He literally calls me all the time. Hell, he was calling me the night before our flight. Don’t believe him.”

“I won’t,” you reply, still chuckling. 

Your gaze wanders down her baby blue dress, perfectly fit and tailored for her light frame. The lengthy skirt flows around her legs like water. As is her long hair, a mixture of black and brunette. You don’t have to state the obvious, but you still feel the need to say it: Tzuyu is incredibly pretty. She’s been hearing that from everyone from the moment she was born. No amount of repetition can truly describe how attractive she looks, like this one occasion was designed specifically for her.

“So—he says I trust my intuition more than anything,” she mutters, glancing around the room. The bedroom belongs to none other than Tzuyu herself. It’s the place she grew up in, and she feels nostalgia being inside it after being gone for so long. Her hands brush along the edge of the mattress, deep in thought. “I never really thought of it like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t really know, to be honest. But he’s right about one thing,” she says, turning around to face you. She’s taking a good look at you from the neck down, and for the first time in your life, you’re dressed like someone worthy of a person like her. “I do love you.”

Before you even have a second to react, everything goes off. She catches your lips with hers. It’s instantaneous. 

Her hands take hold of your body, still unsure of what to do. You know exactly what to do, though, and that’s to give in. You don’t give it a second thought. You yield to her touch and melt into her passionate kiss, pressing deeper and exploring her shapely figure in return. You’re pulling on each other’s clothes and skin, unwilling to let go. 

You can taste the pent-up need on each other’s lips. 

Yeah, you love her too, actually. 

You love her dress too—not only because baby blue perfectly suits Tzuyu like butter on bread, but also because it leaves her back exposed to your touch. She hums, whines into your lips, sucking on air between hungry kisses, taken by surprise of this new sensation. In response, she’s tugging on your dress coat, pushing it off your shoulders and down to the floor. 

“How long have you wanted to tell me that?” you mutter, breaking off the kiss, hot air pressed against her mouth. 

“I was gonna ask you the same thing,” she replies, grinning through her sweet lips. 

“I never said I love you though. Like at all.”

“But I can tell by the way you’re kissing me.”

“Doesn’t mean anything. I’ve seen Sana kiss you like this.”

“And? Does that bother you?”

Her grin is turning into a wicked smirk. Slowly but surely.

“Not at all. I’ve been telling you right from the start: it should have been her, not me.”

She shakes her head. “You want me to hurt Dahyun’s feelings by bringing Sana along? You heartless fuck.”

A new can of worms has just been opened up. None of which was ever in the equation till now. You regret stopping such an intimate moment for this conversation.

“It’s either that or you lose me forever,” she says, breaking the brief gap of silence. “And what could hurt you more?”

Nothing. The answer is nothing, but you don’t want to directly admit it. You need Tzuyu. 

So you end up kissing her again, and she graciously returns the love twofold. She needs you just as much. You’re both meant for each other, and this is the sign.

You push her onto the bed, maintaining the connection as you continue to explore each other’s clothed bodies. In any other situation, all your clothes would be scattered everywhere, and even in her childhood home, you’re both more than willing to make the move. It’s dangerous, yes, but that’s what makes it fun and exciting. After all, she said it herself;  if she wasn’t trying, she wasn’t living. 

“Wait.” Tzuyu mumbles against your mouth, gently pushing you off. You’re halfway through pulling the zipper on her back when she suddenly snaps the link in half. You take the hint and clamber off. 

Seeing Tzuyu flat on her back in bed, looking at you with lust-filled eyes, is a sight a thousand pictures worth taking. Your fingers are anxiously waiting, trembling in anticipation on the corner of your pants, ready to flip at the drop of her word. But then—

“Let’s not. I mean, I don’t wanna say it, but this is just a little too fast for my liking,” she says, glancing around her bedroom. It would certainly be a strange feeling to get fucked in her childhood room, among other things. “Plus you know—”

She’s pointing to the locked door behind you. While you both hear nothing at the moment, you never know who’s right around the corner. 

Wistfully, you sigh in despair. She sits up and pats you on the head. 

“Sorry. I want it as much as you do, but not here. I almost let my thoughts get the best of me,” she says regretfully.

“I understand,” you reply, defeated and crestfallen, despite her efforts to comfort you. 

Turning your head back, you find Tzuyu slipping a hand between her dress, fishing for the panties from her legs. She pushes them past her heels and places them beside her on the bed. 

Aware of the consequences of what’s about to happen, she looks at you with an inviting smile.

—————

“Oh—oh fuck—” whines Tzuyu, her thighs spread wide between your hungry, ravenous tongue. She’s lying flat on the floor, giving you full access to her cunt, but with one condition: that her bed is not to be messed with in any capacity. Of course you took her up on that offer without hesitation; it’s the easiest thing in the world to avoid when the space between the door and the mattress is just as long as the steps between the back garden and the mansion. 

And as much as you want to tear through her dress and feel her pale, creamy skin, you still have to meet people looking as fresh as you possibly can. You’re telling yourself this will be a quick affair, an appetizer for what’s to come later in the night.

Except your brain says otherwise.

Your tongue flickers against Tzuyu’s aching core in bursts. Slamming her eyes shut, she whines and whimpers. Her nails dig into the carpet floor, nerves trembling and convulsing with each flat lick and press on her wet cunt. It’s evident in how violent her body reacts that she’s new to this feeling, something she’ll have to get used to. 

Meanwhile, you’re having a feast. You’re lapping away at her dripping pussy, taking every little drop of slick into your mouth, and she’s so generously soaked. Despite her reluctance, you’re pulling her creamy thighs against your face, wanting her to suffocate you—to utterly ruin you. Even at her most vulnerable, she’s still as careful and dainty as ever. A good girl, like her father says. 

You wonder how he’ll look at both of you after this.

“Mm—please, I don’t wanna hurt you—” she mewls, making an effort to resist your push despite the constant surge of pleasure coursing through her body. Her lashes flutter as she struggles to open her eyes.

“I can take it—just give in—” you tell her, your voice muffled into her skin as you hungrily continue to eat her out. “You taste so fucking good.”

Tzuyu eventually folds. Gives in to ecstasy and lets herself go. You’re forcing these deep, whiny bursts from her mouth as you drag your tongue on her clit, satisfying her most sensitive spots. Her cries echo throughout the room, past the large doors. It’s a dangerous place to be caught in, but you’re so close to drawing everything out from her. You don’t regret a single moment. As much as you want to pull out and replace it with your fingers, she tastes too good for your greedy mouth to share. You’re going to drink her for all her worth.

Her voice cracks with every flick you give; her breaths grow frantic. At this point, the pleasure is becoming too much to bear; she can only grip the carpet tile and brace for impact. She’s quivering as your fingers join your tongue in parting her cunt to be taken and used. It sounds sympathetic when she moans a high-pitched cry, declaring, “Gonna cum—fuck!”

It doesn’t deter you in the slightest. Hell, it only encourages you more.

Except you don’t get the pleasure of replying or gloating, because she cums. Hard.

You do, however, earn the gratification of laying your tongue flat on her cunt when her body locks, before violently crashing. Torrential waves of slick gush all over your needy, thirsty tongue. You lap it up—every last drop, even as it spills onto the carpet floor, drenching your face and the area around her crotch. Her moans come out in waning hoarse bursts, trying to keep your little secret as hidden as possible. In reality, it was obvious to anyone with a functioning ear and a respectable distance away. The locked door was a nonfactor.

Despite your reluctance, you slowly pull away from her heavenly core, licking your messy lips clean, saving the remains with your fingers. 

Still, the desire remains. You’re leaving soft kisses down her thighs, watching Tzuyu depleted of strength as the fallout from her orgasm persists. Unable to find the strength to regain her composure, her eyes remain glued shut, her jaw slack, her breaths heavy. Her arms find solace in each other, folded and held close to her stomach, as if in utter pain, when it’s really just your tongue. “Oh God—”

“How does it feel, Tzu?” you say before kissing her smooth skin.

She struggles to breathe, let alone utter a single word. By the way her lips curl into a satisfied smile, you can conclude that she enjoyed every moment. Rolling over to her side, even in this flushed, broken state, her profile looks so beautiful. To think she wakes up like this every single day. 

Suddenly, you hear a loud knock on the door, followed by a prompt call. “Miss Tzuyu—your parents are looking for you.”

The blunt voice instantly springs Tzuyu back to life, immediately ignoring the crash from her climax. “Shit,” she sharply mutters, looking over to the bed where she thinks her panties lie, but are actually in the pocket of your suit jacket. “Do you think they—”

You fire back a mischievous glare, complete with matching playful face. 

This was her idea after all; you were just following along.

—————

Waiting by the same vehicle you arrived in, you’re about to be driven back to her penthouse. The sun setting has begun setting down, and you both have a few days in Taiwan before flying back home. Tzuyu’s with her parents at the front door, giving them one last hug and kiss goodbye.

It’s only a brief exchange. She quickly rejoins you with a quick peck on the cheek. Looking past her are the waves of her family wishing you safe travels.

“What did they say? Where’s the driver?” You ask Tzuyu, curious about the lack of a butler.

Smirking, she jingles a pair of keys in her hand like it's her personalized bell. “We’re not taking this car back.”

“Then what is our car then?”

She presses a button, and your attention is immediately diverted by the roar of a powerful engine. A familiar two-door coupe pulls up directly in front of the entrance.

You face Tzuyu, then to her dad, who simply motions his hand out to the car. She hands over the keys before walking ahead, swinging open one of the butterfly doors. “It’s already rush hour, so unless you wanna be late for our dinner date—”

You immediately rush past her and into the driver’s seat, revving up the engine. “Okay. Get in.”

—————

As the Chou property quickly disappears from the rearview mirror, you glance at Tzuyu, realizing something seems off. 

There’s no emotional goodbye, no formality—just a brief exchange and then you’re sent off, just like that.

“There’s no dinner date right?” you ask her, your attention primarily focused on the winding, curving road ahead. Even with your brief experience behind the wheel of a fast car, this older one in particular requires more skill and direct input. “Surely you didn’t book one on the same day as—”

Tzuyu doesn’t respond, only leaning back on the passenger seat. A cursory glance reveals the curl of her lips as she seemingly falls asleep.

“You’re quite naughty, you know that?” you comment, nudging her elbow, eliciting a laugh out of her. “What happened to the so-called ‘princess’ of the Chou family?”

“You know why I even bothered to come home, right?” she replies, opening her eyes and staring directly into you. “I don’t miss it that much.”

You can only chuckle in response. 

“And yes—we don’t have a dinner date if you’re wondering,” she adds, her cheeky grin shifting into a coy, taunting smirk. “Really smart of you to realize that I wanted to leave before we are forced to stay overnight, or even worse.”

“I’ve spent better days in worse.”

She lowers her eyebrows. “Seriously—” she says, before immediately hesitating, thinking of another way to prove her point, when suddenly, “You should be thankful they didn’t notice the panties in your pocket.”

“And you should be thankful they didn’t notice the screams coming from the bedroom,” you retort.

“I was trying to hold back, dipshit.”

“That was you holding back?” You laugh hard at her half-hearted attempt of an excuse, seeing as you have a front row seat at how she crumbled. “Then what about when I fucking ate you out and you were cumming all over me? What was that?”

“You’re no better; what about those mumbles I hear at night, huh?” she says, tone hostile, altering her voice to mock yours as she continues, “Why do I sometimes hear my name in your room, huh? ‘Fuck—Tzuyu—you’re so tight Tzuyu—I’m gonna cum Tzuyu—’ Huh? What was that? You degenerate.”

“It’s none of your business, Tzuyu.”

“Maybe dad was right—I should have just had my own apartment!”

The car accelerates, its roar the loudest thing for miles. You’re blitzing through the freeway, speed cameras and fines be damned. Had conversation happened minutes earlier, when you were climbing down the mountains, neither of you would be talking right now.

“You don’t believe that.”

“You’re right—I don’t!” Tzuyu shouts before looking away. She doesn’t care anymore.

You stop twisting the knife, refocusing your priority on not intentionally driving the car into a lamppost this late into your journey. 

So when you finally arrive at her apartment complex, neither of you hop out immediately. There’s a valet waiting in the wings to take over, but you’re not letting the world move on until you come to some form of compromise. 

“Fine. I’m sorry Tzu. I just thought you didn’t like your parents that much—”

“I don’t,” she interjects, facing you again, her features cold and stern. Again, much like her father. “I’m just glad we got all that behind us without any issues.”

“And what about the whole ‘you heard me jerking off to you’ thing?”

“Still gross. If you weren’t helping me in my studies, I wouldn’t have asked for your help had I known sooner. Pervert.”

“Ouch.” 

It’s more of a mock than a devastating admission to your character.

“Too late for that, though, sadly,” she says, sighing, both half-joking and half-serious. “Look, let’s just get this over with and pretend after that this never happened.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes! I’m so tired, I just wanna lie down and forget about all this.”

Neither of you realize you can be heard by the waiting valet driver. He doesn’t seem to mind, though.

“Are we really just gonna gloss over this issue—”

“It’s a non-issue. We didn’t get caught, you’re just being a dude. I know. I’ve been with worse guys. Now let’s go.”

—————

Despite her request, it's not as easy as it sounds. The touching, the kissing, the passion—it’s as real as real gets. 

The same can be said about Tzuyu; behind the callousness and seeming apathy is a pent-up need and genuine desire.

You both emerge from the elevator already on each other’s bodies, wrestling for control, your suit jacket already on the metal floor. Her nails leave sharp, scathing marks on your skin, measuring you up. She’s loosening up the buttons on your shirt as you pin her against a wall, then lead her into one of the five bedrooms. As much as you want to break loose, she has you bound by the neck, making sure your lips never leave hers. 

“So this is why you don’t want to hurt me,” you mutter, breath hot against hers, pressing a finger on your freshly clawed neck. 

“Sorry,” Is all that she can say, and in your eyes, that’s more than enough.

“First kiss, first sex, and first argument all in one day. We’re really moving fast as a couple, huh?”

Tzuyu giggles. “I guess we’re a match made in heaven after all.”

Soon you’re back to making out, fueled by the need for each other’s lips. Despite your bodies crashing onto the bed, you’re still madly kissing each other. Running down the last of your buttons, she pops your shirt open in half, which you slip off. Pulling her back to your level, you kiss down her chin and suck on her neck, releasing a soft, airy whine from her delicate lips. She tilts her head up, opening more of her porcelain skin for the taking. 

Every part of Tzuyu tastes perfect.

Meanwhile, your hands take lease of her back, roaming the exposed parts of her dress. Dabbling with the fabric, you finally pull on the zipper, the garment loosening, freeing, the feeling liberating. For the most part, Tzuyu has always been conservative, even in her most formal outfits. A slit in her dress for a leg at best. Beneath lies some white lace and matching panties, her crop top revealing more tummy than you’ve ever anticipated. 

You’re getting more than what you’ve bargained for, and her figure is so mouthwatering.

With the top half of her dress bundled on her waist, you throw her back down on the mattress, biting on her collarbones. She’s panting, breaths frantic, her hands wrapped around your back, her muscles jolting with every little kiss. Raising a leg close to your hip, she’s softly muttering sweet nothings, whispering, eventually revealing what’s really on her mind. ‘I want you’— she mumbles, her dainty tone making your pulse race, tilting her head to the side to let you conquer more of her lithe body, which you happily do.

It’s been a long day. You could honestly stay in this position forever—your limbs twisting and tangling in a messy harmony, your bodies pressed together, finding solace and comfort in each other’s warmth. 

Tzuyu squirms beneath, lightly pushing you away. Taking the hint, you relent. Lo and behold, half her neck and collarbones are swollen red, your handiwork. While she gathers much needed air for her lungs, you use this brief moment of respite to slip the remainder of her dress down her slender legs before tossing the garment aside to be forgotten. Your trousers end up joining them on the floor shortly after.

Even in this vulnerable state, Tzuyu looks so breathtakingly beautiful. Her perfect side is always on display, no matter what angle.

“Tell me what you want baby,” you whisper on her skin, leaving soft, more delicate kisses on them. Knowing how fragile she is, you’re making sure you don’t flatten her whenever you go down on her.

“I just want you,” she whines, her eyes slammed shut and body writhing, even without any contact. She’s already trembling at the mere thought of you. 

“Be more specific, Tzu,” you command her gently. Sliding down your boxers, your aching cock can finally breathe from its constraints. You press a finger on her panties, and even through them, you can tell she’s soaked. Still, as much as you want to undo them, you want her to do the honors. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

“I want your cock,” she replies, tossing and turning left and right. So wanton, so desperate. She slides down her panties for access, prompting you to hover above her. “Give it to me. I’ve wanted you to fuck me me for so long.”

“How long?” You toy with her, positioning your cock directly between her entrance, the tip lining against her dripping slit. 

“Since earlier,” she whines, feeling the tease, the slow burn, the knife being twisted in her gut. She can’t do anything about it. “Please—just put it in, already.”

The smirk on your lips can’t grow any wider. “I don’t believe you. How long have you really wanted this?”

Tzuyu moans, moans, and moans, much to your delight. Despite her efforts to suppress herself, she inevitably folds. “I don’t care—just fuck me already, will you? I’ve touched myself listening to you. Is that what you wanna hear? I don’t care anymore—just—stick that thing inside me already!”

You didn’t think she would spill the beans this easily. Her wantonness and impatience—it speaks volumes. It’s arousing, makes your ears perk in excitement. A win is a win, after all.

Grabbing her waist, you slide your cock into her entrance—painstakingly slow, slowly setting yourself on fire. Even the slightest flex and push against your shaft could break you in half. Holding your breath, every moment growing more tense as she envelops you in her suffocating warmth. It doesn’t help that her legs clench around your hips, binding you with her for good.

There’s only one way this could end.

“Oh fuck—” you groan, slamming your eyes shut as your cock buries deep in her sopping cunt. An echoed cry rips through the vast room, a fine blend between your voices. She feels so good, so tight, so invitingly hot. Finding some semblance of control proves to be a challenge as her pussy convulses around your cock. The look in her eyes when they flutter open, her jaw slack, her brows shifting, the moan escaping her lips—it’s better than anything your imagination can project.

You draw your hips back, against the constricting hold Tzuyu has on you—both physically and mentally. Her hands are all over you—gripped on your nape, on your skull, roaming your back. She’s holding on you so tight; she needs you more than oxygen right now. 

Slowly but surely, you push back in, pumping her cunt in deliberate, purpose filled strokes. She moans, reduced to merely a string of profanity-laced bursts. Pressing your temple against hers, you admire how undeniably pretty she looks, even when you have her pinned like this. It goes without saying that Tzuyu is an absolute beauty, a goddess made human, and how fortunate you are to sully and defile her. 

It’s the perfect sight for sore eyes, an idyllic escape from the fiery sensation in your stomach.

“So—so gorgeous, Tzu—” you mutter, leaving a chaste peck on the tip of her nose, your moans going back and forth, perfectly paced with your hips rocking against hers. You’ve never felt this uniform, this perfect together. “So fucking wet—and tight—”

She’s far too engrossed in pleasure to move, let alone say a word. You can feel the kick from her thighs, their coil around your waist, demanding more. Faster. Harder. Without the need to vocalize them. As comfortable as you are, your primal instincts are encouraging you, pushing you to take her the way she should be used. 

“I’m gonna fuck you hard now,” you tell her as courtesy, moving through with the deed regardless of her response. She nods. Whether it’s from the persistent quake of the bed or a voluntary act, it doesn’t matter. You’re only focused on drawing out the most ecstasy in fucking her.

The fuse has already been lit the moment you first entered her; you’re just accelerating the countdown.

“Yes—fucking—oh my fucking—” you groan, the piston of your hips moving quicker and quicker with each thrust. The way her pussy quivers and flexes around your cock is so devastating, it’s burning through your skin. Your mind is in utter disarray, unable to fully comprehend the tightness consuming you. It’s going to pull you further and further down without a way to escape. You can only drag Tzuyu down too.

You’re crushing her, smothering her in your desperate attempt to stay in control. She’s doing everything in her power to shatter you, and it’s messing you up. She continues to moan in broken, jumbled tones, pulling you close to her with each pump, meeting halfway in a rhythm that hits the spot. 

“Just like that—just like that—mm—” Tzuyu keens. How she can make even the littlest words sound so saccharine and sincere is beyond you. The way she takes your relentless pounding is a feat worth admiring. It’s the least of your concerns right now, especially when she continues to lead you further to your collapse. “Almost there—just keep fucking me.”

As if you had any other thought or option. That, or pulling down the strap of her skimpy crop top, exposing a breast, watching it ripple. 

Her hair tangled around your waist, you keep fucking away. Stopping is the last thing you’d ever want to do, especially since you’re close too. The friction between your skin and hers is growing too unbearable, and yet the satisfying ripple of flesh slapping flesh supersedes that. There’s nothing sinful in what you’re doing, only something right.

“Please baby—never stop—stretching me out like this—” she mewls, her nails digging deep into your back, tilting your face and leading you into a passionate kiss. “Cumming for you—oh shit—”

Tzuyu clenches, kissing into you harder as her body comes undone from head to toe. Every nerve, every muscle going limp as she cums. She moans directly into your skin, freezing, her legs and arms coiled around your body as a wave of her slick spills all around your hard cock, landing on the sheets.  

It’s the perfect time to get dragged by her wave of pleasure. You weren’t going to last any longer at this rate. “Tzu—” is the only thing that you manage to utter, before it completely falls apart. 

Against the last of your resolve, your grip gradually loosens. Straining your hips, you thrust forward a handful of times, each one more and more agonizing till you finally reach the boiling point. Your cock throbs violently as you pump deep in her pussy, even as her legs collapse on the bed, because anything else would be a disservice to her unspoken demand. You’re groaning raspily against her ear, holding onto her even though she can’t move. 

You fill her. Releasing every pent-up need and tension, your bodies go numb together. Her cunt squeezes every last drop of cum out of you. Tzuyu won’t settle for less. You’re repeating her name as your orgasm persists, the agony of blasting streak after streak seemingly unending. Your hips continue to fuck the cum deep into her pussy, gradually slowling by the second until you come to a full stop.

In the end, the only thing that remains are your labored breaths. 

You clamp down on her collarbone before your consciousness eventually drifts away. This is the position you end up in for the rest of the night: you slumped over Tzuyu, arms wrapped over each other, drenched in sweat and sex. 

At least she has the warmest blanket to cover her from the cold.

—————

As morning comes, you’ve spent more time inside Tzuyu than anywhere else—as it should be. 

“You sure you don’t wanna go anywhere?” she asks, showing you her phone with a picture of a hot spring, one of many in the country. “We could use it before going back.”

“I’m good,” you say, looking up at Tzuyu, her lithe figure leisurely bouncing on your lap, eliciting these soft, airy moans out of you between thrusts. You’ve been mindlessly admiring her perfect body, your hands roaming at her waist, to her chest, then her ass, finally back to her waist again. “Maybe if you want, just go yourself. I just wanna sleep.”

“Don’t be such a killjoy” she replies, tilting her head down to meet you eye-to-eye. “After what we’ve done, you just wanna sit back? You’re really a pervert, you know that?”

“Still calling me that? After I fucked your brains out?”

“Just because you fucked me so well doesn’t change anything before that, pervert.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you!”

Tzuyu places the phone on the end table before brushing your hair. She has this contemptuous look, her frustration bubbling to the surface. If she were any less patient, she could probably end you in an instant—

Except you both laugh, breaking the so-called tense silence.

“Yeah, I guess I’m also tired too,” she remarks, finding purchase of your face, then your chest. She stops grinding on you to lay on your head instead. “We could spend the whole day here, just ordering delivery. I wouldn’t mind.”

As entertaining of an idea as it sounds, the initial proposition gradually sinks in. You imagine the scene: a hot spring. Being one with nature. Some much needed relief for your muscles. More importantly, another excuse to see Tzuyu naked, even though she’s in nothing but a short robe right now. 

Better yet, there’s a shower you can take her in, but she’s worn you out to the point of hardly moving.

“Tzu?” you mumble, caressing her covered back, cuddling her.

“Yeah?”

“I changed my mind. Let’s go to the hot springs.”

Even without looking, you can feel her annoyance. You can already envision the scorn on her features. She realizes she has made a huge mistake. 

This is only the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

“You’re the worst boyfriend.”

“Worst? I thought we were just pretending.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you too.” 

—————

(A/N: Was thoroughly surprised Tzuyu was the third Twice member to get her solo! Came out of nowhere, fun little title track. Giving me early Sunmi/2nd gen vibes. Didn't really think much of her but the styling for the promos really caught me by the throat. Also shoutout to ddeun for writing and posting an earlier fic with a similar premise and concept as this one (OC x idol meeting the parents), especially as it features best girl Yena. Thank you for reading!)

[grimmusings]

Given the recent resurgence in purity culture and anti-villain sentiment on Tumblr, this feels like a good time to talk about censorship and bullying. This is not a call-out post for anything that's happened recently, just some commentary on what, to me, is a disturbing trend and some general guidelines for how to conduct yourself in fandom spaces.

Essentially, it boils down to this: You have the right to not interact with anything you choose in a fandom. You don't have the right to make that choice for anyone else.

Do you know why AO3 doesn't have content bans? It stems from anti-censorship beliefs and First Amendment rights, and it also comes from a long history of watching things like this go down in fandom. The thing about banning one kind of content--or that kind of mindset--is that it hardly ever stops with one thing, until fandoms are so scrubbed from anything that has the potential to be problematic that they collapse under any perceived threat to their rigid moral standards. If you doubt that, consider how it's taken less than a month for this to jump from Marvel to include other groups of villains and fandoms. Guaranteed, it will not stop there. (And that's to say nothing of how, historically, censorship leads to silencing marginalized groups, but that's a different post.) Conservatism is insidious and takes a lot of forms, but censorship is ultimately a conservative, even a fascist, action.

The fact is that what you enjoy reading or writing is actually no reflection on what kind of person you are. There's even an argument to be made that exploring darkness in fiction a) makes you a more empathetic human and, b) makes you better-equipped to handle those topics in real life (but that's another post too). I don't care what you want to write on your own blog. I don't care how controversial your muse or your ship is or if you write the darkest of dark fic out there. I may not want to write it, engage with it, or even see it on my dash, but I'll defend your right to write it.

Writing fascist characters (HYDRA, Empire, Death Eaters, etc.) doesn't make someone a Nazi any more than writing Hannibal Lecter makes them a cannibal or writing the Punisher makes them an advocate for gun violence. Saying they are breaks one of the primary tenets of roleplay: that mun does not equal muse. It's widely accepted in the roleplaying community that we don't agree with our characters' views, and we would never in a million years condone the things they do in real life. That rule doesn't go away just because you personally don't like the character.

So let's talk about what to do when you come across writing you don't agree with.

What you have a right to do: Feel however you feel about it. Ask for tags and readmores (they have a right to refuse). Decline to explain or justify why it makes you uncomfortable. Decide not to associate with people who write that thing. Blacklist. Unfollow. Block. Add to your DNI list. Vent about it in a safe space with your friends. Take a step back from the internet. Remember that the people on the other side of the screen are real, actual humans, while characters are imaginary. Embrace the fact that engaging in fiction is optional, and you can choose to stop any time you want. Trust that grown adults have the basic media literacy to understand the difference between reality and fiction. Remind yourself of the first rule of fandom, the one AO3 is built on (Don't like; don't read). Recognize that it's perfectly valid to not want to engage with something, but that expecting other people not to write it at all isn't your call to make and can lead down a dangerous path.

What you don't have a right to do: Bully or doxx other writers. Shame them for their choices when they don't agree with you. Demand explanations or justifications from them. Gaslight them into thinking nobody else will write with them if they continue to write this thing. (You don't speak for the entire fandom. You are a very small minority making a lot of noise.) Create call-out posts. Participate in witch hunts. Send anon hate or death threats. Make people feel unsafe in their own spaces. Police other people's content.

If you descend to bullying someone because you don't like what they're writing, you don't have the moral high ground. I can't believe it needs to be said, but real bullies are worse than fictional antagonists. Bullying and censorship are far more alarming threats than people who enjoy exploring dark topics in their writing. Nobody's asking you to like it, agree with it, or even look at it. And if you don't? Now is the perfect time to say nothing about it, block, and move on. Rest assured, we don't want you on our blogs any more than you want us on yours.

[marlynnofmany]

Best Suited to the Task

I entered the spaceship kitchen to a strange sight. Zhee had one of his exoskeletoned pincher arms stuck between the stovetop and the counter, fishing for something, while Eggskin stood out of the way. Probably so they didn’t get whacked by a stray bug leg while Zhee’s attention was elsewhere. Eggskin was also holding the divider thingy that usually covered that particular gap. Cleaning wipes sat on the stove. A half-prepared plate of Mesmer food sat on the counter.

“What’s happening?” I asked, though I was pretty sure I knew.

Zhee pulled back and clicked both pinchers in irritation. “The sauce bottle is terribly designed.”

Eggskin clarified, “It rolled.” They set down the divider and gave my long human arms a calculating look. “You might be able to reach it, if it fell where I think. A bit to the side. Out of reach of glorious blade-arms.”

Zhee muttered something disagreeable and stepped aside, cleaning one pincher with the other.

“Sure, I’ll give it a shot,” I said. A look into the dark crevice didn’t help, but once I turned on the stove light, I caught a glimpse of something red. “Is it a red bottle?”

“Yes,” Zhee hissed.

I rolled up my sleeve and went for it, confident in my monkey limbs and the ability to bend my wrist. I probably had a better sense of touch than Eggskin too, now that I thought about it. No scales. And Eggskin’s arms were far too small to even try reaching this far down.

But mine weren’t quite up to the task either. That gap was narrow, and while my arms weren’t bulky by anyone’s standards, I was getting stuck at the bicep area. I reluctantly took my arm back out. “No luck,” I admitted. Before either of them could be too disappointed, I opened the lowest drawer under the counter. “Maybe we can reach it from down here.”

“Those don’t come out all the way,” Eggskin said.

I’d just discovered the same thing. I tried reaching an arm in past it, elbowing the dishes, but that gap was even narrower. I wasn’t about to admit defeat. “What’s stopping it? This bar right here? I feel screws. I’ll bet I can take that off. Lemme get a screwdriver.” Closed the drawer and hopped to my feet. “I’ll be right back!”

While Zhee complained about bottle designers who should have made the thing square, and Eggskin went back to cleaning, I dashed off to borrow a screwdriver from Mimi.

I almost tripped over him in the hallway, since he wasn’t walking at full tentacle height. I managed to dance past him just in time. Eggskin’s medical bay may have been nearby and the medtech there top-notch, but stepping on the ship’s mechanic was really something I wanted to avoid.

“Sorry!” I said over his popping noise of surprise. “I was just going to look for you, actually. Got a screwdriver I can borrow real quick?”

“Why?” Mimi’s rough voice was curious. He was already looking into the room I’d left in such a hurry.

“I want to detach a bar so I can pull a drawer all the way out. Zhee lost something between the counter and the stove.”

“Oh, down there? Here, I’ll get it for you.”

I thought he meant the screwdriver, but he tentacle-walked into the kitchen. I followed. Zhee was already off to the side, poking at his unsauced food, but Eggskin made a point of giving Mimi space.

He wrapped tentacles around the drawer handles and climbed right up to the countertop. Then as I watched, he reached into the gap and kept going. In less time than it took for me to drop my jaw in amazement, he’d disappeared completely.

I thought back to stories I’d heard about Earth octopus escape artists, and their ability to fit through any space wider than their beaks. It really shouldn’t have been surprising that Strongarms could too, but here I was: surprised.

A pale green tentacle holding a red bottle was the first to emerge, followed by the rest of him. I closed my mouth while Mimi schlorped out of the crack and handed the bottle to Zhee like it was nothing.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you.”

Eggskin stepped forward with the clean divider while Mimi dropped to the floor. “Excellent. Let me put this back on, and we won’t have to worry about that until the next deep cleaning session.”

“Got any wet-wipes?” Mimi asked, rubbing a tentacle over his head. “It’s dusty back there.”

“These are the chemical ones,” Eggskin said of the pack on the stove. “You don’t want those. I haven’t found the regular kind yet; I think someone misplaced them.”

“Oh! It’s up there!” From where I stood, I could see a similar pack on top of the cabinets, well above most of the crew’s head height. And if I stood on my tip-toes, I could just barely reach it. “Are these the ones?” I presented the pack triumphantly.

“Yes!” Eggskin said. “Why in the wormholes were they up there?”

As Mimi took them with a murmur of thanks, Zhee said, “I suspect Trrili. It could have been intentional or accidental, but she does prefer those for maintaining her shine.”

That made sense. Trrili’s exoskeleton was even glossier than Zhee’s, though I would never say so where either of them could hear me. And she could reach up there pretty easily.

But she wasn’t here to save the day in a minor way now, so I’d take what I could get. With everyone settled into their own tasks — Mimi cleaning his tentacles, Zhee eating a bowl of meat mash, and Eggskin wiping down the stove — I was free to get my own snack, which was what I’d come here for in the first place.

I think I’ll go for some string cheese. The conversation about that last time was pretty entertaining. You never know who’ll find something appealing when they think it’s a dense worm colony, but revolting when they find out it’s processed milk.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[commsroom]

OK I need you to point me to the nearest entry point into this fandom. I don’t know what this is, but you popped up on my dash.. and I need to know what this is. Please lead the way.

oh!! that's exciting. yes. okay!! wolf 359 is a science fiction audio drama about the isolated and questionably competent crew of a deep space research station, the u.s.s. hephaestus. the initial four characters are comms officer doug eiffel, 'everyman' pop culture guy who really, really hates his job; commander minkowski, who cares about her job and the rulebooks that come with it a little too much, and desperately wants to feel like she's keeping everything under control; dr. hilbert... eccentric? station medical officer and mad scientist whose methods and mission objectives are not entirely above board; and hera, the station's mother program, who struggles with her job and the ways she's perceived by others.

there are other characters who show up later - i would say only three of the above characters are "main" characters, while the actual fourth main character is introduced in s2 - but that requires way more context, and i don't want to get into spoilers, obviously.

wolf 359 is a character drama - it's my personal gold standard for character writing - and the brief descriptions i gave you are the most surface, surface level parts of them. the writers once said something about it, like... that they weren't interested in subverting typical sci-fi character archetypes so much as looking at them and asking "why would a real person behave that way?" and i think it really worked. whether i like them or not, they all feel like real people to me. it has great sound design and a lot of "physicality" in the performances for an audio-only show, which i think comes down to gabriel urbina's film background and the way the scripts are written and performed. (and alan rodi's incredible soundtrack and sense for music cues.) you can't see a lot of what's in the scripts, but they're acted out in a way that you can kinda feel it anyway. i love that.

here's a fan made trailer that i think captures a lot of the right energy. it's a show about a lot of things, but some of the primary themes are communication + music, and i think the collaborative nature of the show itself adds something very sincere to that. it's also about corporate and medical exploitation, resisting dehumanization, what makes us human, connection, identity and autonomy, guilt and accountability, the stories people tell themselves to justify who they are or what they feel it's necessary for them to do, and, of course, the enduring philosophical question: "what's wrong with handcuffs?"

you can check it out at the website i linked above, or anywhere you can listen to podcast feeds! it's free, but they added ads a few years ago, which i hate, so you can pay a dollar here for the ad-free feed if that'll make a big difference in your ability to enjoy it: https://www.patreon.com/Wolf359Radio

it's a sequential story, nothing you really need to know about listening order except that i recommend not skipping the mini episodes (they have important character context and are where they are in the feed for a reason) (with the exception of mission mishaps ones near the end; those are comedy bonus episodes you can listen to whenever) and that you should definitely watch the live show after ep 26 and listen to special episode change of mind between s3 and s4.

i also have a folder here of every recording script where i edited any parts that were different from the show's dialogue + added transcripts for the ones that didn't have available recording scripts, if that's something you'd find useful! i also recommend checking them out just to see what i mean about how they're written.

the first season is pretty short, so i'd say stick with it until at least episode 12/13 (two part finale) if you can - i love the first season, personally, but that's the point it really becomes serialized, and so that's where i think you can safely say if it's something that's going to capture your interest or not. ... and that's it! sorry this is kind of an essay, but i got excited about it. i hope you love the show, please keep me updated, and let me know if there's anything else!!

[timekeepers-memoir]

look at the stars (look how they shine for you)

crossposted on my ao3

Neo wasn't used to affection.

He did spent half his life in a war, so who could blame him? Years and years with hands curled around a sword and blood on his hands and the sound of children's screams and the only feeling he's ever known being the adrenaline of a fight really did do lots to his emotional intelligence. Which meant, he barely knew how to love someone, or care for someone, or show, you know, actual affection beyond flirting by exchanging body parts and sending courting gifts in the form of half-dismembered bodies.

And Tele wasn't any better. Most of his sexual education were men talking about how hot his mother was or what they'd do to her if they had the chance. Luckily, he still had some base knowledge of romance by watching his mother write poems of longing to his father, and he knew how to caress and worship someone's body by watching his parents do the same, gently, intimately. Little forehead kisses. Tilts of the jaw. It didn't even need to be inherently sexual.

But Neo had never, ever experienced anything remotely like what Tele usually describes as 'affection.'

So when Tele invited him for a stargazing trip, he was undeniably shocked. Stargazing? Like teenagers? They were married, it wasn't much needed. Love wasn't anything more than a courting gift and a marriage, according to Neo's standards. And by standards, he meant a bar that was practically in hell.

But Tele had grabbed his hand and left him no chance of denying his offer.

His bunny dragged him through the halls of clean, polished marble, grinning from ear to ear. It was honestly pretty cute, if he wasn't forcing him to sit down on cold grass and endure the freezing breeze.

The gardens were beautiful, no doubt. Grass neatly trimmed were sparkling with dew, while vines of clematis and morning glories climbed the bright marble pillars. Roses, bluebells and dandelions bloomed en masse at the foot of statues, glimmering ever-so-slightly in the moonlight. Tele, with one hand holding a torch, lead him to a little cabin, nestled between fields of daffodils and vases of irises.

They sat down on the stairs leading to a wide-open mahogany odor. The cabin itself wasn't too big, just enough space for two beds and a shelf. The floor wasn't too cold for his liking, but Tele was surely struggling to keep himself warm. Neo wrapped an arm around his lover, causing the other to giggle and blow out his torch.

His bunny pointed to the sky. It was dark, but not too dark, dark enough so they could see the stars, little dots of white sparkled across the sky of purple, blue and pink. It was stunning, he admitted. But it didn't satisfy his curiosity of why Tele brought him here. And the best thing to do was ask.

"Why now?" he started, turning to his husband, who was looking at the stars, "why did you bring me here on this specific day?"

Tele was snapped out of focus, slightly disoriented, before smiling at Neo, "well, you'll see soon enough. I promise it'll be beautiful."

Neo sighed. Never giving him a clear-cut answer, always making him see for himself. That was his bunny, who he fell in love with. He directed his gaze to the stars, before finally realizing what his husband meant.

Dots of white flew across the sky. More accurately, sparkling stars with a bright white tail, dashed across a canvas of colors, making the sky into a light show. Ah. So this was why. Meteor showers. Tele had always told Neo about the meteor showers, but he never saw one for himself. He guessed this was a good chance to see one, with his beloved bunny.

"Hey, make a wish!" Tele nudged him, smiling. They both closed their eyes. Tele had his hands clasped before his chest, while Neo just sat casually.

What did he want to wish for? Power? Immortality? Honor? To die in battle heroically like so many others? To be praised and loved by all? To be remembered by future generations?

No, his wish was very, very simple. To live a happy, fulfilling life with his bunny.

When he opened his eyes, Tele's eyes weren't open yet, but his husband's head was neatly laid on his shoulder, resting. He assumed in the time it took him to think of a wish, his love had fallen asleep already.

Well, if that was the case, he'd just sleep here tonight.

Threading his fingers through Tele's hair, he closed his eyes, and drifted to sleep, with the ground as his bed, the moon as his light and the sky as his ceiling.

[sashaisready]

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 8 - Born with a weak heart

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Just smut! a smidge of reader insecurity

I'm back! Onto the smut. I'm sure this new arrangement won't come back to bite anyone in the ass...

(gif doesn't represent how reader looks)

The make-out session continued, at some point Bucky even managed to unhook your bra without you noticing until your straps began falling down your shoulders.

You gave him a little teasing smack on the chest as you continued to kiss him. “Bad boy,” you whispered as you struck him lightly.

“You know full well saying stuff like that is only going to encourage me,” he grinned devilishly as he pulled you into him and deepened the kiss.

“Friends don’t do this…” you protested futilely as he began to kiss the column of your neck.

“I dunno…this feels pretty friendly to me,” he chuckled as you could practically feel his wicked smile against your skin.

Every red flag was waving, every warning deep in your gut was screaming at you, but you were unable to stop. He was like a drug, and you couldn’t resist coming back for another hit. You told yourself it would be fine…after all, this was the perfect solution, right? No attachments…no drama…just a little fun while you were in town. That’s all.

Right?

As your inner monologue spiralled and you tried to (unconvincingly) assure yourself you had everything in hand, Bucky surprised you by picking you and raising you above him. You squawked at the sudden change of pace as he manoeuvred himself out of the passenger seat and into the driver’s, placing you down in the passenger seat where he’d been. He grabbed the keys and nonchalantly tossed them from one hand to the other, then started the engine.

“Bucky…what the f-,” you scoffed in disbelief.

“Taking you to my place,” he replied cutting you off as he began reversing out of the lot, his hand pressed against your headrest as he looked over his shoulder.

“Excuse me??” you replied shrilly.

“What? We can go to your place if you like…just figured it might be weird as it’s your grandma’s and all”.

“Very presumptuous to assume I want to go back to either,” you jibed.

He shrugged as he pulled out onto the road. “Do you not…?”

“…I mean I do. Yeah. But I don’t like you assuming,” you admitted stubbornly. “…And I didn’t give you permission to drive Sally”.

“I’m a very careful driver. And Sally is fine with it, aren’t you girl?” he cooed as he patted the dash.

You looked over at him from and could see he was grinning. Like the cat who got the damn cream.

“Fine,” you sighed, admitting defeat. “But your place better be nice. I have standards, you know”.

“Of course, Sugar. Don’t you worry, you’ll get the full VIP treatment. Guest of honour”.

*

Twenty minutes later you found yourself on Bucky’s bed, your shirt buttons undone and your jeans half off.

It had all happened so fast.

He had driven you back to his place (in your car) and practically ripped you through the front door. Turns out he had an apartment above the auto shop the MC owned. It was…surprisingly nice. You had expected half empty beer bottles and motorcycle grease…but it was…neat. Monochromatic furnishings and stripped back wooden floors. Nicely framed bike prints adorned the walls. As long as you didn’t think about how many girls had likely crossed that same threshold…it was pleasant.

“Don’t look so surprised, Sug,” he had ribbed as you took in the space. “I’m not some frat boy. I take care of my things”.

“Is that so?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow as his hand found your lower back.

“Oh yes,” he purred as he pulled you into him. “I’m very much a man, not a boy”.

“Big boy, huh?” you giggled as that dangerous mouth of his moved to your ear.

“You’ll find out…”

And then your earlobe was between his teeth, and suddenly you were both on his bed and both his and your jeans had been unzipped. And you knew it would all come back to bite you hard in the ass - but you were unable to swim against the current, so you just let yourself drift with the stream.

He yanked at your top, pulling it over your head and discarding it onto the floor. Your bra quickly followed suit and he took a second to admire your now revealed breasts, looking at them with a degree of awe as you felt your face flush at the intensity of his attention. You instinctively went to cover them with your hands, not used to being looked at like that, but he frowned and ripped your fingers away as if you’d greatly insulted him. He took one of your breasts in his mouth and gently the caressed the other with his hand, and you laid back and mewed as his tongue danced along the bud of your nipple.

“Beautiful,” he muttered as he kissed you on the mouth once more.

As the two of you kissed you tugged on his t-shirt, signalling that you wanted it off. He enthusiastically obliged and you helped him pull it over his head. You nearly gasped at the sight of his bare chest, taut and wide and impossibly sculpted. An MC tattoo adorned one of his pecs. He watched your face carefully as you soon found the scar tissue where flesh met metal, a stark reminder of his trauma and his past. You thought you saw a moment of anxiety in his otherwise ravenous eyes. Unflinchingly, you ran your fingers over the still-angry red welts where they jarringly swam into metal. You tenderly kissed the scars and across the cool steel and turned your face back to his.

“So are you”.

That glimpse of apprehension in his eyes or whatever it was suddenly disappeared forever. He smiled, and suddenly he was the same cocky Bucky he always was. He pulled you back down to the mattress and you revelled in the sensation of his warm skin against yours as your breasts pressed against his chest. He shimmied your jeans off and peppered your thighs with butterfly kisses as you wriggled and pushed against the sheets.

“You still good?” he asked inquisitively as his fingers wrapped around the sides of your underwear. You looked up at him and nodded eagerly with your consent, causing him to grin and pull the fabric down past your ankles – carelessly throwing into the pile of everything else he’d removed from you.

You didn’t have much time to react before he buried his face between your legs and unleashed his tongue. You squeaked and writhed at the sensation, instinctively pulling back, but he merely tightened his hold on your thighs and pulled you closer against him. You were unable to contain the embarrassing squeal you let out when he found your clit, circling his fingertip in your essence and exploring every part of you. He slowly added a finger inside of you and sent you dizzy. As he lapped at you greedily, you threw yourself back against the pillows and closed your eyes. Your hands fisted the sheets as you bit your lip, everything going a bit fuzzy as your muscles started to slacken and sag one by one. You realised you were making whimpering noises, but they seemed far away – as if in a different room.

You felt yourself near closer and closer to the precipice as he began to vary the pressure and speed, humming triumphantly as he took you apart. Bastard. He was enjoying this. If you had the strength to look up, you knew you’d see him thrilled to reduce you to a gibbering wreck.

He added a second finger and that seemed to erase any final coherence you held. Your climax hit you fast and you cried out as your head rocked against the pillows, pitifully gyrating against his hand as you bathed in the warmth of the sensation. He quickly moved his face away from between your legs as he continued to work you over with his fingers, unable to resist enjoying your orgasm along with you as he aligned his hips with yours and pressed himself into you – his jeans still halfway down his thighs. Through your haze you felt the outline of him through his boxers, sending an urgent siren into the lizard part of your brain, you needed this man badly. He was all you needed. He kissed you sloppily, the sheer lewdness of your climax still dusted across his lips causing another aftershock as everything stilled and slowed.

Panting vigorously, you sat up, but he gently pulled you back down.

“Easy, tiger,” he grinned as he pulled you against him, “no sudden movements”.

You rolled your eyes but were quietly grateful for the reprieve. “Oh hush,” you chided, “let’s dial the ego down a little…”

He smirked and kissed your cheek, holding you in his arms and pulling you flush against him as you laid together. The two of you were still, serene, and for a moment you weren’t just two ‘friends’ unable to deny your physical chemistry. No, this felt intimate. Close. You traced a finger down the side of his face, carefully exploring his features, his freckles, his scars. Memorising it all as if you’d need it for later. He watched you intently and did the same to you, the stark frigidity of his metal digit a contrast to your flushed skin. Nothing was spoken, but nothing needed to be.

You found yourself lost in those cerulean eyes of his. It was almost…soothing. You weren’t thinking about Granny, or the house, or your grief. You weren’t agonising about where you stood with Bucky or what you ‘were’ together. You weren’t preparing your next quip or jibe for him. You were just existing quietly. It had been so long since the buzzing noise in your head was quiet. You’d almost forgotten what it felt like to feel peace.

It seemed to happen both quickly and slowly at the same time. He moved on top of you as he continued to smother you with kisses, no inch of your body untouched. Suddenly he was between your thighs, his jeans discarded. You moved to place your hand inside his boxers, but he caught it and gruffly whispered, “another time,” as he moved your hand back down, “I can’t wait any longer” he told you with urgency. He parted your thighs and then he was between them as he rustled his underwear off, he gave you another deep kiss as he gradually pushed himself inside. You gasped at the feel of him, his size and his fullness a shock (despite your suspicions…) He held you tightly but moved gently, muttering whispers of praise and admiration for you as he sheathed himself entirely inside you. You’re beautiful. You’re perfect. You look like an angel like this.

His nose met yours and he scrutinised your face carefully to ensure you were on board. Then he began to thrust…slowly at first but building his strokes up to a faster tempo as you bucked your hips in time with his. You gasped and sighed and moaned as he moved, and he greedily devoured each sound you made as he shared his own with you in return. It became more frantic, hands tangled in hair, fingernails scraped down backs, saliva glistening on skin. You shifted and turned him, moving so that you were in his lap while he was still seated inside. He smirked at your initiative and his hands gripped your waist. One hot, one cold. You began to bounce, building and building as you huffed and mewled. He aided the rhythm by moving your waist in time to your tempo, but let you set the pace and conduct. It all felt so good. So right. You were on fire but in the best possible way. You didn’t care how your body might look, if you might be sweating or what kind of noises or facial expressions you might be making. Nothing mattered except how it felt and being in this moment with him.

You came hard, digging your fingers almost brutally into his shoulders as you closed your eyes and let out a low moan. He joined you, his forehead against your chin as he groaned against your neck. His hips stuttered as you felt the warmth of his release fill you, vulgar but so desperately needed.

You both stayed as you were for a moment, regaining your bearings and letting your heavy breaths plateau. He tilted your head with his finger and gave you a kiss so tender and chaste you could almost forget you were dripping with his spend. He looked up at you and smiled.

“I’m glad I hired you…”

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: We have the means……

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)  

YesterdayShow less

“What do you mean you will not let us land?”

From the confines of his captain’s quarters the bridge crew could not hear the anger radiating from Captain Hazel Abbot. Projected opposite him was the current source of his ire, Sevren Dayton. He was captain of the Verung patrol ship currently blocking his relief vessel from landing on Tevren VI and delivering critically needed medical supplies.

“The native population of Tevren VI has been designated a technologically inferior species and therefore any intervention from space faring species prohibited.”

Dayton spoke as if he was quoting a rulebook word for word which only further infuriated Abbot.

“The Terran Republic does not recognize the standards of the Verung,” Abbot began politely, “and since we are not in Verung territory I must inform you that you have no authority here.”

Dayton’s eye twitched for the briefest of moments but Abbot knew he had struck a nerve. If there was one thing Verung hated it was when other species bowed down to them like they were the third coming of space jesus.

“Under article three section four dash one one seven nine of the Treaty of Nibhishein, the Terran Republic agreed to defer to the Verung in disputed territories.”

Abbot pulled open his data terminal and entered in the mentioned treaty. His eyes darted across the scrolling text before frowning. “The treaty you reference is a trade treaty signed after the Verung War.”

“I believe you mean the “War of Terran Compliance”.” Dayton corrected, but Abbot would not be baited.

“Regardless this matter is excluded from the confines of the treaty as no matter of trade or military aspect is at play.”

Dayton refused to give ground however. “By handing over medical supplies you are instigating the basis for trade; therefore your actions here are covered under the treaty.”

Abbot threw his hands in the air and rose from his chair with such frustration that he knocked over several documents, scattering them to the floor in a blizzard of paper.

“There is no trade here. If they do not get these medical supplies the people of Tevren VI will die within a year.” Abbot’s voice was stern as the boundaries of his patience were fast approaching. “We cannot sit back and let that happen.”

“That is exactly what will happen.”

The measured tone of Dayton’s voice silenced Captain Abbot if only by the disbelief of what he had just heard. Dayton continued further to Abbot’s horror.

“If you were to save these people as you so wish you would be altering their natural evolution. We of higher technological standings cannot play gods, judging who lives and who dies.”

“Do you not hear yourself!?”

Abbot’s rage could no longer be contained over the sheer stupidity of Dayton’s logic.

“You would have us sit by and watch as millions of living breathing people die horribly?!”

Dayton looked into the holographic projector with disgust written all over his face. “It is the will of the universe.”

Abbot looked at the Verung captain dumbfounded. He slouched back into his chair and hung his head between his hands. He could hear the fizzle of the projector unit still active but didn’t care to face Dayton as his mind raced.

“Will you stand down?”

Abbot looked up at Dayton still on the projector and straightened himself up. He pressed the creases from his uniform and wove his hair back into shape before addressing the com unit built into the projector unit.

“Helmsman,” he began as Dayton’s face looked smug, “begin landing procedures as planned.”

“What do you think you are-“ Dayton began but Abbot was not finished.

“Master at arms, if the Verung attempt to block our descent into atmosphere and pose a threat to this vessel you have permission to open fire.”

Dayton’s expression went from shock to outrage as the master at arms acknowledged. Captain Abbot now fixed the Verung with a deathless stare as he clasped his hands together.

“I thank you for your perspective but we have a people to save. If you attempt to halt us again we will consider it an act of aggression and respond appropriately as you have just heard.”

“My government will be informed of this.” Dayton remarked through clenched teeth.

“Good.” Abbot replied. “Then let them know that one does not need to play god to do the right thing.”

[tayraedoll]

Ma Meilleure Ennemie

Chapter 2- Champagne and Chocolate

Series Masterlist

You finally make it to Japan, but things don't go according to plan.

TW: Swearing

You could now say you knew EXACTLY how the McCallister’s felt rushing through O’Hare to catch their flight. Leo had emailed you the boarding pass- which Kaiba Corp had somehow already updated to your name. There was also a lengthy contract for you to read and sign while on the 13-hour flight to Japan. The email had assured you that everything was taken care of- all you had to do was get your ass on that plane before it took off.

You made it to your gate with five minutes to spare. You were so grateful that you were going overseas for a job and not to see a lover in a 90-day fiance situation because you had no doubt that you looked atrocious from your airport sprint.

The flight attendant greeted you with a warm smile and asked if she could show you to your seat. You hadn’t even had time to look at your assigned seat while making your mad dash for the gate so you were grateful for her help. When you realized she was leading you to the front of the plane your heart nearly stopped- surely this was a mistake!

There was no mistake- you looked between your ticket and the label above the seat you were currently in no less than ten times just to make sure. You were in FIRST FUCKING CLASS. Damn, Kaiba Corp really does spare no expense! You look around at the grandiose first-class cabin, debating on if you could pull out your phone to take a quick video to remember this moment. Would that alert the others to the homely imposter among them? Would they kick you out if they caught you? Fuck it, you had to at least thank Leo for this opportunity, so you took your phone out and tried to be subtle as you did a quick sweep of your surroundings. 

You sat in a single seat that could fully convert into a bed. There was a privacy wall that separated your space from the aisle, creating a cozy little cocoon for you. A rather large- by airplane standards anyways- television was mounted to the wall in front of you. Poking around on the TV, you found you had free WiFi and an all-encompassing library of movies and shows to choose from. But the best part? You had TWO windows!

Looking towards the front of the plane, there was a private bar shaped like a U with another attendant already busying himself making drinks. Beyond the bar were the first-class bathrooms. Would the bathrooms be as nice as the cabin? You couldn’t wait to find out!

After take-off, just as you were settling in and deciding what movie to entertain yourself with, the man you saw behind the bar leaned around the doorway to your cubby, “Mimosa ma’am?” Oh fuck yea, you could get used to this! You smiled at him and eagerly accepted the drink.

Before you let yourself get too comfortable, however, you had work to do. With a resigned sigh, you pulled out your phone and began to comb through the 15-page contract that you had to sign to work for Kaiba Corp. Most of it was pretty standard- you had to submit to a background check, take a drug test, and verify that all your information was correct lest the contract be null and void. However, there were some things that seemed a bit ludicrous to you- like the stupidly strict dress code (did Kaiba think he was running a monastery?) and the whole ‘the CEO has the final say in all matters’ clause. With a huff, you screenshot that part and type out a message to Leo to send once you land:

Didn’t realize I was selling my soul! I hope my hastily-packed wardrobe will please Dictator Kaiba!

After signing your life away where prompted, you sent the contract back to Kaiba Corp. With that out of the way, you were able to finally relax and enjoy the pleasures of the elite class. Stretching out like a queen, you lounged across your makeshift bed and put your earbuds in, drifting off to your favorite comedy. 

“Ladies and gentleman, this is your pilot speaking. We will now begin our descent into Domino City. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts as we will be landing shortly.”

Your face was glued to the window nearest you. Your stomach was full of butterflies as you watched Domino City get closer and closer; this was really happening, you were actually in Japan for the Battle CIty Reunion! As if reading your thoughts, Kaiba Corporation came into view- the tower’s presence looming over the rest of the city like a damn palace. You never thought you would ever get to see it in person, and here you were about to work for it.

After landing, you shot off your message to Leo and went through an endless barrage of texts and missed calls from your friends and coworkers who were curious about your sudden departure from the States. You noticed that there was one person who left your message notifying him of your job in Japan on read- but there was no time to dwell on that right now. You also had an angry voicemail from Nathen basically saying if you messed this up you’d be fired. Honestly, he’ll probably fire you for taking this job without his permission once you returned to Chicago anyways so you might as well enjoy this while you can.

Getting through customs was a rather smooth process…but that is where things started to get rocky. Once you left the secure section to obtain your luggage, you were greeted by a man in a suit with sunglasses- seriously? another person wearing sunglasses indoors?!- with his hands clasped in front of him. Upon setting his sights on you, he quickly crossed the room to stand in front of you, “Miss L/N?”

“Uh yea, that’s me”, you squeak nervously.

“My name is Isono, I’m with Kaiba Corp. I need you to come with me. I assure you it’s all standard procedure; since you were hired at the last minute, you never took part in our interview process.”

Wait- did this man just say he was Isono?! As in Kaiba’s right-hand man? Shit, you hadn’t even started this job and you were already fucked!

“Oh umm, of course. Let me just grab my bag real quick”, you turn to the carousel, but before you can grab your bag, Isono snatches it and begins walking towards the exit. You follow quickly behind him, stopping at the limo parked out front. He places your bag in the trunk before opening the door and gesturing for you to get in. To your relief, it was just the two of you inside.

“Mr. Kaiba conducted all these interviews himself. However, he is busy preparing for the Battle City Reunion at this time so I will be conducting yours on his behalf”, Isono explained. He removed a copy of your contract from a silver briefcase and began looking it over. “How many years have you been duelcasting?”

“...none Sir”, you looked out the window as his eyes snapped back to you. 

“Apologies Miss, but how many years did you say?”

You slowly turn your head to look at him again, “I’ve never Duelcasted before sir.”

“The Battle City Reunion…will be your first time?”, he asked incredulously.

You nod, “Yes Sir, it will be. Look, I may not be the most experienced person for the job, but I am the best person for the job. I have worked my ass off to get here. I have spent YEARS working in a dead-end reporting job that was only a dead end because of the fucking PRICK that put me there. My career stagnated before it even had the chance to grow. And now that I FINALLY made it, now that I FINALLY got my chance, I am not going to let another pretentious asshole rip it away because of his failure to see my potential!” 

Isono was silent for what felt like an eternity, just staring at you from behind his sunglasses. You were starting to sweat, if you weren’t fucked before you DEFINITELY were now. Did you seriously just call Kaiba a pretentious asshole to his most trusted employee?!

The limo suddenly came to a stop. This was it, you were about to be fired, thrown out, and sent back to Chicago before your first official day as a duelcaster. 

“Your hotel Miss”, Isono said as he opened the door for you. Glancing outside quickly, you saw you were parked outside a rather bodacious hotel. You turned back to Isono with a questioning look. “I will let Mr. Kaiba know that his tournament is in good hands. Here is the itinerary for the tournament- there is a debriefing meeting being held at Kaiba Corp tonight and a ceremonial kick-off dinner to attend tomorrow evening.” He gestured for you to get out of the limo after handing you the documents, the driver had already taken your luggage out of the trunk. Once you were out, he called your name, making you turn back to him, “Good luck”, he smiled at you before closing the door as the limo took off again.

You watched the limo drive away until it was out of sight, letting out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding as it disappeared from view. Well, you weren’t fired so that had to count for something. Turning back to the hotel, you slowly made your way through the revolving doors.

The lobby was all muted tones and low lighting. Soft music that you would normally find in a spa was playing over unseen speakers, blending with the gentle sound of the freakin waterfall in the middle of the building. Curiously, you walked over to the water feature- yup, there were Koi in the small pool beneath the waterfall. Assorted sculptures you were sure cost more than your rent adorned various tables, the whole place looked more like an upscale gallery than a hotel lobby. If this was where all the duelcasters were staying, just how much money did Kaiba Corp spend on this duel tournament? You shuddered at the thought.

Thankfully, checking in was no different than any other hotel you had ever been in and you found your room rather quickly. The room was decorated the same way as the lobby sans water feature and fish. The main feature was definitely the massive bed in the middle of the room, sinking into it felt like laying on a cloud. Opening the blinds, the Kaiba Corp tower stood front and center on the skyline. 

As you were admiring the view, your phone started to ring- Leo- he must’ve gotten tired of waiting for you to call him.

“Hey!”, you answered cheerfully.

“Oh good, so you weren’t abducted! I was starting to wonder…”, he didn’t hide the frost in his voice.

“Yea, sorry about the wait. I was going to call you after hailing a cab to take me to the hotel but…”, you pause, “uhh, so something weird happened at the airport.” 

“What weird thing?”, the ice melted, giving way to concern.

“So you know Kaiba’s main bodyguard Isono? He sort of picked me up from the airport in a limo and drove me to the hotel. He said it was because he needed to conduct my interview, but he only asked me how long I have been duelcasting. He seemed pretty surprised when I told him I’ve never actually duelcasted before. And ummm… I sort of called Kaiba a pretentious asshole to Isono’s face”, you bit your lip and winced as you confessed to your tirade in the limo.

Leo was silent for a long moment before he erupted in unabashed laughter. You grimaced, “Thanks Leo, this is certainly making me feel much better about the situation”, you deadpan into your phone.

“I’m sorry! I’m just imagining Kaiba’s face when Isono tells him how your interview went!” Leo continues to snicker as you groan. “Girl, you are lucky it was Isono who picked you up because I am sure Kaiba would have had your head on a platter. Listen, Kaiba hired duelcasters from every major dueling network in the world. You will be working with the best of the best in the industry, and sadly, you are at a disadvantage due to your lack of experience. You need to be on your A-game; you need to go out there and show not only Kaiba, but the entire damned world why you deserve to be at the Battle City Reunion. I know you can do this! You just can’t let anyone- ESPECIALLY a certain hot-headed CEO- in your head, got it? Nathen can’t do anything to tarnish your career over there, everything is now entirely in your hands.”

You nod, he was right, you had to relax and not let anyone get under your skin. This was your big break and you had to own it like the boss bitch you were. “There’s a debriefing meeting tonight, that’ll give me a chance to scope out who the other duelcasters are. There’s also a dinner tomorrow night to officially begin the festivities.”

“Perfect, both are great opportunities to network. Make sure you talk to as many people as you can- duelcasters, duelists, and Kaiba Corp employees alike. Now isn’t the time to play safe on the sidelines- you’ve done that enough- now is the time to take center stage. Make an impression, make them remember you.”

You looked your reflection over in the mirror for the hundredth time, checking to make sure there was not a hair out of place. Taking Leo’s words to heart, you were aiming to make a statement tonight. Your dress was burgundy red, with a black lace bodice and black trim around the hem. It was a high-low style, not exactly in Kaiba’s ridiculous dress code, but the front of the skirt did meet the length requirements so you weren’t outrightly breaking the rules either. You paired it with your sexiest pair of black heals. For your make-up, you went with a blend of natural and bold, lining your eyes a little heavier to make them pop and using dark red lipstick. 

Finally satisfied with yourself, you grabbed your bag containing your laptop, a notebook, and all your office supplies and made your way out to the cab you had called to take you to Kaiba Corp. The butterflies had returned to your stomach, you could hardly contain your excitement at finally seeing the building you had Googled so many times with your own two eyes. 

Stepping out onto the curb in front of the tower was surreal, you couldn’t help but admire the entire picture- the way the building seemed to climb up forever into the sky and how the two Blue Eyes White Dragon statues on the front lawn acted as a kind of guardian to the fortress. Sure, it was a little ostentatious, but when a company had the reputation that Kaiba Corp had nothing was too grande or over-the-top.

You quickly affixed your badge around your neck as you walked into the lobby and up to the front desk. After showing the woman behind the counter your badge, she directed you to the elevators and told you to go to the 15th floor meeting room. It was half-full by the time you got there, which gave you the perfect opportunity to observe how everyone interacted with each other. You took a seat towards the middle of the long, wooden table; looking around, you immediately noticed two things about the people surrounding you- they were all buried deep in their own laptops and they were all dressed in black business suits regardless of their gender. That means you were the only one in red and in a dress- it seems no one else shared your passion for sabotaging Kaiba’s dress code. Feeling a bit self-conscious, you take your laptop out and try to look busy- what the hell was everyone working on anyways?

The closer the meeting time got, the more people who filtered in, the more you thought you must have missed some memo about business suits and laptops. The room was now filled save for 3 seats at the head of the table. At exactly one minute before the meeting was to begin, the final three attendees finally walked through the door. 

Isono walked in first, dressed in the same suit and sunglasses he had worn earlier in the day, and sat to the right of the table head. A man with dark hair and purple-grey eyes, wearing a lavender suit walked in next- Mokuba Kaiba. The younger of the Kaiba brothers, known for being bubbly and outgoing, flashed the meeting attendees a wide smile before taking a seat to the left side of the head.

The room stilled, as if the world around you had just held its breath, as the last but most important member of the group walked into the room- the infamous Seto Kaiba himself. He wore a royal blue shirt under a dark grey suit, paired with a navy blue tie. His brunet hair was styled impeccably, the sideburns just starting to be peppered with hints of grey. Fucking hell- he was the hottest man you had ever seen. You had seen pictures, maybe had a few magazine cutouts of him from your teenage years, but you hadn’t kept up with news of him recently as you focused on your career. Nothing prepared you for seeing Kaiba in real life- he was the epitome of a DILF even though you were sure he did not have kids.

Kaiba took his seat at the head of the table and stared coldly out at the congregation, his cobalt eyes cutting through the tense atmosphere like a knife. You weren’t sure if you wanted to shrink back in your chair and hide from his gaze or lean in to get a better look. After a heavy moment of silence, Kaiba finally spoke with a voice as rich and deep as honeyed whiskey, “Welcome to the Battle City Reunion. You are all here because you are the best in your respective fields. Do not disappoint me.”

Well, good to know his reputation was honestly earned.

The CEO shifted over to Isono, “I trust that everything is in order”, it was a statement that left no room for any other possibility.

“Yes Sir,” Isono began, “We did have one minor change- the representative from Duelist America.” Before Isono was even finished speaking, Kaiba’s head whipped up to scan the crowd. When his eyes landed on you, all the air left your lungs as if you were punched in the gut. His eyes narrowed and a scowl formed on his face as he looked you over, his facial expression making it clear you failed to meet his expectations. On the inside, you wanted to scream, cry, and run out the door and never look back. But you couldn’t do that- remember what you said to Isono earlier? You were not going to let this jerk under your skin, you would show him you belonged here just like everyone else.

So you squared your shoulders and smiled brightly back into his stupidly handsome but unhappy face.

If Kaiba was surprised by your display of courage he did not show it, deciding to move on with the presentation and looking down at his laptop. He never spared you another glance, not even when your dulecasting partner was announced. You’d be working directly with Kaiba Corp’s own duelcaster Emi- and you would be the first ever all-female duelcasting team. As if this entire venture wasn’t stressful enough, now, you just had to make history too. Go you.

Finally, after nearly two hours, Isono wrapped up the debriefing and the Kaiba’s were out the door before you could even get out of your chair. As you were putting your things back into your bag, a woman with a stylish bob of raven hair approached you. “You must be Emi”, you smiled and stuck your hand out to shake, “it’s nice-”

“I just want you to know that I will not let you bring me down”, her voice was cold as ice.

“I’m sorry?”, you furrowed your brow, not sure what you did that upset your co-star.

“Mr. Kaiba hired only the best, but you were not hired by him. No, you are only here because you got a lucky pass. I’ve been working with Kaiba for years as his duelcaster; if you make me or this tournament look foolish, I will not hesitate to tell him to fire you. I have worked too hard to get this position for someone else to ruin it for me.” She turned on her heel and quickly left the room with you gaping after her. 

You struggled to keep your tears at bay the whole way back to your hotel room. Once you were finally inside, you sank down onto the floor, leaning against the wall for support as the dam finally burst. What were you going to do? It was only day one and your boss AND co-worker already hated you! Maybe you weren’t cut out for this, maybe Nathen had his reasons for keeping you in a reporter role. Maybe everyone was right about you including-

No, you were not going to think that way. These people hadn’t even given you a chance yet. Now wasn’t the time to cower and feel sorry for yourself, now was the time to hold your head high.

You picked yourself up off the floor and headed into the bathroom to wash up at the faucet. As you were drying your face, you stared back at your reflection. If they didn’t see your worth, then you’d show them.

It’s time to show the world what you could do.

[mermaidsirennikita]

Dear mermaid,

Could you please recommend some high heat, low angst books?

I am in a low mood and need something lighter but dirty to read

Thank you!

Sure! I'll preface by saying that generally I do personally prefer an angst book, so hopefully these won't be angsty still by the standards you're looking for, buuuuut just as a heads up!

A Week to Be Wicked by Tessa Dare—Generally speaking, Tessa writes a really funny book, and while the angst varies from book to book, I think that this one is on the lighter side. Slightly angstier but still not overly heavy is When A Scot Ties the Knot.

Erin Sterling's Ex Hex books if you're up to something a little witchy! They're not like, SUUUUPER high heat, but they're definitely hot, with around 3 explicit scenes per book from what I recall. And they're hilarious and adorable and sweet. The Wedding Witch is my favorite installment, but I enjoy all three and find that they actually get better with each book.

Speeeeaking of, Sierra Simone and Julie Murphy's Christmas Notch books if you're up for Christmas-y feels. You have three full-length m/f novels, plus an m/m novella and an f/f novella. They're sexy, they're hilarious, they're emotional but not overly angsty. You get butt stuff with the hero receiving, which to me just adds a whole other dimension to an m/f book lol.

Out on a Limb by Hannah Bonam-Young. An oops baby book in which strangers hook up at a Halloween party, then move in together and decide to co-parent after she gets pregnant. (As I feel it's important: Abortion is offered by her doctor as an option, and she considers it but chooses to keep the baby for her own reasons. Abortion is portrayed as a solid option.) There's a lot of space between the first sex scene and the next one, but they're super hot and the sexual tension is RIDIC.

A Shore Thing by Joanna Lowell. A historical romance in which a widow ends up on a long-distance bicycle race with a local former artist/rake, who happens to be a trans man. It's a delightful, steamy romcom, and there's so much like... acknowledgment of transphobia while embracing queer joy, and it's just SO good.

I would also recommend Alexis Hall's Something Fabulous books! Irreverent, sexy historical romcoms. The first one is m/m, the second nb/nb. Hot and HILARIOUS. The second especially does deal with some heavier stuff at one point (one of the leads is a castrato soprano—their gender identity is explored in a really interesting way, but obviously there is trauma to consider), but I would still call it overall a really frothy novel.

End of Story by Kylie Scott. A contemporary with a dash of magical realism; the heroine moves after breaking up with her boyfriend, only to find that his old friend is there to help her renovate her house. However, they find a mysterious document in the walls of the home—a divorce decree dated from the future with their names on it...

The Roommate by Rosie Danan. A woman loses her roommate when the guy she's crushing on flakes on her; she ends up rooming with an adult film star who teaches her a thing or two....

[thorns-fixations]

What It Takes To Survive - Sub Zero / Reader SMUT 18+

Non-Con WARNING

Screams and shouts filled the air as the smoke and flames engulfed the structures that made your town, darkly clad warriors seizing all of those they could get their hands on, slaughtering the men and the resistors in a merciless bloodbath. You sprinted desperately, shoeless, throughout the wreckage, heart pounding in your chest as you attempted to duck and weave through collapsed buildings, your long sheer nightdress now weighed down by mud that you had rushed through to escape the warriors. ‘The forest, run to the forest,’ your thoughts echoed in your head, making a dash of pure desperation for the trees that surrounded your town, fresh tears gently rolled down your face, the fear of what happens next escaping your eyes with the aid of the stinging smoke that filled the air and had harshly invaded your lungs. You had just managed to navigate through the last row of buildings towards the forest when your ankles swiftly twisted around each other, being caught up by some weights and rope that had been thrown to slow your escape, you fell to the ground with a heavy thud, your arms barely braising your body for impact before the collision. Panic rushed through your mind at the idea of being caught out by the warriors, you had only just entered adulthood by your clan’s standard - there was so much you were meant to do, so much you were looking forward too with the other girls who had come of age at the same time as yourself. It wasn’t meant to end like this, not at the end of an assassin’s blade, alone, watching the life you knew being destroyed before being released into the arms of death himself. You composed yourself as much as you could, twisting around to reach the weighted rope that had wrapped around your ankles, grabbing the ropes, you began to pull at them, unaware of the assassin slowly approaching you from the wreckage you had come through. The sound of metal chains froze you solid where you sat amongst the grass, eyes still locked onto the rope, your heart sunk into your stomach, your breath catching in your throat, the tears once again falling from our eyes silently as you dared yourself to look up in the direction of the noise. A lone assassin stood between you and your town, angry orange flames climbing meters behind him, the hot colour contrasting to the mans vibrant blue armor garments a silence stood heavily between you as his eyes raked over your body – the bright light casted from the fires behind him emphasizing the sheerness of your nightwear, a dress normally never worn outside your chambers. The sheer cloth garment softly draping over your naked body left nothing to the imagination, you had not experienced a great deal of men, but you knew how to recognize the dangerous lust that grew in your captor’s eyes as he looked down at you. He began towards you, crossing the space that sat between swiftly and confidently, never breaking his eye contact with you.

‘Scream, run, fight, don’t just sit here, what are you doing – he will kill you, and if he doesn’t – just run!’ Your conscious screamed inside your head, frantic at your inability to move, his stare alone enough to render you frozen in time, unable to defend yourself, unable to run and hide – only able to move your head slowly to meet his glare as he approached. Now directly in front of you the man lowered himself towards the ground, inches away from your face – freezing cold mist leaving his mask as he breathed, the low temperature a welcome adjustment to the heat that had tortured you during your escape. He grabbed your wrists with demanding force, clasping metal shackles around them, the restraints are cold and heavy – your arms quickly drop towards the ground when he releases them from his hands.

“Behave, or die – the option is yours, Woman.”

The man spoke clearly before slicing through the rope constricting your ankles with the dagger on his thigh. He stood upright again before sharply tugging on the chain that connected to your wrists, lifting you up off the ground, painfully demanding you return to your feet. You quickly scrambled to regain your footing as he walked back into your town, the loud screaming that once filled the air had stopped, replaced by the weak cries of the women and young children you had once laughed with. The man stopped you in front of a small group of women – girls your age, a few a bit older, before shoving you to your knees with them, freezing your chain to theirs, you huddled to one of the girls – a close friend, someone you had spent days with, dreaming of future life’s, joyfully discussing people you found attractive, now at the mercy of the men who have massacred those you loved.

“Why are we separate from the others?”

You whispered to your friend nervously, met with a silent shake of the head as a response, she didn’t know either. You silently awaited your fate together, miserably watching the assassin’s gather bodies from the town and return them to an area nearby, setting the fresh corpses alight in a tower of death, the smell was horrible, one you never thought you could forget. A harsh looking man in red approached your group with an amused smile across his face, his enjoyment sending shivers across your body.

“Stand them up.”

The man commanded some plainly decorated assassin’s close by, who hurried to fulfil his order, ripping you all to your feet by the heavy chains that bound you, you stood in a line, anxiously awaiting any explanation of your fates. You saw the man nod at another of his clansmen who had been crafting something in a nearby fire, out of sight from the group – the man approached him with a grim answer to your worries, he held a glowing red brand proudly, the insignia matching the icon the assassins wore on their chest. You felt yourself go numb upon your realization.

“You ladies are lucky enough to be joining our clan’s live-in entertainment and service teams upon our return to the Lin Kuei Temple – Of course, as our property, we must brand you as such.”

One by one the scorching iron landed on the shoulder blades of the group until you had all been marked. You all stood together, defeated, dreading your new futures, you watched them destroy your home and you watched the man in blue return – this time in the company of two men, one in grey and another in the same shade of blue as himself. The colour-clad assassins mingled between themselves for some time, you knew who these men were, and how dangerous they could be – it would probably be best if you stayed on their good side and obeyed them where possible. As if he knew you were thinking about him, the man in blue – whom you assumed to be Sub Zero, upon seeing that he was the larger and elder of the men in blue – turned and walked towards you with haste, the other men completely undisturbed by his sudden departure from the group. Upon reaching you he disconnected your chain from the others and lead you forcefully away from the town square, you struggled to stay on your feet as he dragged you through the smoking remains of your town towards the temple you often spent time in, made from stone, it had survived the flames that suffocated the rest of the town. He led you through the halls towards the monk chambers, you felt sick at the blood that now stained the walls of the structure, you tried not to imagine the fate of those who were here throughout the attack. You were pulled into a room usually kept vacant for any travelling monks or people of importance, the room was larger than the others and held much more comfortable furniture, a large shelf bed as well as some upholstered chairs with a large fire pit along the wall. The man pushed you towards the bed, dragging you on your stomach toward the other side, attaching your chain to the top left post, trapping you on the mattress on your knees, you looked up at the man from your vulnerable position, you watched with dread as he removed his armor and clothing, his body was large and muscular, scars littering his skin. You tried not to look, you really did, so much so that you turned your face away from the man when he removed his pants, a deep chuckle filled the room, you heard footsteps move from in front of you until you felt the heavy weight of him crawling over the bed behind you. You shut your eyes tight, preparing for the next few moments… moments that didn’t come, you opened your eyes, mildly confused at the absence of the man, you could have sworn that you felt him climb onto the bed behind you – perhaps you were mistaken-. Your thoughts were cut off as you felt your nightdress lift from your legs and over your ass to drape over your back, you felt cold breaths over your core, your thighs quivering in retaliation.

No, no this couldn’t possibly be exciting you, the idea of being at the mercy of this man, this monster shouldn’t be filling you with lust!

“N-No!” You squeaked, almost pathetically, recoiling away from his breath, disgusted in your body’s reaction to the man’s presence, an amused noise came from behind you.

“No? Are you sure?” the man teased, running a single calloused finger down the wetness that had formed at your entrance, “Perhaps you should tell your body that “the man chuckled. You stayed silent, embarrassed by his comments, you shouldn’t be reacting this way.

“Well- alright then, we will do it your way” the mans voice dropped into a threatening growl, licking a forceful stripe from your clit over your entrance. You gasped at the sudden sensation before you felt his tongue forcefully enter you quickly making a wet mess of his saliva and your forbidden excitement, his cold tongue sent shivers through your heat as he continued to hungrily eat you. After a little while he pulled his mouth away from you, allowing himself to watch down at you. You had become a mess in front of him, desperately gasping for air between moans, a painful open hand slapped and grabbed your ass, causing you to wince and yelp in pain. Amused at your obvious mental battle, he placed an ice cold digit on your clit, placing an unfair amount of pressure behind it – just enough to make you moan and scream as your lust and disgust battled for supremacy, he could certainly have a lot of fun with you back at the temple but time was not his ally right now. Aware that his clansmen would soon come looking for him, he took himself in his hand, slowly down his length a few times before sliding his velvety head through the wet mess he had created, unfortunately for you, he didn’t give you much of a chance to prepare for what was coming next. He lined the head of his cock up to your entrance, in awe of the size difference between the two, an intense burning sensation startled your body as he forced his head into your entrance, the wet sounds of the union quickly overshadowed by the mans long moan of pleasure. The tightness surrounding him forced primal growls from his mouth as he slowly forced every inch of himself inside of you, the sensation sending you wild, his long, thick coldness slowly stretched you to his size before you finally felt his body against the skin of your thighs and ass. Two large, cold hands grabbed at your hips, you cherished the moment of stillness, a tiny chance for your body to adjust to him, a tiny chance cut very short.

You felt him begin to move out of you slowly before quickly snapping back completely, a moan screamed out of your mouth in retaliation before he sped up, mercilessly using you for his pleasure, his thick cock slick with your arousal, an applause of wet slaps echoing through the room as he assaulted your cunt. You felt your body go limp as he continued to fuck you, load moans falling from his mouth as roughly snapped his hips into you, almost desperately shoving as much as he could of himself into you, he growled at your weakness before freezing your chains and shattering them. His hand quickly grabbed your shoulder, flipping you onto your back and effortlessly spreading your legs open as far as they could go, leaning over you he wastes no time sliding his cock back into you and thrusting his hips into you as hard as he could. Your arms wrapped around his body instinctively, scratching and clawing his back, your moans echoing through the temple, his powerful thrusts soon became erratic as his moans grew louder, you watched as his head threw back, sweat glistening down his fit body, the muscles in his upper arms tensing as he chased his high. His eyes dropped back to you and his mouth curled into a mean smirk

“Like what you see, whore?” he growled through unsteady breaths, his hand weaving into your hair and pulling down forcing your face upwards  “Open your, u-uoh, open your mouth, I don’t want cum to leak out and ruin my horses saddle on thew way to the temple”. You reluctantly opened your mouth as he pulled out of your body, stroking himself over your mouth until he reached his climax, filling your mouth with his thick salty orgasm.

[demeterdefence]

do you think that the SA with apollo was planned from the start? lots of people seem to think rachel meant it to just be bad sex and then retconned it to be assault

oof, that's a tough one. i have definitely seen that argument / belief in anti lo circles and several other lo critical blogs have discussed this in far more depth with far better understanding than i, so i won't novel spam the dash, but i am honestly and genuinely torn on it tbh.

like it wouldn't surprise me if that's true, because rachel has demonstrated over and over how poorly she understands consent, safe dynamics, and just female agency in the first place. there are definitely some aspects of the initial assault that, looking back on it now, made me wonder. considering how rachel's been trying to retcon some of this out it's difficult looking back at the assault and wonder what exactly rachel's thought process was in the plot as a whole.

that being said, i did not start reading lo until long after rachel was fully fleshed out on webtoons, so i could not even begin to say how she was on tumblr, or anything before the season 2 finale tbqh. and i can give her the credit on this at least, i have always viewed the assault as 1000% no doubt no question assault. genuinely it scares me if rachel wrote and drew that whole thing out and didn't know it was rape, because for many many many people, myself included, it was just so blatantly familiar and clearcut as rape.

it's one of those things that i just can't wrap my head around because it has not been resolved, or really addressed with persephone being in charge of her own healing. it keeps getting thrown in as a kind of hurdle for people to cross, and apollo has never been taken to task for it, punished for it, faced any splash back. even when daphne finds out what he did, she's immediately put into the position of running for her life, and then when she's finally free she just ... doesn't tell anyone?

what's even more concerning is that we see numerous male characters in the text play fast and loose with consent, and rachel really wavers on whether it's bad or not. ares keeps hitting on persephone when she clearly doesn't like it, and he usually ends up getting the narrative coming down on him; zeus lies to demeter to trick her and that gets handwaved away to make room for the bad blood between demeter and hades. hades grooms persephone and then initiates sex when she's in the middle of a bad mental health spiral (obviously just my interpretation of it but i viewed a lot of that scene as persephone having an anxiety attack, and regardless of whether that's canon or not, she's definitely not in the right space for hades to initiate some weird ass daddy dom routine.) so rachel seems to understand what consent is to some degree, but the issue of consent disappears depending on who is asking for it. rachel makes it clear that hades is totally fine and doing the right thing for persephone, whereas if we saw zeus doing that same thing to hera, the narrative would definitively label zeus bad. so whether rachel always intended that scene to be rape, or figured it out later, i think the big question is: why aren't all the characters held to the same standard of consent, and why are so many female characters constantly the victim of men who do not ask?

[apalestar]

Since we are on the topic of accessibility and writing formats on my dash. Let me give my two cents. I'm a web accessibility tester/advocate/educator, so I know a few things.

The more you deviate from standard English writing, the more people are going to be less likely to be able to read and interact with you. People with disabilities, neuro-divergence, or even normal people whose time is limited will be effected with each deviation.

Yes, there are tools out there that will make curating the experience to what they need, but those tools are limited. And most of those tools are based on seeing standard English formatting to make personal preference changes. They tend to break/not work otherwise.

Some screenreaders for example struggle with all lowercase/uppercase text, double/multi spacing between words, lack of punctuation, etc. Even using color can be dicey depending on the theme that person has selected.

In web design to meet accessibility standards we often follow the standard English formatting and 16px or 1em font size. ( note: the small font is not that big it's 13px ). Which I am guilty of ( will change upon request ).

But what if I like my aesthetics? That's fine. Just understand it means fewer people can read or process your writing. Better yet if you don't want to switch and instead compromise? Make it very clear in either your rules, pinned post, carrd, etc that you will absolutely switch to regular formatting upon request.

That will help bridge the communication gap, and make those of us who have fewer spoons to feel more confident in reaching out to you over it.

Those of us ( like me ) that have specific needs should also state in our rules what we need to be able to comprehend writing better. Bridging the gap and all that.

[fortitudina]

COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!

Hey there, Hi there, Ho there! Satan here; you're friendly neighborhood devil just coming in to let you all know that my commissions are open and I have plenty of spaces between now and Christmas for you to book some graphics work from me.

In the past, I have been lenient and I have allowed people to pay for their things after I have done the work. However, thanks to some taking advantage of me and not paying me for several hours of work, I will now ask that you pay upfront when you commission from me. This offers a small security on my part and I will always ensure that your graphics are done as soon as possible. You may ask those who have previously commissioned from me for your peace of mind that you will get your items.

Anyway, Here is what I can offer you and how much I charge in return for my time and the products.

Base Icons 50 - £5 100 - £8 Per episode - £10 - £12 Per film ( minor ) - £10 Per film ( main ) - £15 + PSD - £3 Icon Borders simple border + text - £4 border with text & images - £6 - £8 ( depends on how many images are added ) Banners Simple banner ( line + text ) - £1 each Standard banner ( line, text + picture ) - £3 each Extensive banner ( line, text, picture + detailing ) - £5 each Pack of banners - £6 - £20 Promo Single image promo - £8 Double image promo - £12 Theme background Simple background - £8 Background with character images + detail - £15 New Blog Packs Banners + promo - £20 Banners + promo + dash icon - £25 Banners + promo + dash icon + theme background - £35 Banners + promo + dash icon + theme background + dash header - £40 I can now also offer Promos, banners & theme backgrounds with a gif included and they will be done at an extra +£2 on top of the original static price.

For examples of my work please click on the read-more

Examples of promos: X | X | X | X

Examples of icons: X | X | X

Examples of borders & banners:

[yandere-yearnings]

Hello Dar! 🦢 nonnie is back and I hope you've been doing well! ^^

Something I've been thinking about for a while now is your style of writing. I feel like in your writing you frame even the smallest detail as if it's the most important thing in the world. It always feels very poetic/romantic even if that's not necessarily what the scene is about. So I was wondering where you got this writing style from? Since I've personally never read anything quite like yours before. Or just in general what inspires you to write?

-Yours truly, 🦢

hii swan nonnie🥺🩷 it's always, always a pleasure to have you back, i hope you've been well too🥰 lately my health hasn't been the greatest, but aside from that, i've been doing okay!! thank you for asking👉👈

bc my response got a bit long, i'll put it under a cut so i'm not clogging up anyone's dash🤧

first of all, i'm genuinely flattered you've even been thinking of my writing actually, that means so much to me😭💕 ig if i had to explain how my style came to be, it would have smth to do w/ writing more for myself rather than for others? when i was younger, i had this mentality that i had to follow all the rules in order to make a good piece, so i was constantly restricting my creativity by sticking to advice like 'show-don't-tell' or 'leave it up to the reader's imagination' and stuff along those lines. but somewhere along the way, i kinda realised that in doing so, i was starting to hate what i created.

after that, i just tried my hardest to write what i'd wanna read personally, in a style that was compelling to me. i mean, i still have my insecurities, sometimes i think wow, i really did not need to waffle that much, but at the end of the day, it still feels more fulfilling. even if something is considered 'wrong' by professional standards, my only long-term judge is myself at the end of the day. so i try to focus less on what's been done before, and more on what i would like to do (which is the reason why i still put spaces between my em dashes when ik that technically you're not supposed to haha)

as for the prose itself, i just write like that bc that's how my thought process works😭💔 like, i'm colourblind, so i have a habit of trying to understand the implications a colour can have rather than the actual colour itself, right? and that type of magnification can be applied to everything else when i put words down. looking at the smaller aspects that build the bigger picture, and then how much of an influence it can have on the scene i'm trying to portray, smth along those lines.

another thing is that, i believe throughout my time writing, most of my works have been angst and imo the smallest details really do feel like the most important thing in the world when viewed through a negative lens so maybe i picked it up from there and rolled w/ it for everything else🤧 the real cause is kinda hard to pin-point somehow

to answer your second question, if you asked me in the past what inspired me to write, i'd probably say smth like 'having a story to tell'. now though, the only thing keeping me doing this is that i genuinely really just like piecing words together in as many different ways as possible. it kinda feels like solving a puzzle so it's super satisfying🥰

ALSO THANK YOU FOR SAYING IT FEELS POETIC/ROMANTIC😭😭 i've always kinda worried that my writing feels too stiff, so hearing that makes me really happy, i really appreciate it swan nonnie😩💕 and you saying that you've not come across something similar before feels like a really sweet compliment too❗❗