#and when he prayed for me or tells me he prays for me that's how i know he loves me more than i could know

[gojotojis]

The After Party pt.2

Part 1 Part 3

summary: You’re extremely confused about sukuna kissing you but your body craves him and maybe your heart too.

pairing: college sukuna x college fem reader

content MDNI: angst, pining, bestfriends brother, frenemies to lovers, loss of virginity, squirting, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, vaginal sex, overstimulation, praise kink, soft sukuna, fluff, aftercare, blood

It’s been a week since Sukuna made you cum with nothing but a kiss. You avoid him like the plague, unfortunately you have classes with Choso so you at least have to see him.

You’re so confused by your kiss with Sukuna that your hurt over Choso faded into the background. That one kiss crumbled years of pining after Choso.

You’re so frustrated and you have so many questions but you have to face the facts. Sukuna is a raging asshole, that’s been nothing but mean to you, and was sickeningly cruel to you at the party.

He’s said mean things that you’ve often let slide because he’s Sukuna but he kissed you and it changed the trajectory of everything.

You think about the disgustingly inappropriate comments he’s made and the fact that he’s fucked half the student body. This has to be a game for him, there’s no other explanation, and you refuse to play any part in it.

You’re hesitant to join Choso for lunch but he’s dragging you to the cafeteria. You simply grab some omurice and water before taking a seat at your usual table. You guys haven’t talked about the party or much at all, you don’t want but it’s obvious he does.

“What happened at the party with Sukuna, it’s like you two just kept ripping into eachother. He refuses to talk about it,” Choso says as you push your food around on your plate.

You feel angry at Sukuna and yourself, how could he be so selfish but how could you be so stupid.

“Nothing,” you mumble, before you finally take a bite of your food. Choso doesn’t believe you but he doesn’t push and you’re grateful for that.

You feel distant from him even though he’s rights here, why didn’t he tell you about Yuki? You’re suppose to be his bestfriend and yet he didn’t tell you something so big, but at the same time you don’t tell him that his brother made you cum with nothing but his mouth pressed to yours. You’re truly mortified by that, cringing as you relive the way your body trembled against his.

You’re not sure why but you ask Choso a question that’s been on your mind since you left the party. “Did Sukuna have sex with Kiko?.

His brows raise unsure of why it matters to you but he shrugs, “Probably,” he says, and you nod. You hate the feeling that takes over, like you’ve been used but you force it down.

The libraries quiet and probably the only thing you love about your school. You chew on the tip of your pen as you read over Bram Stokers Dracula, embarrassingly engrossed that you don’t notice when someone takes a seat across you.

Large tattooed hands appear in front of you, covering the pages and gripping the book till they’re closing it and sliding it away from you. Your heart thumps heavily in your chest and your cheeks burn as you look up.

Sukuna reads over the title before sliding it back to you and you hold your breath, waiting to hear what dreadful words will leave his mouth.

“You really gonna fucking ignore me?” He asks and you feel the urge to roll your eyes. If you’re delusional, well he’s just fucking insane.

“Ignore you? Sukuna, we’ve only hung out when Choso’s around, do you see him around?” you ask looking around the library for dramatic effect. You watch the way his jaw ticks, like you’re annoying him.

“You know what I’m talking about, want me to shout it across the library? The way you came against me and ran off?” He asks and your skin turns hot.

“That never happened!” You whisper yell and he leans back with a smug grin.

“The wet patch you left on my shirt says otherwise,” he says and your eyes widen, all you can do is pray that God smites you where you sit.

“Please stop. You got what you wanted, I don’t want to play into your games. This is drawing a line, torment me, make fun of me but please don’t use me,” you say genuinely and his brows furrow. You’re so stupid it’s cute.

“Is that what you think this is?” He asks and you sigh.

“You’ve done nothing but torment me, you’ve made fun of my body, my clothes, my looks, my intelligence, why would I think anything else?” You ask and his features soften for a fraction of a second.

“They’re jokes,” he says like that’s suppose to make it okay and you shake your head.

“You took things too far. Those ‘jokes’ speak volumes about what you think of me,” you answer and he leans forward.

“You don’t have a clue what I think of you,” he says and your fingers grip the edge of your chair. He’s growing agitated and it’s obvious at the amount of times his jaw ticks.

“I do. And let’s not forget how you manipulated me into going to that party, you told me Choso and Yuki were going to have sex but the whole time you knew they already had. You’re actually sick,” you say and he glares at you.

“You don’t have a clue what sick is, sick is watching you follow my brother around like a fucking puppy. Sick is making up excuses to third wheel with you two fucking imbeciles, sick is wanting someone you can’t have,” he says, his voice is rough and harsh.

Your insides burn as you take his words in, still not sure what he’s saying.

“I don’t understand,” you admit, and his hand grips the back of your head, pulling your lips to his. It’s sweet and gentle, the opposite of what he wants but he knows you’ll move to Russia if he makes you orgasm again in the library.

He pulls away, hand sliding to grip the side of your neck. His forehead presses against yours as you conclude what he’s trying to say. He likes you.

“Why,” you whisper, too scared to pull away and look him in the eyes. He doesn’t know what to say, he’s not use to this and he can’t force himself to tell you how he feels with words. He’s the most honest and blunt person you know but this has him stumped.

“We can’t,” you whisper. It’s Sukuna, Choso’s brother, the boy that chased you with worms, the boy that mixed slime in your hair, the boy that poured salt in your water.

“I know,” he says and it fills you with disappointment. You shouldn’t be disappointed, you don’t want this, you don’t want him.

“It’s gonna be Choso, it’s always gonna be him,”he says, his voice empty and wrong. Choso was the farthest thing from your mind since Sukuna kissed you. Your brain feels fried, trying to bring clarity to a head of jumbled thoughts.

You don’t owe Sukuna anything, not after all that he’s done but the thought of this being it, this being the end of any sense of normality for you two feels saddening. You two stay pressed together, your hair a curtain around you. You’re afraid that once you pull away, you’ll never see him again and if you do, it’ll never be the same.

“Kiko’s nice,” you say, and you feel his forehead wrinkle against yours.

“I don’t like her,” he says, his breath fanning your lips. You subtly inhale the aftertaste of cinnamon and spice with a hint of smoke.

“You had sex with her,” you say.

“I did,” he answers and you pull away. He slightly panics at your expression as you reach for your book.

“A long time ago, I didn’t touch her that night. I didn’t touch anyone,”he says, it shouldn’t matter to you but it does. He relaxes as you let go of your book, not making a move to leave.

He’s fucked up a lot of things up between you, he knows that but all he knows how to do is hurt and take. Choso said he was never the same after their mom died, so afraid to let anyone in.

When he realized all you saw was Choso, he didn’t know how to react but pick on you. When it became clear Choso didn’t want you but you kept trying, something in him turned to rage.

Seeing you cry sobered him up, he was never suppose to hurt you and somehow that got lost along the way. He grew comfortable with your banter, the only way he got a reaction from you, the only way he could get you to talk to him.

But he accepted a long time ago that you two would never be anything, until he saw you crying because of him. Every fiber of his being begged him to comfort you, so he did the only way he knows how, by taking.

He was greedy and when you kissed him back, maybe the idea of you wasn’t so unobtainable anymore.

He looks at you, the conflicting thoughts so clear on your face and he knows what he has to do. He’s not good enough for you, he doesn’t know if he ever will be. He can end this all for you, the hurt, the confusion and finally give you the peace you’ve always wanted.

“I don’t think we should be around eachother anymore,” he says and you inhale. You should be so grateful, to finally be free of him but this feels painful. Your heart feels like it’s breaking, worse than when you found out Choso slept with Yuki.

You blink back tears several time and shove your book into your bag. “Goodbye Sukuna,”.

You sob, violently into your mother’s lap as she threads her fingers through your hair. You tell her everything from your crush on Choso to Sukuna kissing you and deciding you two shouldn’t see eachother. You leave out the explicit details but it’s enough to paint the picture.

“He’s a sweet boy, just troubled,” your mother says, she’d always defended Sukuna, growing up when nobody else would. She always made sure he was included between you and Choso.

“Why am I not happy?” you ask, confused on why you’re sobbing.

“You like him, and it hurts” she whispers as hot tears roll down your cheeks. You had never cried over Choso like this, you’re literally hicupping as your sobs die down. Your face is red and puffy as you stare at the blank wall ahead of you.

“You know how he feels, you felt that over Choso. He’s hurting and he may never admit that but just because he says you can’t see eachother anymore, doesn’t mean it’s what he wants” she says and you think about those words.

You’re not even sure what you want, but you’d rather have him making fun of your outfits and the way you walk than to not have him at all. You’ve been so blinded by Choso that nothing else has ever mattered until now.

You like Sukuna, so fucking much and it hurts more than anything else. The sound of thunder and rain pouring, snaps you from your thoughts and you sit up like a light bulbs gone off.

You’re not sure what you’ll say, or if he’ll reject you but you have to fix this. You thank your mom before you’re running out of her room and down the stairs, you shove your feet into your tennis shoes and open the front door.

It’s pouring rain, but you don’t care. You close the door behind you and break off into a sprint, a few streets over to Sukunas house.

By the time you reach the door, you’re completely drenched from head to toe and shivering as your fist knocks on the door. Nobody comes and you sigh, ringing the doorbell several times until you hear the locks click.

Sukuna answers and your breathing hitches.

“Choso’s not here,” he says and you shake your head.

“I’m not here for him, I wanted to talk to you,” you say shaking. He wants to tell you no but you look on the verge of hypothermia, so he pulls you inside. You feel bad about the puddle that forms underneath you.

“You’re shaking,” he says and you nod, teeth chattering as he grabs your wrist and guides you upstairs. You stand awkwardly at the entrance of his room as he opens his dresser.

You stare at the paused video game on his desktop before he’s handing you a white shirt and a pair of boxers.

You enter his bathroom and change into them, rolling up the boxers till they disappear under the shirt, you dry your hair with his towel before you step out.

He’s sitting on the edge of his bed and you fiddle with your fingers as you walk toward him.

“I don’t want to stop talking to you, I don’t want to stop being around you. If that’s what you really want then I’ll have no choice but to accept it. You should know my thoughts though,” you say and he looks up at you with hesitancy but you continue.

“I like you, more than a friend. I don’t think I deserved the way that you treated me but despite it all, I like you. And the thought of not seeing you makes my heart hurt, I’m sorry I never saw you the way you wanted me to but I do now, just please don’t hurt me,” you say staring down at the carpet.

You feel hands grip your waist and he pulls you between his legs. You lean your forehead against his and close your eyes.

“You don’t deserve what I did, any of it and I’ll spend everyday making up for it. But I love you, and I’m sorry, for everything,” he says, the words feel strange on his tongue but it’s the truth.

“You love me?” you ask and he nods against you.

“Since middle school,” he says and you actually start crying, you know that pain and you hate that you put him through it. You straddle his lap and slide your arms underneath his till they’re hugging him.

His body engulfs yours and you slump against him, soaking up the warmth that radiates from him. His hands slip up under his your shirt and rub against your icy skin, leaving trails of heat with his touch.

“You’re freezing, baby” he says, the pet name shooting straight to your core as you try to bury yourself closer to him.

You look up at his lips, so soft and plump. Your fingers graze them and he pretends to bite you, making you giggle until he leans down and kisses you. It’s sweet but you want more, you nip at his bottom lip and his mouth opens.

Your tongue grazes the roof of his mouth, teasingly before it licks at his. He’s licking around your lips, your teeth and then he sucks on your tongue which drives you crazy. You both feel your nipples harden and you feel the bulge beneath you, pressing up into you.

You gasp when his hands squeeze your hips tighter and pushes you down against it. The pressure has you grinding against him, it feels so good, too good.

You cry when his hands slide into your shorts and squeeze your ass, his touch is bruising and rough but it turns you on. You feel your arousal dripping through your shorts, desperate for release until he stills your movements and you whine.

“What do you want?” He asks, breathing heavily. You’re too shy to speak so instead you fingers reach for the hem of your shirt and lift it over your head. You grab one of his hands and shove his index and middle finger into your mouth, you lick at the digits and suck on them.

“Fuck…” he groans as you pull them out and rub them over your nipple, you bite your lip and make the cutest face at how good it feels. He’s pulling his fingers away and his mouth latches on instead, you moan, fingers digging into his scalp as he sucks your tit and his tongue licks around your nipple, tugging it with his teeth before biting down on it and he does the same to the other one.

“So fucking sexy,” he breathes licking all around your tits till your chest is covered in saliva. You grind against him, seeking any sort of relief from the ache in your pussy but nothing works until he’s lifting you off of him laying you on your back.

“You sure you want to do this?” He asks and you nod desperately. You need him inside of you, you need to relieve this ache.

His fingers skim the band of your shorts before tugging them down, you squeeze your legs together. You’re completely naked now and are scared of what he’ll think. Your legs shake as his hands rest on your thighs before spreading them open.

“So fucking pretty,” he breathes looking at your pussy, soaked and swollen from need.

“Please,” you beg, and he presses a kiss to your belly only making you ache more. He’s so gentle, it’s unlike him but he loves you and he knows this is your first time. You squeeze your belly when you feel a finger glide up your cunt, and your legs instinctively go to close but his hands immediately press down on them.

“Sorry,” you squeak and he chuckles, it’s not arrogant or malicious, it’s a whole hearted laugh that makes you smile.

“It’s okay baby, just relax. I gotta stretch you out, so you can take me,” he says so casually but the words feel so filthy as they reach your ears. His fingers graze your clit and slowly start flicking it making you press your hips further into the matresss, his thumb swipes over it before you feel something prodding at your hole and you gasp when it pushes inside of you.

He watches your pussy swallow his finger, clenching around it as you try to relax. It’s feels so good, really good and he curls it making you sit up on your elbows. You watch him insert a second finger and your mouth forms into an O. You buck your hips against his hand, riding his fingers and his thumb rubs circles into your clit.

“Feels so good,” you cry out feeling his lips kiss each of your inner thighs. Your eyes open and watch his fingers fuck into you. You can hear the squelching your pussy makes around them and it becomes too much.

Your stomach tightens and you clench around him, feeling yourself cum. Your eyes widen when he starts slamming his fingers into you, fucking into you with brute force.

“Too much, too much, I can’t I can’t,” you cry as your body spasms around him, eyes rolling back.

“You can baby, one more,” he says and you break, your pussy sprays all over him and the bed. You feel mortified as he stares at your pussy, retracting his fingers.

“Need you to do that around my cock,” he says, and your cheeks redden watching him bring his fingers to his mouth and lick at them.

Your eyes close at the sight before they open to see him lifting his shirt off. His body is so muscular and sexy, your finger itch to feel the muscle. You bite your lip, you’re really about to have sex with him.

He pushes his sweatpants and boxers down in one motion and you feel scared when his cock slaps against his stomach, thick, long and so swollen. Angry veins protrude around it as he smears precum over the tip.

He looks to you and starts pumping it in his hand. He wants to fuck you till you can’t walk, till the only person on your mind is him and the only name you can speak is his but this is about you.

Your pussy clenches as he kneels onto the bed, crawling to you and his fingers graze your lips, smearing precum on them and you lick them. You can’t begin to imagine how many times he’s dreamed of this, dreamed of being inside you.

Your arms wrap around his neck, whimpering when you feel him slap his cock against your cunt, he nudges the tip against your clit, rubbing them against eachother. The feeling is so erotic and you buck against him. Your hands squeeze together when you feel him nudging his tip inside of you.

“Need you to be a good girl and relax,” he says and you nod, loosening your muscles and your hold around his neck. You’re scared but you know he won’t hurt you, not intentionally, not anymore.

He slowly pushes into you, the stretch burns and you cry. It feels like he’s splitting you open.

“Shhh, it’s okay baby, it’s okay,” he says pressing a kiss to your cheeks, before his mouth is on yours and his thumb rubs against your clit to ease and distract you as he keeps pushing into you.

You squeeze around him, loving the way his tongue fucks yours. He pushes past the tight ring of muscle and you squeeze your thighs around him, his hands gripping your hips as he bottoms out.

Full. You feel so fucking full.

He slowly pulls out and looks down to the creamy red ring around his cock and pushes back in. His hips roll against yours earning several moans from you. Your hands slide up his arms until they’re clutching his biceps.

His movements are slow but he’s fucking deep into you, you feel his cock kiss your cervix with each thrust. You look at him with big doe and watery eyes, lips swollen and parted. His hips move harder against yours and your eyes water more at the sensation.

“Harder,” you beg and feel him pull out leaving you empty until he slams into you and your back arches, clutching to him tightly.

“So fucking tight,” he groans bucking into you. Your crying turns into full on sobs as he fucks into you, the room fills with the sounds of your wet pussy swallowing the fuck out of him.

“You’re mine now, nobody else’s,” he says rutting into you, all you can do is nod through your sobs. “Such a good fucking girl,” he breathes against your lips, feeling your tits bounce against him with each thrust.

“My” thrust. “Fucking” thrust. “Girl” thrust.

“Yours,” you cry out and his tongue swipes your lips.

“I need this pretty pussy to squirt on my cock, you think you can do that baby?” He asks feeling you shake against him and you nod. He moans as you clench around him and he beats into your cervix, the sound of your skin slapping against his has you tightening until you can’t take it anymore and you start gushing around him. You spray his cock and his stomach, dripping down the bed.

His eyes are focused on his cock fucking into you, the way your pussy swallows him like you can’t let go and he forces more from you. Watching the way you keep squirting and your body spasms around him, arms tightening around his neck.

“I gotta cum inside you,” he says, you’re too cock drunk to register his words.

“Please” you beg as he pounds into you, you cry, arms circling around him bouncing off his cock. Liquid just gushing from you endlessly, so overstimulated you keep orgasming around him.

He grunts with one final thrust and you feel something hot and thick shoot up into you, it doesn’t stop, his cock twitches inside of you, filling you to the brim with thick ropes of cum.

You sag against him until he finally pulls out of you, you feel empty as he lifts you off the bed and carries you to his bathroom. He sets you down to pee while he changes the sheets.

Your pussy burns from being split open but you feel so content when he comes back. He wets a rag and wipes your blood and your mixed cum from his dick. You feel so tired once you’re done, he lifts you up and you wrap your arms around his neck your head resting against his shoulder , legs clinging around his waist. He pushes your hair out of your face and kisses your nose.

“You did so good baby,” he whispers, which earns him a tired smile as he walks you to his bed. He lays down with you still wrapped around him, lying atop his chest.

You feel his fingers trace circles into your naked hip as he kisses the top of your head.

“I love you,” he says as you close your eyes.

pt 1. pt.3

this has been so fun to write, I hope this is good. Thank you all for your support and kind words! Y’all this got flagged, I about cried…

@whosmarjj @getoxmahito @officialholyagua @adollsdarkdiary @jazzyysstuff @denenene @xra1 @bbyxxm @aqxllo @allofffmypeaches @evelynxx8 @deepenthevoid @aerithsthingss

[tayytayy12]

American Girl | OP81 x Reader

Summary - Every F1 fan becomes shocked when Oscar, someone who they thought was very much single, comes out to be in a relationship with none other than Logan Sargeants little sister.

Warnings - Swearing

Type - SMAU

FaceClaim - Sabrina carpenter

Notes - I’m running out of ideas what to write pls send requests 😭

(Act like Logan can actually achieve a podium okay. I live in delusion.)

—————————————

OP81.fanaccount

Liked by - User1, and 60,004 others

OP81.fanaccount - The biggest unsolved mystery ever is how this man is STILL single. Like I know my boys young but like, how? He’s so polite cat coded.

View comments

User1 - I wonder this everyday

User2 - Have you ever thought that he maybe just doesn’t want a relationship..?

User3 - Real like it’s so obvious he doesn’t and that he wants to focus on racing

User4 - Did he tell you that?

User5 - He’s is a polite cat no one can convince me otherwise

User6 - I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE !!!

User7 - Wasn’t their pics of him and some blonde girl at a restaurant in Miami last year?

User8 - People thought it was him but the photos were way too blurry to tell, they were just making assumptions

Y/n_sargeant

Liked by - LoganSargeant, LandoNorris and 104,764 others

Tagged | LoganSargeant

Y/n_sargeant - Back in the paddock, time to support the big brother in our hometown 🫡

(Also how cute were Logan and I we got along great once upon a time. and Oscar and Lo. Little babies)

View comments

User9 - OMFG MOTHERS BACK

User10 - Y/n’s always providing the best bad photos of Logan

User11 - “thank you y/n” we all say in unison

LoganSargeant - In that photo you’re clearly trying to choke me..? Idk who told you that we got along but they lied to you. You smell like shit (THANKS FOR COMING 🫡)

Y/n_ saregant - You caught me, I’m disappointed the attempt didn’t work. (ILL ALWAYS SHOW FOR U YOU DUMB WHORE)

OscarPiastri - THAT photo? Really?

Y/n_sargeant - Aw I think it’s amazing

User12 - OMF THE DUOS COMING BACK

User13 - BABY OSCAR AND LOGAN OMFG 😭😭

User14 - Praying Logan gets his first points 🫡

Y/n_sargeant - girl same I didn’t leave my bed for nothing

User15 - gosh she’s so real

Y/n_sargeant

Liked by - OscarPiastri, LoganSargeant and 200,175 others

Tagged | LoganSargeant, OscarPiastri

Y/n_sargeant - SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW WHAT THE FUCK OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG,

Lo P3 and Osc P2, officially the best day ever, my god I’m still crying I’ve never been so proud of people ever ever ever. No one deserves this like the two of you do, I love you both oh my god.

View comments

User16 - The race finished like a minute ago miss girl is quick

User17 - LOGAN FIRST PODIUM AND BE DEDICATED IT TO Y/N AND THEIR MOM STFU

User18 - I love how she’s being happy for them both

User19 - Y/noscar is real

User20 - OMFG SOMINE TELL ME THEY SAW OSCAR JUMP OUT HIS CAR AND KISS Y/N AFTER LOGAN HUGGED HER

User21 - WHY IS NO ONE TALKING SBOUT IT

User22 - They punkd us

User23 - All this time we thought there as chronically single

User24 - WHY WOUKD YHEY KEEP THIS A SECRET

OscarPiastri & Y/n_sargeant

Liked by - LoganSargeant, and 2,962,653 others

Caption - It wasn’t a secret, you just never asked. It’s our three year anniversary on Saturday btw, we except gifts (joking)(partly)

View comments

User25 - THREE FUCKING YEARS?!??!?!!!

User26 - This is the new it couple

User27 - They seem so in love omg

LoganSargeant - They are it’s disgusting

Y/n_sargeant - You love us

OscarPiastri - We look great

Y/n_sargeant - we always do

—

[q1ngqve]

🪷🫧💭 — this is completely self indulgent i need to fuck this man so bad it's not even a joke at this point

CW; fem! reader, blow job, slight bondage, you're wearing heels, lipstick, and your nails are long enough to scratch at him (lmao)

a big smile spreads across his face as you pepper kisses all over his collarbones, your hands roaming over his chest, mapping him out with your soft fingers, almost giving away his act of being restraint by you.

you have him tied up in thick red ropes that weave around his upper body, his hands bound at the back. a soft ‘thump’ echoes through the room as your heels land between his legs on the chair. the smile on the general’s face widens at the sight before him, earning himself a peck on his lips from you.

"pray tell, what did I do to receive such an amazing view of my wife today?"

your hands reach up to grab his chin, squeezing his cheeks and tilting his head up. "it's your reward for working hard this week." you smile as a soft "hnng" escapes from the man below you when the bottom of your heels presses against his bulge.

jing yuan reciprocates your smile, his golden eyes hooded as he feigns confusion, playing along with your game. "why am i tied up then? I want to touch my beautiful wife." you both know he can easily escape the restraints, but he enjoys letting you take control once in a while. it's not often he gets to be pampered by you like this.

you lean back, both feet planted firmly on the ground. "just sit back and enjoy, mkay?" the general's eyes never leave you, even when you get on your knees, your hands sliding teasingly up along his inner thighs.

he laughs to himself at how absolutely smitten he is with you, observing every inch of your face as you release him from his pants and wrap your hand around his base. your lips part slightly as your breathing quickens, tongue darting out to lick at your lips at the sight of him, hard and leaking pre-cum.

you plant kisses on his tip, smearing his pre-cum all over your lips, making them shine like gloss. jing yuan curses under his breath as he watches you play with him, and the sound of him cursing has you clenching your thighs together.

"my love— stop teasing."

you pull away slightly and look up at him through your lashes. "but where's the fun in that? I'm supposed to make you feel as good as possible." he chuckles at the pout on your face; if his hands were free, he'd be patting and caressing your head affectionately right now.

despite your protest, you take him deep in your mouth, quickly retracting once he hits the back of your throat, repeating the process a few times until he's bucking his hips to meet your lips, desperate to stay in your warm cavern.

unable to take all of him, your hands play with the base of his cock, squeezing and softly scraping your nails against it, knowing it gets his nerves tingling and head dizzy.

your head snaps up sharply, releasing him with a 'pop', your lips still parted and your tongue slightly lolling out. he's managed to free himself from the restraints while you were busy teasing him, determined to drive him over the edge.

jing yuan practically whimpers at the sight of the hints of red lipstick on his dick left behind by your swollen lips. "I don't mean to ruin your fun, my love, but you're driving me insane." your yelp is stifled as he presses your head, stuffing you full of him once more.

your whines reverberate around him as he fucks your throat, your eyes widening when you feel him grow impossibly big inside you. "fuck— just like that, baby. you're doing so good f'me." a swell of pride fills your chest, knowing you've managed to make the mighty general feel so good he's slurring his speech.

with one hand at the back of your head, his free hand cups your cheek, his thumb swiping away your tears. beautiful groans emerge from deep within his chest as his fucks you faster, his hand tugging at your roots as your throat constricts around his tip deliciously.

you whimper when hot spurts of cum fill your mouth, your eyelashes fluttering as you watch him roll his head back, a loud moan of your name echoing throughout the room. you continue sucking until he's come down from his high, gently tugging you away softly with a tender smile on his face.

jing yuan releases your hair and grabs your chin, tilting your head up. your mouth opens and your tongue slips out slightly, showing him that you've swallowed every drop. he laughs at your reaction, your eyes big and teary, waiting for his praise eagerly.

"thank you for the reward, my love." he pulls you up, making you straddle his lap as he plants kisses on your neck, making you giggle. "now, I do believe it's my turn to reward you for doing such a good job, don't you think?"

[hellishscemo]

The apple of his eye (MDNI)

Pairings: Carl Grimes X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Ron is alive blegh, smut (EVERYONE IS 18+), jealousy sex, established relationship, kinda long

Ever since Carl lost his eye to Ron, you had hated him from the root of your being, you couldn't even stand to be in the same room as him, let alone speak to him. I mean, how could you? He shot your boyfriend in the eye....

Until Rick assigned you on a run with him. Amazing.

“It’s only a run, Carl-“

“I don’t care! Do you know what he’s capable of? He almost killed me, what if he puts your life in danger to, the things I would do, Y/N..”

“Carl…” You tried to ease his mind but if there’s anything he gets from his father, it’s his stubbornness.

“You’re not going, he’s putting your life in his hands and I can’t take that risk.” You sighed and connected your forehead to his. “I’ll be fine..” I’m sure you’ll hear me scream if he tries anything...” You chuckle lightly.

But he took it much more seriously than you did.

The day of the run, while you grabbed your gun, he sat on a chair, watching you anxiously. He knew you were probably gonna be find but he couldn’t not worry about you. When you were ready, you turn to him and smile, spreading your arms out for a hug.

He completes the hug, getting up from the chair, smoothing out your hair and kissing just below your ear. “Be careful. I’m serious. He tries anything and you fucking tell me.” You nod, blushing and smiling then head out the door.

On the run, it was mostly Ron just trying to brag about one thing or another and you didn’t necessarily like it. You ignored him. You spit a way into the pharmacy but only by a high window. “Hey-shut up-get me up there.” You tell him and he follows, boosting you up by the feet and helping you in. “Anything good in there?”

Except you can’t see. You shine your flashlight around, looking for the things on the list Rick sent you with. “I don’t see anything! Might need some help looking!” You call out. “I’ll find a way in!” He responds.

And you wait...and you wait and eventually it's fucking dark out.

"Fuck me." You thought.

You grab a rope and just pray to god it's long enough to get you out of the building. You throw it and it barely gets you out. You climb out, keeping your gun loaded and ready if walkers find you. Only a few do, one at a time and you barely fight past them, scratching yourself up on the ground. You make a run for Alexandria and the guards see you. "It's me! Y/N!"

They open the gate and start asking you what happened and how'd you take so long. But you shove past them, planning to explain later. Right now, you're pissed. You walk to Carl's house and open the door to Carl yelling at Ron and demanding to know where you were.

"Carl..?" As soon as he sees you he's hugging you, asking if the scratches on you were from walkers, if you were okay, what had happened. You explain quickly what had happened while staring at Ron. As soon as you're done, Carl is seething.

"You fucking animal." He growls and punches Ron in the mouth. "Get up. You left her out there?!" He demands. Ron tries to lie, saying he couldn't find a way in but Carl doesn't care about that. He cares about Ron getting karma.

"You left her out there, you fucking dog.” He starts punching him, hard, when you pull Carl off of him. "Carl...Enough. come on don't beat the kid to a pulp."

"Out. Now." He growls and Ron runs out quickly with a busted lip, bloody nose and a bruised eye. Carl hugs you and smooths your hair down to comfort you. "I'm so sorry. I tried getting him to tell me where you were, what had happened..." You smile slightly and hug him back when he scoops you up and carries you to his room.

He starts a shower for you where he washes your hair for you and worships you, kissing your knuckles. You just hum in response to his actions as he kisses up and down your neck, leaving hickeys. An once you get out, he scoops you up onto the counter, making out with you, breathing heavily and the only thing between you two is a towel around his waist.

Fuck.

His hands trailed the small of your back as you sat on his lap on his bed, kissing each other heatedly, breathing heavily and whimpering into each other mouths. "Put it in?" You whimper. He nods, looking down, his hat falling partially in front of his face. You giggle and put it on your own head as he slides across your clit. "Ah-! Fuck.." You cry out and he smiles while still looking down, pushing up into you.

"Y/N.." He says, breathless. "Fuck, you are all fucking mine."

And he fucks you senseless, not making you do any of the work, just letting you take him inch by inch, babbling in your ear, praising you.

"Fuck...all mine...all mine...So fucking pretty.." He would say breathlessly as he tilts his head slightly. You lay your head on his shoulder, biting into the skin and leaving a bite mark for everyone to see. You can only let out a string of whimpers from how good he's fucking you and eventually the tight knot in your lower stomach tightens and you claw at him "Close..Carl-!"

"Make a mess on me. Make a fucking mess, let everyone know you're mine."

And with that, the tight knot snaps and you collapse against his chest and he holds you so you don't fall as he continues fucking you through your orgasm, he starts kissing your cheek letting you know he’s there.

As he feels you clenching, he thrusts 1, 2, 3 more times and groans deeply, shooting into your womb as he buries his face in your hair.

"Fuck, I need to make you jealous more often.." You joke.

[papirouge]

This exchange made me realize that many of you tend to forget that Carmy is a late bloomer who never had any girlfriend before Claire which actually explains his awkward behavior. I know it because I too am an awkward late bloomer (around the same age as Carmy and sharing a lot of common with him) and his behavior totally made sense to me lol

I want you all to keep in mind that when you've been closed off romantic elationships for your entire life, you're not handling them the same way people who started dating in their teens or young adult years (Carmy is most likely in his early 30s and never got into any relationships before).

Carmy, like any late bloomer, was used to never being considered romantically, which explains why he freaked out when Claire started flirting with him and stopped thinking rationally (which is very unfamiliar for emotionally avoidant type like Carmy or I - we'll come back to this later). I understand Carmy's move of giving a false number to Claire yet still accepting to go out with her later may be confusing to many people, but as a fellow late bloomer I immediately clocked it : we are not comfortable with the attention people give to us, but we *know* this behavior is not normal/unhealthy so Carmy eventually giving in may be a way of eventually getting into the mold and abide to the "if you don't open up to others and give them chances, how can you expect building actual relationships?" mantra. Because deep down we want to be like others (because being so closed off all the time can become emotionally draining) and seek to find a way to fit in.

Another thing about people like Carmy/emotional avoidant type is that by being so closed off to the world, we are also extremely deceptive about who we truly are. It makes sense to me that Carmy hides his feelings for Syd and would rather project them onto Claire. That's definitely manipulative, but we'd rather do that than get "uncovered". We tend to think very rationally and our sense of self perseveration is incredibly strong. I just know that howing his bare feelings has to be one of the most terrifying and embarrassing thing for Carmy.

We also don't mind getting confused as someone we are not in which we feel some sort of relief because it keeps our real self away from others perception (if that make sense???). Carmy passing himself as "Logan" in that party -while being quite extreme- is totally on brand actually lol. I regularly get mistaken as a male (I'm lowkey gnc) but I never bother correcting people lol I'm fine being whatever they see me as, as long it's not the real me.

Talking about self preservation: we don't ask and don't tell. Carmy sister being mad at him for never asking her whether she was okay was extremely relatable because I tend to get the same reproach from my own sisters. Very typical of us. Fleeing to the other side of the globe to cope with a family member death is something I *get* because we are avoidant in nature. We can also be insane hustlers and tend to cope with grief or unhealed emotions through work.

On the positive side, we are extremely independent and self reliant. The scene in the fridge (last episode of season 2) where Carmy loses his shit and says he was mad at himself for indulging in all "this bullshit" (= love and relationships) I FELT THAT. Countless times I prayed to God to remove from my heart my "shameful" longing for love & intimacy that I always felt hindered me in my quest for excellence & satisfaction in any other aspect of my life. Because we are very rational & practical people and lowkey despise "useless" stuff like relationships and feelings. And that's where the messed up part comes up.

I wouldn't be surprised Carmy lowkey despises Claire for being so clingy and courting him so openly. As I just said, we tend to look down on (bold) displayal of love and emotion which lowkey repulse us. I think that's why Carmy dislikes his sister's husband when he's an all around good guy. He may have a resentment (and even jealousy?) against this man that has no issue showing affection - not only to his sister, but also the rest of the family. Which Carmy still struggles to do so far.

This may also explain why Carmy is suddenly so cold with Claire when he's serving her at the table (beside him allegedly previously making up his mind to break up with her). That's why the moment he hears that voicemail of Claire saying she "loves him" he THROWS AWAY his phone. Because that's disgusting.

I think the CarmyxSyd dynamic is unique because there's a dimension of respect between both. They share the same passion for cuisine, and Sydney constantly pushes Carmy out of his comfort zone. As an avoidant emotional attachment type myself, when I think of the type of people I potentially could be attracted to, I can only think of people I have deeply respect for, and bring objective value into my life AND skills. I've seen people criticize the fact that Sydney was pretty much a "warrior worker" for Carmy (and pretty much the whole Bear crew) and that's true. But regardless it's a good or bad thing, that's pretty much the type of profile that may attract avoidant emotional type of people. Bonding through work & shared passion is our safest field to build romantic connection through. That's why Carmy made Syd sign a partnership agreement instead of a marriage contract 💅🏾 that's the safest way for him to convey his feelings.

Again, we are very rational people and in every type of relationship, we instinctively jauge whether & how this person might be useful for us. It doesn't mean we built relationship with people depending on whether they can be useful for us or not, but that's definitely in a part of our head somewhere. Yes, that's fucked up (1/because we are 2/that's why emotionally distant people can become pretty unlikable - i.e Carmy carmying), but you have to keep that in mind to understand how Carmy moves. Which tracks back to Claire's actual purpose I've elaborated just before. He definitely uses her, but most likely unknowingly.

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Trip: knight!price x princes!reader

Idk if this should be a warning but there's like a tin y bit of a mention of religion but like not that much. Also it's the fantasy middle ages unfortunately it's a topic that has to come up. Also another long chapter, sorry lol

It was early in the morning when Sir John Price had come to you and asked if you wanted to take a trip with him for the day. He didn't have to tell you what it was exactly at the time, you just agreed and before long you were sitting on your horse with Pride riding next to you.

Only a few hours had passed and the countryside had taken over as you continued down the road with him.

He had yet to tell you where you were going or why.

"Are you taking me hunting?" You wondered and he shook his head with a small smile.

"I'd be foolish to do that, your highness." He said and you hummed.

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

You sighed but smiled and allowed him to lead you wherever he wished. You trusted him and you recognized that you were heading the direction towards the nearby village.

It had been awhile since you had been beyond the village and the fields surrounding the castle since your mother made it known you were supposed to stay close by for any suitors. You hadn't realized how trapped you felt until you were out of her shadow.

If you were being honest, this would be enough to keep you happy if Price had nothing else to show you.

"You're not worried about any unwanted attention I might bring?" You teased when you remembered how wary he'd been the other time you made an appearance in a village.

"You're far too stubborn to keep hidden." He teased back. "We won't be in the village much today."

You tilted your head but he didn't elaborate and only gave you a small smile that made you playfully narrow your eyes at him.

Regardless, you follow him into the village and greeted any villagers you passed on the way in before you followed him towards the outskirts. It was then that you realized he was leading you towards the monastery that sat on the top of the hill.

"Are you turning in your sword?" You wondered and he raised an eyebrow. "Have a I worn you out already?"

"No, your highness," Price scoffed as he stopped his horse in front of the monastery. "You know I'm not a praying man."

Price helped you down from your horse and you chuckled at the thought of him praying as often as the monks do.

"No, you are hardly devout enough for that."

"Not to God, at least."

Price let you enter first and you stared in awe at the stained glass that captured the late morning sun. You had visited a few times before but the peaceful silence and the architecture never failed to amaze you.

It wasn't long before a monk met the both of you and bowed before Price spoke.

"If it's not trouble to you, the princess would like to take a few books back to the castle with her in exchange for some that she already has."

Your eyes widened and you snapped your head towards him. You couldn't help the way that your heart skipped a beat as the monk gestured towards the stairs.

Price sucked in his lips when he saw your surprise and he bowed his head slightly.

"You said you needed more book to read."

You shouldn't have been surprised that he would take a passing comment so seriously. If Sir John was anything he was attentive about everything around him, including something so small as more books to entertain you with.

It made your heart soar and you body warm up. You wanted tot hank him but you couldn't find your voice but you feared you'd sound choked up because you could feel your throat tighten.

He cleared he throat and gestured towards the stairs.

"Shall we?"

Upstairs there were rows and rows of shelves full of books. Many of them you hadn't seen before which nearly captivated your attention immediately. Excitement bubbled up inside of you as you browsed them knowing that you could spend days looking through all of them.

Price carried any of the books you picked out even when you tried to protest but he did it anyway.

"You should pick out a few as well. I haven't forgotten my promise."

"There's no way for me to know I will like them."

"Then tell me what you like and I'll get it for you."

As you worked through the books and picked out a few that fit what he would like your mind wandered. You remembered what he told you about his upbringing but you want to know more.

You never would've guess him to be anything but noble born despite his more rugged personality than most knights.

"You're from the north, correct?" You wondered softly and he raised an eyebrow.

"Only a weeks ride from the castle." He explained. "It's a lot more country up there."

"Do you miss it?"

"Often."

You frowned. In reality, he was never meant to be far from his home. If the lord hadn't taken him in, he would've stayed there and enjoyed his life without the expectations of keeping the crown and the kingdom safe. He wouldn't know you personally, you doubt he would've ever seen you.

You hoped that he didn't regret becoming a knight, especially since you didn't make it very easy for him.

"Tell me more." You looked at him almost pleadingly and his eyebrows knitted together.

He hesitated only for a moment as he studied you carefully before he looked deep in thought.

"I lived on the lord's land. We were farmers. My house was just on the edge of the woods and I'd spend most of my time in there when I wanted to avoid doing any work...it was peaceful." His voice was calm as he reminisced and you giggled softly. "Then when the lord took me in I lived in his estate. At the time it was the biggest home I'd been in and I was put off by it."

"It sounds like you're still fond of it." You said and he nodded.

"The lord named me his heir before he passed, so I own everything including my old home."

You smiled at that but the question in your mind slowly took it away. You knew the answer but you wanted to ask just in case you were mistaken.

"And your parents?"

"They pass when I was young. They were very sick."

"...I'm sorry."

"Thank you, your highness."

Despite the sadness of the situation you were grateful that the lord had taken him in and that you know got to know him, especially as he stared at you with soft eyes that made you warm.

"Would you like to go there someday?" Price's voice was soft and almost unsure as he stared at you with bated breath.

You could see the nervousness in his eyes despite the fact that he stood tall as he always did. But he shifted on his feet and sucked in his lips, wetting them as he waited for you to answer.

And you could hardly keep yourself from looking surprised and flustered.

It was one thing for him to bring you places that you liked and that you would enjoy but it was another for him to want to bring you to somewhere he held dear. It was a privilege to let you see, to get closer to him in ways that you knew you would never get with a lord or a prince.

And you wanted to continue to do it. You wanted to get closer to him, to feel what could be if you weren't who you were.

It would ruined you but you couldn't help it.

"I would." You nodded and watched him sigh with relief.

"Then I will take you one day." He smiled softly and you couldn't hep but return it.

He glanced at the window, his cheeks a light pink before he gestured towards it.

"We still have the day. There's somewhere else I'd like to take you, if you wish, your highness."

You titled your head and watched his eyes twinkle.

"Another monastery?" You tried to guess but he shook his head.

"You'll like it just as much." Price said and you hummed.

You didn't argue. You knew that whatever he had planned would be perfect and that it didn't really matter because he was taking you there anyway.

a/n: I need him in ways that's concerning to everyone

Tags: @deadbranch @makayla-666 @glitterypirateduck @dumbbitchgalore @m0chac0ffee @dragonbe-writing @sleepyoriana @twismare @blush-haze @waiting-so-long @sofasoap @panikk-attackkk

[rustygem]

UNCERTAINTY | ft. veritas ratio

彡 prompt: how veritas ratio would accept (and reject) your confession.

彡 warning(s): angst no comfort for the rejection part. maybe ooc ratio.

彡 notes: gn! reader. word vomit. that’s it.

✎ accepted;

You had scheduled a dinner reservation for you and the scholar. You were in your best attire, legs crossed as you patiently waited for the man to step in the restaurant. All of the conversations people were having sounded unintelligible. Your mind was focused on needing a purple haired man with beautiful orange eyes to walk into the restaurant.

“Apologies for the late arrival.”

Finally, there he was. Perfection. That’s what you’d use to describe Veritas Ratio. He was in a casual suit, but still maintained his usual flamboyant and elegant demeanor. His eyes bore into yours, and there was a smile that never reached his eyes.

“Thank you for showing up. Means a lot.” You exhaled, plastering a smile on your face. “I felt as though this would be a more…proper setting for what I’d like to talk to you about.”

But as soon as you opened your mouth to start, he cleared his throat. “Are we not going to order anything first? I believe a satisfactory meal would be beneficial before discussions.”

You scratched your neck, laughing. Even though you wanted to end your own existence in that very moment, you persevered.

Once the food finally arrived, you occupied yourself with sipping on your drink. The man who mirrored you was cutting his meat.

So, before it touched his lips, you confessed. “I am in love with you.”

He paused for a second before chewing the meat casually, examining your expression. He was looking for some sort of mockery.

When there was none, (much to his relief), he simply said. “Why?”

Why? God, this was going to be embarrassing.

“The way you carry yourself lets everyone know that you are self-assured. That’s already a very attractive trait.”

He continued eating, looking almost disinterested. (He is not. He wants needs you to continue. Keep telling him what you love about him. He loves the sound of your voice.)

“You’re a man who’s unafraid to speak the truth, but it’s not in a ‘you suck.’ kinda way…moreso a ‘you suck, but we can fix that.’ kinda way. You understand that while people can be horrible, they can also just be misguided, and need help.”

Your eyes were stuck on his face, praying that his facial expression would…soften. That he would take in that you were talking just to talk, that this was all straight from the heart.

And then, you felt calloused fingers caress your skin, and intertwine with yours.

Your lips were sealed as you looked at Veritas’s face, his indifferent expression remaining. However, his thumb rubbing over your index finger left you confused.

“Don’t let me stop you. Continue.” He spoke as if it was a command.

So you took in a deep breath. “I love you, Veritas Ratio. You’ve given me the strength and the want to be better…to thrive. I love you for that.”

And that’s when you finally see him smile. He was enamored. One of the best things he could ever hear from you is that, he of all people, helped you gain the strength to do your best.

“I would kiss you. But, I’d rather do that after I’ve cleaned my teeth.”

“I did not need to know that.”

✎ rejection;

You had decided to invite him over to your estate. Your heart was thumping and you had to continuously change shirts with how much you were sweating.

When you finally got yourself together, you heard the doorbell ring. And you swore you could hear ringing in your own ears.

The purple haired genius stepped in as you welcomed him. He gave you a hum of acknowledgement before he requested a spot to sit at.

You decided to sit down on the couch, watching him as he had both his legs and arms crossed. God, why was he so hot. What the fuck.

Needless to say, as soon as you said the words “I love you,” Veritas groaned, but it wasn’t in annoyance–not towards you–but in disappointment.

Why did you love him? Why did you love someone who has never and might never love you back? Why was it him? He could never love you the way you want him to. There are people out there that are much more deserving of your affections.

With that, a frown tugged on his lips as he spoke. “I must condemn you for having such an…unfortunate taste in men.”

A frown of your own found its way into your face as he said that. You wanted to protest, but out of politeness, you let him continue.

“Any qualities you appreciate about me, you can appreciate in anybody. Albeit, those will be rare occasions, but still possible. And when you find that somebody, they will appreciate you to the highest degree.”

He was being…kind. He was rejecting you, but he was being kind? Somehow, that was worse than him laughing in your face.

“…If that was all you needed to tell me, then I shall take my leave.” The man was at the door before you could blink.

“After this, please do reconsider who you choose to involve in your romantic pursuits. And do refrain from any…unprofessional behavior during work tomorrow.”

You were probably hearing things, but you could hear his voice waver.

Truthfully, Veritas would not have had enough time for you if you two ended up dating. He was a busybody. Busy to the point where he’s fearful that…he would forget that he was even dating you. You didn’t deserve that.

If he had to separate himself from you, so you would be able to find someone else who could love you well, then so be it.

woah, check this out before you interact!

[dira333]

It is what it is - Tendou x Reader x Ushijima (platonic)

Another one of my "this is my boyfriend and this is my boyfriend's best friend" fics. This has been going round and round in my head the whole weekend, I hope I could put all the feeling into this that I felt about it. Tell me what you think.

Tagging: @lees-chaotic-brain and @satorisoup because in a way, it's Tendou

“Aren’t you worried people are going to call you out for this?” Satori asks, teasing lilt in his voice. “Flying all the way to Paris for a haircut?”

“I don’t care,” Wakatoshi exclaims, bathing in your joyful giggling and Satori’s amused snort.

“Whatever you say. I’ll see you after work, okay?” The redhead brushes a hand over his buzzcut before leaning over to kiss you - Wakatoshi averts his eyes on instinct.

“See you later. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You hold Satori’s hand all the way to the door, watch him step into the elevator before you turn back.

“Alright, now that we’re on our own. What do you want me to do with your hair? Some color? A buzzcut?”

“The usual,” he asks, closing his eyes when you pat his shoulder. 

There’s so much understanding in your words, your action, the simplest touch.

Oh, how he’s missed you.

-

“Wakatoshi, stand straight,” his mother orders. His father’s hands are warm on his shoulders as he stiffens, posture perfect now.

“This is my good friend,” she explains just seconds later and Wakatoshi can see it, in the harsh lines and the absence of a smile.

“And this is her daughter. It would make us very happy if you two would marry one day.”

“Love-” His father says in that tone he uses when he asks his mother to change her mind on something. She rarely listens.

“Of course, nothing will be settled until you are older,” she speaks over him yet again. “But I am sure you two will be fast friends.”

The adults leave them alone after that, with nothing but a plate of healthy snacks and glasses of water.

You are nice to look at, he thinks. Unlike your mother, you’re curves and softness, eyes glittering as you shyly ask what he likes to do in his free time.

“My father plays Volleyball with me sometimes,” he explains, “Or I read.”

“Could you show me?” You ask, pulling your lower lip between your teeth as you wait for his answer.

“The books or Volleyball?” He asks, not really understanding. He’s not good at reading between the lines, as his mother calls it. He hopes you won’t mind.

But your face lights up at his question, a sight he wants to see again.

“Both?” You ask and when he nods and turns to show you to his room first, your hand shoots out to curl into his, warm and small and soft.

He can’t remember the last time he held someone’s hand, but he squeezes yours like his father used to do with his and your smile tells him what he did was the right thing.

-

“Is this okay?” You ask, soft voice floating around him as you drag a comb through his hair.

“It always is,” he answers, stilling as you move to assess your work.

“It looks good,” you decide finally, smiling as you grab a mirror, making a show of presenting it. “You look good, Toshi.”

“You look better,” he insists, but it sounds foreign in his mouth. 

He’s not one to compliment someone’s appearance and he can see the surprise in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes immediately, “It’s something I heard Satori say.”

“I thought it sounded familiar,” you agree easily before patting his cheek. “I sometimes lend sentences from him as well.”

“Pray tell.”

You smile, handing him the mirror again. “First you have to tell me how it looks.”

“Perfect,” he says, because it is. He looks the way he’s used to, the same haircut he’s had for years. You embrace routine as much as he does. Maybe that’s why the two of you clicked so well.

“Now,” you smile, “I’ll make us some tea. I’m sure I still have some sweets hidden where Satori won’t look if you want them.”

“I’d rather have something healthy,” he admits and your smile doesn’t flicker, it grows.

“Like the old days,” you agree easily.

It warms his heart that you remember the beginnings of your friendship as well as he does.

-

“Are you leaving?” Satori asks, looking up from his Shonen Jump.

“Yes,” Wakatoshi agrees, tying his shoelaces. “I will be back before lights out.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Satori laughs, “I’m curious. Where are you going?”

“I’m meeting with a friend.”

“Do I know him?”

“No, you don’t know her.”

The surprise is loud on his face, dark eyes widening.

“A girlfriend?” Satori gasps, hands pressed against his lips in excitement. 

“A friend that’s a girl,” Wakatoshi corrects. For a second he stills, doorknob in his hand. “Do you want to join us?”

Satori blinks. Once, twice, three times.

“Are you sure?”

“No. But I think she might like you.”

“In that case… give me five minutes.”

“I’ll inform her that we’ll come in later.”

“We won’t be late if we run,” Satori sings, diving into his closet to pull out something to wear that doesn’t wear the Shiratorizawa emblem.

.

Wakatoshi is usually blind to social cues, no matter how much he studies them. He still can’t read between the lines, but he can’t say he’s given it much thought lately.

He’s good at Volleyball and he’s excelling in his studies. What else is there in life?

You’ve never complained about him missing something either, clearly content with the state of your friendship. And if there’s someone’s opinion he cares about, it’s not his mother's, it’s yours.

But he can see it now, written in bold letters on your face, your eyes, the shiver of your hesitant smile.

You look at Satori like the girls from his class look at him before he begins to speak.

Your hand twitches as if to hold his but you hesitate.

He turns to look, surprised to see his only other friend just as changed.

Satori is supposed to be the confident one. Loud and unapologetically himself.

This Satori, however, is blushing, staring at the tips of his sneakers only for his eyes to flicker upwards and back to you for only a second before looking back down. 

Is this, Wakatoshi thinks, a little dumbfounded that it’s happening in front of him of all people, is this falling in love?

-

It’s cold, even for Spring in Europe. You curl further into the warmth of your jacket, hands stuffed into the pockets to keep warm.

The day had been bathed in a grey light that’s now dimming fast, street lamps and the warm glow of shop windows battling against the coming night.

Wakatoshi’s hand reaches out without a thought, folding around yours like he used to when you were little.

You look up with surprise and he’s not sure if he should regret this or not.

“You’re worried,” you tell him, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “I can see it now. I was wondering what was wrong, but you wouldn’t say and I didn’t want to push.”

He opens his mouth to insist that he’s fine, a lie he’s been telling himself for weeks now, almost mastering to make himself believe it.

“Don’t lie, Toshi,” you ask and it’s the nickname that unravels him, a memory from long forgotten times resurfacing.

“I love you,” he admits, words spilling out of him like Volleyballs out of an upturned cart. They’re unstoppable, now that they’ve been set free.

But your smile doesn’t fade and your hand only squeezes his.

“I know, Toshi.”

His eyes flicker to the dark asphalt and back up.

“But Satori-”

“You don’t love me like Satori loves me, do you, Toshi?”

Your voice is warm and comfortable, like a blanket he wants to curl into.

“I don’t know,” he admits, because this is you. He’s always been honest with you.

“But I do,” you tell him softly, reaching up to cup his cheek with your other hand. “You’ve never looked at me in that way. We both know it, Satori and I, we both know you. What is worrying you?”

The question hits him like one does a tuning fork, everything in him vibrating to the point he fears he’ll fall apart. 

“I miss you,” he says, his voice carrying something he cannot begin to describe.

Hurt, loneliness, despair, insecurity. Will I ever be enough?

“Oh Toshi,” you rub your thumb under his eye, catching a tear that must have slipped out. “We miss you too. But we love you, okay? And even though it feels like that sometimes, you’ll never be alone.”

He considers it, smoothes it over the open wound inside of him like one does with a balm.

Another voice pops up, cuts through the noise inside his head like a warm knife through butter.

“There you are. I was looking for you.”

They both turn and Wakatoshi isn’t sure what he anticipates to see in his best friend’s face.

Anger, maybe, or betrayal. 

Not this kind of soft worry he isn’t used to.

You say something in French he doesn’t quite catch and Satori steps closer, wraps one impossible long arm around his shoulders, and curls into him.

“Can’t fool us, big boy,” he says with a voice so warm it feels like hot chocolate tastes, “Knew something was up when you asked to travel all the way here for a haircut.”

It might look strange to someone looking in, the three of them hugging in the cold night on the middle of the sidewalk.

But it’s not strange to Wakatoshi.

He should have known. These are his friends. His family. 

His home away from home.

-

“Is this really okay?” Satori asks, kneeling on the floor next to Wakatoshi’s bed. “You’ve got to be honest with me here, okay?”

“I am.”

“I am going to marry her if you let me, you know this!”

“I’d be happy if you did,” Wakatoshi insists. “If she wants you, that is.”

Satori snorts but it sounds more like a sob. “You think she likes me?”

“She said so, didn’t she?”

“Yeah,” the word is more a dreamy sigh than anything else. Satori puts his head back and stares up at the ceiling. 

“I didn’t know people like her existed,” he says, voice far away. Wakatoshi turns to look at him. 

“Girls?” He asks, a little confused.

“Kind people,” Satori explains, “with a good heart. Who don’t judge about someone’s looks.”

“Did that happen to you?” Wakatoshi asks, thinking about himself and his mother and you.

There’s something in Satori’s eyes, something vulnerable and open that he hasn’t seen before.

Wakatoshi pats the bed next to him before he can pull himself away again. Satori is nice. He wants to know him.

“Tell me about it?” He asks.

.

“You’re not good with social cues, are you?” Satori asks one day after lunch, walking back to Class.

“No.”

“The girl that was talking to you, she wanted me to leave.”

“Why?”

“Because she likes you. She wanted to be alone with you.”

Wakatoshi stops, freezing in place.

“What?” Satori asks, walking back to him. “What are you thinking about?”

“Do you want to be alone?”

Satori understands immediately. “Sometimes, yeah. But I’d tell you that, you know? Right now we barely manage to hold hands without our faces combusting. And I like having you there. She does too, I know.”

“How?”

“She said so,” Satori pulls out his phone, drags his thumb across the screen for a minute before he holds it up for Wakatoshi to see.

It’s an entire conversation he’s not been part of, your blocks of texts interspersed with the emojis Satori likes to use.

But he can read it, black letters on a white background.

“Wakatoshi is the most important person in my life.” It warms his heart like hot chocolate on a cold night.

“And since you’re my best friend too,” Satori singsongs, “You’re not getting rid of either of us.”

“Good,” Wakatoshi nods and repeats it once more for good measure. “Good.”

-

“Poland is not that far away,” you point out over morning coffee. Your hair’s a mess and you sit in Satori’s lap, leaning back into him every few minutes to remind him to feed you one more bite of the croissants Wakatoshi bought on his morning run.

“It’s not France.”

“Yeah, but the French team sucks,” Satori exclaims, “You’d lose all happiness playing for them just to be close. The Polish team sounds good if you ask me. And it’s really not that far. You could come over once or twice a month depending on your schedule.”

“I’ll think about it,” he agrees, buying himself some time with a sip from his coffee.

His wound is still open, though it has stopped bleeding.

“Do you think I’ll find someone,” he asks, yet again unable to keep the words inside before he has thought them through.

Satori and you both turn your heads to the side as you think, a habit that started with one person but he’s no longer sure with whom.

“Maybe you will,” you say, “maybe you won’t. You can be happy either way.”

“Don’t lose sight of what’s important to you,” Satori adds, “because it can be easier than you think. To give up on a boundary just because you think you have to.”

He considers that for a second.

“If I’ll never find someone-” Your hand finds his before he’s able to finish the sentence, squeezing as hard as you can.

“You’ll never be alone,” you insist. Satori’s larger hand wraps around yours until again, you are three.

- - -

The French Countryside is not a bad place to retire.

“Look what I found,” Satori raises a basket full of fruit, each looking better than the last, “everything from our own garden.”

“I thought you wanted to work less,” Wakatoshi comments, picking a plump apricot from the basket and biting into it. It’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“Ah, this isn’t work,” Satori insists, but he puts the basket down, pressing a hand to his back for a second. “I just need to slow down a little.”

“You should,” Wakatoshi agrees, but makes no move to pick up the basket himself. His back is even worse than Satori’s.

“Boys, boys,” your voice comes from inside, “Leave the hard work to someone younger. I’ve made coffee and tea, what do you want?”

They turn and walk inside, Satori singing yet another made-up song about the market in the village.

When he reaches you, he kisses your temple first and then your lips, squeezing your hips under the apron.

Wakatoshi has gotten used to the sight after decades. He’s more interested in his coffee and maybe the morning paper.

“Has anyone seen my glasses?” He asks, squinting down at the paper. 

Satori laughs. “On your head,” he tells him, but stays where he is, glued to your side.

It’s like this everyday and if someone would dare to ask, Wakatoshi wouldn’t mind living like this for another decade or two.

After all, one hasn’t lived before turning one hundred.

My Kofi if you'd like to tip me

[mewogrl]

15 ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ✧.*

bestfriend!megumi x f!reader

megumi and you have an intense argument that causes you guys to throw out your 15 years of friendship.

↳˳;; ❝ part of my jealous? me? never! fic, masterlist here ᵕ̈೫˚∗

content: readers pronouns are she/her, HEAVY ANGST, smau, friendship ending, i will always love you trope, overthinking, dedication

wc: 1k

an: i can'ttt im trying to get this done as fast as possible for y'all frl so this is NOT proofread😭

﹋﹋

megumi starts walking home from school the next day, wondering how he could manage to get you to actually hear him out and understand what inumaki is trying to do.

he finally reaches his house and unlocks his door, immediately walking inside to slam it shut and lock it. he rapidly runs up the stars to him room, slamming that door shut as well.

he plops down on his bed and unlocks his phone, clicking on messages and tapping your contact, immediately shooting you a text.

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

megumi stared at his phone screen in pure shock, tears rolling down his face like a strong current.

you had just ended things with him. and he knew that you were serious about it. after 15 fucking years, you called his pathetic, controlling, and jealous. you had picked a douche you barely even knew over him! the guy you knew your whole life.

megumi was dumbfounded, knowing after this he could probably never win you back. you had chosen who's side you were on and it was clear as day.

was he really just overreacting and being controlling? was it all in his mind? or had you just believe what you want and not listen to megumi because you want toge.

megumi turned his phone off and shuffled under his covers, quietly sobbing and he drifts off into a deep slumber, honestly praying that when he wakes up, you'll be by his side, telling him you love him and realizing it was all a nasty nightmare.

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

megumi wakes up with dried tears on his face. he looks out the window and its dark.

'fuck. it wasn't just a nightmare,' megumi thinks. he wants to sob but is physically too tired to even let out anymore tears.

he still just can't wrap his head around why you would choose inumaki over him. the guy that was with you through thick and thin. had he really been that bad of a friend to you and was just thinking he was the best?

all megumi wanted to do was sleep and bedrot but he knew he couldn't. he didn't know what to do, to be honest. he really wanted to get you back but at this point, he knew you wouldn't hear him out and there was really no way to contact you.

he decided to show up at your house. he knew it was a bit intense but he loves you, and needs you to understand.

he checks the weather and its raining but he doesn't care. he throws on a hoodie and pulls the hood up. he ties up his shoes and grabs his keys, running out of the door and locking it.

megumi runs as fast as he can, sprinting down the open, wet street in order to reach your house. your house was on the other side of town but for you, there was nothing megumi wouldn't do.

he is halfway to your house and he's already soaking wet. he knew this was probably a mistake because there was a really unlikely chance you would even open up the door for him, knowing you don't want to see his face.

he didn't care about that though, he was gonna try his hardest to make you listen to him and believe him. he wanted to keep you safe, even if you didn't love or care about him anymore, he will and would always love you.

he finally reached your house and it feels surreal. being back at this place fills his head up with all the memories of you guys hanging out here. he feels tears pool up but blinks them away.

he steps up onto your porch and quickly rings the doorbell, soaking the nice wood that your porch is built out of.

he hears your moms voice shout,

"coming!!"

he tenses up. he had completely forgotten about the chance that your parents would answer. did they know you guys had a fight? had you told them? or were they clueless? either way he wouldn't let that stop him.

your mom opens up the door and her eyes go wide.

"oh my megumi! your soaking! you must be freezing. quick come inside. i'll get you a towel and some new clothes, hon." she says endearingly.

"thank you, mrs. l/n." megumi responds, stepping inside of the nice warm furnished house.

your mom brings him a towel and new clothes and he changes into the bathroom.

once megumi changes, he goes to sit on the couch next to your parents.

"so, megumi. why did you come all this way? i'm assuming you walked." she questions.

"ah well, i actually wanted to talk with y/n.." megumi speaks out, shyly.

"oh yes.. she had um, told me about the argument you guys had. please work it out. i really think she needs you. i'll go get her for you and leave you guys alone." she whispered, worried.

"thank you, mrs. l/n." megumi says.

your mom jogs upstairs to your room and opens up your door.

"y/n!" she shouts, "you have someone here for you."

you get up excited, expecting toge, you run downstairs.

to the least of your expectations, megumi is there sitting on your, once beloved, couch.

"oh, um" you whisper.

"please, y/n. let me speak." megumi pleads.

"i thought i said i was done with you. why can't you just take no as an answer!" you shout, angrily.

he knew what he had gotten himself by coming here after you clearly told him you wanted nothing to do with him anymore, but he still decided to come.

and he wasn't going to give up this easily.

after about 30 minutes of persuading you, he finally got you to crack.

"fine! but you don't have a lot of time. i'm tired and you know i'm not in the mood for you right now.." you cautioned.

he wasn't going to fumble this opportunity. he had finally gotten you to listen to him and now he will make you finally believe him. maybe he can actually salvage your friendship.

@instabull @1l-ynn @theweirdfloatything @morideadcat

[alvinflavored]

MADE TO CONQUER THE STARS

→ WILLIAM JAMES MORIARTY x F!READER FANTASY ROYAL AU

CW!/##: misogyny

"no matter what anyone might say to you, (name), understand this; you were made to escape these earthly bounds and to claim your rightful throne alongside the celestial titans—"

"—you were made to conquer the stars."

✦ CH 1: A Vow To The Heir

as constant and stagnant the cycle of death and life is, the eon old war also continues on and on; forever and ever. an emperor rises, he serves his purpose against the enemy empire as long as his breath will allow him to, and in the end, falls into the great deep.

the hellish, almost eternal cycle went on for centuries. that was, at least, until you were born.

"hear me, all nobles. she is a woman! firstborn as she might be — you most definitely cannot appoint her as the next heir to the throne!"

"blasphemous, grand duke! lady (name) was prophesized to bring an end to the eon long war by the gods! how dare you try and refute the divine?!"

"and yet you refuse to call her the crown princess, marquis! how hypocritical can one truly be?"

"SILENCE!"

you hear the old emperor's voice booming. and though he has become weary with age and his voice has grown hoarse, he is still the emperor—a hush falls over the high nobles that had been arguing in the meeting hall. you wince, fingers tightening around your dress as you trudge away through the hallway, not wanting to eavesdrop further than you have.

you did not want to hover over the fact that a debate in the house of nobles has begun once again, due to your birth and existence — a cruel thing life could be.

"having a pleasant evening, sister?"

your fourth brother speaks wittily, appearing out of the blue when you turn a corner. "i found a pet for you. or rather," he grins. "a 'knight' to protect you."

you are met with a man of an imposing height yet falling on the slimmer and weaker side, hair as golden as the sun and eyes as scarlet as blood. blood that has been countlessly spilled on the battlegrounds.

(e/c) pupils fall to his clothes; ornamented in expensive jewellery, scarlet clothes. a finely decorated man. in other words; like master like servant — your fourth brother was poorly trying to convey that you were nothing but a mere decoration.

you flinch when those lifeless eyes, defiant eyes that says his heart doesn't have a place for anybody, meet with yours and it was clear that your brother was insulting you.

"your royal highness." the blond's upper body falls into a deep bow, his gloved hand over his beating heart. his lashes too, you realise, are golden in colour. "it is my greatest honour to serve and protect you."

you clear your throat, lift your chin high, make an effort to seem composed — as anybody of your stature should be at all times. "lift your head." you speak, and he does. you turn to your fourth brother. "and pray tell, brother, does our father agree to this?"

"of course." he scoffs. "i found this guy," he slings a shoulder around the blond. the blond stiffens. "but father is the one who recommended him to take the position of your knight. after all, his word is absolute."

this was just a snide way of the old emperor implying that he was indifferent towards you; his daughter. perhaps he was trying to kill you off but his severe, deep rooted fear of angering the gods was holding him back — that is why he resorted to sending you such a weak looking man to 'protect' you, as he says.

✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡ . ✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡

"if you are uncomfortable with me, your highness, would you prefer i call upon the maids instead?" the blond speaks as his back is turned towards you; facing the wall with his hands behind his back.

it's been a few weeks since this blond has become your knight. the two of you are very much in your own worlds entirely—an odd match. everytime you try and converse with him, he finds every chance to run away—as if he doesn't want to be in the same room as you, as if it is a pain, as if it is a chore.

serving a female master surely might be.

"no, i'm-" you suck in a deep breath, trying to make the chain armour fit on your body. a woman's body was not suited for it since they were made for and used by men in war or sparring practice. "-ugh. fine."

the blond can hear you struggle from the way you're breathing hard. "you are the heir to the throne, are you not? why do you not leave the fighting and the physical combat to the knights instead?"

that strikes a nerve somewhere inside you.

clatter.

"you are my knight, are you not? why do you not leave the advising & nagging to the advisors instead?"

your knight turns to look at the dagger between his index and middle finger that you threw at him with incredible speed, and which he caught with ease.

"....forgive this fool's insolence."

william never seems to truly respect you. even when being insulted by your siblings or ministers while you're on your walks, he stays on the sidelines, takes on the role of a chameleon and stays utterly quiet.

"you have quick reflexes." your eyes shoot up, straightening yourself. the knight looks down to observe the dagger in his hand; ornamented with fine jewels and designs emblazoned onto the blade. "how much have you trained?" you question him.

"as much training as any knight was allowed to have, your royal highness." william murmurs quietly. dull, you think. he doesn't seem to have his own personality. a ragdoll or a puppet, of sorts.

"but you agree you are talented than most peers."

he hesitates. speaks: "i am proud of my capabilities."

that makes you smile, makes you think there's something there—not just this large wall he's put up.

willam watches as your body spins around, grabbing something long and sharp. it's only when you turn back that he understands what that object in your hand is, and what you're implying. "catch."

his gloved fist wraps around the metal of the sword. "..your royal highness," were you insinuating what he thought you were? surely you weren't.

"spar with me."

the blond winces at that, shaking his head furiously. "how could i? a lowly knight like me should never-" his body tenses up when he feels the sword's cool metal against his throat — right over his adam's apple.

"afraid you'll lose?" you arch an eyebrow.

william sighs. "my head, yes." he sucks in air. "i'm afraid i may accidentally hurt you, your grace."

"i thought you were proud of your skills."

"not at the cost of drawing your grace's blood."

a noise makes it's way out of you, something between a chortle and an unbelieving scoff. "you will draw blood from me either way, directly or indirectly, if you are too weak to protect me when i need you."

william has his eyebrows furrowed, but is silent. his gaze is as empty as always, always dead, never truly on you, never meeting your eyes. he looks somewhere far, far away. a place only he can see.

"..as you say, your grace."

✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡ . ✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡

you grip the hilt of your sword tightly. a thin line of sweat trickles down your brow, and you can feel a dull ache in your muscles from your relentless training. as the firstborn child and heir to the throne, you've pushed yourself to the limit, determined to prove your worth alongside the male knights.

william circles you warily, his keen eyes scanning for any openings, but he's hesitant in his movements. "i don't wish to hurt you, your grace," he says, his brows creased in concern. "perhaps we should call it off?"

you feel a flash of irritation at his words, you've worked hard every day, harder than any male knight so you can be acknowledged — even if by the slightest. "do not treat me as if i am a delicate wallflower. i am your equal right now; your opponent."

a fresh cut on his cheek oozes blood, and his sleeve is ripped, exposing a nasty bruise on his forearm. he winces when he feels a particularly strong pang of pain on each of them. he's also panting, just as you are. good, you think to yourself. he's getting tired.

"hff..haa.."

you can feel a slight sting on your own skin where william's blade had grazed you earlier. with a huff and a sudden flurry of movement, he lunges forward, sword slicing through the air. you parry the blow, the clash of steel ringing out across the training yard.

there was no doubt about this; he was strong. you could feel it when his blade clashed against yours and he pushed against you with an almost inhuman strength. your lips curve upwards. pushing back, you counterattack, raining a flurry of blows upon him.

"you seem.. exhausted, your grace." william observes. sweat pours down your face, and your muscles scream in protest, but you refuse to give an inch.

"not as much as—" you grunt. "—you, though."

william struggles to keep up, his brow furrowed in concentration as he desperately blocks your strikes. seizing an opening, you lunge forward and sweep his legs out from under him, sending him falling to the ground. he tries to get back up, tries to search for his sword beside him but is too panicked to actually calm himself down and find it. he freezes when he feels the tip of your blade stop just shy of his throat.

and his eyes go wide.

"yield," you command, your voice firm and unyielding.

william stares up at you, his expression a mix of admiration and begrudging respect. you truly are on a level of your own. his breath is ragged and his chest is heaving up and down. from his perspective down here you look almost ethereal. divine. to him, the sun behind you and you yourself seem and are the same.

no wonder the gods chose you from every other being, no wonder you are their favourite daughter.

"i yield." he mutters.

the training ground is basked in a hue of golden. the trees rustle with the winds. "your grace," his voice is trembling as he speaks. he had underestimated you and that lead to his loss. no—even if he had been as cautious as one can be, he would have still lost, he would have still been overpowered to this extent.

you let your sword drop with trembling hands, only now realising how much of a fierce opponent he himself was now that the adrenaline has left your body. "speak."

william shakily drops to his knees, his head bowed deep. his fingers only now find his sword and he raises it past his head, holding each side. "i pledge my eternal devotion to you," he declares, his voice ringing with conviction. "i shall be your sword, your shield, your most steadfast protector. wherever your path may lead, to the heavens or to hell; i will follow you."

william's gaze lifts, and you are struck by the unwavering adoration in his eyes — a reverence that borders on the divine. for the first time you see his eyes glow. he would not just die for you; he would conquer kingdoms, he would lay waste to armies, he would move mountains to ensure your victory.

"i will follow you to the very edges of the known and the unknown worlds, if you will have me. for your breath is the very reason for my own, and your triumph is the only salvation i seek."

a knight's pledge.

"..." you can only watch in silence. it's almost beautiful the way he speaks, the loyalty that finally blooms in his gaze and his mannerisms when he looks at you.

your heart is drumming — how long you've yearned to hear this; to have your own willing knight, to serve you even if having a woman as a master is considered shameful and looked down upon by others.

slowly, you reach out and grasp the dagger, your fingers closing around the ornate hilt.

"i accept your vow, sir william," you say, your voice infused with the same reverence that shines in his eyes. william realizes that it's the first time you've spoken his name, and what a blissful thing it is, to finally serve someone worthy. "i will gladly have you at my side, as my most trusted knight.. and friend."

he smiles almost triumphantly and brings the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss onto it.

in that moment, you know that with william by your side, there is nothing you cannot accomplish. for in his eyes, you are not just a mere princess, but a goddess, his goddess. a saviour — one to worship.

"thank you."

[brucewaynehater101]

Oh he does not dare to even look in their direction. He is ashamed and horrified at the fact they have seen what he is under his magic. He can't even bring himself to turn his head in their direction.

Meanwhile for the Bats who were there, the transformation was horrifying for another reason. Tim was screaming and writhing on the floor while sobbing. Anytime new limbs came out there was loud cracking like breaking bones. They don't know that it was actually the Jorogomo version of Tim's spider joints popping after not being used for a long time. They don't know that the screaming pain was caused by only the sound and not the transformation itself. They think that a transformation between his true form and his human one is *agony* for Tim. They think it was never shown because being forced to switch forms is like torture for him. He wasn't hiding his other form out of malicious intent, it was to save himself the *agony* of being forced to change.

When Tim tries to sit up, the button is pressed again and Tim screams again as it feels like a hundred knives being stabbed into his body all over. This time when it stops, he goes limp and unconscious. The poacher simply laughs and says, "the second dose almost never fails to knock em out. Alright boys, get this one put with the others, I already have a buyer in mind who just *loves* little spiders." The poacher is cut off by Jason finally getting out of his binds and going straight after the man.

Eventually all the Bats are free and and bad guys are taken out. They are now faced with a new problem. Tim is still unconscious and they absolutely can not leave him here. In the end, Bruce carries Tim's upper half while Jason carries the lower half while Damian keeps the path clear. Then the Batmobile gets there, the only way to fit them all is Bruce in the driver's seat, the passenger seat laid down with Tim's torso stretched out on it, and his bothers in the back seat with his lower spider body crushing their laps as they pray he doesn't wake up.

When he does in the cave and they ask him questions about it, Tim replies with a vague, "my mother is the same kind of creature as me. Not my father. Besides, it's not like I could have shown you Even if I wanted to. After all, all of you have made your opinions on apiders *very* clear. That they're disgusting and ugly and not welcome in the manor." He refuses to meet their eyes, especially since the whole family is there now, even Alfred. Tim won't look at them as he gets to his feet and heads for the exit of the cave and says, "I know how to get back to drake Manor. You won't see me again, don't worry."

As for making things with yarn, he absolutely does. Constantly, all the time. Though he uses his own silk instead of yarn and doesn't tell anyone that it's his silk even when they ask what it's made of, he just smiles and says that it's a special type of yarn he found.

Thank you for adding on!

Poor Tim trying to convince himself it's alright as he also tries to convince the Bats that it's alright and he knows the way out. I bet Alfred also feels an immense amount of guilt.

The making stuff with his silk is super cool! I'm curious how it feels and whether there's any special properties to the stuff he makes (he can make human/animal "puppets" so how does clothes or blankets or stuffed animals with his yarn affect people).

Some questions I had: does Jack "die" after Tim's mom dies, does he stay in the comma, or does he somehow wake up? Who else knew about Tim? How did his other form affect the BruceQuest?

Who in the batfam didn't have any negative feelings about spiders prior to Tim's reveal?

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Hail storms

Requested: No

Warnings: Spicy 🌶, Religious themes (Kyle’s), Oral Sex (Kyle’s) Toxic relationships (Simon’s), Angry Sex (Simon’s), Bondage (Alejandro’s), Spit Kink (Alejandro’s)

Characters: Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Alejandro Vargas

Word Count: 1,448

A/N: New layout, woooooo!!!

Gaz - I’m Not An Angel

I wasn't always this way

I used to be the one with the halo

The weight of the gold cross on his clavicle burned as he watched you from across the pub, the sound of Soap’s laughter, of Price’s scolding words, of Ghost’s heavy breathing, it all faded into the background. Like the static of an old radio that you could never tune quite right. But you, you were clarity. The perfect pitch of some singer rising above the other soft noises.

He’d never had a one night stand before. Thought about it, prayed about it, but he could never bring himself to do it. Could never bring himself to let himself taste the sweet fruit of sin that he so often craved. The same one his pastor warned him of when he was but a boy, years before the man that sat in his place now. But he finds himself crossing that threshold now, the devil tugging him closer, a marionette on cursed strings.

“Hi.” He says, as he sits beside you, fingers trembling as he holds onto his mug of cheap beer. “I’m Kyle.”

But that disappeared when I had my first taste

And fell from grace

The taste of you in his mouth was sweeter than anything he had ever had, more than the grapes his mother used to pack in his lunch tin when he was younger, but yet you were also more bitter than the wine that followed communion bread. Innocence turned to pain and fear and blood. But none of it could ever be more holy than. No holy relic would ever be able to bring him to his knees the way flesh between your thighs did.

And when you ran your nails through the stubble of his hair, your eyes piercing and heavy as you stared down at him, he knew the cross he wore meant nothing anymore. A false idol, trying to take your rightful place in his heart. He squirmed impossible closer, tongue out as he panted for air, so desperate to keep tasting you that he was barely a centimeter away.

The chain of his cross broke easy under the grip of his fist, and he heard the soft ting of it hitting the floor, before it was lost to him.

It left me in this place

I'm starting to think, maybe you like it

Kyle woke last the next day, an unusual occurrence considering his line of work. The smell of freshly brewed earl grey curling pleasantly in his nostrils, rousing him from the pleasant warmth of your bed, flaccid cock hanging at his thigh when he slips out from beneath the sheets.

“Love?” He mumbles, feet dragging on the ground, feeling all too much like a newborn lamb, limping after its shepherd after just being born. Like the world was made anew, with you as his guiding light.

And that light led him to the kitchen, where you leaned against the counter, dangling his cross between your pretty fingers.

Meeting his eyes as you let it slip into the trash.

Ghost - I Miss The Misery

When you tell me you'll make it worse

(I'd rather fight all night than watch the TV)

The front door slammed open, your shoulder blades digging painfully into the hardwood as Simon rammed you into it, his hands ripping away at your clothes (clothes he bought you, clothes he loved on you, clothes he always loved to take off), your own tearing away at his skin, nails shredding away at skin like cheap paper, leaving raw bloody lines on his back that were sure to sting .

Some bitter and angry part of you hopes that the next time he tries to have a sleazy fuck with someone else, that they’ll see this. See what you do to him. And know that they’ll always be insufficient by comparison.

Cause no matter how hard you fought, no matter how loud you got. There was a simple truth you needed everyone to know about him.

He was yours. Now. Always. Forever.

I hate that feeling inside

You tell me how hard you'll try

“Promise I’ll get better.” He’s whispered in your ear countless times, curled around you after the latest round of angry sex, clinging to you like a lifeline, like he hadn’t had his hands curled around your throat not even half an hour ago as he told he how much you pissed him off, how much he hated you. “Never do it again. Promise, Love.”

And it was always a lie.

But he promised everytime, even knowing it was futile, fragile, already broken. Floating in the air like the moans you let out in the bedroom, under him with his teeth buried in your shoulder. Fucking you like he wanted to kill you with his dick. Headboard slamming into the wall so hard it cracked, brittle paint chips falling to the floor. And you couldn’t deny how god damn good it felt, everytime you fought your way back towards each other. Like opposing magnets, like heaven and hell.

But when we're at our worst

I miss the misery

The morning after, he was in the front room of the house, grouching and grumbling loudly about how he had to fix the hole the doorknob made again. His side of the bed was still warm from his gargantuan body, making you curl into it, seeking him and his heat out without specifically calling for him, though you knew he would come running with only a word from your sore lips. Eager to flee back to your side and crawl above you once more.

You smiled into the pillows, one full of teeth and mischief.

You couldn’t wait to do it all over again.

Alejandro - Do Not Disturb

Let's take our clothes off

I wanna show you my hidden tattoo

“This is cute.” You chuckled against his lips, back pressed firmly against the cool wall of his apartment, running your fingers over the crow tattoo that arched over his broad hip. The beady eye of the mischievous avian staring right back at you.

“Yes, what every man wants to hear during sex. Cute.” Alejandro laughed in return, darkened hazelnut eyes gaining a hint of amusement as he took your hand and placed it right on the patch of black ink. “Go ahead, touch it. You’re the only one that’ll ever get to see it.”

“Only me, huh?” You cooed in an almost mocking tone of voice, raking your nails along the razor sharp feathers of the ink bird. His skin jiggling pleasantly for you when you reared your hand back to give his ass a playful little slap, the sound of it reverberating in the room along with his grunt. “Well, aren’t I just honored?”

That nobody ever gets to see but you do

Oh baby let me taste ya, shake ya, tie you up and break ya

Hands tied above your head with a silk tie, his silk tie. A brilliant deep blue that stood out against the barebones gray sheets and pillowcases. Blue digging into your wrists in a delicious combination of pain mingling with pleasure. The same as his hips slapping against you with every inward thrust.

“Such a good pretty thing you are.” He huffs, leaning forward and pressing your knees to your chest, constricting your airflow just the smallest bit, white starbursts flashing behind your eyelids. “Letting me tie you up and have my way like this. Gonna let me spit in your mouth next?”

In response, you simply opened your mouth and let your tongue roll out.

'Cause I've been alone, left on my own for too long

Oh damn, too long, too long, too long, I say come on

“Come on.” He huffed, tweaking your nipple, grazing his teeth over the thin skin that stretched over your collarbone, a bruise or two sure to form with how rough he was being. “Come on, come on, come on.”

And come you did, with seizing muscles and flailing legs, a high pitched cry crawling out from your lungs and bursting out your swollen mouth, tears streaming down your cheeks in rivers as you throw your head back in ecstasy. Barely even noticing the way his hips started to stutter before he spilled inside of you, thick white seed covering your insides. Rolling his hips a few more times to really push it all in before he pulls out and collapses beside you, narrowly missing crashing on top of you.

“So….” You start after a few minutes of you both catching a breath, turning to him with sparkling eyes and a mischievous grin. “Round two?”

[rememberwren]

A Dichotomy of Thought || 2

Part One | Part Two

Simon thinks of a way for you to make up to them almost hitting Johnny with your car.

#

It’s not all blackness. There are white days.

White nights, too. Just not in the way Johnny might have hoped for. Instead, the blinding glare of sun on snow makes his eyes water. His sunglasses have been dislodged in the crash, lost somewhere. His arm, too. Fire crackles, the sound dampened by the snow. His leg is crushed beneath a piece of scrap metal that’s been bent like a twig, and all around him is the smell: smoke and gas and blood.

Ghost is there, too. Ghost peeking up out of the snow, his white camouflage and Johnny’s double vision disguising him until only the black outline of his mask is visible over the glare of all-else. Johnny blinks hard but Ghost only ever swims into focus for a moment. Around the edges of his vision, it’s all darkness, darkness.

“Where you been?” Johnny croaks, tasting blood.

“Been here all this time,” Ghost says, mask flexing where his jaw moves.

Johnny wakes up then. Because Ghost wasn’t there, and that detail is enough to break through the all’s-well fog that seems to lay over dreams like a fine mist. If Ghost had been there, it’s likely that he would have been lost like the rest of the crew. Then what would Johnny have left? An artificial knee; a weak arm; headaches twice a day. Everything a boy could have ever dreamed of.

Johnny wakes from these white dreams with his heart pounding, Simon’s hand on his shoulder urging him awake. Simon isn’t sleeping these days—at least not when Johnny might catch him in the act.

An hour before sunrise, the sky the same color as a fresh bruise, Johnny croaks out in the darkness of their bedroom: “C’n we have eggs for brekkie?”

#

Johnny used to do all the cooking, back in the Before times as Simon has taken to calling them in his mind, but Simon is a quick learner; he always has been. It’s one of the (many) reasons why he had managed to move up through the ranks in the military so quickly. When he has a problem, he develops a narrow-minded focus that has been referred to more than once as a ‘dog with a bone’ mentality.

But he’s learning that Johnny is not a problem that he can fix.

Simon becomes excellent at seeing everything and nothing at once. His head is expertly turned to keep his lover only in the periphery of his vision. In that way, he pretends not to see the way Johnny first goes to the counter, intending to shift himself up and sit on it the way he used to in the old days before the helicopter went down. He’s almost there when he must remember that he has only one arm, one weak arm. One throbbing leg. Perhaps he could scramble up onto the counter like old times, but perhaps he couldn’t, and his pride is too beaten to take the risk. So he goes to the kitchen table, the one made of mismatched chairs and scratched oak wood, and Simon has to pretend that he doesn’t see the way Johnny struggles to even pull his chair out.

Grab it from the middle, Johnny, he wants to say, but he doesn’t. Help is not wanted here. Help is the opposite of helpful. Already the frustration is building behind Soap’s eyes like a balloon filled with too much air, latex creaking, ready to pop at a moment’s notice or less and send all that fury rushing out. Simon can take it. He can take it—but he dreads it.

It’s not him, he tells himself, scrambling an egg in the pan. It’s the pain. It’s the fear. It’s poisoning his boy’s head, and he doesn’t know how to help. Doesn’t know what to do except endure. Put his head down and barrel through the storm and pray that when he comes out on the other side, Johnny is still there with him.

Johnny has his head in his hand when Simon sets the plate in front of him, the eggs cut into bite sized pieces—and that’s a battle they’ve already fought a thousand times before Simon could convince Johnny to just accept his help, just let me cut up your fucking food Johnny for fuck’s sake let me do it so you don’t starve yourself to death.

It’s familiar to fight beside Johnny; it’s surreal to fight against him.

“Thank yeh,” Johnny mutters morosely. He perks up a little when Simon adds two pale green ovals to the table beside his orange juice, marked with 33’s. He takes those first, on an empty stomach no less, but drains the glass of orange juice which Simon figures is better than nothing.

“How’s your pain?”

“A five maybe.”

Simon internally adds two. There was a pain chart posted up in Johnny’s hospital room in the ICU: a barrage of circular faces displaying the spectrum from peace to agony. Little tears had been coming out of the corners of the face’s eyes at the SEVEN marker, its color just beginning to turn a fiery red. It’s been three months since they were stuck in that tiny, hellish room, but whenever Johnny gives a number for his pain, the chart is the first thing Simon thinks of.

The two eat together. Afterwards, Simon takes the dishes to the sink.

“Let me help.”

Simon doesn’t bother telling him no. When Johnny gets an idea in his head, for worse or for better, it’s better to let him see it through. Even if it inevitably ends in rage.

Simon takes his time washing each individual dish, making sure not to have too many dishes waiting to be rinsed at once, even if it means polishing the same fork over and over while Johnny struggles to relearn doing anything with his non-dominant arm. His crutch is propped up against the corner where the counter turns, watching them.

Their shoulders brush. Johnny looks up at him with pupils blown wide and then ducks his head, nuzzling his temple against Simon’s jaw. It’s the most affection they’ve shown each other in weeks.

“‘m sorry for how it’s been lately,” he says, water dripping off his elbow and onto the floor. “How I’ve been. A right angel, aren’t I?”

“Always.” Angels make him think of death, and death still makes him think of Johnny. How fucking close he came to scattering his lover’s ashes instead of passing him dishes to be rinsed. He tells Johnny the same thing he tells himself: “Things will get better. You get stronger every day.”

Johnny laughs weakly. “My arse.”

“It’s a fine arse.”

“Better ‘n fine. Jesus fucking Christ, this is harder than it looks,” Johnny says. He’s breaking out in a sweat, turning over his clean juice glass beneath the clear stream of water. Part of that sweat is pain, part exertion.

“You’re doing—“

The glass slips from Johnny’s fingers, and he tries to catch it with a hand that’s no longer there. It shatters against the laminate flooring, scattering glass like a bomb scattering shrapnel. They both stare long enough for a single beat of their hearts before Johnny brings his good fist (his only fist—Simon has taken to calling it his Good Fist in his mind) down on the lip of the sink, bellowing a curse that probably has the neighbors jerking in fright.

“Just a glass,” says Simon. But he knows better. “Come here. Don’t step in it. Y’re barefoot.”

He guides Johnny out of the danger zone and into the living room, pausing only to backtrack for his crutch when he notices the way his lover struggles to walk a straight line.

Simon gives him the remote and sweeps up the glass. By the time he comes back into the living room, Johnny is asleep, head back against the headrest of the couch. If it weren’t for the soft snores, Simon would feel the need to check if he were dead.

#

Simon sits in the armchair with a book in his lap. The words swim on the pages. He has never been this tired in his life; not even on missions where sleep seemed contraindicated. But behind his eyelids he sees a car bearing down on his Johnny, and stupid, foolish Johnny stepping out to meet it. He can’t even step out onto the balcony for a cigarette, not without worrying that when he comes back he’ll find—

A slamming of a door startles Simon awake from where he had begun to drift into a nightmare. Glancing toward Johnny first to make sure Soap hadn’t woken—and he hadn’t, though his head had fallen into an uncomfortable position that would surely leave him with a crick in his neck—he gives a dark glare toward the door.

Ever since the old man in the apartment beside them had died, it had been a never ending parade of fuck-ups in and out of the place.

Being angry is addictive. He finds himself wanting to feed his fuse, putting his book down and going to the door and throwing it open, ready to leave a lasting impression on any misfortunate soul left in the hallway.

Figures it would be you.

Your eye looks better today. It is less swollen, less pink. You’re sitting slumped against the door of 7C, ready to fall backwards should it open too abruptly, but at the sound of Simon’s door opening, you jerk yourself into a standing position

You gape in horror at the sight of him, and Simon gets a sick sense of pleasure from it. Make that equal parts pleasure and guilt (he usually doesn’t get off on frightening women, though it happens more often than he intends it to). He glances towards his door, peeking in through the crack to spy Johnny’s slumped, sleeping figure, assuring himself that it’s still there.

“You…live here?” You point at 5C, from which Simon has just exited.

“No. I broke in,” he deadpans.

“Is he okay? The…the guy I almost—“

“He’s fine.” Truth is, he’s so far from fine that Simon doesn’t think he could find fine with a map and a compass. But technically from her standpoint, it is true. She didn’t hit Johnny. If Johnny hadn’t stepped out in front of her, they never would have come so close in the first place. But clearly she doesn’t know that, and Simon isn’t going to tell her.

“Thank God,” you mutter, fresh sorrow in your warbling voice. “Tell him I’m so sorry. Again.”

“Shouldn’t be driving like that,” Simon says, while he’s in the habit of being a dick. He nods his chin towards your face. “Can you even see?”

“Better today,” you admit. “Please, if there’s anything I can ever do to make it up to him, and to you, let me know—“

And suddenly, like rays of light spilling down from parted clouds, he knows what he wants. What is within your power to give him, that is.

“Give me five minutes,” Simon says.

He watches a series of complex emotions flit across your face. He’s never been good at reading people; he doesn’t know what any of them mean. At length, your shoulders lift toward your ears as you steel yourself. You say: “You’ll have to talk to my boyfriend first.”

“For five minutes?” Simon asks, glancing back at the apartment door as if Johnny is liable to be standing there. He lowers his voice a little. “I just want one fucking cigarette without worrying about him taking a swan dive off the balcony. Please.”

You give him another strange look. But this time something that he says has gotten through to you. Looking every bit like a woman being coaxed to the gallows, you ask: “Five minutes…and all I have to do is what? Watch him?”

“Yes. He took two oxy at breakfast, he should be out for a while. Five minutes, you have my word. Give me your phone.”

“I don’t have one.”

Who doesn’t have a fucking phone? he wants to ask, frustration rising sharp and noxious in the back of his throat, but he doesn’t. He works his own phone free from his pocket. There isn’t any passcode on it, no thumbprint requirement or otherwise. He’s never kept secrets from Johnny.

“You know what a seizure looks like?”

“No,” you admit, mouth slipping into a comfortable frown.

“You’d recognize it if you saw it. Call an ambulance.”

“Is that—could he—?”

“He could. But he won’t. Five minutes.” Then, because he’s a piece of shit and because he can tell you’re thinking of chickening out: “You owe us.”

That steeliness appears back in your eyes. You nod grimly, clutching his phone in your hand, and go to slip past him into the apartment. But first…

Simon grips your wrist. His grip is gentle, but it has you going stiff and still all over, like a rabbit in a dog’s jowls. Playing dead, you are. Then he whispers: “That’s my boy in there. You do anything to hurt him or get any funny ideas, I’ll break your legs off. ‘m I clear?”

“You’re clear,” you whisper, voice in that strange warble again. This time you wait for him to nod his head in permission before slipping past him into the apartment, shutting the door behind you with a quiet click.

#

It is strange, being in someone else’s space. Eager as you are to intrude as little as possible (you’re more than happy to assuage the guilt that has roosted something foul in your belly since yesterday’s near accident in the parking lot), you can’t help but snoop. It’s human of you. Somehow, after everything, you are still human.

There are photographs on the walls of strangers: pretty girls who share a familial resemblance with their arms around each other; men in combat fatigues with weapons slung across their shoulders; a young blond boy and a German Shepherd. The space is tidy and small, a mirror image of your own apartment next door with the kitchen on the south side and the living area to the north instead of the other way around. The scent of breakfast clings to the air, and there are clean dishes drying in the dish rack.

On the couch is a man, his head lolled forward until his chin rests against his chest. He snores softly. Dressed in loose fitting pants and a t-shirt, his crutch rests against the couch. His right arm is missing.

You can barely breathe for how badly you don’t want to wake him. You can’t help but trace your eyes over his features though: the arch of his cheekbones, the lines of his jaws, the fullness of his mouth. There are scars along his temple, a livid purple in the morning light that streams in through the window.

He’s drooling on his shirt.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. He flinches in his sleep, and it sobers you. No more talking. The last thing you wanted him to do was to wake and catch you looming over him. You can almost hear his rough, accented voice: Did Jesus send ye? Did He tell ye to finish the fucking job and do me in?

You have just made a second near-silent circuit of the apartment when the door opens and the larger man re-enters, slightly out of breath. You glance down at his phone and see that only three minutes have passed. Stepping out into the hallway, he gives the sleeping man a lingering glance before following after you.

“You’re early.”

“Yeah, well. Couldn’t relax for fuck all. Thanks anyway.” You can’t help but take note of this man’s exhaustion: the solid darkness beneath his drooping eyes, the way his huge form seems to sag in on itself. It doesn’t take a psychic or a sleuth to put together that he hasn’t been resting, and you can guess why.

“You need your rest too,” you remind him.

“Thanks for the tip.” He says it with all the charm he might say, Fuck off.

You lift your hands in the universal sign of surrender. Message received. You’d overstepped enough with your car. The last thing he needed was advice from you. Glancing toward your apartment door, that old phrase comes into your head “No good deed goes unpunished”. But if all punishments are for good deeds, you must have been a saint in a past life.

Still, you find yourself offering: “If you ever want me to watch him again while you smoke or shower or nap or something. You know where I’m at.”

He stares at you. His eyes are so dark, you can barely tell pupil from iris. He’s not conventionally handsome—not the way the other man is, perhaps—but he is striking: brow low and strong, eyes dark like coffee without cream, mouth full and unhappy. Like Nietzsche said, you look into him and he looks into you. Then he nods, and without even telling you his name, disappears back into his apartment.

You stare for a long moment, feeling oddly bereft at the abrupt ending to this communication. Eventually, you try the doorknob on 7C.

Still locked.

[captain-hen]

Honestly even with all the Eddie mess, the most insane choice in the finale to me is still Athena leaving the hospital for justice/revenge, when the doctor had just told her that Bobby's life was still in the balance. They were ready to die together holding hands in the cruise arc, and now you're telling me she's leaving him alone knowing that he could be dead when she comes back to the hospital?? This is so weird.

i haven't even wanted to talk about the athena of it all because it's truly so upsetting, but y e a h. you're telling me her husband was on the verge of death and she was just willing to leave like that?? what if may and harry had shown up and bobby died and they didn't have their mother around to grieve with them?? and...basically everyone's reactions to bobby almost dying was so weirdly written. i've already talked about the buck of it all, how they glanced over his reaction where the buck of past seasons would be freaking out well after bobby ended up being okay—they cut the scene of eddie praying—we barely saw hen and chim's reactions to it because they were too focused on athena—ravi wasn't even around despite them making a point of including him in bobby's round of goodbyes in the previous episode. it was so fucking weird!!

[starsreminisce]

Lucien isn't just a male who saw Elain and immediately wanted her all to himself.

He is her MATE, which changes the rules, given that he is not only her soulmate but also because, in the world SJM created, there are tangible signs indicating this bond.

This is particularly evident when Elain said she felt a tug on her rib, similar to the same tug Feyre felt from Rhys in the first ACOTAR.

I was pulled from sleep by something tugging at my middle, a thread deep inside. I left Tamlin sleeping in the bed, his body heavy with exhaustion. In a few hours, we would be leaving Under the Mountain and returning home, and I didn’t want to wake him sooner than I had to. I prayed I would ever get to sleep that peacefully again. I knew who summoned me long before I opened the door to the hall and padded down it, stumbling and teetering every now and then as I adjusted to my new body, its new balance and rhythms.

And what is a mate in this world?

ACOTAR tells us

“High Fae mostly marry,” he said, his golden skin flushing a bit. “But if they’re blessed, they’ll find their mate—their equal, their match in every way. High Fae wed without the mating bond, but if you find your mate, the bond is so deep that marriage is … insignificant in comparison.”

And ACOMAF

Rhysand was my mate. Not lover, not husband, but more than that. A bond so deep, so permanent that it was honored over all others. Rare, cherished.

bubububut not all matches work out!

Rhys's father was described as cold and calculating, while Tamlin's father was a tyrant. Neither of these descriptions fits Lucien, especially considering how he has been giving Elain space. The only things he has done for her are giving her presents, which she has accepted twice.

We don't know the current whereabouts of his presents, but we definitely know what she did with the present she received from her choice. Hint: someone else now has it because she gave it back.

If Elain isn't going to reject her bond in someone else's book, then Elain and Lucien aren't going to explore their feelings and their bond in someone else's book either.

Given SJM's track record of 100% of couples turning into mates, why would she deviate from a trope she loves to use?

[mrsshabana]

honestly i need a story time about the cult? also the link to that podcast, im intrigued now lol

𝐌𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭

Ok children gather around. It's story time 🤓

Note: Now I won't provide a link because I talk about a lot of personal stuff including my name and location, and I don't want so many people having access to that. But I don't mind telling my story here.

Content warning: Mentions of religious trauma and eating disorders

Ok, so let me set the scene. I was 18 and moved out of my parents' house. I lived in a ghetto apartment near my university where I was studying art.

Now when I moved out my parents stopped talking to me. So I really felt alone, I had no family, no friends, and I was in a new place so I was very desperate to have a connection with someone. So really I was the perfect victim for a cult because I was vulnerable.

One day I was walking out of the mathematics building when a student stopped me and asked me if I would like to read the bible with her. She was a Korean international student and she was really nice so I was like sure why not. Now at this point, I wasn't super religious but I did consider myself a Christian. But I never knew the bible very well and my family was the kind of family that only went to church on easter and Christmas.

So anyway, I read the bible with her and she explained it to me. The way she explained the passage was insinuating that there was a female version of god. That was something I had never heard of before but it was interesting to me so I decided to come with her to her bible study.

Long story short it ended up being this organization called "The World Mission Society Church of God." I went to their church and spent hours with them every Wednesday and Saturday because they made me feel accepted. They welcomed me and became like my family which I didn't have at the time.

Something I really loved about them was that their church was so diverse. There were so many different kinds of people there, I really felt welcome. Because growing up churches seemed so segregated. I'm biracial, my mom is white and my dad is black so growing up we either went to the white church or the black church. And at both I felt like people would stare at me and my family and that I wasn't welcome there.

So it felt really nice to have such a diverse church where I felt truly welcomed. Anyway, I ended up making a lot of friends there and I stayed with them for about 6 months. Then I figured out they were actually a cult. It's a long story but I won't go into it because this isn't even the main part yet.

After leaving the World Mission Society I felt really lonely again because I lost the only friends and sense of belonging I had. But I had to just keep going.

Maybe about 3 months later this random Korean guy approached me on campus and he asked me if I'd like to participate in a survey thing about the bible. I was skeptical at first because my previous church had told me that every Korean person was a part of their church. (Which obviously is NOT true). But my mind was thinking, "Oh no, what if they are trying to get back to me."

But I decided that it's not right to assume that this man is a part of that cult just because he's Korean. So I agreed to participate in this survey and I gave him my phone number.

Basically, a professor was writing a book where she'd answer people's most common questions about the bible. And she was surveying students to collect questions for the book. It sounded pretty cool to me so I was very interested.

I met up with the professor at a Starbucks on campus and I answered her questions about things I've always wondered about the bible. We'll call this lady Anya.

During our meeting, I expressed to Anya how I felt discarded by god because of my previous cult experience. I felt like I wasn't worthy of his love and I was very ashamed of what I did. Because we would literally pray to a human man who claimed to be god. After leaving I knew that wasn't true, and I figured god no longer loved me for what I did.

Anya was so encouraging and kind. She told me that is it 100% untrue, and that god does love me. That he put me through that experience for a reason and it only made me stronger.

Then she offered to do some bible study lessons with me so I could learn things the right way and start to feel a little bit better about my situation. And of course, I agreed. I was desperate to redeem myself and make friends again.

So I started going to this bible study once a week. Which turned to twice a week. Which turned into me going to some woman's house to have lessons. We'll call this woman Cara.

Cara was from Korea and so was her husband, they were extremely nice and welcomed me into their home. They would feed me ramen and cool snacks, and I honestly felt like a part of their family. There were lots of people in this bible study too and I made a ton of friends.

So fast forward, I had been studying the bible with them for about a year now. And nothing crazy, I was learning about the parables of the bible and the meanings of all those things in the bible that make no sense. It was very informative and interesting but nothing outlandish.

They sit us down for this big "reveal" about who the 2nd coming of Jesus is. Now they hyped it up so much and they told us that we can't judge this person no matter what. This whole time I thought it was going to be someone crazy like Kanye West or something. But no, it was an old Korean man.

He seemed unassuming enough? I had never heard of him so I didn't know why they made such a big deal out of it.

Now at this point, you are probably thinking, "Why the hell would you fall for this again?" Listen, trust me I was frustrated with myself when I left but you have to understand these people love-bombed me when I had no one. They became my family when I had none. They lied to me for an entire year so I'd trust them and get close to them before they revealed who they really were.

And they were a church called Shincheonji.

And I had no problem accepting this because these people had been my family and my best friends for an entire year. They'd feed me, watch movies with me, do anything to help me out. So I trusted them wholeheartedly. But really I was just being brainwashed.

So after I found out that they were Shincheonji they put me in their group for advanced students. And I'd begin studying multiple times a week at Cara's house and Anya was always there too. I would join the twice-weekly sermons via zoom as well. Where one of the Korean tribe leaders would give a sermon about something. I was in the Mathias tribe by the way, though that doesn't really matter.

I would do so so much with them, we even all went on a road trip to Houston where the other branch was. They even got me a birthday cake and surprised me for my birthday too. It was honestly great, and I loved them a lot.

We were basically encouraged to recruit as many people as we can because if we don't they will go to hell. They put so much pressure on us for this. They'd say things like, "Don't you want to save them?" And I am a very empathetic person so I felt like omg I want to save everyone! But on the other hand, ever since I joined Shincheonji my anxiety and depression went through the roof. The pressure to save the entire world is a lot for a 21-year-old girl. So I never recruited anyone myself because I didn't want them to have to struggle with the same mental health issues I did when I joined.

I also had some physical health issues arise as well. Their teachings would always preach how "The word of god is all the food we need." How spiritual food was more important than physical food. And that really stuck with me, especially when I got food poisoning and I couldn't eat solid food for two weeks. Something about not eating made me feel good. Like I didn't even need food because the word of god was enough, so why not just not eat at all? Not eating felt like the only thing I could control, so I clung to it. And I became anorexic. Being with Shinchenji was the only time I was ever considered underweight.

Anyway, I have so many crazy stories to tell about my time with them but I'll save those for another day.

I had been with them for about two and a half years before I started to question things.

We got a new teacher from Korea to replace Cara because she was going to have a baby. And this new teacher was a lot different and a lot less loving and nurturing than Cara had been.

She had said some things that I didn't agree with, and it started putting some doubt in my mind.

Ok so, on a side note I used to work at the library at my school doing data entry in the basement. And I would listen to podcasts a lot throughout the day as I did my work.

One day I found an interesting podcast about cults, where the host would bring cult victims onto the show and they'd tell their story. Well I was listening to an episode about the Moonies and I thought to myself, "Huh, they sound very similar to Shincheonji in some ways..."

But I knew I could not think such thoughts and that if I did any research then the devil would poison me through the internet. And I needed to strengthen my spirit for even thinking of such a thing.

So I went to reddit, and I found a subreddit called r/Shincheonji. I was like, "Oh yes! Now I can talk to other Shincheonji members and we can strengthen each other's faith!"

But it wasn't a subreddit for believers. It was a subreddit for ex-members and people who were against Shincheonji.

And at this point, I had already seen enough to plant that seed of doubt in me. I read more and more even though Shincheonji warned me I'd be poisoned if I ever researched them. But I couldn't stop myself.

I went through so much inner turmoil, you guys have no idea. My reality was crumbling so hard and I felt like my world was ending. It's hard to explain, but I was so indoctrinated and brainwashed by this point. This really ruined me.

I had to mourn the loss of all of the family and friends I gained these past years. I would cry almost every night because I missed them, and it was so hard to accept that they never truly loved me at all. To be honest, I still think about some of them to this day and I hope they got out and found peace in their lives.

No one in my life had known I was a part of Shincheonji. My closest friends nor my family, who had slowly started talking to me again. But I had to tell someone so I told my childhood best friend, we'll call him Blaine.

I got in a Playstation party with Blaine and I just cried. I cried so so much, and he was so confused. But eventually, I told him everything. And he was really supportive and gave me no judgment at all.

My main issue was, how could I leave? I have quite literally been living a double life this entire time and not having that scared the shit out of me. But Blaine advised me to cut them off completely and just leave without saying anything. Because his concern was that if they got the chance to talk to me, they would most certainly be able to pull me back in. And I know them well enough to know this is true. So that's exactly what I did, I left and went cold turkey. I even went as far as changing my work schedule too.

And here's where things get creepy.

I hadn't spoken to them for about a week now, and I'm at work. I'm working as usual in the basement on the computers and low and behold, three girls walk in. Girls from my cult, girls that I was close to.

Now students aren't allowed to just waltz into this room so they had some big balls to do that. But the weird thing was, I had completely changed my schedule and I was working on a day I normally had off. They should have had no idea I was there.

But here they were, holding a large cup of boba from my favorite place. And in my favorite flavor too, winter milk cap with mango popping bubbles.

They came up to me and said, "Hey girl, we noticed you haven't been coming to worship lately. Is everything alright?"

I said, "Oh uh yeah everything's fine! I've just been super busy with work and a ton of projects for class..."

"Ok, well we got this for you," they handed me the boba, "We were hoping to talk to you. We can wait for you outside and talk to you when you get off."

I started panicking so I said, "My mom is actually picking me up as soon as I get off so I won't be able to, I'm sorry! Maybe another time though, I'll text you."

They were convinced by my response so they left. And boy did I RUN so fucking fast after I got off work. I even called Blaine so he could talk to me in case they came after me, but luckily they didn't and I got home ok.

He started yelling at me for drinking the boba saying, "YOU IDIOT! THEY PROBABLY POISONED IT!"

But hey, free boba is free boba.

Anyway, after that event I knew I had to text that girl and tell her I was deciding to leave Shinchenji because I didn't want them to show up at my job again or follow me around.

So I texted her, trying to be as nice as possible and explain to her that I just couldn't do it anymore. I told her how this affected my mental health and my physical health. How I developed an eating disorder from being in Shincheonji too.

Her response was really rude and condescending. She said my mental health issues and my eating disorder were my fault and the work of satan trying to blame them. She told me that once I leave I can never be accepted into heaven, that I'm damning myself to hell as well as all of my family members. I'll be honest, she made me feel incredibly guilty and selfish for leaving. Their teachings were still ingrained in me. But I knew that I could never return after everything, so I blocked her and never spoke to her again.

Oh yeah and that book the professor was writing in the beginning, that wasn't real and she wasn't a professor. It was just a ruse to lure students in.

I will admit I could never get their teachings out of my head. And to this day, even though I know they were wrong, a part of me believes I am going to hell for what I did and all of my family will suffer because of me. So now I can't even look at a bible, and I no longer consider myself religious.

And after this experience, I reached out to that cult podcast that helped me realize I was also in a cult, and I got an episode of my own where I got to tell my story.

So yeah haha that's my story!

Today only my close friends know, and I never told my parents. They still have no idea and honestly, I don't know if I will ever tell them.

I'm still really plagued by a lot of things they did, and my worldview has never been the same. My life has never been the same. But I've been cult free for about 2 years now so I'm just taking it one day at a time.

I'm sorry this was so long. But if you read the whole thing I want to say thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for reading my story. And if you are a college student, please be careful because cults like this are rampant on college campuses, especially in the U.S.

After leaving the cult, I needed something to obsess over, something to make me feel normal. And that was Gyutaro! And I gotta say, obsessing over him is much healthier than obsessing over the teachings of a cult.

Anyway, I want you all to know that this blog has been an escape for me and helped me to feel normal again after this experience. And I don't need a cult to make me feel loved anymore. Because I have all of you :)