#can you tell ive never touched a magazine ever

[cxr0lo1]

the animal is trapped. II

warning: slight mention of homophobia, smut?(not really,just words)

It’s been now exactly 5 days since I came here,it hasn’t been so bad apart from carol glaring at me for every little thing that I do, talking to Alex and piper? Glaring. Reading? Glaring. walking? Also glaring I don’t know what her deal was.

I made my way into the library since i never looked around it when i first came here. hearing a few movements behind the shelves but i didnt think too much into it since there are a lot of girls here who love to sneak around and touch each other anywhere they find " private". i grab a random book from the shelve suddenly seeing carol sitting behind the shelve with a magazine in her hand and a jawbreaker in her mouth like always,the wall behind her had a few burt reynolds posters but ive also seen frieda with her. ive noticed these few days that they’re probably close

carol's eyes suddenly shot up to look at my face that was in between the books. her eyes narrowed as i quickly turned away and huffed while shaking my head. jesus shes actually scary i dont blame people for being afraid of her, whenever she'd look at me so coldly or glare at me with her top lip curled i feel as if my heart dropped to my panties also,whenever she'd growl when shes pissed or just mad.

this is what was running through my mind as i walked around the library until i felt a hand wrap around my throat with my back slamming against the shelve causing a few books to fall with a small wince escaping my mouth. the second i looked up my eyes were met with carol's ,her face was red and she looked pretty annoyed " have you been fucking avoiding me? huh cookie?" she spat out as she tightened her grip a little. my brows furrowed as i grip her wrist a little "n-no im just trying…trying to do my time here in peace." i stuttered due to both the lack of air and since i was honestly a bit nervous and slightly scared. i heard her scoff as she looked at me with a sneer "thats 25 years. dont fuck with me navia." my neck arched a bit as i could feel her warm breath against my face before i said " god just leave me alone i did nothing to you." i said in a slightly shaky tone as her brows raised with frieda chuckling behind her " growing some balls now arent ya?" she said before squeezing my throat a little

" dont be such a snobby little bitch." she growled before letting go of my neck as she turned and left with frieda following her

i huff as i put my hand over my throat rubbing it slightly,god she definitely left at least a bruise on my throat from how strong her grip was. normally if this ever happened to me i'd cover it with some concealer but now that im in prison i obviously cant so everyone is gonna see it. i groan softly as i made my way to the bathroom after throwing the book aside. carol was right tho, i was avoiding her as much as i can after seeing how problematic but also peaceful at the same she was justing fucking confusing i cant even tell if shes a complete psycho or just mood swings , i would be away from the cell most the time and also away from the table she plays bridge at i would only be in the cell with her whenever i wanted to go to bed. i was just trying to avoid problems as much as i can so i dont get more years added to my sentance after all im probably gonna get released by the time i turn 44/46.

i stayed in the bathroom for the past 15 minutes holding a towel that i ran under some cold water against my neck, i dont know why i thought it would make the bruise disappear but it did fade the slightest bit, i let out a small sigh before walking out as i went back to the block again since it was lunch time, the second i grabbed my trey i went over to sit with alex and piper since theyre the only sane ones here besides you can say were friends now. i sigh as i take a bite of my food noticing both of them staring at my throat which made ne raise a brow,before i could say anything alex suddenly cut me off with "what the hell happened to you..whats that on yout neck?" i press my lips togather before shrugging "its nothing serious" i said with a chuckle but piper raised her brow and crossed her arm " carol?" i sigh as i groan before giving up and nodding as i roll my eyes before spitting out "you guys already know that its carol,why'd you even ask when its clear?" i said a bit frusrated as i grab my fork and start eating until piper said " jesus what did you even do? you told us that youre avoiding her." i raise my brows as i put my hands up "exactly. she noticed and probably not happy about it thats why she uh..choked me?" i shrug before looking up at them both "but hey im still alive. the bruise will eventually disappear" i said as they just looked at each other and just kept eating silently since i was gonna probably snap if they ask more, honestly the more i stayed here the worse my anger issues get

********* 3 hours later **********

i was sat on the top bunk finally since there was no point of avoiding carol anymore, she'd still bother me even if i tried to i just didnt bother to try again. i had a random magazine in my hand as my upper lip curled a bit everytime i saw a extremly hairy man pop up on the magazine or any man in general since im a lesbian, its not big news almost every girl here is. except for carol i think like come on she has all that power and control but she never thought of going down on a girl? maybe shes just straight. my thoughts got interrupted when i heard carol's footsteps coming to the cell, i didnt look up from the magazine instead i just kept flipping through the pages until i heard carol say "burt reynolds is the only one worth wasting time for" she said when she saw me looking at the women in the magazine. i look at her with a slightly disgusted expression before saying "ick..hes not worth looking at" she raised a brow as she leaned on the wall " what are you a fucking dyke? who dosent like burt reynolds?." i put the magazine aside before leaning down with my arm crossed " what are you a fucking homophobic? burt reynolds is stupid,you have bad taste." she growled before grabbing my chin as our noses were almost touching "watch your fucking language when you talk to me." she scoffed before letting go of my chin and threw a ice pack next to me "here..put this on the bruise it'll help i think. and again, you better fucking watch your mouth" she said before she laid on her bunk and grabbed a magazine from under her pillow. i stared at the ice pack thinking this is probably her way of apologizing besides i dont see her as the type to actually apologize so i wasnt surprised. i put the pack against the bruise which made me grut my teeth a bit at how cold it was before i said "thank you by the way." i heard no response from her as i just shrugged it off and grab the magazine again until a random inmate stood by the door and said " uh hey carol..do you still sell horse?" she said as carol just shot her a glare " cant you fucking see that im busy?" she spat out as the girl quickly walked away after apologizing. now that i think about it she probably uses her hidey-hole to sell there and smoke otherwise why would she be there? . i started drifting off to sleep after just constantly thinking about random things in the prison with most of my thoughts running around carol.

before i knew it i woke up with a loud bang on the wall only to see ginger hitting the wall with the baton which caused me to sit up quickly " time to wake up inmate!" she yelled as i groan and rub my eyes, not finding carol in the cell she was probably in her hidey-hole in the library or playing bridge.

i got off the bunk before grabbing a towel as i walked to the bathroom,stripping off my clothes as i got into the shower, i let out a sigh of relief when the warm water hit my skin, i huff when i realized that i left my conditioner in the cell "hey uh can i use some of your conditioner?" i asked the girl in the next shower without looking at her since ive seen enough naked women these past few days ive spent in here

" alright but its gonna cost ya ,use a little i dont want it empty when i take it back." she said but i couldnt really hear her from how loud the water was until the conditioner bottle was thrown at my body and hit my collarbone. i groaned before using a little "thanks" was all i said before rinsing

after 17 minutes i stepped out the shower with a towel that barely covered anything. i was drying my hair with the towel as the girl who gave me the bottle walked out. "carol?" i said as i parted my lips a bit as she took the bottle with a smirk "you're welcome." she said sarcastically before walking past me while adjusting the towel on her body. honestly this was my first time seeing her without her glasses and the halfpart hair, i would be lying if i said she didnt look good. i thought while brushing my hair until i heard a voice next to me say " y'know for a skinny girl you got some nice tits" she said with a chuckle my eyes widened a bit as i look at carol quickly "uh..thank you?" i said with my face turning a bit red when i noticed her eyes on my cleavage. i clear my throat while brushing my hair until i felt a hand spin me around with my back hitting the wall,the brush fell out of my hand as my breath hitched when carol leaned closer. her hands pinning my wrists next to my head as my chest heaving up and down the second her lips brushing over my ear "dont forget that you owe me." she whispered as she looked at how flushed my face is, seeing her sneer as she nibbled on my lips " look at your face..so red because of this?" she spat out while looking into my eyes as i parted my lips a little i was speechless with my heart beating rapidly almost like its gonna jump out of my chest "i want you to work for me..want you to help me sell drugs." she said with her lips brushing over mine as my lips twitched a bit, i had to take a few seconds to process what was happening as she suddenly grabbed my chin and her lip curled a bit. clearly she was losing patience as she narrowed her eyes and said " did you not fucking hear me?" she growled as i nodded my head quickly " fine..i-i'll help you sell." i stutter a bit which made me feel a bit embaressed " good girl..you'll find me in the library" she said sarcastically before letting go of me and walking out the bathroom

i was walking to the library with my head running through what happened in the bathroom earlier.her lips were literally on mine and i was smelling her coconut scented shampoo..i shook the thoughts off my head before walking into the library,going behind the shelve where her hidey-hole was as the second i walked there i saw carol punching and kicking the shelve before she growled out a scream " fucking d cunt bitches! we gotta teach them a fucking lesson frieda!" my eyes widened a bit as i look at them with confusion written all over my face "what's going on?" i said as carol looked at me as she spat out between grutted teeth " the stash is gone!" .

sorry it took me so long to update. but i promise the next chapter is gonna longer and more intresting!

[mona-randi]

The Punishment

Part 2

I only lasted two days before my tingling and seemingly continuously dripping pussy found me knocking at his office door, hoping I caught him in a good mood. Or possibly a bad mood. Whatever motivated him to touch me, or atleast, have the mercy to allow me to touch myself.

I needed release and if I didn't get it soon, I felt as though I was going to break from the inside and transform into a slobbering, panting thing just begging on her knees.

Here is my confession, Dear Readers, one I thought I would take to my grave. But after reading this, you and my therapist, will be the only other people alive on this planet who will be taking it to the grave as well.

You see, I am a Nymphomaniac.

Or a hypersexual. Whichever term magazines are using to best describe someone who thinks of sex often enough to be continually aroused and needs to be brought to multiple orgasms several times a day before they can even function as a walking talking productive member of society.

So yes, after he said I had to tell him when I wanted to cum and he had to watch, I told myself that that could never happen.

What would he do when he found out just how often I thought about sex?

Would he be as disgusted in my depravity as I am? Would he still want me once he knew just how... wrong I am?

Would he still love me if he ever found out... broken I am?

"Enter."

My brain was already thinking up excuses as my hand was twisting the doorknob open. I should just tell him that I knocked because he might need water, or maybe a snack.

My excuses shrank away from me as I stepped into the room. There on his desk, a glass full of water and a bowl of almonds.

My mind raised through every possible best case scenario as I softly closed the door and took the Wait position behind him. It is a position I've carefully practiced with him with my legs shoulder width apart, my arms clasped behind me, my shoulders pulled back, my eyes cast downward.

We have an agreed upon routine for when I need to interrupt his work. I knock, wait for his command, quietly enter, close the door, and then wait in this position until he is ready to speak with me. This way, he is able to mentally compartmentalize work and home life while not being overwhelmed with his duty and responsibility as my Dom.

He didn't turn from his desk to face me right away instead he would wait until he came to a good stopping point, then would interact with me.

I decided that I would speak to him about... getting a puppy. Ive always wanted a puppy.

But as time passed on, the tingling between my legs became nearly over stimulating. I tried rubbing my thighs together to ease some of the growing ache but it only made it worse.

My only choice was to confess my needs to him and recieve my punishment. I just...

At that thought, he excited out of his works email rook a deep breath and turned to me, his hands crossed across his lap.

"Do you have something you wish to confess, Slut?" His voice and his eyes showed no emotion.

I gulped, desperate to keep my voice even.

"I..." How do I even tell him? "I need..."

I couldn't even mutter the words before a blush overtook my face, and I cast my eyes to the floor.

"Ahh..." He leaned back into his chair, "You lasted longer than I thought you would."

Ofcourse, he knew. He could always tell when I was horny.

"Well?" He crossed his hands in his lap. "If you want permission to masturbate you will say, 'Master, can I touch myself?'"

"Master," I stuttered, ringing my hands, "Can I touch myself."

He waited for a moment, his eyes never leaving mine.

"You may." He gestured to the couch on the backwall of his office. "Strip and lay there. You may touch yourself to orgasm but ask permission before you allow yourself to cum."

With a nod, I slowly began sliding my clothes down off my body, until I was naked, the cold air of his office brought goose bumps to my skin, raising my nipple to taut points.

Still not breaking eye contact, he gestured to the couch again.

This was... so informal. I was used to foreplay with him. Some form of a warm up but this... felt cold and methodical.

I awkwardly sat on the couch as he sat in his office chair in front of me.

"Begin." He commanded in a flat tone. "Touch your nipples."

I slowly lifted my hands to my breasts, my face quickly warming up again. I had been exposed in front of him before but with him fully clothes and me naked this was... I had never felt more vulnerably bare.

My hands cupped my round breasts, my nipple settling inbetween my fingers.

"Roll your nipple between your fingers."

I did as he commanded, licking my lips. My nipples have always been very sensitive, even just rolling them sends shiver down my arms.

"Pinch them." I bit my lip, looking away. "Don't look away, Slut. Keep your eyes on me as you touch yourself."

I forced my eyes to him through half closed lids.

"You are playing with my toys, with my explicit permission. Do you understand?"

"Yes, S-Sir." I shudder as my finger pinch the tender peaks. He knew what a little rough foreplay did to me.

"Slide your other hand down your stomach until I tell it to stop."

I felt my hand slide over my soft skin right up until it was met with a slick slit.

"Stop." He stood up and took a fee steps until he was standing over me. "What do you feel?"

"My pussy." My face stung with his slap before I realized my mistake.

"What is it?"

"Your pussy, Master." Which was ashamedly becoming wetter by the minute.

"Is my pussy wet, Slut?" I moaned, my finger already tracing the shape of that firm little nub. My face stung again, before I remembered the punishment.

"You are not to move without my permission, do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir." I bit my lip, looking back up at him. His eyes now held a fiery darkness I fondly refer to as 'His Monster'. When he was in this state, he was relentless, cruel, and down right hostile. He knew what he wanted and would recieve it one way or another.

Some strange animalistic instinct makes me want to get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness when I see him like that.

I gasped as moisture pooled underneath my fingers but I dared not move them again.

"Small circles now, Slut. And pull your nipple."

A gasp parted my lips as I felt the pull of my flesh at the same time as my fingers moving around my clit. He watched for a few moments before settling back into his chair.

He put his elbow up on the arms of his chairs as he hid his mouth behind his folded hands. His eyes were cold and calculated. His gaze fluttered over my body, on my heaving chest as I gasped and moaned with the sensations growing within the core of my femininity. My finger moved in a slow calculated circles. I wanted it to move faster, maybe plunge a finger inside the pussy that ached to be filled.

I threw my head back with a groan feeling the pleasure building up, but it only came to a certain level before ebbing away, like a wave that touched the shore before receding. If I was going to cum I needed something... more.

"Stop."

I put both hands down onto my lap, fighting to pull a deep breath into my lungs. This was tedious and slow torture. He knew exactly what he was doing.

He waited until my breath came back to a steady normal before commanding me again.

"Insert one finger into my pussy." I was so slick, the finger slid in without any push back. "Now, finger yourself."

His command was vague. So I took advantage of it. My finger slipped in and out, so slick with my juices they made a sloshing sound. Finally, I was being filled. The friction was building within me, my muscles quivered around his pussy.

I felt so honored that he was allowing me to play with it. Soon, one finger wasn't enough, and two fingers were pistoning in and out of my. The palm of my hand slapping against my clit.

"Rub your clit with your other hand."

He didn't have to finish the sentence before both my hands were working hard on my pussy.

My hips moved against my hand, riding the waves of exctasy as they build inside of me. The higher the waves, the louder my moans, the faster my hips moved. Higher and higher. Faster and faster.

I saw him adjusting in his seat, the growing bulge in his pants making it uncomfortable for him.

"Master," I need him, all of him, I need to let that Monster out of his cage. "May I suck on your cock?"

"Cum for me first, Slut." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Show me how badly you want my cock in your mouth."

His words lit a fire inside of me. I felt myself just on the edge, just about to break open, but I need something more.

"Master," I picked my lips, my body now moving against my will, but he hadnt given me the command I needed to hear, "Please choke me?"

He stood up, his massive cock creating an impressive tent in pants. He put one hand on the back of the couch, leaning over my body.

"Say that again, Slut."

"Master, please choke-" He growled. His hand moved quickly, squeezing firmly around the sides of my throat, pressing me down into the cushions.

There it was.

My mouth fell open, my tongue softly rolling out. My brain felt numb. No longer fearing or thinking. Just following his commands. Allowing my hands to abuse my flesh just because he told me to.

I whimpered as I felt my head getting lighter, finally allowing the fire hot pleasure in my core to boil and bubble out of me. Threatening to overtake me.

"Master," I struggle to speak over his hand on my throat but I had to. "Please... can... I cum?"

The corner of his mouth lifged as his eyes darkened and hee pressed his face closer to mine, his warm sweet breath mixing with mine.

"What was that? Say that again, Slut. I didn't hear you."

I clenched around my fingers, keeping my orgasm down, but his hand tightened around my throat, making the unbearable pleasure even stronger. I was going to cum soon with or without his permission.

"Please, Sir!" I scream, surprising myself. "Please can I cum, Master, I need to cum."

He took a deep breath as my eyes closed succumbing to the madness inside of me. Just as I felt the dam break inside of me, I heard his words whispered soft in my ear.

"Cum for me, Slut."

My body was no longer my own. I floated above it on a euphoric cloud. I watched as my body writhed uncontrollably, my arms and legs convulsing as if possessed. I heard my voice screaming over and over that I was his dirty whore.

And then, the peak.

Silence. Surrounded me as my body crashed back down onto the couch. The heavenly sensation, I was drowning in it, consumed by it, unable to breathe, think, speak, it coursed through my body until, it ebbed away, with small vibrating waves still randomly jolting through my body as my fingers stilled.

My heart beat uncontrollably in my heart as I fought desperately to breathe. I licked my suddenly dry mouth, still reveling in the balls of intense pain that bounced maddeningly through me. I wheezed uncontrollably with the occasional little moan escaping my gaping mouth.

"Thank you, Master." I murmured up at him though my eyes were so heavy they didn't want to open.

"Oh," I hears him chuckling above me. "You're not done yet, my little Slut."

I opened my eyes, his big beautiful cock suddenly unscathed in front of me. The sight of his rock hard warm red cock, glistening at the tip, with large pusing veins along its length, always made His Toy slick in preparation of being penatrated.

"Do that all again, and don't stop until I tell you to."

The second orgasm took some time, but with my slick already trembling walls, the third was not far behind.

I took a pause, resting my hands on my head, my hands were covered in my slick but every muscle in my hands tensed at their exception.

"Did I tell you to stop?" He growled his command, his hands on his cock. "Again."

The next two came slower, my hands unable to keep the pace. They were... less pleasurable and more painful.

"Again." His eyes locked onto mine as his hand massaged up and down his cock.

"Please, Master. I can't..."

"Have you had enough?" His hands didn't stop when I nodded, to breathless and weak to go on. "Good. Keep going."

I gulped as my shaking hands resumed their work. I was only able to squeak another one out before throwing my hands aside.

"I can't, Sir. I'm sorry I-"

He growled, jumping onto my body, pinning me down.

"You will cum until I tell you to stop. This is my pussy. You orgasm when I tell you to. Your orgasm... belongs to me.... it is for my pleasure and my pleasure alone." His hand went straight for my cunt, rubbing the over stimulated clit at the speed of a master of his craft. At his touch, lightning shot out of the poos abused pussy, my whole body pulled forward. I tried pushing his hands away, but he just pinned my arms above my head, and kept at his work.

The immeasurable pain that swept my body... like being dipped in hot candle wax and then right into an ice bath. Pain pleasure mixed all together until they were interchangeable. My throat became sore with screaming until all I could do was whimper. I lost count, and just accepted my fate as a being of endless lightning and fire. My body burned, every muscled tender and useless against the onslaught of tension leaving me a twitching heap on the couch.

I was no longer aware of who I was, or where I was, or how long I was there.

I forgot he was even there until he let go of me, allowing me to sink into the pillows. The deep abyss of unconscious beckoned to me but a sound kept me from sleep. It was moist slapping overplayed with a mans soft sighs and moans.

I tore my eyes open just long enough to notice the sounds were coming from him. His hands were rubbing up and down on his cock, as his eyes looked over my sweaty limp body. I thought for a moment, that he would use my hole for his own pleasure now, but the thought of his girth tearing my tender abused flesh apart from the inside... my thighs clenched together as my eyes fluttered back down, succumbing to darkness and the weightless unconscious.

"Open for me, Slut."

I felt a hand pry my lips open, and I dutifully let my jaw lazily fall open.

"Stick your tongue out." My eyes opened one last time, wondering if he was going to use my mouth instead, but I just watched as his whole body began convulsing with his own orgasm, he grabbed my shoulders, holding me up, as I felt slick hot cum cascade allover my tongue.

"Swallow, My little slut, don't waste a single drop." He groaned as I dutifully swallowed the salty deliciousness he left in my mouth. "My pathetic Whore. This will teach you not to play with something that's not yours."

My blissful unconscious was interrupted once again when I felt him pick me up and carry me somewhere. I whimpered at the feeling of something warm surrounding me.

"Shh... baby. It's just a bath. It's okay, baby." I felt my body floating in the warm body, supported by his arms as his hands glided gently across my body. My body jolted as a rough scrub was pressed against my raw ruined flesh. "Easy, baby. It's okay. I'll be gentle."

He whispered soft sweet things in me ear as his fingers softly cupped the pussy they were just roughly molesting minutes prior. I welcomed his soft gentleness, the yin to the Monsters yang. Each one necessary for the other to live fulfilled.

Then, a soft warm fluffy towel replaced the feel of water as I was then placed on a soft surface that enveloped me. A kiss was planted on my forehead as I fell back asleep to his sweet tender words.

"Good night, baby. I love you."

-

It was only the following day that I could get out of bed, albeit with some difficulty. It took days before I could walk without wincing and over a week before I even thought of touching myself again.

He had separated my brain from my body and my body from my... his pussy... and then destroyed it by giving me exactly what I wanted over and over again, tainting it. When we talked about it later, he compared it to the one time his father caught him smoking cigarettes so he made him smoke the whole pack. He never touched cigarettes again.

I guess that's where he and I differ.

It was merely two weeks later I found myself standing before his door again, restless, aching. But this time, I knew what was coming, and I was even more ready for it.

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Their Alright... For A Boomer

Masterlist

Summary: Being a girl with a larger chest always got you attention, maybe having your nipples pierced to try and fell more confident handt been the best idea, but how can you regret it when your latest client; the sexy Mr Cavill  was ogling them but could this end up being more then just that one time you were eyed by a hot celebrity?

Warnings: Suggestive, No Smut, Fluffy? Cute and funny, Swearing

A/N: this was a request from @fanficlover91​ i hope you like this hun, i tried to keep it hot but sweet and respectful? Which was a struggle but i hope i got the vibe you wanted. And as always i hope you all enjoy.

Taglist: In Reblogs.

You blushed as you looked down the lense at your model. He smirked sweeping his eyes over you non to subtly. You could feel the blues penetrating you with a hot stare. The was the distinctive fast clicks on you camera snapping a burst of shots managing to capture his smirking face and eyes sweeping over your form appreciatively.

You stood tall and smiled pulling away double checking the shoots. You bit your lip. Fucking hell this was both the best and worst job you had. Henry Cavill was the most enticing male you'd ever had the pleasure to photograph. He didn't even have a good side, every side was good! There wasn't an unflattering angle on the man!

"And that's a wrap? I think we have everything we need Mr Cavill" you said professionally making to move away from him and begin to swap sd cards and label them before packing away. Henry gawfed and rose quickly panicked almost.

"I- err no! Wait I was... Well hoping that I could have some more done?" he said chaseing you across the small studio you could hear his agent Leah scoff from the side lines. You frowned and looked to her nervously. The woman had been watching and tutting, scoffing and clicking her tongue through the whole session. It actually made you nervous, wasn't she pleased with the shoot? You were worried, being freelance this was your first time doing a celebrity shoot for a magazine but the usual photographer was in hospital having a stroke a few days prior and you were the only free photographer in the agency that was close enough to take the job. Sure you wasn't well known but still it was a little disheartening to have someone seemingly unimpressed with your work.

But it was when you eyed her you saw she wasn't giving you the evil eye. Her frown was directed at henry, a scolding look you'd give a misbehaving child. You frowned a little puzzled, but shook it off in favour of looking to Henry. Your actual client.

"More? I... I? Thought the piece only needed a few to choose from? They were very ah... How do I put it? Thorough? With the brief" you explained hoping Leah would step in and clarify just what was going on. Because you didn't have a clue.

"I yes but- I'd love to top up my portfolio? You know? I err yeah have a few changes going on and... I mean a few greys and such... Just want to update it a tad... I'll pay obviously- I'd pay anything for more time please?" he pleaded watching you closely eyes wide and bright full of hope.

"I... Err" you shifted swapping your camera from one hand to the other and craned your head around the man trying to spy his agent. But you had no hope of peeking around this gargantuan man. Just like with the camera he demanded your full attention.

"And for Instagram and stuff! There's only so much I can do in a selfie... I'd even recommend you- advertise your work!" he quickly added sounding desperate now. It would help you out if you did have a few shots of him for in your own catalogue. It shouldn't matter but having a celeb under your belt was actually a good thing. It meant you'd acted professionally and been good to work with.

"I suppose so, I do have a few extra sd's here... Tell you what I'll do another shoot for you as long as I can pick a few to put in my portfolio? Then we both update our files?" you nodded to him speaking slowly. He grinned and relaxed nodding quickly pleased with himself for wrangling more shots. You'd never know he was just glad to has more time with you.

"Oh yes absolutly! That's fine here should we get started now or?" he asked biting his lip trying not to stare at you for too long. But it was hard you were fucking stunning!

"Oh yeah sure iv got time, let me just sort these out and set up, need to switch, you've tired my poor camera" you said with a grin trying to ignore the man as he beamed at you looking excited nodding enthusiastically. You backed up and spun around trying not to blush as you felt henry gazing openly at you.

"Right well if the magazine ones are done I will be off then" Leah called packing up her bag with a small chuckle to herself. You froze and spun quickly seeing her seemingly abandoning you with Henry.

"Wha- oh you don't have to you can stay-" you tried to reason unsure why, I mean who wouldn't want to be alone with this huge glorious man? Maybe you just didn't trust yourself with him? He had been 'making love' to the camera all afternoon. Smouldering bedroom eyes that was making it hard to focus. You had been getting hot under the collar all day as you kidded yourself he was eyeing you, not the camera or would be readers.

It didn't help that you had caught him oogling your breasts earlier. But you wasn't mad, it was your own fault. It was the Hight of summer and you had on a string vest with a thin bra, that you could clearly see your nipple bars through. You didn't feel uncomfortable or anything, you didn't blame Henry for looking. You cant exactly ignore your tits.. The were pretty large for your frame. You were curvy but they were as one ex put it 'exceptional'. And besides he had looked not touched and he hadn't been a creep about it. In fact he had done a double take and then blushed when he realised he had been caught looking. But as you said you get that with big boobs, you'd had it your entire life, it was actually one of the reasons you'd got them pierced. It helped with your confidence and you convince yourself that they were looking at the bars. Not you per say.  

"Okay aunt Leah I will see you in a few days." henry interrupted you quickly smiling practically ushering the woman out the door. He moved fast ever picking the womans phone and juice bottle to help her leave quicker.

"Yes, behave Henry I'll see you soon" she said with a giggle before calling a thank you and goodbye over her shoulder at you. You swallowed nervously and gave a quick bye as the door clicked behind her and you were left alone with Henry. The man groaned stretching as he spun around a huge grin on his face, making your knees tremble a little. Fuck.

Henry came over and watched you closely as you scribbled the name and date along with the publication name on the sd case label. You tried not to notice as he hovered biting his lip then took off the blazer and threw it on the table beside you drawing your attention as he did grunting a little. The v neck letting the smallest amount of soft looking chest fuzz that had been teasing you all day. He grinned slyly as he caught you eyeing him and crossed his arms over his chest flexing for your benefit. You gasped and quickly looked back to the camera in your hands inserting a new scarf into the new fully charges camera.

"Soo how do you like this kind of work?" henry said casually trying not to seem like a creeper but god damnit he couldn't stop eyeing you. If he had known how sexy you'd be he would have demanded to be doing a bloody swim wear shoot!

"You mean people?" you stuttered trying not to look him in the eye. Not that it helped because the rest of him was just as fucking sexy! You quivered all over desperately trying to remember how to breath, yet didn't want to draw in too deep a breath and make your tits bounce for him and look like a slut. There was a very fine line for a big busted girl, to much wobble will make you look like your trying to get attention.

"I mean celebrities, magazines we were told you mainly do private shoots for events and model portfolios" he offered leaning forward as he leant back on the desk next to you hooking one ankle behind the other. The way he stood placed his crotch in your line of sight as you looked down and worked on setting up the camera. You flushed. Oh god he looked er... Bigger then you'd thought earlier, not that you were looking but... Well you couldn't help notice the package! The man was a fucking serial man spreader! And that thing was huge! With the muscles he was packing he could probably bench press you with his crotch!

"Oh well its different... And you sir popped my celebrity cherry" you froze on the spot as you said that, it had meant to be an ice breaker, a joke but instead had sounded fucking creepy!. You snapped up to him making to apologize as your face flamed mortified but he had thrown his head back laughing. The deep rumble sent chilled down your spine.

"Well I'm honoured to have popped your cherry~" he teased placing a hand over his heart with a cheeky grin making you blush and nod then turned to him with the new camera all set up.

"Soo where do we start?" you said moving on quickly looking up at him trying to forget the whole cherry comment.

"Where ever you want me, i will let you take the reigns command me as you will" he chuckled standing tall once more and looked about the room casually to the various small set ups, different furniture, seats sofas and mini tables dotting the space.

"I... Okay then you said Instagram? How about we start with some facials-FACE SHOTS! Face. Shots. Not facials fuck. Shit" you quickly tried repairing the damage whist cursing yourself wanting nothing more then to be swallowed up by the floor.

"No, no love facials sounded perfect~" he said winking before gliding past you making you stutter and almost choke on your breath. Oh good lord this was a bad idea. You followed as he sat down on a sturdy sofa and looked head on at you and bit his lip once again watching you with a sultry look.

And that was the beginning. You followed him about taking various snaps whislt having small talk. He seemed to be very flirtatious as he spoke, dropping lines and compliments as he made eyes at you. You flushed each time clamming up at his suggestive comments. And rightly or wrongly you flirted back trying to seem cool and suave. But inside you were fangirling unable to belive you were here with this incredibly gorgeous man teasing one another. On a few occasions he even growled as you scampered about him, crouching and taking shots from blow getting some delicious angles that dampened your knickers. Then in between all this he managed to get little tied bits. You'd told him you were on agency freelance and were trying to get into the social media platform as it seemed easier in this day and age rather then to be in fashion photography. You wanted to be commercial not private but no one would really take a chance anymore.

Then you suggested a few shots on the sofa laying back trying to think of something different for your portfolio, maybe a body length shot. He was quick to agree and dived onto the sofa saying he had an idea you swallowed nodding not fully trusting the look in his eyes. But that was forgotten as he relaxed stretching out over the sofa legs crossed and resting on the arm of his hands behind his head and a devilish smirk looking down the lenght of his body. You knelt at his feet trying to get a flattering image of him looking down but cursed as the camera wasn't playing ball. The lense was focusing, this was why you used the other one first, the camera had a few issues and was temperamental.

"What's wrong?" he asked frowning a little at you as you growled pulling the camera away fro your face and began trying to manually focus the lense.

"Oh its.. It wont focus.. It does this sometime, really need to throw it out but.. She was my first I'm sentimental" you said feeling silly as you battled with the camera.

"We all are with our firsts... How about you come closer instead, I really want to see this shot, never done one at this angle.. Out of all my shoots your the first to suggest this~" you froze and looked to him but he just smiled impishly at you. Slowly you rounded the sofa and leant over him positioning the camera at his stomach as he looked right into the lense giving you a definite bedroom eyes, half lidded and burning. Both dreamy and amazingly sexy. It was as if he could see you beyond the lense, as if it wasn't even there!

"You can come closer love, I wont bite, not if you don't want me to~" his voice was low and teasing, luring you in like a siren. You trembled and moved along him but he tutted and moved a hand to your hip and pressed, coaxing you onto the sofa and sat you on him making you straddle him. You gasped squeazing your camera tighter as he moved you easily, warm palms holding you both delicatly and firmly. You could see in his eyes he was weary unsure if he had gone to far but you squeezed him between your thighs and relaxed making him grin up at you getting the message you didn't mind at all. You aimed the lense at him once more and got the shots you wanted.

"Perfect! Mr Cavill" you said actually a little sad that this session was over. It had been nice playing this little cat and mouse game with him. But all good things come to an end.

"Ah now i have a policy love, when a womans on top they can call me henry, among other things~" he said smoothly laughing as you chuckled nervously fiddling with the camera in your hands and shifted over him a little.

"I will try to remember that for next time boomer~" you teased managing to overcome your nerves as you pulled away the camera with a giggle winking at him as he stuttered. For a second you thought you'd gone too far but a quirk to his lips made you relax once more.

"That hurt, that was hurtful" he teased pouting not releasing you from his lap, instead holding you tighter, fingers digging into your sides making you gasp and bit your lip as he pulled you to his crotch and ground into you teasingly.

"I'm so sorry~" you uttered breathless trying to keep yourself together. But this man was something else, like a drug- the devil all fanged smiles and smooth words. God you were fucked, you knew this man could do anything to you and youd thank him for it~

"I doubt that" he cooed and slid his hand higher growing more and more confident. The last few hours of casual flirting had built up his appitite. There was no misconceptions, you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

"Oh yeah?" you said coyly tipping your head to him playing along willing for this to happen, whether it be a one of fuck or something longer. You didnt have any complaints~ this was your body and youd enjoy it with who ever you wanted to!

"Yeah prove it!" he hissed and moved quickly sitting up and swinging around planting his feet on the floor. You yelped as he moved surprizingly fast and managed to keep you in his lap now face to face with you eyes roaming your face settling on your lips.

"And how should i do that" you teased tilting your head skimming your lips with his as you spoke. He groaned and held you tighter making you whine breathlessly willing this to happen. You wanted him and you wont deny yourself the chance.

"Make and old mans day" he said plainly and leant back resting on the back of the sofa, you watched him closely and brought your hands to his shoulders prodding at the neck of the t shirt and drew your fingers down slowly feeling him shiver at the light skimming fingertips.

"Oh really Boomer? And how would i make and old mans day?" you teased once more making him grunt but he quickly caught himself as your fingers smoothed over the teasing curls that peeked over his top. You scratched over them lightly with your nails making him draw a needy breath and chuckled at him. He was sexy and cute~

"By accepting a job offer?" he said before smileing smugly as you paused and frowned. Had you missed something? Was he after a freebee?

"Job offer? Really another shoot?" you snorted suddenly not feeling sexy, more like he was trying to butter you up for some fuck for parts shoots or something. He sighed and began speaking before you could get yourself all twisted. But then again you could have taken his offer wrong.

"Manage my social media. I have many companies and brands reach out to me for endorsements. They want me caught wearing their brands. But I'm to busy most of the time I cant make it to the locations they want. It actually doesn't seem worth it most of the time, with cost of flights and time lost travelling to and from studios itd be easier if I had my own personal photographer that travelled with me its be easy, slip on the clothes and what not take a few snaps and then you touch them up and post them on my social media." he explained watching as it sunk in that he wasnt trying to pull a fast one. Well he was but not trying to fuck you over... Just fuck you... And keep you because you were fantastic and he wants nothing more then to have you around hime as much as possible. In the single dat he had spent working with you, you had enchanted him, not only were you sexy but you were good at your job and easy to work with but also funny and cute and he needed to get to know you.

"Of course its a very big venture and we'd have to have a few dinner and lunch dates to work out all the nitty gritty" he added after a few beats of silence trying to make it clear he was interested... Very interested~ it worked as you fluched and a playfull look donned your face your fingers began stoking his chest hair once more. He relaxed shuddering under the nails as they teased his curls.

"Is this a big ploy to get a date Boomer?" you purred his new nick name making him groan when you squeezed him between your thick thighs once more grinding on him and the considerable bulge below you that twitched.

"No... Maybe is it working?" he said quickly hissing at you shifted in his lap once more, his hands snapping to your hips trying to still you before he came undone in his boxers. You were a very dangerous woman and something told him you knew.

"Well it sounds like an offer I'd be very, very interested in taking further~" you clarified giggling when he swallowed dryly and eyed you surprized that his plan had seemed  to work.

"Good to hear~ so got anything planned after this?" he asked feeling a wave of confidence at the prospect of snagging a date with you. He hadn't meant to sound so eager but... He was eager and that was that.

"Yes" you said with a straight face and got up off of him spinning around heading to the table with your camera bags. You gave him a glance and giggled seeing him still sitting there gobsmacked legs wide open and his crotch that was now definitely bigger then it had been earlier.

"O-oh" he stuttered seemingly unsure how to proceed. You giggled as he fumbled over his words. Then decided to grant him some mercy and began speaking whilst popping out the sd card from the camera labeling it like the previous one.

"You see I had a very cheeky client today who asked for a shoot last mineut. But I wasn't to bothered he was very very sexy even if he was a boomer, but get this out of nowhere gave me a job offer? And we're having dinner- he promised pizza~" you giggled glancing at Henry as he slumped in the seat realising halfway through that you were talking about him. He smoothed his hands over his face and jumped up coming over to you shaking his head.

"You know I'm not actually a boomer?" he quipped folding his arms. You rolled your eyes at him as you packed your stuff away making sure to recheck everything.

"Have you seen your selfies? Your a boomer, boomer" you teased making him scoff but laugh at the name that has now stuck.

"Wait you've seen my selfies? What do you think?" he asked wanting feedback on the silly shots he took. You paused halfway through zipping up your bag and turned facing him fully giving him a thoughtful look then shrugged

"Their alright... For a boomer" you giggled when he preened for a second then his face dropped into a pout when you finished the comment.

"I repeat...That was hurtful" he said covering his heart with a kicked puppy look making you laugh and hoist your bags over your shoulder and make for the door with him hot on your heels.

"Its fine boomer a second date will make up for it I'm sure~" you sniggered at him playfully looking back at him as he followed you out of the door.

"A date for each time you call me boomer? Deal" he quipped walking along side you offering you his arm like a true gentleman unlike the teasing horny little shit he had been all day. Not that you minded either. Gentleman on the streets, freak in the sheets and all that jazz.

"God we may aswell marry now then boomer" he laughed nodding in agreement the banter from the day still in play as you both left the building.

"Seems so, I mean were at ten that's what the kids consider boyfriend girlfreind territory" he anounced with a sigh playing on the 'boomer' joke making you giggle and roll your eyes as he mentioned the tally. Then you frowned and quickly counted your 'boomers' and opened your mouth you correct him, arguing that ten was incorrect.

"I think its nine boomer- ah see what you did their sneaky boomer!" you cried pushing him playfully at his little trick. He roared with laughter and quickly tangled his fingers with yours dragging you back alongside him guiding you down the street towards a place he knew served pizza, he didn't remember but apparantly he promised pizza...

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

For the BTHB... Villain with appendicitis?

Thank you for the ask!

Rupturing

@badthingshappenbingo

Warnings: appendectomy, fever, anxious character, painkillers, pills, vomit, anesthesia, surgery, IV, needles, refusal of medical care

~

9:01. He was a minute late.

9:05. Five minutes late.

9:15. Hero started to pace around, kicking pebbles with her foot.

9:20. She was starting to get nervous. Villain was never, ever late.

9:30. Okay, this was getting absurd.

Hero stood up, grabbed her phone, and called Villain. It rang, but never clicked.

He didn't answer.

Hero bit her lip, a nauseating pit forming in her gut.

Something was wrong. Villain was always overly stressed about time and always showed up at nine- not a second too late.

So, naturally, being the anxious, paranoid worry wort that Hero was, she went to check up on him.

Of course, Hero spent all her freetime figuring out where Villain lived if there was an instance like the current one.

Upon knocking at the beige door, that nauseous feeling overcame her again. Something was wrong.

She busted through the door and immediately the eerie silence of the home startled her. Even though Villain lived alone, there would surely be a TV playing or the dishwasher going.

Hero searched through the various rooms. It was a normal house. Quaint and small with barely any decor apart from a few spontaneously placed plants. All the walls were painted with the same, dull blue that the sky had right before a storm. It was dreary and perfectly villainous.

"Villain!" Hero called, peeking into a room she assumed to be his bedroom. Apart from a shoddily made bed, it seemed as though Villain hadn't been in there for a long time.

The next room in the hallway was a bathroom. Hero stepped in there, ignoring the horrid stench, and examined the counters. Bottles of Tylenol and Ibuprofen were scattered about. His gnawed on toothbrush was laying by the sink as water slowly dripped from the faucet.

That didn't look spectacular.

Hero stepped out of the bathroom and turned the light off before turning and walking into a large room that seemed to be the kitchen and dining room combined.

"Hey Villain! Are you home?" Hero called again, observing how badly stocked the fridge and cupboards were. Basically, the only food that Villain seemed to store was ramen and some protein powder.

"Villain!" Hero yelled, getting nervous. Based on the state of his bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen, the villain seemed to be in rough state.

Or was that just her nervous tendencies kicking in?

The next room was without doubt the living room, though with those desolate walls, one may beg to differ.

In the center of the gray room was a dark cherry wood coffee table and a small armchair. And that was it.

Except for the body strewn across the ground.

Hero bounded over to the seemingly dead corpse and rolled it over to come face to face with Villain.

"Oh my gosh!" Hero exclaimed, thrusting her fingers by his neck to check for a pulse. It was there, thump... thump... thump...

"You okay?" Hero asked, smoothing the sweaty strands of hair out of his face. Villain blearily blinked his eyes open and shook his head.

"Stomach bug," he whispered.

Hero looked down at him skeptically. No, this wasn't just a stomach bug. He was obviously in pain and was likely running a nasty fever. And he looked so incredibly tired and weak.

"How long have you been like this?" Hero asked, putting Villain's heavy head in her lap.

"M day," he groaned, gasping for breath. "Stomach hurts."

"Where?" Hero asked. Villain lightly brushed his fingers over his right side.

"Oh okay bud. I think you have a fever," Hero said, taking his temperature with her hand. It was burning and he looked so pale.

"Yeah cold," Villain agreed, nodding the tiniest nod.

"Okay buddy," Hero murmured, stroking his flushed cheek. "I think we need to go to the doctor."

She recognized the symptoms. Her sister when they were kids got sick like this and they had to take her to the hospital. Hero was too young to exactly know what was going on, only that it was serious.

But Villain shook his head, aimlessly clawing at Hero's hand.

"No doctor. No doctor," he begged, then winced, whimpered and grabbed his right side. When he looked back up at Hero, there were tears in his eyes.

"Okay we are going now," Hero stood up with Villain in a bridal carry. He protested weakly, but then stilled. Hero stopped walking to see if he was still conscious by shaking him. He groaned.

Hero loaded Villain in the back seat of her truck and buckled him in around his chest and legs so he could safetly rest.

The drive to the hospital seemed longer than what it was. Every moment she got, Hero would look behind her to peer at Villain, and everytime he was still staring at the ceiling with a dazed expression.

Finally, they arrived. Hero barely put the vehicle in park by the time she was leaping out of the door and running to Villain's side.

"Hey! Hey!" Hero called when she ran into the hospital, placing Villain on a bench. Other patients stared at her and receptionists stood up to meet her.

"Bring him into the ER," one of the receptionists said as she grabbed a stack of papers and called the doctor. Hero gathered Villain back in her arms and ran into another room.

The receptionist handed Hero the stack of papers. "Fill these in to thr best of your ability. I'm going to get the doctor."

Hero sat on the raised hospital bed with Villain resting against her shoulder. He sighed contently and nuzzled his cheek to find a perfect spot. Hero looked over at him- he was almost asleep with his whole body splayed out and limp.

Hero wrapped her arm around his shivering body and rubbed his shoulder before answering some of the paperwork.

She was able to answer most of them relatively easily, but got stumped on occupation.

She couldn't just say villainy right?

"Hero, why hello. How is your arm healing?"

Hero looked up to see the doctor sauntering into the room, his blonde hair slightly tousled with pale gray shadows under his eyes- remnants of a busy day.

"Good, good," Hero said, putting the paperwork aside.

"Is this one of your team members?" The doctor asked, running a thermometer over Villain's forehead. He frowned at the reading.

"Not exactly," Hero replied, timidly. She rubbed Villain's hair as he stirred from the cool touch of the thermometer. He near immediately fell back asleep.

The doctor's face paled. "He's a villain? Hero you know-"

"Yes, I know, but look at him Doc," she gestured her head towards Villain's sagging body.

The doctor glanced at Villain for a moment. He then said, "Yeah, he's sick. I'm thinking appendicitis, but he's a villain. The hospital is not required to treat them, unless there's an order. Order as in signed by ten, high-ranking heroes. Besides, it'll endanger our staff."

"He can't even lift his head!" Hero exclaimed. "How is he going to be a threat under anesthesia? C'mon tell me."

"He could wake up..."

"As sick as he is? Not likely."

"A MRI scan could amplify his abilities."

Suddenly Villain coughed, interrupting the conversation. He groaned before expelling his stomach's contents on the floor.

"It's okay," Hero murmured, scowling slightly at the sight, before glaring at the doctor while raising her eyebrows.

The doctor sighed. "Lay him on the bed." Hero complied, laying the villain flat on the bed, adjusting his head to rest on the pillow.

The doctor took his hand and prodded at the right side of his stomach. Villain groaned, breathing heavily.

"He's going to need emergency surgery," the doctor said, standing up and trotting to a phone. "Nurse? I need a team of anesthesiologists for an appendectomy."

Hero grabbed Villain's hand. His forehead was creased in concern as he listened and watched the doctor's erratic movements.

"Hey, it's okay. I'll be right there with you," Hero soothed him. He seemed to relax, but his muscles did not let go of their tension.

"Okay. I am going to go get ready." The doctor left.

Soon after, a couple nurses came in and hooked Villain to an IV. He flinched, watching the small needle go into his elbow.

Hero grabbed his hand and rubbed it.

A couple more people sauntered in and injected a hypodermic needle into the IV line.

"Okay Villain, count down from ten."

"Ten... nine... eight... sev...ven...si." Villain looked over at Hero with pleading eyes before they drifted shut.

A nurse put a mask over his nose and he was wheeled away.

Hero waited in the lobby, twidling her thumb and reading health magazines. Every two minutes, literally, she would look at the clock and bite her lip.

After two hours, the doctor made his appearance.

"The surgery was successful. He is waking up now, so he will be very groggy, but his vitals are good. You can take him home."

"Don't you have to monitor him."

"Come back in two weeks for a check-up."

Hero walked into the ER and to Villain's bed. His eyes were half-lidded and he barely noted Hero's presence.

"Hey buddy," Hero cooed, stroking his head. "You scared me."

Villain didn't reply, just blinked very, very slowly. Soon, his blinks became longer until he drifted off.

Nervous, Hero called for a nurse. "Why is he sleeping?" She asked.

The nurse shrugged. "The effects of anesthesia hasn't worn off yet, so he'll be in and out for a while."

Hero nodded and sat back down.

"You can take him home, you know," the nurse said. "We don't keep villains for monitoring or over-night stays."

Hero groaned and looked at the nurse. "Well you should."

"But we don't. Please take him home, he's occupying beds that could be used for more important patients."

Hero rolled her eyes, but obeyed. She picked Villain up and helped him into his jeans, but left his shirt off to not irritate the stitches. Then, she rolled him to her truck in a wheelchair.

It was nearly midnight by the time Hero got Villain to her house and changed into something comfortable. He was dozing, but every movement seemed to awake him. He was totally and completely silent, allowing Hero to tuck him on her bed before sliding in next to him.

She wrapped her arms around Villain and pulled him in tight. He drifted off to sleep instantly, and Hero was not far behind.

When Hero awoke the next morning, she was sprawled across her bed with Villain laying on her stomach. She smiled and watched the slow rise and fall of his chest before carefully removing his head to go downstairs and prepare breakfast. After a quick research, she decided to make a bowl of pudding with toast and avacado.

Villain came down the stairs stiffly, groaning with each step, just as Hero put the bread in the toaster. She looked up just in time to see him lean heavily against the wall.

"What are you doing?" Hero scolded and gently led him to the couch to sit on.

"Heard you- engh," Villain winced, holding his side. "Downstairs."

"Okay," Hero sighed. "Do you remember anything from yesterday?"

"No not really. Just you and the hospital. Everything else is just a blank."

"You had an appendectomy," Hero explained, brushing the hair out of Villain's face. He jerked back and Hero pulled away. He was so cute and vulnerable when he was out of it.

"What's that?" Villain asked, but Hero had a sense that he knew and just wanted to fill the silence up.

"Your appendix was removed." The toaster clicked, so Hero went and grabbed the food.

Villain spooned at it for awhile before putting it towards the side. His face was pale.

"Not hungry," he said.

"You gotta eat."

"No," Villain slowly laid on the couch, his body seizing with every motion. "I'm tired..."

"Yeah, you had surgery, but please eat something so I can give you some painkillers."

Villain rolled his eyes, but allowed Hero to feed him some avocado and pudding. However, by the end of it, he was too exhausted to resist Hero putting two large pills in his mouth.

Between the pain meds and fatigue, it only took a few minutes for Villain to fall sound asleep.

Hero idly ate her own pudding and stared out the window. After finishing both her's and Villain's chocolate desert, she went to do dishes.

Then she showered.

Then she playing monopoly by herself.

And then she ate lunch.

All the while waiting for Villain to regain consciousness.

He did, eventually, and very slowly.

"How are you feeling."

"Bit dizzy," Villain admitted, rubbing his eyes. "How long was I out?"

"About," Hero looked at her phone. "Five hours, give or take one."

Villain groaned and quickly murmured an apology.

"Don't be. You are still a bit feverish and just came out of surgery."

Villain closed his eyes. Hero thought he might've fallen back asleep, but then he spoke,

"Thank you for taking care of me."

Hero smiled.

[phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust]

i think this is one of the quotes anon was talking about: https://thegilly.tumblr.com/post/29568742275/the-beatles-and-me-by-neil-aspinall-scanned

(Link) (CW eating disorders)

That magazine article actually breaks my heart - the way that he’s legitimately torturing himself is just so upsetting. And in reading about John dieting the way he did, I can especially empathise with him because ive had a lot of the same experiences.

Some points I took note of from the article are:

1. John ate one meal a day, which was steak with a large salad - that means he was probably eating less then a 1000 calories a day, and id guess he was maybe only getting about 800 (?) calories a day at most with that diet. 800 calories or less is literally starvation.

2. “John wont even look at bread” - this is the definition of an ‘unsafe food’. People with restrictive ED’s do eat, but they tend to have “safe” and “unsafe” foods. I suspect John considers bread unsafe because he knows its a binge food, and a food that he thinks will cause him weight gain - again, its just so sad that he would put himself through this misery. I also think that he probably felt meats were probably relatively safe for him to eat.

3. He had two different suits - one for when he was at his normal, healthy weight and another for when he had lost weight. He would bring them both on tour with him because his weight would fluctuate so much.

4. His regular weight was about 159lbs; apparently he was around 139lbs when he died (at least, thats what a quick google search tells me, so I don’t know how true that is. But certainly he was far thinner by the time he died).

5. “Right before a tour, he’ll do everything he can to lose weight” - this appears to speak especially to the theory that Johns ED might have been sparked largely by the pressures of fame and publicity.

6. “John hardly touches his salad, and he wont even look at the other boys eat.” - He’s eating the most miserable meal on the planet guys :’(

7. “John begins to look at me apprehensively. He has hunger pains in his eyes! Finally, when he is about to “break down” I…pull out the meat sandwiches.” - He was in actual, physical pain because he was so hungry.

8. “John takes the meat out of the sandwiches and eats every tiny sliver he can find. Then he stuffs the leftover slices of bread into a bag, which I take from him (so that he wont break down again and eat those).” - I would constitute this behaviour as a “binge”, because to me a binge is not based necessarily on the quantity of food you eat, or the amount of calories you take in, but more so about how in control and contented you are during and after eating. John wasn’t in control here, and its because its his bodies natural reaction when its in starvation mode.

9. “[Johns] main complaint is ‘How come Paul never gains an ounce — and he eats twice as much as I do?’”

10. “John is sure some kind of curse is set on his head — or is stomach as it were!”

Im not going to judge everyone for seemingly not making any real efforts to help John recover from his ED, because I don’t think ED’s became something that the general public were aware of until about the early 80s with Karen Carpenters death - and its taken years for people to even really begin recognising that a lot of men also suffer from ED’s! And so im not going to criticise them for not recognising that John legitimately was displaying symptoms of an ED, but I do think its just really sad that they were all watching John starve and torture himself, and couldn’t really do anything about it. And because they weren’t recognising him as mentally ill here, they probably all just accepted his diet as a bit of a laugh, whilst still knowing there was something more sinister underpinning it.*

(*I wonder however what Paul might have thought about all this, because we know that Paul was prone to being a sort of caretaker for John, and in a lot of ways “mothered” him. I feel like Paul would’ve recognised that only eating one meal a day was a problem, and maybe sort of laughed it off a bit because he couldn’t have known it was a legitimate mental illness - but also, I hope he would try to encourage John to eat. Id like to hear him talk about this in an interview someday, though I doubt anyone would ask him about this stuff)

This is just genuinely one of the most depressing things ive ever read about John, and if its a topic you feel comfortable reading id encourage anyone to give it a read (although if you think it could be damaging for your mental health, id say avoid it!).

And overall, im just really surprised that no biographer appears to have ever really spoken about this topic in a nuanced manner.

[timothy-chamlet]

the afterparty - t.c. fanfic

pair: timmy x female reader

warnings: unprotected sex, general smut

word count: 2.6k (2640)

a//n: ok er ive never written for timmy before so im nervous snsvsj but if you read it tell me what u think !! <3

°•○●○•°

people often thought the two of you were dating. paparazzi tended to make it look that way through press. despite all the candid photos of you and timothée plastered in magazine spreads and floating around on blogs, he would tell people you weren't together. interviewers would ask, and time again he would put an end to the rumor by saying you weren't dating, you were just friends. 

to be fair, you honestly couldn't even be mad at him. it was a good marketing tactic, at least. if all the girls knew he was single they'd still be invested in the persona of a young, attractive starlet that - despite his more than desirable qualities - is still single. genius. meanwhile you were being his best friend and his trophy for award shows. 

it was growing on you though. you enjoyed walking red carpet events and going to extravagant parties and meeting big names in the industry. it was really a win-win for both of you. 

another one of those win-win situations was tonight. the past three days had been crazy. hair appointments, nail appointments, dress fittings, photoshoots, brunches, and dinners. running each new day on an hour of sleep - maybe two if you were lucky. fueled by energy drinks and the promise of rest after the event. showing up to an awards ceremony on nothing more than a 20 minute nap and a double shot espresso. being timothée's showpiece was exhausting. but it was good for you. 

you had just finished your last consultation for dress fittings and were on your way to your styling appointment. the dress would arrive shortly after you so everything was ready to go. things were set for timothée to meet you there in an hour or so, after his own styling. 

currently you're getting your makeup done. a swarm of professionals all around you, handing products, giving directions, telling you how gorgeous you look, at least three hands on you at all times. after almost an hour all the disembodied hands move from your face to reveal the *almost* finished product. you still need your hair done, but your face was flawless. your skin was insanely smooth; not a pore in sight, your lids were a bronze shade, and your lips were a perfect nude. 

a hair stylist soon steps into view, also admiring your makeup before diving into your hair. it was simple. a slicked back ponytail is all, careful not to draw away from your face and your dress. 

the strong aroma of hairspray clouds you as you maneuver to step into your dress. stripped of your previous clothes, you step into your dress and a couple people help you pull it up. the woman attending to the supper in the back steps away for a moment, seeming to answer a question. 

"what's his name?" she asks into her ear piece. "uh yes. she's in here with me. send him in."  

she returns behind you and does up the zipper to your dress. to your surprise, you see timothée waltz in the room. dressed in a charcoal gray suit with a light lavender button up underneath. "y/n," he exhales, walking towards you. "you look breathtaking, ma chérie." 

"you don't look too bad yourself, timmy," you say, stepping down from your pedestal to be almost eye level with him.

"is she done here?" he asks everyone around without taking his eyes off you. 

one of the women there swoops in with a pair of shoes and says, "slip in to these and you're ready to go, darling." 

you step into your shoes and link arms with timothée. "carriage awaits," he says as the two of you get escorted to the limo. 

once inside you let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding. "you okay?" he asks from beside you. 

"yeah, just.. tired." 

he chuckles and drops his head. "absolutely exhausted." you two had similarly scheduled days so he knows exactly how you feel. "don't worry, mon amour, i'll have you home in about 8 hours." 

"i thought the awards show was only 4-" 

"there's always the afterparty.." 

you audibly groan and drop your head as timothée places a reassuring hand on your knee. 

"we're here," he says with fake enthusiasm as the limo pulls up to the event. the past 45 minutes felt like hours as your head began to pound from the lack of sleep. yet, lucky you, 45 minutes in l.a. traffic was a miracle. 

the two of you step out into the scene. flashing lights from camera flickers, the general buzz of the crowd, people you knew trying to get your attention, people timothée knew trying to get his attention. being the kind person he is, he doesn't shy away from fans calling his name. he walks over to give high fives, say hi, sign things, and really interact with the people that are so invested in his career. you look at him with a fond smile on your face as he greets  people.  

"timothéeeee," you both hear and turn around to match the loud booming voice to a face. 

"armieee!!" he yells in response, hurrying over to hug his co-star. 

you stand idly by as the two hug and catch up. fiddling with your ponytail and the skirt of your dress. until that same voice catches your attention. 

"bring it in hot stuff!" 

"hey, armie! how've you been, handsome?" you two had only met a handful of times, but it's like your souls clicked instantly. he had kept in touch since the first time you met and you guys had been pretty close ever since. 

"oh i’m doing great. really. just excited for this evening. can't wait to see how many awards lil' tim brings in," armie ends with a light laugh before timothée chimes in. 

"oh god no-" 

a cheery voice interrupts the conversation. 

"helloooo," armie's wife says in a sing-song voice and joins his side. "nice to see you again, y/n. and congrats timmy on your nominations." 

you and timothée nod in response and utter small, nervous 'thank you's' before armie excuses the two of them, promising to catch up later. 

"well, well, well- this is it, timmy." you say from your seat next to him. the host reads the nominees for best breakthrough of the year, and timothée's name is mixed in with so many other talented actors. he nervously puts his hand over yours. "you are absolutely amazing. everyone knows that. you're gonna get it." he looks at you and you pass him a reassuring smile. 

"and the award for best breakthrough goes to… timothée chalamet!" 

his head shoots up in shock. cameras pan around him and his baffled expression appears on huge screens behind the stage. he slowly stands from his seat and makes his way to the stage. making a beautiful speech, thanking almost everyone he's ever known. giving gratitude to everyone he's ever worked with, his parents, and his best friends. he comes off the stage and returns to his seat beside you. a year runs down his cheek, and you move to wipe it away, but he grabs your hand away from his cheek only to press his lips to your knuckles. "thank you for always believing in me." 

"you're an amazing actor and an even better friend. 

the night was nearing an end. people were saying their goodbyes and their 'see-you-soon's and going their separate ways. you and timothée walk out of the event, arms linked, with his hands tightly gripping his award. the smile never leaves his face. "i can't fucking believe that, y/n."

"you did it, timmy! all you and your hard work. lemme pick a nice spot on your shelf for it yeah?" 

"i was thinking about sitting it on my dresser right above the drawer full of your shit you keep leaving at my house," he says with a barely visible smirk. 

"oh, well if it's such a problem," you begin "i guess I'll just have to come get my 'shit' then?" you finish sarcastically. 

"oh! how dare you?" he begins to shout, going on a tirade similar to that of hamlet; overly dramatic and mostly nonsensical. "leave them be! small, small remnants; reminders of thee." he trails off softly, dropping his head to your shoulder and bringing his other hand up to trail his fingertips down the side of your face. 

you can't help but chuckle at this. "bravo timothée! amazing performance." 

he straightens up before taking a bow and returning to his previous position on your shoulder. "do you wanna skip the afterparty?" 

"and do what, tim? i thought you were gonna catch up with armie?" 

"i dunno- go to my place?" 

you nod your head, and timothée let's the driver know to just go to his house. 

you get out of the car in front of his apartment, quickly thank the driver, and dash inside; excited to remove the day. "can i shower?" you ask quickly already making your way upstairs.

"oui, mon trèsor, make yourself at home. ill be up in a while." it was almost as if he had it scripted. a routine more or less. you'd ask to shower - despite him telling you almost each time you never had to ask - and go up stairs to do so; him trailing along about an hour later behind you. 

you finish your shower earlier than planned so you decide to lay on his bed until he comes up. you let your freshly washed body relish in the textures of the cotton t-shirt and shorts you're wearing and the damp-cool feel of the comforter on his bed. 

you're not left alone for long before he darts up the stairs and into his room, catching your attention. you watch as he walks around, dropping various articles of his clothing haphazardly on his floor. left in only his boxers. 

"timmy?" you ask in a drawn out voice. 

"hm?" he asks lowly in response; his eyes trained on you. you don't respond to his muffled question and instead watch as he comes to lean over the foot of the bed, by your legs. "i've been thinking," he continues, "a lot recently. about us.." 

"us?-" 

"about what the media thinks we are. what the people say. the blog posts, the tweets. i read it all… what do you think about it, y/n?" he ends with a light sigh, making drawing light swirls on your leg. 

"i dunno really. i've never thought much about it," you say sitting up. 

he moves up from his place in front of the bed, crawling up to sit to the right of your legs. knees drawn up to his chest, eyes meeting yours. he raises his hand so his fingertips ghost the curve of your cheek. "you never think about.. the possibility of us?" he pauses as his eyes drift from yours. hands falling to his lap as he scoots even closer to you. you sit stunned, not knowing how to answer as if it was some rhetoric instead of a simple question. filling the silence, he continues. "i think about how different things would be if we were together. what it would be like to hold you and kiss you and- can i kiss you?" 

his voice wavers as his eyes meet yours yet again. with quick movements, he moves to straddle your legs, both hands resting lightly on either side of your face. 

"can i kiss you?" he asks again, his face millimeters from yours. 

you shake your head yes as your eyes fluttering closed, your lips brushing against his as you move. 

he plants his lips firmly on yours. innocent at first, but the kiss quickly gets deeper. more desperate, his hands moving from the sides of your face to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back giving him access to your neck. his lips dance around the skin of your neck, being careful not to leave any marks. “is this okay?” he whispers, dragging his hands from your hair to the hem of your shirt. 

you nod your head vigorously and he pulls your shirt up and over your head, throwing it to the floor with his clothes. you lean back and give timothee free reign of your chest and stomach. he makes his way from your neck down and across your chest. your hands rush to knot in his hair as he takes a nipple in his mouth, carefully flicking his tongue across the hardening bud before doing the same to the other. 

"timmy.." you breathe out as he leaves your chest and explores lower. his eyes meet yours as his teeth come into contact with the flimsy waistband of your sleep shorts. "please," you whisper. 

he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down your legs; eyes going wide when he sees you have nothing underneath. 

"so pretty," he whispers almost to himself as he throws your shorts in his floor with the rest of your guys' clothes. he runs his finger along your slit, collecting some of your wetness, tasting it. laying back down with your legs over his shoulders, he hooks his arms around your thighs to keep you in place. he runs his tongue along your folds and you arch your back in response. he sucks on your clit making you squirm and tangle your fingers tighter in his hair, pushing against his face, eager for more. 

"tim-... timmy," you beg.

timothée kisses his way back up your body. "hm?" he hums softly beside your ear only for you to utter another weak 'please' in response. 

"please… please what, mon amour?" 

"baise moi.." you didn't know much french. you had picked up on a few of timothée's most used phrases, but this you hadn't learned from him, so it caught him off-guard. stuck in a moment of shock. hearing you say something so dirty in french felt so strangely intimate; you didn't have to ask him twice. 

he slips his boxers, finally accompanying you in nakedness, and slips into you, moaning at the feeling of you around him. 

"fuck.. timmy-" you groan as he picks up his pace. he coos sweet nothings into your ear while drilling into your core. 

his head drops to your chest and the soft, sweet praises slowly turn into obscenities. "merde," he groans, picking up his pace even more. holding himself at arms length above you, he throws his head back; lips parted in pure bliss. 

you lift one of your hands to trail down timothée's torso. you lazily drag your fingertips across his chest and down to his stomach. the pleasure building inside you, your hand finds its way to your clit. “timmy... fuck! ple- please don’t stop. fuuuuuck!” 

“défaire pour moi, y/n.” you didn’t think french could ever drive you to orgasm, but when it came from timothé anything was possible. you convulse around him as your wave of pleasure washes over you. timothée reaching his own peak soon after, pulling out and emptying on your stomach. he quickly finds something to clean you up with before plopping down on the bed beside you. many silent moments pass - nothing but heavy breaths leaving either of you - before he speaks up. “you know,” he begins in a soft whisper, “i felt bad- like i was using you. just to go to events with me. i know you don’t really like them but-” 

you cut him off and turn to face him. “i might hate going to those award shows, but they’re a little less bad with you around.” 

he breaks into a wide smile and pulls you closer, putting his head on your stomach. "mon amour, je t'ai toujours aimé." you reach down to play with his curls and begin to drift off on your way to sleep. 

[yesttoheaven]

I SEE YOU – chapter IV

pairing – arthur fleck x female!reader

wc – 2.3k

warnings – idk... misty being a b*tch with arthur?

a/n – hi everyone! I hope you are well because I'm brazilian and I cannot say the same lol the president is a piece of shit and he can't rule the country in the middle of a pandemic (not even without the pandemic, in fact)

anyway enjoy the chapter!

English is not my first language. I am getting help from google translator and he is not always a good ally, so I apologize for any typos or grammar errors.

Y/N – your name

chapter one. chapter two.

chapter three. chapter four.

"What are you doing here, Misty?" The surprise was notable in Y/N's words.

Many people could walk through that door, but Misty was definitely not one of them.

"I should ask you the same question..." The woman came over and put her hands on the actress' shoulders, smiling amiably. "But we don't have time for that right now. You have a dinner to go! And it is not right to keep a man like Charles waiting."

"Charles?" Arthur asked, trying to find a way to join the conversation. "Is he also an actor?"

After these simple words, the redhead burst out laughing and Arthur didn't understand what he had done wrong this time. He was just curious and a little interested to know who was the man who had a date with Y/N that night.

"Actor? God, have you never heard of Charles Lewis Tiffany?" Misty questioned how if the fact that Arthur didn’t know the man was an offense to humanity and Arthur just shook his head, too embarrassed to say anything else.

Who the hell was this man? The Pope? And why did Y/N have a dinner with Pope?

"It's okay, Arthur." Always so graceful, the actress reassured him and left Misty's side to be close to him. "Charles owns Tiffany & Co., the one that appears in the movie Breakfast at Tiffany's... Have you watched this movie before?"

"Oh, oftentimes!"

"Me either! And now Charles wants me to be the face of his new collection! I'm so excited, he came to Gotham just to follow it up in person!" The happiness shining in her eyes was contagious, but Misty didn’t like seeing Y/N squeeze the man’s arm gently.

"I hate to have to do this... the conversation is so pleasant, but we have to go, mon cher." With a smile, Y/N's manager adjusted the bag on her shoulder. She wanted to take the actress away from this freak as soon as possible.

"You cannot go without the VHS tape." Arthur objected, receiving a death glare from Misty, but the only thing that mattered to him was Y/N. "I'll get this for you." After these words, the man left the living room with a reason to make her stay a little longer in his apartment.

"Well, I think we're going to have to wait." Y/N shrugged, but inside she was beaming.

Feeling her mouth dry, she picked up the glass of water on the table, but that was her worst mistake.

"What are you doing? Don't drink this! That dirty glass is full of germs!" The glass was snatched from her hand and Y/N looked at Misty in disbelief.

"That glass is not dirty, Misty."

"How can you be sure of that? I heard that the Narrows sewer is one of the worst in Gotham!"

"Thanks for the lesson, but that didn’t come from the Narrows sewer. This water is from the kitchen tap."

"Oh my God..." The actress could have sworn that the woman's face turned green and she would vomit at any moment. "Why did you drink this? You'll be sick!"

Before Y/N had a chance to respond to these insanities, someone called her. She ran over to the bag and took out her cell phone. It was Charles.

"Hey, Charles! It's good to talk to you." On the other side, all she received were strange noises. The man's voice was being cut off and it was difficult to understand. "The connection is awful..."

"Why am I not surprised? Narrows is the end of the world!" Misty commented, rolling her eyes.

Without time for this discussion, Y/N said:

"Maybe in the corridor I will get a better signal."

"Be careful, you don't know what kind of neighbors there are in this place." She warned, listening to the door open and close, but Y/N said nothing.

Alone in the living room, Misty had the same disgusted look as when she arrived. For her this apartment is small even for an ant and this wallpaper is ridiculous, but in the midst of so much poverty, something on the couch attracted her attention.

"What do we have right here? I don't believe he has a diary..." The woman whispers to herself, laughing, after picking up Arthur's journal. She knew it was wrong, but she was bored.

The first few pages were OK, he had a shitty life like any other unfortunate person, but what came next scared the hell out of her. Misty knew there was something wrong with this man. The instant she saw him, she knew, but that... those words... were from a sick person. Arthur was a disgusting pervert. The redhead needed a moment to breathe and then she saw the magazines on the table and an scissors...

Oh no. He intends to include Y/N in this depravity show!

"I finally found." With bright eyes, Arthur looked for Y/N in the living room, but all he found was Misty... and his journal. "W-What... What are you d-doing?"

"Stay away from me!" She exclaimed, backing away for fear that he would do something against her. "I swear, if you get close I'll scream so loud and when Y/N comes through that door, I will tell her your little secret. She will be so disappointed, but she will finally find out who you really are... A perv!"

"N-No, please... You got it wrong." He tried, his voice taking on a desperate tone. Arthur didn't want to lose the actress's friendship. She was too important for him. "I c-can explain."

"Oh, can you explain? You will glue Y/N's head to a cat's body and then you will sit on that old sofa and touch yourself? You should be in Arkham! You're a sick person! I can't believe Y/N was alone with you..."

Arthur felt his stomach churning.

"You're wrong... I have a lot of respect for her. Y/N is special to me and I would never do something like that."

"I don't want to hear your excuses!" The woman threw the journal at him and Arthur cringed like a frightened dog. After hitting him on the back, the journal fell to the floor and when he saw those collages, he felt ashamed of himself. "Listen to me... I will say this only once: Stay away from her. It doesn’t matter what kind of fantasies you’ve created in your sick head, Y/N will not be a part of that. If I know that after today you keep talking to her, I'll call the police and when they find out you're a fucking perv, you will spend the rest of your days in Arkham." She warned with all the letters and threats, now it was up to him to choose to cooperate or not. This man is too old to play being a teenager. These images of naked women, these cats and those sad quotes in his journal prove just one thing. Maybe he's a sexual predator, but Misty wouldn't be here to find that out either. "Enjoy your pornography and leave Y/N alone. I hope I never see you again."

Arthur saw his world fall apart as soon as the redhead left his apartment with the worst assumptions about him. He was not a perverted monster. He would never touch Y/N without her consent and would never endanger her life. Never ever. Y/N was the only good thing about Gotham; she was a light at the end of the tunnel. So angelic and peaceful. Whenever she smiles, butterflies appear in his stomach and Arthur knows what these famous butterflies mean, but he doesn't know what those collages mean... If Y/N knew, she would probably be afraid of him.

In the corridor, the actress was trapped in a bubble, talking animatedly with Charles. The call had no specific reason, the man just wanted to make sure everything was fine for dinner that night.

"Okay... This is one of Gotham's best restaurants. Trust me, you will love the place!" She assured him, intending to make a good impression. It wasn't every day that she got a chance to dine with the genius behind Tiffany & Co. and represent that brand. This was an important step in her career. "Now I need to go, Charles. See you soon, bye!" Y/N hummed the ending, watching Misty approach where she was. "Why are you here?"

"It's just your friend's mom. She's not feeling very well..."

"Isn't Penny okay?" Concern crossed Y/N's face and she tried to get back to apartment 8J, but Misty took her arm, lying again:

"Y/N, don't be indiscreet. This is a family problem and Arthur is taking care of it." With those words, she guided the actress to the elevator, but Y/N kept looking at the door to Arthur's apartment. "You need to prepare for dinner... I chose a beautiful dress for you."

...

THREE DAYS LATER

"Put red on her lips... Don't forget the mascara... and on the cheeks use this blush... Not this one! The peach blush!"

It was possible to say that Charles Lewis Tiffany was taking the place of the makeup artist. The woman was losing patience, Y/N realized this, but he wanted to participate in every second of it. When she finished, Charles smiled, admiring Y/N's beauty through the mirror.

"You see? You're genuinely beautiful... I think I finally found my muse." The actress was flattered by the compliments and that reflected in her smile when Charles took a blue box, but this was not a simple blue box. This is the famous Tiffany Blue Box. "I want you to meet my new creation..." He opened the box, stealing Y/N's breath instantly. "Dramatically plunging down the decolletage, an incredible emerald-cut bicolor zoisite that shifts from violet-blue to purplish-red, depending on the angle. The pendant is over 48 carats and it's wrapped in a halo of baguette diamonds and suspended from a diamond rondelle chain of over 37 total carats."

"Oh Charles, this is absolutely beautiful. I'm speechless..." She confessed, watching him take the necklace and offer to put it around her neck. Y/N accepted immediately and when the pendant touched the white fabric of the dress, she smiled at the mirror.

"Diamonds are a girl's best friend" Charles whispered, eliciting a giggle from her. "Now I need to speak to the photographer, but take a few minutes to prepare yourself." The man smiled one last time and Y/N walked to the door, opening it for him. She took the opportunity to spy on what was happening on the other side and it was possible to say that there was a little sadness in her eyes.

"What are you looking for?" Misty's voice echoed and she closed the door quickly.

"Huh... nothing!"

The woman was checking the contract – something about image authorization – and when she took her eyes off the papers, she found Y/N with a half-hearted smile.

"Go ahead... Spill the tea."

Brian was probably smoking, so Misty was her only option.

"Arthur was busy these days, but he called me this morning... He looked nervous and said he would like to talk to me, so I invited him to accompany the photoshoot, but..."

"You did what?!" Misty left the chair, interrupting her. Not wanting to start a scene, the redhead looked at Dariela, the makeup artist, and said: "Get out." The woman immediately stopped organizing her makeup and ran out of the dressing room.

"Was that necessary?" Y/N asked, crossing her arms.

"And was it necessary to invite that maniac to come here too?"

"Jesus, Misty!" She walked to the other side of the dressing room. "Manic? Really?"

"I'm just telling the truth."

"Based on what? His bank account?"

"Based on his journal." Misty replied and the actress looked in her direction with a frown. Shaking her head, the redhead let out a bitter laugh before confessing: "He doesn't use it just to write jokes... I found a lot of pornography on those pages."

Y/N felt a little uncomfortable with that. Certain things do not need to be exposed... She didn't need to know about that part of Arthur's life and Misty just invaded his privacy.

"Well... many men consume pornography daily."

"Y/N, pornography is not the point here. He makes some weird collages... women with cat heads... skulls... one of these women was tied up in a compromising position... Can you see how problematic this is?" Misty was trying to open her eyes and consequently was scaring the actress, but that was not all. "I saw the magazines. That man will probably do the same to you... your face on the body of these naked women or on a cat's body! You have always been uncomfortable with the way men see you only as a sex symbol... and now Arthur is using you as a sex toy!"

"Stop! Just stop, okay?" Y/N demanded, using an edgy tone of voice. That was too much for her to assimilate. "You're saying this because you do not accept the idea of ​​Arthur being my friend! All that matters to you is status, but it doesn't matter to me! When are you going to let me live my own life?"

"This is not about social classes, this man is a pervert! I'm trying to protect you!"

"Enough, Misty!" That was enough to make the redhead shut up and Y/N found her way back to the mirror.

To complete the look, inside the blue box was a beautiful diamond ring and a pair of shiny round diamond earrings, just waiting for her. Putting on the ring was an easy task, but she couldn’t say the same about earrings; her hands were shaking and this is all the fault of the stress.

"Let me help you." The manager approached and at first Y/N refused her help, but after another failed attempt, she handed the earrings to the woman. "I know I can be a bitch sometimes..."

"Sometimes?"

Misty just sighed, shaking her head.

~~~~~~~▪~~~~~~~~~▪~~~~~~~~~▪~~~~~~~~~~

a/n – likes and reblogs are appreciated but honestly I’d love to know what you all think of this one. really hope you enjoy it and thank you soooo much for reading ♡

[sparetimeimagines]

Weakness | Bakugou Katsuki

tags; fluff, angst, hospital, ptsd

Part 1

Masterlist

He didn’t know how much longer they were going to keep you apart. His fingers were tapping. His body aching. His heart pounding.

He just wanted to see you. What was so difficult about that?

Another hour passed when he finally gave up.

The surgery was taking longer than he expected. How difficult could it be to sear someone up? The tissue is gone. The bone is gone.

The light indicating surgery is in session fades to off and immediately his attention is stolen, much like his heart those years ago.

“She was beautiful. Not the beautiful plastered on magazines and tv commercials. Beautiful like the flower. Organic. Delicate to the touch.”

From the moment Katsuki laid eyes on you, it frustrated him. He didn’t understand why you were so important. Why is it you out of everyone in the room that caught his attention? Some quirkless nobody.

“Hey Dumbass.” They were the first words you heard.

Bright lights, the anesthesia was wearing off and the machine let off a beat that was endless.

Those bold crimson eyes trace your body like they always had, but this time he felt different.

Guilt. Shame. He should have been there.

His hand raises but instantly he retreats.

How can he touch you? How can he deserve to feel your smooth skin under his callused finger tips?

Instead, he relies on his eyes.

They pay attention to every detail. The bruise on your cheek some of the bastard struck you. The burns on your arms from the tight rope he insisted on keeping you still. Bandaged up left hand that gives the illusion of a fist.

It was everything he feared. Well, at least you’re alive.

“Ka-” you start, but then realize your voices is weak. Maybe it’s not the best thing to speak right now. Instead, you watch him with your lazy eyes.

Instead of seeing the love in his eyes, you see hate. Disgust.

After all that time of waiting to see you -Begging to see you- he leaves.

The man you owe your life to storms out the room, slamming the door on his way, leaving you wondering what you did wrong. Your eyes travel down your body and you begin to remember everything that’s happened. Bit by bit, piece by piece you realize that there’s a part of your life that will never be the same again.

The nurses came in, adjusted your IVs and the doctor even made an appearance.

They were kind and generous with their time.

It started with the warnings. Like how you will have nerve damage. How you will still feel nerves in areas of your body where you shouldn’t. How you will never wear a wedding band on the proper finger.

That must’ve been the reason why Kacchan left.

But what they didn’t tell you is how to explain to someone that bad things happen when it’s not their fault.

The room went silent once you were alone despite the beeping from the machine.

Being left alone with your thoughts was the last thing you wanted right now.

When was he coming back?

Was Katsuki coming back?

The door opens with a knock, much softer and collected than anything Suki was capable of.

In walks the darkest of green hairs you’ve seen on a person with the heart the largest you’ll will ever find.

“Deku...”

He returns your weak smile ends step closer to the bedside.

“Y/N.“ His soft eyes welled up with tears however he clears his throat to hold him back. “I’m so glad you’re ok.” His hands slowly creep close to yours, trying not to irritate the IV.

It was a simple friendship you formed as children. Back then, you both were quirkless in a superhero world. It was something simple to bond over. You didn’t feel so alone.

“I see you’re covered in bruises.“ You crack a small joke just to lighten the tension, and a tear threatens to fall.“Aww Deku... don’t ever change.“ His soft face brings peace to mind for a brief second before you check back at the door, your face drops.

“I would never.“ Midoriya brings his soft smile to your attention until he notices something’s still wrong. His eyes glance down at your hand then back to your face which is bruised.

“Your hand…”

“Yeah, Deku“ you pause raising your left hand for the first time since surgery. Your eyes study each dressing that secures the casing meant for healing.

“They told me it’s never going to be the same again.“

They must be pushing some kind of drug to take away the pain...

“But I guess I already knew that... you know... since I was there when it happened.”

“I’m really sorry.“ He says closely watching the injured limb. “I should’ve been there for you. You must’ve been so scared.“

“I was.“

He doesn’t say anything for a short moment, time passes when one thing comes to mind.

“Midoriya.” You start, gathering the courage to ask him what you really wanted to say. “Did you see Kacchan?”

You pause for a moment yet he doesn’t say anything until his eyes match mine.

“Y-yeah.” He chokes. “He was running out as I came in.”

So he really did leave...

Midoriya sits in silence as you observe your hand.

“I don’t understand, Deku.” You start, watching the clock on the wall tick. “Why would he leave me?”

“Don’t think of it like that, Y/n. I think he’s just afraid.”

“Kacchan’s never been afraid, Deku.”

“I wouldn’t believe that, Y/N.”

“I don’t know what to believe.”

Yelling and loud commotions distract the conversation to the hallway.

Your eyes grow heavy from the medication as the yelling comes closer.

“Sir visiting hours at this time is for immediate family only. You-” The nurse is cut off by the harsh voice yelling in the hall.

“I am her only family.” He replies winded, passing the nurse to find Midoriya and you.

“Sir.” The nurse warns.

“Deku, what the hell are you doing here? Get lost, you Nerd.” He shoves past Midoriya, putting distance between the two of you.

The nurse stands in the doorway with her arms crossed.

“Visiting hours are over.”

Midoriya immediately abides by the rules while Katsuki refuses standing his ground.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“She needs her rest.”

Midoriya meets the nurse at the door and asks to speak with her outside the room leaving you two alone.

“I’m back. I’m sorry. I’m not leaving you again.” He reaches for your hand then hesitates seeing the IV.

“It’s ok, Suki.”

He notices your eyes and realizes you’re wearing down.

“Are you ok, Petal?” His voice softens while his touch is sensitive.

Your lips form into a firm line and you manage to move over.

“Lay with me tonight.” Weakly, you pat the uncomfortable mattress. “I don’t want to be alone.”

The blond grunts and climbs into the bed without hesitation, aware of your injuries and comfort.

His head against the pillow, he flattens his back enough to pull you into his arms.

“You’re my everything, Y/N.” He mumbles into your hair leaving his lips pressed against your forehead. “You make me weak.” He mumbles.

“I do what?” You must not be hearing this right.

“That’s not what I meant.” He sighs. “You’re my weakness.”

Bakugou presses his head atop yours and embraces his silence. His rough fingertips gently slide over the wounds randomly scattered across your skin.

“You know I went crazy trying to find you.“

For once he’s actually keeping his tone low. You weren’t sure if it was how he’s trying to hide the fact that he’s soft on the inside or if it’s something else. “I couldn’t sleep. There’s no way I could’ve relaxed knowing that bastard had you.“

He pauses brushing the hair out of your face. “I had to find you. There’s no one in this world that means as much to me as you do.“

At that moment it wasn’t the aggressive explosion everyone is used to.

At that moment his guard was down and all he saw was you.

“The media got word. They were trying to break in the hospital to see you. They want pictures of you with your wounds. I had to do something about it.” His voice turns into his aggression, his anger begins to make a comeback when you squeeze his hand.

“When I left. I forced them to leave. They were…” he struggles. “They were talking about your parents. Calling them fallen heroes. Said that bastard murdered your family... This was their chance for a shot of glory. I wasn’t gonna let them turn you in to nothing.”

There’s so many emotions going through his system; he can’t decide on which he wants to use.

Anger. Guilt. Disgust.

“I wanted to do this the right way. Lights, candles, by the water the way you like. Under the gazebo where you can see the stars. I wanted everything to be perfect.” He stops to look at your damaged hand. “But... now, I realize time is so valuable, and life is so vulnerable. You’re my family and you mean everything to me.” He starts to get choked, and even though you’re the one who needs help, you are the one who needs to be taken care of, YOU are the one who’s making sure he is ok.

“Su-“

��Let me finish!“ He chokes with a short fuse. “Let me finish.“ He repeats himself with a much softer voice, hardly over whisper. You look to him and he has a soft smile almost hidden behind his angry eyes.

“Petal, I’ve loved you since we were kids. Since we were so young we didn’t know what love was. When I couldn’t find you, I was devastated. I didn’t understand that you were everything I’ve ever wanted. When there was a chance that i would never see you again, I felt a part of me break.” His voice is choking once more. “Great now I sound like some nerd.” he chuckles sniffling away his tears.

“You bring out the side of me that’s so dangerous and I wanted nothing more than to see you smile. You scare me; and nothing scares me in this world.“ He gets frustrated and pulls out an object from his pocket.

“Look, I’m trying to say I love you. And I never wanna see anything happen to you. I know things have happened, and our lives may never be the same again but I’m willing to work at it if you are.”

From his pocket he exposes a black velvet box. It’s small in his hand but you couldn’t believe your eyes.

The beautiful diamond that sat in the ring was more than anything you could’ve ever asked for.

“I saw it and immediately thought of you. It’s you. It’s you.”

By now he’s sobbing. Like the diamond, unlike any thing you’ve ever seen before, the energy he’s giving off, everything that he said would’ve fooled you into believing he’s somebody else.

“Who are you?” You ask, looking from his face to his hands and back to his face again. He chokes and sits up straight.

“Your husband if you let me.”

The machine beside you begins to be wildly, and the nurse along with Midoriya who is outside we came rushing in, exposing the moment between you and Bakugo.

“Get out you nerd.” He yells Midoriya who stutters.

“N-no. I need to see what she says.” The moment of bravery from the green one has you confused. The ring in the blond’s hands and shocked look on the green one’s face leaves you speechless.

“Well what do you say?“ Bakugou flushes from his cheeks and all you can do is nod.

“I promise you. When everything gets straightened out, I’ll make you the happiest person in the world.”

[otonymous]

A Bolt From The Blue (MLQC Shaw - NSFW) - Part IV (End): Courage, My Love

Description: The final chapter.  The Big Bang 😉  Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language & mature themes — reader discretion is advised.  Potential trigger warnings: physically aggressive behaviour, ex-boyfriends, angst, size kink, profanity, vaginal fingering and intercourse Word Count: 4237 words (~21 mins of thrills, real talk, fluff and smut) Author’s Notes: To all the lovelies who have been patiently following this story: you’ve made it! 🥳  Welcome to the final chapter in this Shaw saga, where we aim to go out with a massive bang (pun intended 😆).  Once again, thank you all for every like, reblog, and comment I’ve received on this story.  You are all amazing, and I appreciate your support! 💕

As always, tagging the lovely @op-peccatori​ — I hope you enjoyed this story!  I certainly had lots of fun writing this!  Please note the potential trigger warnings listed above, dear readers, and happy reading! 

Jump to Chapter(s): One | Two | Three

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

The quiet is back.

But there is no peace, no relief in the monotony that follows after the man known as Shaw burst into your life like a bolt from the blue, stirring up long forgotten feelings like dead leaves animated by a carefree wind — here one minute, gone the next.

And with each passing day, hope erodes.

Little by little, your heart learns not to race as the clock above the magazine rack approaches 1:30.

It becomes harder to remember the sound purple sneakers made walking through the store.

You stop hoping, wishing, to see a head of lavender hair; that the next person to approach the register would place a cup of Pepsi mixed with Coke on the counter, amber-eyed gaze speaking volumes without uttering a single word.

Days become weeks, and then eventually…

…you stop counting them altogether.

* * *

“You’re looking good.  I see you’re doing well for yourself.”

He reaches for the jade pendant hanging around your neck, eyes flashing with amusement when you hit his hand away with an audible smack.

“What the hell do you want?  Haven’t you already done enough?” You say through grit teeth, steps quickening as you head for the better lit part of the street, trying to outpace the man and silently cursing the fact that returning to the convenience store was no longer an option at this point.

“C’mon baby, don’t be like that.  It took a lot of effort to track you down and I waited a very long time for you to get off work.  It’s cold, dark and lonely out here.  Is that any way to treat your boyfriend?  Or friend, at least?”

“ ‘Ex-boyfriend,’ asshole, and you’re no friend of mine, especially not after the way you took my life’s savings and ran.”

“Baby, it wasn’t like that—”

“Oh yeah?!  Did you try telling that to the loan sharks too before they came and trashed my place?  I had to move, Leto, because it wasn’t safe for me anymore, not with the way they kept harassing me and the neighbours asking about your whereabouts.  They even came to my office.  I lost my fucking job.  So don’t come around here and tell me that I’m doing well for myself.”

Breaking into a sprint, your mind races as you try to think of a way to lose your ex, anger and anxiety prickling every nerve in equal measure.  He had ruined your life, singlehandedly taken away everything you had.  And though you had known him once, desperation has a way of making monsters out of men.

And right now, for all you knew, he was desperate and dangerous.

“Please, I just want to talk.  I don’t need much this time, just a little bit to get me through this rough patch.  I’ll pay you back, I swear, just…just STOP FOR A MOMENT!—”

You shriek to feel Leto wrap his hand about your wrist, but before he could tighten his grip, another arm is thrown around your shoulder, pulling you back until you’re pressed up against a hard, muscular chest, staring at a close up of Snoopy riding a skateboard.

“You got business with my girl?”

That voice.  Dangerous and cocksure, yet comforting like nothing else as the muffled words reverberate through the tiny bones of your ear, a prelude to the soothing ba-bump of his heart, rhythm steady and concrete as the ground upon which you stood.

Shaw.

He’s really here.

“Hehe.  Your girl?”  The derision in Leto’s voice makes you sick to your stomach; you can’t help but hold your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop as he looks Shaw up and down, zeroing in on his old t-shirt.  “Tsk, tsk.  So, not only do you enjoy wearing second hand clothing, you also have the habit of picking up sloppy seconds?”

BOOM!

Deafening thunder rolls moments after a bolt of lightning rends the night sky in two, throwing a jagged spotlight on the fury written on Shaw’s face when he moves just as fast to grab a fistful of Leto’s collar.  The muscles of his forearm bulge as he holds up the entirety of Leto’s bodyweight in one hand, the sky opening in a sudden downpour as your ex struggles in midair, rain dripping almost comically from dangling feet.

And when Shaw brings Leto’s terrified face up close, the ferocity in those amber eyes sends a chill up your spine.

“This is the last time you’ll ever talk to her, see her, even think about her.  Or else I’ll find you and take my sweet time making you wish you were never born, do you understand me?”

Head bobbing in vigorous nods, drops of water fly off the tips of Leto’s rain-slicked hair.  Seemingly satisfied, Shaw tosses him onto the ground at your feet, voice low yet audible as it cuts through the din of the storm when he says, “Beg for her forgiveness.”

The fear in his expression almost palpable, Leto looks between you and Shaw — cowardice etched onto features you had once found so pleasing a lifetime ago.  He prostrates himself onto the wet pavement, voice cracking in between sobs as he yells over the sound of the rain:

“P-please…please forgive me!  I’m a piece of shit!  I’m nothing, I’m garbage!  I…I deserve to go to Hell for what I did to you!  I-I’m so sorry!  Please forgive me!”

Leto reaches out a shaky hand towards your soaked shoes before he remembers Shaw’s warning, but it is too late.  Black combat boots hit the concrete hard within an inch of Leto’s face as Shaw stoops, yanking back a fistful of hair and pulling until your ex is looking up at you like a pitiful supplicant begging for mercy.

“Satisfied?”  Shaw looks to you as if he were asking about something as mundane as the weather.  You nod, suddenly too tired to even speak.  You wanted to wash your hands of Leto, wanted nothing to do with all that had happened since you finished your shift at the convenience store.  All you could do was watch as Leto scrambled away on all fours the moment Shaw loosened his hold, running until he was nothing more than a speck of darkness merging with the night.

The rain is cold, wetness driving against your body to leech even the final bits of warmth from bone.  Your clothes are drenched, heavy as they cling uncomfortably to skin.  But you are too drained to care, lacking the energy to even notice when the dim light of the streetlamp above is blotted out — Shaw holding his leather jacket over your head in the place of an umbrella.

All you are aware of before your vision goes dark is the anxiety in his voice when he calls your name over and over again, how weightless it felt to be carried in the cradle of his arms.  

How much you missed the scent you thought you had learned to forget.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Finally awake, Sleeping Beauty?”

You opened your eyes to gaze into irises of warm amber, the situation similar to one you experienced before except for the fact that this time, you were the one lying in bed, staring at a man who sat on its edge, brows knit with concern beneath soft lavender strands.

“If you slept for any longer, I would’ve had to knock on your neighbour’s door.” Shaw chuckles but the sound is hollow, mirthlessness obvious like the blanched knuckles of his tightly clenched fists.

“What…how did we…” You begin, voice raspy as it dies, a sudden sharp pain in your throat making you wince.

And immediately, Shaw is on his feet, rummaging through cupboards in your kitchen until he finds a glass.  You watch him run the tap, fill it to the brim.  Feel the strength of his arm around your back as he holds you up, touch lingering even as you down the water in gulps to chase the discomfort away.

“You passed out not long after your douchebag of an ex ran off with his tail between his legs.  I found your keys in your purse, so I let myself into your apartment — hope you don’t mind.  Although, to be fair, I was also carrying you at the time, so it’s not really breaking and entering.”

Head feeling like it would explode as the events of the evening come rushing back, you turn towards him…slowly…slowly, afraid Shaw might disappear before your eyes should any movement prove too sudden.

Thank him.  Now.  Before he goes away again.

He is close, so close that you can count those long, beautiful lashes; almost feel the minuscule shifts in the air between you every time he blinks — those pupils encroaching onto gold as they expand and pulling you into their depths as they do.

“Why are you doing this?”

He doesn’t flinch at your question, and you can’t bring yourself to be shocked by the discrepancy between what you meant to say and the words actually spilling from your lips.  And as the grey memory of days spent counting the hours of his absence settles like lead in the pit of your stomach, the only thing you knew was that your heart couldn’t survive latching onto this sliver of hope only to have it ripped away again.

All you wanted…was the truth.

“Because I can’t stand to see you sad anymore.”

There is no smirk to stretch across that handsome face, only pain that hurts your heart to see it.  Resignation heavy in his voice, Shaw takes a deep breath before he continues.

“Turns out I’m weak when it comes to you.  Selfish.  I know I’m no good for you; there’s no future with me.  I can’t give you anything, can’t even promise you tomorrow, but…I just can’t stop thinking about you.  Wondering how you are.  Whether you’re eating well, sleeping well.  If you’re safe…happy.

“Tonight wasn’t supposed to happen.  I just wanted to make sure you got home okay, that some asshole wasn’t going to hassle you at work.  But then your ex showed up and when he tried to get fresh with you, well…I couldn’t let that slide.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s wrong with me but…I’m sorry, if I ever made you sad, if I scared you.  I’m sorry for everything.”

His gaze drops to the rip in his jeans, the drip, drip of the leaky faucet the only sound in the ensuing silence of his confession.  That is, until you say,

“I’m sorry too…that you’re such an idiot.”

His head whips up, brows furrowed and mouth slack as if caught in a rare moment of speechlessness.  The shock makes him seem years younger, lending him an air of innocence that you couldn’t help but smile at.

“In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m a grown woman, capable of making my own decisions.  I’m not so naïve that I don’t know what I would be getting into by being with you.  You say you can’t promise me tomorrow, but tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone.  All we can ask for — hope for — is the here and now.  

“Love takes courage, as does life.  But a life without love…it’s not much of a life, is it?  So I’m willing to be brave if that’s what it’ll take for us to be together.”

As quickly as they came, the words are gone, leaving you cotton-mouthed and faint as your heart pounds to send the blood rushing to your ears.  That could’ve been the only explanation as to why Shaw’s “I knew there was a reason why I loved you” sounded so muffled you had to ask him to repeat himself.

“Too bad, I only say things once.”

And there it is again: the spark in his eyes, smirk on those lips — igniting the fire you only allowed yourself to feel in dreams of his body on yours, skin to skin like kindling to flame.

“Are you that single-minded about everything?”  You ask, the smile on your face mirroring his as it approaches closer…

“Only when it comes to not letting go of the one I care about.”

…closer…

“Tell me one thing.”  Your voice is barely above a whisper.

…and closer still.

Lips now a hair’s breadth apart, the gentle rhythm of his exhalation blows soft upon your cupid’s bow; a shy request.  Your vision is filled with him, wonderfully awash with colour — lavender, amber, the soft pink of his mouth — and you wished you were the very clothes upon his body; saturated in his intensity, dyed in his hues.

His eyes fixate on your tongue when you wet your lips before asking, “That night, when you were hurt so badly you passed out in my store…why did you still insist on coming in?”

Shaw’s breath catches, hitching in his throat.  You know because you can feel it, the way the warmth stops short on your skin.  And when he speaks, the eyes that hold yours tell you this is no lie.

“Because if it was going to be the last night of my life, I didn’t want to go without seeing your face one more time.”

Love is a funny thing.  Formless, senseless, yet the strongest thing that could bind two strangers.  You hadn’t known Shaw for long, could count the days you spent together on one hand.  And still, entirely without reason, he bled into each and every hour, crept into the darkest corners of your mind to fill your weary heart with a desperation that made it very clear that love was far from done with you.

That right or wrong, the only place you wanted to be was here — held in the arms that wrapped around your body: hot, tight, safe…

…Shaw.

His lips are softer than you ever imagined when he brings his face to yours, plush silk gliding corner to corner to cover your mouth in reverent kisses — one for each night he came into your store, watched over you from afar.  

Your stalwart protector.

You tasted it now, the remnants of cinnamon on his tongue from the gum he was so fond of chewing, intensified by the memory of all the times you wondered about its flavour: pink bubbles popping in his mouth as he coolly dealt with the robber, the night you emptied his pockets as your neighbour stitched him up on your bed.

Shaw tasted sweet.  Far sweeter than you ever imagined.

And when his tongue slides against yours — slow and sure as it explores your mouth with increasing fervour before drawing back just as you clenched around emptiness, yearning for more, the beast within you refuses to abide.

You like the shock that passes over his face when you move, sudden and forceful, to push him onto the mattress beneath you; the artless way Shaw sinks teeth into his bottom lip in response.  You like how he watches as you straddle his hips — gaze earnest and body honest, hardening as you grind undulating circles upon his groin.

But, perhaps most of all, you liked the spark of something wild in those amber eyes, an unpredictability warning that if you weren’t careful, you’d be the one to find yourself pinned to the bed.

Because wasn’t that ultimately the push-and-pull that characterized so much between you and him?  Maddening at times, but always, always binding you to Shaw like some red string of fate.

So you nod when he whispers “May I?”, unable to suppress a moan to finally feel his hands on you: tracing along your jaw, cradling your face…resting the pad of his finger on your lip before pushing past to stroke your tongue.

Every sound he makes pleases; the soft hiss preceding the bob of his Adam’s apple to feel your lips pucker around his finger to suck, pink tongue enticing as it swirls along the length of that digit, drawing it deeper into the hot wetness of your mouth.

You never saw yourself as seductive before, but Shaw made you feel sexy.  Perhaps the impulse stemmed from some primitive desire, an instinctive call to please the man you felt so profoundly for that shame was the farthest thing from your mind when you pulled his hand from your lips to guide it to your breast, only partially aware of how wet you were becoming from his gaze alone — half-lidded and heavy with lust.

The heat of his touch permeates your blouse, white and transparent still in patches from the rain.  You watch his hands as they play: cupping your breasts in a gentle squeeze, thumbs and forefingers catching your nipples to pinch and roll until they stood stiff against the drape of your clothing, the flush of your flesh bold through fabric.

“You’re so beautiful that there are times I think you can’t possibly be real.”

His voice is low, husky.  You let it wash over you, almost frightened by how stupidly happy you become, willing the magic to linger even as his words dissipate amongst the sounds of the night: neon buzzing and the faraway screams of sirens in the distance.

A world apart.

Your hands find the broad expanse of his chest, tracing along muscle before circling the nipples that stood erect against his damp t-shirt.  Each twitch is endearing, every erratic breath he draws to feel your touch making you fall harder.  And when he tries to focus on unbuttoning your blouse while fighting the impulse to tear it clean off your body, the stirring between your legs grows in intensity until he finally pulls the silken panels aside, a quiet gasp escaping his lips to see his necklace nestled between your breasts.

“It really does belong on you.”  

The admiration in his tone is laced with a hint of possessiveness that makes you throb.  Shaw pushes himself to sitting, gathering you onto his lap in one smooth motion as he buries his face in your chest, inhaling deep.  You gasp to feel gentle teeth sink into the flesh of your breasts, Shaw following the chain of precious metal with his lips until it leads to the pendant.  And when his tongue slips out to draw the piece of jade into his mouth, he brings your nipple along with it.

“Oh!…”

The sensation is unlike any you’ve known before, the soft wetness of his pliant tongue a searing contrast with the cool, smooth stone rubbing against the sensitive tip of your breast in equal measure.  You feel his smile on your skin when you fist your hands into lavender hair, spine curving as your legs begin to tremble.

And he had yet to touch you below the waist.

“Your body responds so well to me.  I knew you were a good girl.”  He looks up at you, teasing shamelessly even as he continues to lavish attention on your breasts.

“Just your girl, if you’ll have me,” you say without second thought, long past the point of caring to keep your cards close to your chest.

Something breaks in that expression, the final walls crumbling like dust when Shaw blinks once…twice, revealing eyes that shine with emotion when he replies, “For the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.”

* * *

“Hmm!—”

Your moan is muffled, swallowed by Shaw’s greedy lips like he does with every sound of ecstasy that leaks like you do around his cock, buried impossibly deep in your body as it rocks back and forth, back and forth on his muscular thighs…

…doing your best to adjust to his ample size.

He had barely suppressed a chuckle when you first slipped your hand into his jeans, a subtle mix of pride and amusement on his face to see your eyes widen when you couldn’t quite wrap palm and fingers around the entirety of his girth.

And foreplay had only just begun.

“Still doing okay?” Shaw asks, touch tender as he brushes loose strands of hair from your eyes, lips smoothing along the apple of your cheek to feel its pink heat.  “We can go as slow as you want, there’s no rush.  If it’s too much, we can stop—”

“No!  No…I’m okay.  More than okay, I’m great.  Please…please don’t stop…don’t stop…”

Struggling to string words together, your breath comes in disjointed pants as Shaw begin to thrust up — the look on his face effortlessly sensual when he bites his lip to feel you spasm around him, tight wetness yielding in increments to accommodate his body as it broke new ground.

For you had never taken a man of that size, the litheness of Shaw’s muscular body belying the impressive package he’d been hiding in those jeans.  Your jaw ached just to look upon the length of that thick cock, mouth watering as a fresh wave of arousal made you press your thighs tighter together.  The movement didn’t go unnoticed.  Shaw had drawn you to him then — deft fingers dipping low to trace the outline of your swollen folds through moist panties, lavender head bending to kiss its lacy trim.

He took his time preparing you, licking his fingers before he eased them into your pussy — first one, then two…curling deep until the slippery sounds of arousal told him the time was ripe to introduce the third, leaving you blooming for him even as he whispered, “Think you’re ready for me to make you my girl for real?”

It borders on overwhelming, this sensation of fullness — between your legs, within your heart.  And as skin stretched to capacity to accommodate the sweet friction of his slide, you wished there was a way for the euphoria of this connection to last forever:

To the one you could never forget, no matter how hard you tried.

To this man you loved like no other.

“Shaw.”

His name is faint on your breath when he falls back onto the bed, taking you with him.  And as you found yourself straddling his hips once more, the altered angles of your bodies gave him the leverage to make you gasp when he begins to thrust in earnest.  The eroticism of his face, lost in lust, drives all thoughts from your mind as you drop a hand to your clit, fingers drawing tight circles before his hungry eyes.

The violence of your climax takes you by surprise, having no time to consider neighbours and thin walls as the lewdest sounds escape your lips at high volume.  Intense convulsions wracking your body in waves, you clench in time around your lover.  The sensation proves too much to bear, drawing out Shaw’s own release as he pulls out to spill onto the folds of your pussy — swollen and pink and trembling still beneath the coat of his pearlescent seed.

* * *

“I love you.”  

Morning light trickles across your walls like the slow crawl of spidery legs.  Shaw’s words hang in the air between you, a final, sacred moment shared between lovers before the rest of the world wakes.

You loved the hoarseness in his voice; a testament to the hours of noisy lovemaking you had shared in lieu of sleep.

You loved the weight of his hand, stroking softly at the crown of your head.

You loved the rhythm of his heart, echoing just below your ear to confirm his existence.

“I love you too.”

You look up into those amber eyes, trying to discern whether those four little words were sufficient in conveying that fact that you adored every fibre of the man before you.

The smile that graces his face in return is tender, honest…more brilliant than the day breaking in the East.

Your hands find his body, bare beneath the sheets.  And as a curious finger traces along the ridge of the scar that runs in a broad stroke across his sculpted abdomen, your gaze falls on his t-shirt, draped over the back of a chair.

“You should probably throw that Snoopy shirt away, especially after what happened last night.”

Shaw follows your line of sight, chest rising and falling in a deep sigh.  “Shitty as its previous owner was, I could never bring myself to hate something that reminds me of you.  Aside from saving my ass, this was the first gift you ever gave me.  And I never throw away gifts from my girl.”

His girl.

The mystery of life is that filled with unknowns though it is, we continue to live, brave in the face of the uncertainty that comes with every passing day.  You had no idea what fate had in store for you or Shaw, had no way of knowing if your relationship existed on borrowed time.  

The only thing you were certain of was that your feelings for each other were real, that try as you might, neither of you were very good at forgetting the other.  That in this moment, here and now, the only thing that mattered was this love that hit you…

…like a bolt from the blue.

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

Thanks so much for reading!  I hope you all enjoyed this Shaw saga! 💖 

Check out more of my work here! 📚 (Please do not repost/copy/alter my work.  Reblogs, on the other hand, are perfectly fine and much appreciated! 💖👍🏼)

Jump to Chapter(s): One | Two | Three

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Club Takamagahara (Part 1) Z

This is probably going to be the hardest to shove the MC into to be honest. But I think my premise is good, but let me know what you think!

MC sat on the edge of a mossy cliff that was covered in scrubby, grey grass. Rocks were patched with bright orange lichen that were splashed on like paint. The sea was blue with fresh melt water from the ice caps that defrosted, a pale blue that didn’t quite reflect the sky. You learned that it was the minerals from the earth that gave the sea this unique color. The breeze caressed your dark hair and drew it across your face.

You’re back in Black Swan Bay in midsummer. You feel that it should be night, but like the winter months were dark with the sun never rising, in summer, the sun never set and the sky was always bright. Most people would never understand how a place like this could be so familiar when for them it was like living on an alien planet, but for you, even though the sky was always brilliant in the summer, you could tell the time of day by the level of light in the sky, a technique acquired by someone who grew up with exposure to an eternal day.

You’re not alone. Boots crunched in the pea gravel and approached. They were black, and lined with fur and half covered with a long, black fur lined coat worn by a young man a few years younger than you. He sat down, stretching one leg in front of him and resting one arm on his knee.

He had dark hair like you, but his eyes were a bright gold in his pale face. You always thought they were beautiful eyes, but now you understood what they meant. He had dragon blood flowing in his veins. He turned to look at you.

You remembered him being reclusive, not talking to you much unless it was to exchange witty banter. He was relaxed, always smiling cryptically, never bothered by the nurses or the rules, but never really getting into any trouble either. He knew your name when you met despite never having met you before. He reached up and brushed your hair back with one gloved hand to tuck it behind your ear.

Your expression goes deadpan. “I’m not dead, am I, Z.”

The golden eyed boy’s expression reflects surprise and then breaks into a hearty laugh. He covers his face with one hand while you watch him try to get control of himself, a warm feeling spreading in your chest that teases a smile out of you. 

Z finally stopped laughing and sighed wistfully, looking out over the ocean. “I missed you.”

He turned to you again with a look that was affectionate but calculating, like he was holding in a secret but barely. “No, you’re not dead.”

Your smile fades and you turn back to the ocean. “Why not?”

Z reached to one side of him and lifted a thick book in black leather. On the cover, a golden cross was embossed on it, but the cross didn’t look like a crucifix. Instead, it appeared to be on fire, with the flames appearing to be like a dragon’s wings. Z lifted the golden ribbon that marked a spot near the beginning.

He read from the book, his voice rose over the wind and the crashing waves. “And in very deed for this cause have I raised thee up, for to show in thee my power…”

“You’re doing this?” 

Z clapped the book shut and it vanished in a haze of golden dust. “I can’t explain everything. The pieces are not in place yet and it won’t make any sense to you. You won’t understand until the very end. That said, I can’t do everything. You had a very close call. So I wanted to warn you not to be too reckless.”

You sit up straight. “You’re alive? Where are you, Z?”

“I am alive but… Like I said, you won’t understand. Just be more careful. Alright?” He’s staring at you seriously. Back in Black Swan Bay, most people ignored his existence, but you felt he was calling you, drawing you to him for some unknown reason. At times, he would just appear next to you, like he was following you around like a ghost. And now you feel lost in those eyes once again in this strange dream world.

“Okay. I promise.”

“Promises are meaningless.” He shook his head. “Just do it.”

You nod again. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

“One more, hurry.”

“Why me of all people? Why not Renata or Vera? Or Anton or...”

“Because you were the strongest … second to Renata.” The world started to go dark, like a curtain was falling over the sea, the rocks and the grass. The wind grew still and you felt a bit stuffy and tired. Soon all you could see were those golden eyes.

“And well… you make me laugh.”

You relax into the darkness and for a moment your mind goes blank. But then your mind revives again. “...was that a Roger Rabbit reference?”

“Dammit, MC! Wake up!” He says in a harsh whisper.

Your eyes open wide. Lu Mingfei - not Z - is leaning over your head, appearing upside down in your view, arms on either side of your face. You blink wearily. “Mingfei?” Your voice is hoarse coming out a dry and scratchy throat. 

He puts one finger to your lips. “Shhh… You’ve got to stay quiet. No one knows you’re here!” He’s wearing very fancy clothes, the type of suits you see in photos of weddings and official events from magazines that depict life in Moscow. A black suit, a button down shirt with a stiff collar. Diamond studded earrings were in his ears. His hair was swept back and gelled. "If you keep moaning like that you'll get discovered! The walls are very thin and if you’re discovered we’ll be in BIG trouble!" Lu Mingfei was indeed keeping his whisper very quiet.

You’re surrounded by walls on all sides of you, made of dark wood paneling and covered by shelving from floor to ceiling. Your bed takes up the rest of the space. In fact, Mingfei is leaning over you like this because he can’t squeeze his legs between the narrow space between the bed and those shelves. As you look up at him, you can’t help but notice Mingfei’s resemblance to Z. Perhaps if Z had grown older and been able to eat more, he would have grown as tall as Mingfei.

You examine the curve of his eyes and the lift of his nose and squint. You didn’t notice this before because Mingfei does look different, he talks differently, and he acts differently. He doesn’t give off Z’s mysterious, mischievous, and dangerous aura. Z always looked like he had something up his sleeve. It could be good or bad and you didn’t know until you had it in your hand. The way he talked made you want to know however.

Lu Mingfei always looked fearful, reactionary and caught off guard. If Z was the prankster, Lu Mingfei was the pranked. So it was no wonder that you never noticed the physical similarities between someone so different until you woke up from one face to another face.

He sighed, hanging his head. When he looked up again, deep concern was reflected in his eyes. “I’m so glad you’re alright. I seriously thought you were a goner.. If we hadn’t been picked up and taken somewhere they had a nice kit, you probably would have died out there on the street.”

He lifted your hand. A clear IV tube was running from it to a bag of fluid hanging from a hook nailed into one of the shelves. “Where am I?”

“I.. '' Lu Mingfei’s lips pulled down and he looked ill. “Ugh. It’s better you see for yourself. I don't even know how to begin.”

“Caesar?”

“Oh, he’s fine. And so is Senpai. I’m the one suffering here!” He whispered, casting his eyes to one side bitterly. 

He held a clean cloth to your hand, and removed the IV and bandaged it. “I’ll give you the rundown of the situation because we’re seriously up a creek. The Hydras are labeling us as dangerous foreign terrorists, gangsters, and everything else under the sun. They’re running the news to look out for us 24/7. If we show our faces anywhere we are absolutely doomed. They have the whole country after us. We can’t use any credit cards, we’ve lost contact with the college and as soon as we try to get into contact with them, Kaguya is on us like a ton of bricks.”

Ton of bricks. The phrase reminds you of the fact that you managed to get a bootleg copy of “Who Framed Roger Rabbit'' and watched it over and over on a TV hidden in a shed. If you could get your chores done quickly, you could watch the movie there without being noticed. “Mingfei… have you ever seen ‘Who Framed Roger Rabbit?’ Do you like it?”

“What? Are you feverish?” He put one hand to your forehead. “Please try to focus! This is important! None of us can touch the network because we’re traceable. Except you!”

“Me?”

“Yes. You’re the only one of us with zero internet presence. You’ve never had so much as an email. Almost all the information on you is held by EVA and not even Kaguya can breach her system so you’re more likely to be able to log in and find some way to contact the College without getting caught, so we need you to stay safe. Got it?”

“Yes, Senpai. I understand.” You nod. Z’s warning to you in a dream seemed even more relevant now. He was protecting you by some form of mystic way, but the danger now was so great that even he had to warn you to be careful. 

Mingfei stared at your deferential response in shock. “Are you sure you’re alright? I expected you to sneer at me.”

“It’s just… you remind me of someone else just now.” You whisper, you lower your eyes. “I’m sorry if I made trouble with you. I had to do it. I’m glad you’re okay. I’m glad everyone’s okay.”

Mingfei took a deep breath. “We’re all grateful for you too, MC. So don’t worry about anything. Senpai told the boss about what you did in the Trieste. He owes you twice now. There’s no way he’d rat you out in the reports. You’re fine with everyone, okay?”

“Even Zihang?”

“Zihang doesn’t take anything personal.”

There’s a stiff knock on a door beyond the closet. “Little Sakura! You’re needed on the floor!”

Mingfei turned around, his voice squeaking loudly. “Coming!”  He turned back to you. “Okay, can you walk?”

He helped you up out of bed. You were wearing a thin nightgown and your feet were a bit wobbly but you could stand on your own. 

“Good, Caesar prepped some clothes for you, but I suggest you stay down here for now. I have to go back to work.”

“Work?”

More knocking. “Little Sakura?”

“Why are they calling you that?” You whisper. 

Lu Mingfei growled low. “Why is my life so terrible all the time? I don’t know!” He returned his eyes to you. “Stay here okay? The Boss will be back once his shift is over.”

He hurried out of the closet. You notice he’s wearing some sort of shiny loafers. The type worn without socks. 

You hear a sliding door open and then shut and then the murmur of a television. Once you were sure everything was quiet, save the very muffled beat of music somewhere above the ceiling, you venture out. 

You peer out from the closet into what looked like a bathroom with wood paneled walls and a tiled floor. Three barrels with metal bottoms were suspended over wood fired stoves. A shower was in one corner. The TV in the other corner was on, likely to mask any noise you might have made while you were unconscious. A woman was sitting behind a desk, speaking Japanese, dressed in smart business attire. It looked like a newsreel of the destruction of Chizuru -- the wrecked streets, the firetrucks and the body bags. 

You start to think maybe you overdid things a bit. Your eyes scan over the date. You’ve been out cold for 3 whole days.

On top of the TV was a small comb that looked to be made of real ivory and adorned with a blue jeweled flower. Underneath was an envelope with your name on it. Inside the envelope was a note. “I hope the offer of lessons over sake still stands.”

You smile. Of course it did.

Hanging behind the TV was another cheongsam, this time, silver and blue with embroidery of flowers. There’s also fishnet stockings and a pair of blue heels. You take the dress off the rack and step into the shower. Once you were dressed you listened hard to the sounds outside the hall and heard footsteps. 

Another knock. And there’s a shouted warning before the door slides open. A short old woman is holding a mop and walks by you as you press yourself to the wall. She’s pulling a pile of logs on a cart. Her ears are stuffed with earbuds and she’s so focused on her work that she walks right by you on the way to the rack where the wood for the stove is held. 

Heart racing, you dash out the door.

Outside is a European style promenade, completely different decor, but with the same level of luxury. The floor was covered with golden teak wood. The walls were covered with paintings of naked young people drawing water from a well. The ceiling hung with crystal chandeliers, one after another.

“Wow.” You whisper.

At the end of the corridor was an elevator with wooden doors inlaid with swirling bronze motifs of ferns. You’re supposed to stay put, but so much for that! You probably couldn’t be seen out in the hall! You pressed the only button available on the elevator - Up - and school your face cool to pretend you belong there.

Already a story is in your head, you’re an heiress to a fabulous estate. You’re orphaned at a young age and just gained your freedom to escape your stuffy household! As the elevator rises, the sound of the bassline of the music gets stronger and stronger.

Your mind is still writing your backstory when the wooden doors part and you’re hit by the bass line full force. The heat from hundreds of bouncing and gyrating bodies rushes into the elevator. Right in front of you, a man is holding up a flute of that golden sparkling liquor - Champagne. His shirt has puffy sleeves and open to reveal dark curly hairs on his muscular chest. He’s surrounded by three women in colorful half masks who are climbing on him, grabbing his hands to get at the champagne. They were all wearing skin tight, sleeveless, low cut dresses and dangerously high stiletto heels that made your demure blue cheongsam look like a formal maid’s outfit in comparison.

“Ladies! Ladies! One at a time!” He’s shouting with a brilliant smile. One of the girls bares her teeth as if she were trying to bite him and you move away.

A crowd of people, women outnumbering men 10 to 1, were all dancing in front of a brightly lit stage that was smoking with dry-ice that poured over the edge.

The elevator doors start to close and you slip out, looking for Lu Mingfei - that is, Little Sakura. Everywhere is more of the same. There’s a circular couch where drunk women were reclining over another man while holding out money for passing waiters who seem to know what it meant. They took the cash from their delicate painted fingers and passed them another bottle of liquor in exchange. All of the women turned, shook and then uncorked the bottle, spraying the Champagne in the air! It all fell in a shower while they laughed and squealed with glee!

You take a breath. You were going to stand out like a sore thumb unless you did something right now. The beat of the music was jarring your rib cage but people were bouncing to it while shouting on the stage. “Ukyo! Ukyo! Ukyo!”

You had no idea what Ukyo meant so you do the same all the while looking for any sign of Mingfei in this scene and realizing he might not even be on this floor.

“Who wants glitter?!” Someone shouts next to you. A man with a bowl of silver glitter holds it up while people stuff money in his low cut shirt and press their hands into the bowl to turn around and smash it into the sweaty chest of another man, leaving their marks on him. Your mind makes a leap to a story you heard about human and animal sacrifices in Satanism and wondering if that was what was going to happen next.

You also realize you don’t have any money. Your voice is trained by terrible punishment to be quiet so you can only let out a weak little “Woo..” and “Yay… Ukyou” while your eyes search the crowd.

What happened next was that the music suddenly ended and the sound of a Asian music, something you might hear played in a period drama, replaced it. Rather than being subdued, the crowd flooded the quiet with screams so loud your ears rattled and you had to fight to keep your hands from covering them and stand out as an outsider. 

The curtain opened and there stood a lone figure on the stage. The lights all went out, leaving a single spotlight descending to illuminate him. He’s in a white cloak with flowy sleeves, with a blue hakama and long hair that covers half his face. Cherry blossoms blow from an unseen fan, fluttering his sleeves in the wind.

[surveysonfleek]

1622.

Have you ever gotten a flu vaccination? tbh i dont think i ever have! im not anti vax or anything (i had the covid vaccine) but yeah, just never thought to get the flu shot

Do you know anyone who drives a BMW? yes

Honestly, do you give a shit? not about much haha

When’s the last time you hugged your mother? lmao i dont remember. i think when she went on an interstate trip. we also kiss and hug each other only when we drop each other at the airport

What’s the last restaurant you ate at? pho

Double dates: a do or don’t? theyre fine

Do you know any guitarists? yes

Quick, name 3 of your favorite radio stations: i dont listen to the radio

How do you feel about full length beards? i dont like them on my fiance at all lol

Have you ever been to a circus? years ago. i havent seen any around in a loooong time

Do you know anyone who’s gone to a Fat Camp? no

Are you straight-edge? yes

Do you use Facebook IM everyday? yes

How many surveys have you done already today? three now

What’s the WORST show on Adult Swim? i dont have that channel

Do you have any relatives that have shunned you, or vice versa? nope

Has anyone ever posted a HORRIBLE picture of you for everyone to see? haha yes all the time. my heart always drops when i get tagged in a photo on ig or fb

Which grade in school was the most fun for you? hmm maybe 11? idk aha

Which would you rather have, a new puppy or kitten? puppy

Does drama seem to follow you everywhere you go? nope, im drama free baby

Do you ever just want to go away to a new place where no one knows you? nah, my city is big enough that not everyone knows me

You’re ordering a pizza, you can have any kind of toppings, what are they? i actually wouldnt care about the topping, id request the cheese filled crusts

Do you hit ‘quiet’ or ‘ignore’ on your cell? Which one usually? ignore lol

Do you ever regret giving your number to people? nope. only companies if im honest haha

Have you ever been told that you’re afraid of your own shadow? no

Have you ever tried Gouda cheese? yes. i dont really remember the taste of it

Does/did your high school have pop machines? nope

Do you use a public computer, or do you have your own? i have my own

Do you ever find it odd how you type LOL when you’re not really laughing? yup lol. its just a way to break awkwardness or to sound ‘friendly’

Have you ever gambled? yassss, its a pastime for my bf and i. havent gone in ages

Do you know anyone who’s won the lottery? nope

If you could work at any retail store, which one would it be? bath and body works

What’s the shortest you would ever cut your hair? just below my shoulders. i wouldnt suit short hair

Do you listen to any deathcore? no

Do you subscribe to any teen magazines? Which ones? nope

Do you know someone who never smiles? haha yes

Has anyone ever made you feel uncomfortable at work? no

Do you still watch South Park? no

Tell me one movie you’ve seen recently that sucked: brazen, its on netflix

Have you ever carved something into a dinner booth somewhere? no

When’s the last time you were carded at a bar? its bit a minute lol. i think im officially past the age of getting carded, i mustnt look that young anymore :(

Do you smoke little cigars? Have you ever tried them? ive tried them. i dont like it

You’re babysitting, what do you expect per hour for pay? ive never babysat ever lol

What’s the last thing you returned at a store? an icecream machine

What’s the name of the last cat you pet? haha i dont remember, i dont touch cats

Do you still look at clouds and make shapes of them? nope

If you had to dye your hair for one year, what color would you pick? light brown

Who’s got your heart? my fiance

[helenarlett-rex]

Goosebumps Review #14

So back in January of 2020 I said I would do a review of Werewolf Skin and then I never did it. 2020 sucked. I had other things on my mind. But I guess it’s time I finally go ahead and do that now.

(Spoilers)

Werewolf Skin

Goosebumps (original series) #60

Werewolf Skin was the third to the last book in the original Goosebumps series and the last book in the original series to get a TV episode made of it. The final two books, I Live in Your Basement! and Monster Blood IV would never get TV episodes made of them, or even reprints of the books themselves and would end up languishing in obscurity. In that case of I Live in Your Basement! that’s a real shame because as I said back in my review of that book, it is one of my favorites and one of the best Goosebumps I’ve ever read. And the same can be said about this book as well.

R.L. Stine is kind of a hit or miss author. Sometimes his stuff is great, sometimes he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing... and sometimes I have to tell him to go fuck himself because he’s body shaming again... But when he is writing about werewolves at least, he never seems to do wrong. And yeah, I still haven’t read The Werewolf of Twisted Tree Lodge, The Werewolf in the Living Room, or Full Moon Fever yet, but the three out of six I have read have all been great. So great that I have to wonder why R.L. Stine hasn’t written about werewolves since the Goosebumps 2000 series... We haven’t had a werewolf book from him since 1999...

Werewolf Skin is actually pretty unique in that it takes a slightly different approach to the whole werewolf myth, but not in a way that ruins it like certain other authors who will remain nameless have done when deviating from established tradition. The story is about Alex Hunter, a sixth grader who is really into photography. His parents get called out of the country on business, so they send him to stay with his Aunt Marta and Uncle Colin in the small town of Wolf Creek for a few weeks. His first week there happens to fall on the week of Halloween so the photography magazine Alex reads is holding a contest with a cash prize for whoever can take the scariest photo and Alex is pretty interested in winning that.

Now we get a bit of weirdness right away in this book, and I don’t mean intentional weirdness... I mean R.L. Stine has forgotten how reality works again kind of weirdness. Because even though Alex is only going to be staying with his aunt and uncle for a couple of weeks, they have arraigned for him to attend school there at the local middle school in Wolf Creek for the duration of his visit. And I’m instantly like... What? I’m pretty sure you can’t just trade schools for a couple of weeks like that... What kind of school lets a student enroll for three weeks? I know R.L. Stine doesn’t usually do much (or any) research when he’s writing these books, but come on... The guy used to be a middle school teacher. This is something I would expect him to know...

But okay... that aside... Once Alex gets there his aunt and uncle tell him there is a cute girl his age who lives across the street named Hannah and that he should make friends with her. And then we get another case of R.L. Stine not understanding how reality works because Alex is all like, “A cute girl...? Aren’t there any boys around?” Uhh... It was clearly established that this kid is in the sixth grade. I remember the sixth grade very well. Unless Alex is gay, no sixth grade boy is just going to turn his nose up at the idea of hanging out with a cute girl. Quit being such an old man Stine... I started dating in the sixth grade... And okay... If Alex is gay that’s perfectly fine, but nothing in the book ever indicates that’s the case.

This hesitation from Alex doesn’t seem to last very long though. The moment he meets Hannah his balls finally decide to drop. I’m not kidding. One moment he’s all upset he only has a girl to hang out with, and then the next moment he’s all infatuated with her and can’t stop describing her “husky, breathy voice” and how much he loves it. I’m not entirely such what a husky, breathy voice sounds like, especially on a sixth grade girl... but from how much Alex’s inner monologue focuses on it, it’s pretty clear that it’s doing it for him.

I should also point out that Alex’s uncle gives him two rules that he has to follow while he’s staying there. Rule number one, stay away from the run-down home next door. That’s where the Marlings live and they are a weird, mean old couple who don’t like anyone coming near their house. And rule number two, stay out of the forest surrounding the town at night. You know... Standard horror clichés that the characters will then refuse to elaborate on, thus driving the protagonist to only be even more interested in doing those things...

Although there’s some conflict between his aunt and uncle about the whole refusing to elaborate on things. When they are first driving him to their house his aunt asks him what he wants to be for Halloween and Alex answers that he wants to be a werewolf. This causes his uncle to freak out and almost lose control of the car. His aunt then asks his uncle if he was thinking about them? “When he said you wanted to be a werewolf you thought about them, didn’t you?” Which of course only makes Alex’s uncle get mad and tell her to stop talking about it. But this situation comes up a few times in the book. Alex’s aunt seems to think Alex should be told about them... we are assuming she means the Marlings... but his uncle is pretty against it and keeps telling her to stop talking about that in front of Alex.

Although his uncle isn’t the only one having that kind of reaction about the topic of werewolves. When some kids from school ask him what he wants to be for Halloween he tells them werewolf as well and they also have similar reactions... Until one kid finally tells him “We already have enough werewolves in Wolf Creek.” And I realize this review is getting pretty long winded but unlike most Goosebumps, this one actually has a lot of detail that builds up the story as apposed to the first half of the book just being filler like I normally see in these books.

But in an attempt to make a long story short, too late, I know... Alex is so dense about everything that Hannah finally just breaks down and tells him that the Marlings are werewolves. It seems to be something everyone in the town knows about but doesn’t seem to do anything about. And of course Alex’s reaction to this is the reasonable one of, Uhh... This is the twentieth century... There’s no such thing as werewolves... Which is why he was so dense about figuring it all out in the first place. He’s not going to jump to the conclusion of, Oh! The Marlings must be werewolves! when he doesn’t believe in werewolves.

This changes when he starts hearing animal sounds coming from next door at night and he watches out his window as two werewolves come crawling out of the Marlings house. I have to give the book credit for actually getting to the werewolf stuff pretty early in the book. While I also loved The Werewolf of Fever Swamp, that one didn’t actually show us any real werewolves until the very end of the book. It was still a great book, but there wasn’t actually a lot of werewolf action in it. This book only give us one night of build up, with Alex forgetting his camera out in the woods and having to go out after it before it gets ruined in the rain, stumbling across some animals that have been ripped apart, and trying to find his way back home in the dark while hearing the sounds of something else out there... But then by night two we have werewolves right out in the open. That’s kind of refreshing.

And I’d like to take a moment to talk about how this book actually puts a different spin on the werewolf myth. Because remember how I said that the whole town more or less believes the Marlings are werewolves? Well this town believes in werewolves so much that they actually teach about them in school. During one of the classroom scenes in this book we get to learn the rules of how werewolves work in this setting. It turns out when you get bit by a werewolf you turn into one when the moonlight touches you. Not just the full moon... Any moonlight. But then when the sun comes up a werewolf actually sheds it’s skin. It then keeps its skin, or pelt I guess... like a fursuit. Then every night after that, when the moon comes out, the werewolf is compelled to put its fursuit back on which turns it back into an actual wolf monster. So werewolves are just furries who can’t stop fursuiting at night. Who knew...? And of course the only way to kill a werewolf is to find its skin while he isn’t wearing it and destroy it. If you destroy the skin you kill the werewolf.

Anyways, Alex gets tricked by some kids at school who tell him they know a place in the woods where the werewolves go to drink out of a pond every night and they want him to meet them there at midnight so he can see it. Now that he actually believes in werewolves, having seen them himself, Alex agrees, thinking that if he can get pictures of the werewolves he can win that photography contest, but when he tries to sneak out that night, he finds that his aunt and uncle have locked him in his room. There is no scene of the werewolves trying to break into his room at night like there was in the TV episode, but we do find out that when he goes back to school the next day the kids are making fun of him because it was all a lie and they didn’t go out into the woods that night, thinking they tricked him into tramping through the woods alone all night. Alex doesn’t tell them that he didn’t go either because he didn’t want to tell them that his aunt and uncle locked him in his room, so instead he tells them he did go and he took pictures of the werewolves. But of course that leaves him with the problem of now they want to see the pictures and he doesn’t have any...

So of course that means there’s only one thing to do. The next night he rigs the door lock with chewing gum and sneaks out to follow the werewolves through the woods to he can take pictures of them. He tries to get Hannah to come with him, but when he knocks on her bedroom window in the middle of the night she refuses to come out. So he tramps off into the woods on his own, follows there werewolves, gets a lot of pictures of them, and actually makes it back unharmed. Not to say it wasn’t a tense couple of chapters... But when daylight finally comes and he follows the werewolves back to the Marlings’ house and watches them take their fursuits off, we get the big reveal.

Oh look at that... Aunt Marta and Uncle Colin are actually the werewolves and the Marlings don’t even exist. It’s just an abandoned house they use to store there werewolf skins in... Although I will say the twist was handled pretty well. I didn’t actually see it coming. But that’s not the end of the book. Like I said, this book had a lot to it. Because now that Alex knows his aunt and uncle are werewolves, he has to decide what to do about it.

The next day is finally Halloween and after he tells Hannah what happened she has an idea to deal with it. They don’t want to kill his aunt and uncle, so they decide that once they leave to go trick-or-treating that night, they will sneak over to the house, steal the werewolf skins, and then wear them themselves. The idea is to go trick-or-treating in the aunt and uncle’s werewolf skins and when the aunt and uncle can’t find them, they will be forced to go the whole night without turning into werewolves. In other words, they are planning to cure the aunt and uncle by making them go cold turkey.

The aunt and uncle figure this out sooner than expected and Alex and Hannah don’t get very far away in the werewolf skins before they show up and start chasing them, demanding they give them back their skins. Alex and Hannah manage to stay away from them long enough that when the full moon reaches the highest point in the night sky the curse is broken and the aunt and uncle are no longer compelled to put the skins on anymore. And naturally at this point I’m wondering why the skins haven’t turned Alex and Hannah into actual werewolves instead. Does it just not work if it’s not their own skins? That seems like a bit of a shame. That would have been a perfect twist ending. They managed to cure the aunt and uncle but became werewolves themselves in the process. Then Alex could have a werewolf girlfriend! But no... It doesn’t seem to work that way...

With the curse broken, they all decide to go back to the aunt and uncle’s house to celebrate and Alex tells Hannah “Let’s go put these skins back in the old house where no one will find them.” Hannah starts getting nervous about that but before she can stop him he’s already gone inside, and once he is in there he finds another werewolf skin still in the house. When Hannah comes in he is confused, wanting to know how there is already a skin there when they are both wearing his aunt and uncle’s skins... to which Hannah tells him that she isn’t wearing his aunt’s skin. She’s wearing her own skin. And when Alex still doesn’t seem to get it, she tells him he’ll understand soon enough, before pouncing on him and biting him.

Werewolf girlfriend!

Honestly this is probably one of the longest Goosebumps reviews I’ve written and there was still a lot of stuff I didn’t even mention. The book just had a lot to it and for once, it didn’t feel like it was filler to pad out the page length. It wasn’t even full of fake-out scares like most Goosebumps are. There were a few I guess, but with actual werewolf stuff happening from very early on in the book, there just wasn’t any need for constant fake-outs. It was pretty nice. And I probably spent more time than I really should have just rambling on about what happened without actually critiquing things... but there just wasn’t a whole lot to critique. Other than a few weird things in the beginning, like enrolling in a different school for only three weeks... the book was more or less fine and I didn’t have anything to complain about.

Definitely one of my top ten Goosebumps books. I’m very happy to see Alex and Hannah get to become a cute werewolf couple. And I’m sure Goosebumps has long been responsible for so many kids discovering new fetishes, so I just have to wonder how many kids developed a suit transformation fetish because of this book?

[littleeyesofpallas]

Was chatting with a coworker the other day and two things crossed my mind...

that I've been at this weeb shit so long that I forget what I just sort of take for granted and what might not be commonly known little factoids, and

that VIZ's attempt at a monthly Shonen Jump magazine has been gone so long most people probably never saw them. (nevermind the old RAIJIN Graphic Novels that tried the same thing)

So, here's some fun little things you might not have known about manga if you've only ever read English publications and/or digital scans...

For one, there's the matter of print formatting... In general, Japan actually uses their own standards for print that tend to differ from those in the US; The JIS(Japanese Industrial Standards) series A and B. Magazines like the typical anthology format manga are printed in JIS B5, which is comparable to the US Letter standard, or the ISO A4.

This was the same format that RAIJIN Comics printed in as well, and although I don't have a copy of the old English Shonen Jump for reference, if memory serves they printed in the same format as well in an attempt to really sell that "authentic" manga feel. Sadly, I don't know that the effort or attention to detail was much appreciated. Neither published a volume comparable to a Japanese weekly or even monthly serial magazine, though --not by a long shot. But this might not be the most practical for comparrison, since there actually just isn't much of an English language equivalent format. (unless you count actual magazines that happen to include comic illustrations or miniscule comic strip segments)

Despite the mammoth size of a serial magazine, Japanese tankoban are actually smaller than the North American equivalent. But notably the Japanese small book format isn't just a matter of contending with nearest print standards... What I believe is the JIS B40(although I could be wrong) tends to be the standard print size of small books in general, not just manga, and it's a print size that is only marginally smaller than VIZ's standard size manga, but with the very particular benefit of being deliberately portable. The small difference in size is the difference between a Japanese manga fitting in my coat pocket where as the English equivalent can't.

(I realize I photographed a copy of Shonen ACE, and not Weekly JUMP, but I measured a copy of Weekly JUMP for the thickness and not the copy of ACE; the copy of JUMP was around 506pg, while the copy of ACE was 570pg. Those are both older though, and the most recent digital copy i have of Weekly JUMP actually had around 520pg)

And I don't think it's always addressed just what a difference there is, culturally, in how Japan approaches the print medium. It's kind of an old cliche by this point, and I don't know how accurate it's remained in the past decade or so, but the quintessential image passed around between comic nerds has always been the Japanese bullet train; A place packed with commuters all passing their transit time with isolated preoccupation with music and/or reading, with manga being the king of this time killing arena. And its not just about sheer popularity driven by interest, American comic vendors have long envied the sheer accessibility of manga in Japan.

Here in the U.S. we used to have a thriving newsstand retail scene for comic books, and a kind of similar ease of grab and go comic purchase, rather than the explicitly niche interest driven "direct market" model that has been slowly but surly strangling the comic market ever since. But in Japan serialized manga has remained in relatively quick, impulse friendly, arm's reach of readers on the go. And what lubricates that business model more than anything is price.

I still remember a time when VIZ dominated the English manga market by offering at $7.95(and am I crazy or am I remembering a time when it got down to $6.99?) but now'days it's settled on a low end of $9.99. You know how much the recent vol.29 of My Hero Academia goes for? ¥484. That's less than $4.50.

You know how much that big ass magazine with 500+ pages and 21 different series goes for? Do you think it's more or less than the little pocket-size tankoban? Did you guess something close to ¥290? That's less than $2.75. But how does something bigger in both page size and page count managed to sell for less???

There are a few secrets to that, but one is that the things are packed to the gills with ads. But that's the boring answer. The other feature contributing to keeping an accessible cost on weekly/monthly manga is something we don't think about much in the U.S.; it's the paper and print quality.

The nice little books are printed in what you might expect as far as starch white paper and clean black inks, but those big honkin' phone book(do people still know what phonebooks look like??) size magazines are printed on cheap recycled pulpy newpaper with typically rough print jobs. This is most noticeable in the quality of solid blacks, and when scanning the texture of "white" space.

(I tried to take individual photos of different series chapters to show off the fact that the paper is differently colored... but my phone's camera seems to be smart enough to auto balance that kind of thing when there's no other context to anchor it to. (It doesn't help that it's night and my lights have a harsh yellowing glow to them.) but on th left you can still kind of see the different paper colors; this particular issue alternated every 3 chapters between pink-ish, green/gray, a kind of off-white/gray, and sepia, but I've also seen blue-ish, oranges, and a different shade of yellow different from the sepia-ish one.)

Back in ye olden days when it came to fan scanlations, more slapdash teams and projects would often stumble over levels in photoshop (too much black and the pulpy paper texture shows up as grainy shadows, but too far white and the edges of lineart get crunchy and ugly) but those who had more robust readership and a regular streamlined flow of work, we'd actually go in and touch up the solid blacks and whites by hand. We'd also redraw art to erase overlaid text so the type setters could lay the new English in over top.

(Weekly Jump: Left, Bleach tankoban: Right)

They do however keep a few coveted color pages in better quality paper and ink. In contrast, the standard quality tankoban actually don't include color pages at all, and just print what had been color pages in grayscale. There are also all kind of irregularities between publishers and special editions and such, but on the most basic level this difference in quality both keeps serial prices down, while also incentivizing tankoban purchase.

In the U.S. we might still have the draw of an ad-free reading experience in our TPB, but the print quality between a biweekly issue and a TPB are basically the same. Incidentally, even though manga are generally drafted at a much larger scale than even the serial magazine proportions anyway, the scaled down size of the tankoban also serves to sharpen the image. When put side by side the nice clean tankoban print looks noticeably better than the serial.

Now'days the English scanlation scene seems to be conducted almost entirely through ripped digital releases (at least as far as I can tell with popular, regular weekly titles) which is great for quality, frankly, but it does kind of lack the charm and personal touch of a band of amateurs finding round about solutions to a convoluted bootlegging pipeline. But obviously I'm a little biased.

[edit]: Oops i posted this without really ending it in any sensible ro conclusive way... I feel like ive lost sight of the point since i first drafted this but I guess its mostly just me pining after if we could just get super cheap, disposable quality, bulk manga in that classic Japanese magazine model to work here in the states. I already tend to sell manga in big runs, even at $9.99+, and frequently I'll have customers put volumes back, or clearly want the next volume but just can't afford it and wait to come back. If I could sell these customers more volumes, and more importantly more titles, at the same price, I would love to. I would love to see these things fly off the shelves. I would love to see people keeping up with multiple series. I would love to see someone look at a 44vol long series and actually feel like that's a number of volumes they can afford.

[veldian]

tell us more of ur think tank hcs i personally am at the edge of my seat

HELL YEAH ALRIGHT HERE WE GO. some of these might be against canon in some way but that's your fault for trusting me with this

ALSO, AS USUAL, I HAVE TO APOLOGIZE. THIS GOT VERY LONG. when i think about the tanks i go fuckin wild with it

starting with pride headcanons to get the ball rolling

all the tanks are nonbinary, but additionally, dala is a trans woman and 0 is a trans man

8 hates gender he fucking hates it. every day he wakes up and says "today i will make gender my bitch" and then he does. he says this in the game too you just don't know cuz he only speaks in static (don't factcheck this)

if you ask 8 what pronouns she uses, they will shrug and give you a "i dunno" noise. sometimes it'll make a non-committal hand movement and some unintelligible noises. good luck

god this bitch (borous) is gay! good for him! good for him.

he's also intersex! i don't remember where we got that hc but i like it and im holding onto it

okay but borous calls himself bi because yeah Men, but he also loves dala very much and doesn't want to misgender her. also as previously stated, 8's main goal is to confuse everyone about their gender so the tanks all stick with mspec labels to be on the safe side. you never know what'll happen. gender is a ticking time bomb

bi gang: klein, borous, 0

pan gang: dala, mobius

don't ask her about any of her identities she doesn't know the answer either: 8

have i gone off about polytank dynamics enough? i don't think so

8 and dala started dating first because horny bitches gravitate towards each other. they can also "pass" as a "straight couple" so hopefully no one at work will look at them and call them slurs. hopefully

klein and borous knocked things out of the park for being the first gay scientists ever

8 and dala became polyam icons and pulled 0 in. trans bitches gravitate towards each other

klein and borous did the same with mobius. bitches with facial hair gravitate towards each other

???????

idk and then all six of them started dating somehow. the end

somewhere along the way klein and 8 were like "i like you a little too much" and now they're inseparable

okay anyway. misc hcs

ive mentioned this before but when i pretend everything is in modern times, 0 is a tiktokker and he thrives on the attention and making fun of his coworkers on the internet

"watching steven universe repeatedly when i felt even slightly bad transed my gender" - doctor 8 old world blues

i just remembered i made a carrd for the tanks as if they were kinnies in their early to mid 20s

8 kinned pearl su. borous kinned werewolf cookie. 0 kinned rimmer red dwarf. mobius kinned... morbius forbidden planet. obviously. klein refused to put his kins on it. DID DALA KIN FROM DANGANRONPA

i think at one point we had a half-joking hc where klein gets nauseous if he sees blood

and then that changed to he can't see others blood, only his own

while borous can't see his own blood, but he's fine seeing other ppl's

i know borous said that gabe barked at everyone, but i think gabe trusts the other tanks because he knows borous does

borous set up a kissing booth with gabe. the crowd goes wild

when the tanks get together they usually go to klein's. he's the leader or something. also he has a fucking bar in his house.

he complains about them the whole time but you can really tell he loves having people over. why else would he deck his house out like that? he LOVES hosting stuff. house husband

if you saw my chart where i said klein would rather die than do dishes, i was so wrong. his house is pristine. its easily the cleanest

klein's love language is acts of service. he goes over to his partners' houses when they feel awful and clean stuff up for them when they can't. he also makes them food if they want it. he only complains a little, but you can tell he's mostly teasing

did you know klein has five mugs in his kitchen in-game. he's literally prepared to host his partners at any given moment.

the group have learned that letting 8 come over when their house is a mess is a Huge mistake. it goes from 8 trying to help "tidy up" to "im going to put your books and albums in alphabetical order by artist also your clothes are going to be hue-sorted"

"8 why are there only 8 books on each of my bookshelves"

"it looks better"

"it literally does not"

8 can no longer stomach going into 0's house

on the other hand, 0 hates staying in 8's house. the ticking of all their clocks is sensory hell

on 80 date nights they have to do rock-paper-scissors for which house they go to. or they go out. they love each other but their houses drive the other fucking nuts

oh speaking of their houses. yes dala said she didn't like Literal Teddy Bears but that is null and void considering she has teddies in her house

and she has 5 on her bed. five of them :)

she named all of them after her partners! its mostly cute but there is a slight bit of concern because they know what she does with them <__<

not that 8 has any place to judge. mobius found batteries under its pillow once. all 8 said was "they can vibrate." mobius regrets touching them.

i don't know what to say about dala's mannequins i don't have anything funny im just scared

WHY ARE 0 AND KLEIN THE ONLY ONES WITH BATHROOMS IT DRIVES ME INSANE 0'S BATHTUB ISNT EVEN LAYING DOWN ITS AGAINST THE WALL WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT GENERATOR IN HIS BATHROOM DO THE OTHER TANKS JUST SHIT OUTSIDE I'M SEEING RED

mobius and 0 are both into robotics, and they worked together to make muggy, so they've had date nights where they mainly tinker with electronic things.

0 gets very excited when he makes a breakthrough, and seeing that warms mobius's heart. mobius made a habit of kissing 0 on the forehead or squeezing 0 into a hug when they figure things out.

(0 remembers he likes men.) 😳

dala/klein date nights are essentially just them drinking and gossiping chatting

i asked polycule for some more, so here are ones from your local think tank kinnies

borous -

"klein and borous both like classical music in very different ways. klein mostly likes it to feel smart (see: wheatley) but he just started associating it with the others so it felt nicer And borous just likes it bc hes borous"

klein also likes jazz, but so do all the rest of them

8 has a cochlear implant

"dala likes dressing up to look pretty (see: runway) but is personally embarrassed by it (until she gets encouragement) bc she feels like the others dont support that"

"0 loves collecting and reading those stupid magazines with the birthday party products and themes that ud wanna buy from as a kid but are way too expensive"

"mobius has a secret love for puppetry and will try to bring it up sometimes whenever he can. hes made 3 separate sets of the other tanks as puppets and they freak 0 out"

"borous, in an attempt to better his faults, has started learning from dala and 8 on how to take care of plants instead of what he did before. his basement turns into a cool little green house cozy cuddle area"

"to add on: 8 gardens to cope whenever hes alone bc (projects onto ur kin) he mood drops very fast when alone"

"mobius likes dressing in cozy sweaters and fancy stuff"

0 -

"0 doesn't like anal that much" (thanks.)

dala -

"their new rap album called boyz in the tanks" (THANKS.)

and to top things off, :) here are the normal names for them all, created primarily by our borous kinnie

klein - Ernest Klein (nicknamed ernie)

mobius - Wilbert Mobius (nicknamed bert)

borous - James H. Borous (nicknamed jamie)

dala - Dala Theodore (HER NICKNAME IS TEDDY ITS GENIUS)

8 - Emmett Handley (nicknamed 8 + emmy)

0 - Robert O'Barrick (nicknamed 0/O + robbie (HIM SHARING HOUSE'S NAME IS INTENTIONAL. HE'S TRANS HE PICKED HIS NAME WHY DID HE DO THIS))

[nat-roman0ff]

iv. sex & candy, among other things

 series of blurbs // a certain time and place (read full series in my masterlist!)

 iv. sex & candy, among other things

the one where they almost say ‘i love you’.

wc: 3,214

warnings: cursing (but in a good way), smut (see title), & melted chocolate (gross).

---

She always does this, thing. Despite however many times he’s seen her naked (which Shawn counts at about 285 at this point) she still hides herself. He isn’t sure if it’s like, a confidence thing. Because he’s pretty sure she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. And not in that, facetune Instagram kind of way either. She doesn’t obsess over her hair or having the perfect winged eyeliner. She’s beautiful in the way her face lights up when she sees someone walking their dog, or seeing a cute baby despite absolutely hating children, or when she’s reaching for his belt (okay that last one was a bit of a stretch, but they’re both naked and who are we kidding, he’s hoping round two will happen once she wakes up). 

 Shawn begins by tracing her shoulder; he’s basically obsessed with the way that her skin prickles when he touches her, even when she’s asleep. His cheeks heat up when he reaches her neck, his fingers trailing over the purple marks from the night before. He’s sure he’s got a few on him as well. Neither of them had been exactly gentle last night. 

 “Stop doing that, it makes my nips get all hard,” she says, not bothering to open her eyes as a chill shivers down her spine. 

She feels the breath of Shawn’s laugh graze her neck, “maybe that was my intention,” he smirks, she can feel it against her skin when he kisses her there.

 She rolls closer to face him, “you’re gross,” she says, poking at the divet in his cheek.

 “You seem to like me enough.” 

 Her eyes roll, “only sometimes.” 

 Shawn cuts her off by giving her a kiss. It’s soft but so goddamn yearning, as if he hadn’t gone to town on her for hours and hours just a short time ago. It doesn’t take long for his mouth to open and their tongues to mingle. She hitches her leg over his hip and rolls him onto his back, straddling him. She breaks the kiss and sits back, allowing him to take in her full bare upper torso, her bottom half covered only by a tiny pair of lace underwear that sits dangerously low on her hips. 

 He resists the urge to fucking rip them off of her.

 She blushes while his hands take inventory of her body, starting at their resting point on her hips and moving slowly up her sides and back, moving to the front to give her breasts a firm squeeze then roaming the front of her soft stomach. She won’t make eye contact and he notices. Her hands do this weird thing where he can’t tell if she’s trying to stifle a cough or hide her face. She lets him see all of her but she won’t watch. 

 Shawn notices and he hates it. It’s the thing. He grabs the side of her face firmly and forces her to look at him.

 “Do you not feel good about yourself?” Shawn asks while the fingers of his free hand ghost her hip. 

 She scoffs, pushing away his hand from her face, “why would you fucking ask me that?”

 “You don’t have to be perfect,” He starts, and he already hates what he’s saying, “not that I think you aren’t or are. Fuck, this is all coming out so wrong,” he pulls at his curls “I’m just trying to say that if you’re insecure that’s okay. I’m not here to fix that but I want to know why and I want you to want to feel better about yourself. Regardless of what me or anyone else says or how we feel about you.” 

 She wasn’t insecure about her body - at least, not insecure more than the average girl. She had her bad hair days, or the zit from Hell that just doesn’t go away but she rarely felt unhappy with her looks. And she supposes she’s a very lucky person in that sense. She understood that her body was hers and hers alone, a vessel that gets you up and puts you down to sleep every day. That not all of them looked the same and she was never going to be the flawless model on the cover pages of the magazines she stole from her mother’s nightstand as a girl. She understood that her curves were her own, that her stomach rolled when she sat down and that was okay. It didn’t make her any more or less of a woman. 

 What she was insecure about were her feelings for Shawn. She knew if she had to watch the look in his eyes every time his hands covered her body in the most delicious way that she would absolutely lose it. Probably cry a little, scream, even. The two of them were so caught up in this not being a thing that it became a thing and the lack of answers and knowledge about the future was beginning to drive her batshit crazy.

 He looks for answers in her eyes but she won’t look at him. He’s thankful they’re in her bed instead of his, it’s smaller, so it forces them closer together when they cuddle at night. In fact, he can’t really remember the last time he spent a night in his own bed. At least a night in his own bed without her by his side.

 “You don’t have to be my anti-hero, Shawn. I know I’m not what you’re used to. I know this just is what it is for you. Just be you and don’t fucking complicate it by telling me I’m beautiful-” 

 “But you are,” he cuts off, sitting up, his chest flush with hers, “and you deserve to be told that you are.”

 She rolls her eyes again, “just shut up and fuck me already.”

 Shawn’s hands smooth up the side of her, “really fucking eloquent for someone who can’t look at me when I touch her.” 

 She tries to get off of him but he plants her across his lap, “we’re not doing this right now.” 

 “Then when are we?” He pleads, “when are we finally going to do this? Whatever the fuck this is in your mind.” 

 She doesn’t say anything and instead leans down slowly, letting her pert nipples skim across his chest, “I will literally fuck you until you shut up,” she whispers in his ear before biting and tugging on the lobe. 

 Shawn puts his hands behind his head, “go for it. You know how hard it is for me to shut up.” 

 She raises an eyebrow and crawls backwards a smidge, kissing his chest and working her way down his stomach, tongue swiping at the V that disappears under his boxers. Shawn prides himself on having an excellent poker face, and watches her with a cocky smirk. 

 “So what are your thoughts on this Communist Manifesto?” Shawn starts. 

 She’s not gentle when she rips Shawn’s boxers down his thighs. He’s only half hard, so she licks her palm and wraps her fingers gently around him. He twitches in her hand and she can see the heat rise in his cheeks and flow to his chest. 

 She pumps him slowly at first, getting her wrist into a rhythm that she knows will both torture Shawn, and also get him hard in like, thirty seconds flat. He takes in a deep breath and holds it when her lips slip over the tip of his cock.

 “When did you first figure out Albus Dumbledore was gay? For me, it was-” 

 He grunts and clears his throat, his voice a little higher pitched now, “ittttt-it-it,” he struggles, “was in Goblet of Fire.” 

 “That’s easy, knew it from Chamber of Secrets,” She licks the underside of his cock, tongue tracing the prominent vein that protrudes from it.

 Shawn’s a little uneasy now and she’s winning, but Shawn also isn’t a quitter. She lays out flat now between his legs, massaging his thigh with one hand as she uses the other to edge him. She’ll start and stop; twist, lick, anything unpredictable. Finally, she takes him fully in her mouth, gagging a little when he hits the back of her throat and Shawn swears he goes full stupid for a second. She’s so wet and warm around him he’s finding it hard to concentrate on anything else except maybe what her pussy is going to feel like later. 

 “You ever see a bat before? They’re really hideous. My sister got one stuck in her hair once when it was flying around the backyard.” 

 She pulls back up, releasing him with a pop. He’s fully hard know, his cock a pretty pink and wet with her spit. She can already feel her own wetness pooling between her thighs and she kisses soft little pecks into his thighs and back up his body.

 “You want my ass or my pussy?” 

 Shawn chokes. 

 “P-pussy?” He isn’t sure why he says it like a question. 

 She reaches over him and into the nightstand for a condom, “are we already out again?” 

 He just nods.

 She shrugs, “I’ll just let you finish on my face then.” 

 “You kiss your mother with that mouth?!?”

 She kisses the side of his face, “only on major holidays.” 

 Shawn grabs her hips, squeezing at the bare flesh and situates her back on top of him. She rubs her clothed center against his cock and it’s just the perfect fucking amount of friction that he’s pretty sure he’s going to bust if he doesn’t get inside of her right now. 

 He wraps his whole hand around the dainty fabric of her underwear and rips it completely off, tossing the fabric aside. 

 “Hey!” She slaps his arm, “Those were one of my favorite pairs!” 

 Shawn lines himself up with her, “you’ll get over it,” he says before slamming into her. 

 All the breath is knocked from her lungs and it takes her a moment to adjust to his size. She places her hands on his broad chest and starts to rock herself. Shawn loves the way she feels around him, so tight like she was made just for him, their bodies the perfect fit for one another. He’s felt that ever since the first night in the bathtub.

 “Fuck, Shawn,” She gasps, “I can’t tell, are we in a fight?” 

 He fucks up into her, loving the way his length disappears entirely inside of her, “now who’s the one who won’t shut up?” 

 “Fuck you.” 

 He grasps her hips so tightly she’s positive there will be marks in the morning, “already am.” 

 They find their pacing eventually, her on top and Shawn’s hands guiding her movements. She feels that familiar feeling start to sprout in her belly. It warms her veins and spreads so quickly she thinks she might pass out.

 Shawn swears he’s never seen something so brilliant in his life; her hair a mess, cheeks pink, body shining with sweat and her breasts bouncing with each thrust. She throws her head back, and he allows one of his hands to slide up her body and around her throat. He gives a gentle squeeze and she nods.

 “If you’re horNAY let’s do it, ride it, my pony,” Shawn sings at the top of his lungs. 

 She stops all movement, “are you really singing Pony while you’re inside me?”

 “I couldn’t think of anything to talk about and it’s too soon to cum.” 

 She rolls her eyes and she can feel him twitch inside her when she does, “so I win?”

 He sits up and nips her chin, “you’ll never win, Baby.”

 “You wanna bet?” 

 She pushes his chest and he falls back down onto the pillows, she leans forward with force, probably a little too much, and her hand goes straight through the wall behind the bed. 

 Shawn snorts, and she pulls her hand out of the wall, “well, I hope I get my security deposit back now.” 

 He plucks the pieces of drywall from his hair and tries to pull himself from her but she grabs his wrist in protest, “oh, we aren’t stopping!” She states. 

 “There’s nothing sexy about asbestos,” Shawn deadpans.

 She gets off of him and winces at the feeling of losing him between her thighs. It’s then that she notices the blood between her knuckles. It’s warm and falls down her wrist, mixing with the dusty powder from the drywall on her hand. 

 “Shit,” she mutters to herself, “I’ll be right back.” 

 She grabs a shirt from the floor and throws it over her head before scurrying to the bathroom, clenching her bleeding hand to her chest. She locks the door behind her and isn’t quite sure why. It doesn’t take long to clean up, it’s just a couple of minor cuts and she bandages them quickly. It isn’t until she looks up at herself in the bathroom mirror and sees the fading fingerprints of where Shawn’s hand was around her neck that she begins to cry. 

 It starts as sort of a bubbling, like a pot of water that foams and spits onto the burner just before spilling all the way over. She’s not always like this, but it happens most of the time after she’s with Shawn. The intimacy is the hardest part. She can be friends and banter with him until the cows come home, but it’s not until it’s three in the morning and they’re naked in her full size bed that he barely fits on that she just can’t fucking handle it. 

 Some days she thinks she should end it, to just be friends, whatever that meant to them at this point. She knows herself better than that though, she knows how badly her body, mind and soul crave him until the point where it physically hurts not to be around him, holding him, fucking him. She’s addicted, in a way. It’s exhilarating in some ways to never have an answer. It means it’s never quite tangible, there’s always something to chase after.

 She lets the tears fall and she knows Shawn will see right through her the second she gets back to him. It’s a feeble attempt, but she washes her face and dries her eyes and works up the courage to back back to the boy she wants to scream I love you to at the top of her lungs. 

 Something strikes her then; she could say it to him. There’s plenty of different types of love that exists in human existence. 

 “I love you, Shawn,” she says to herself in the mirror, her hands white knuckling the edge of the sink, “I. Love. You.” 

 Bile rises in her throat at the thought of his reaction. She doesn’t think she could stand it if he rejected her, which she knows is a very reasonable outcome. She just doesn’t fit into the big picture of his life, she was the friend with an empty bed and open arms every time he came home. She’s sure there were plenty of other girls in between her that Shawn didn’t talk about.

 When she returns from the bathroom, Shawn’s got his boxers back on he’s eating a chocolate bar. 

 “I have many questions for you. First, where’d your boner go?” She asks. 

 Shawn’s eyes pan to a discarded towel on the floor, “...don’t touch that.” 

 She grimaces, “you’re gross.” 

 “You were in the bathroom for like twenty minutes! It hurt!” 

 She rolls her eyes and his heart skips two beats in a row, “second question, where’d you get that chocolate?” 

 He takes a bite, “it was in the back pocket of my jeans, it’s a little melted though. Want some?” 

 She clears the room and jumps on the bed, taking a bite from his hand. He’s sitting up against the wall behind the bed, his feet still dangling off the bottom edge of the mattress. She curls into him and he wraps an arm around her, “why were you crying?” He asks, kissing the top of her head.

 She hides her face in his shirt, “my hand hurts.”

 “I once watched you literally get hit by a moving car and you got up and said ‘all good mate’, a bloody hand doesn’t make you cry. What’s wrong? Did I do something?” 

 She shakes her head.

 His fingers trace where his fingers held her throat, “was it the choking? We don’t have to do that next time, I just thought-” 

 “No you can choke me anytime.” 

 Shawn snorts and she side eyes him, “I’m just thinking too much lately.” 

 He raises an eye, “oh? About what?” 

 She shrugs, “I don’t know...maybe getting in a relationship would be nice. Maybe it’d be nice to be choked by only one person in my life.” 

 “Who the fuck else is choking you?” 

 She glares, “no one, Shawn. That’s the point.” 

 His mind is blanking. Shawn always thought he was good at reading people. The two of them had always been blunt to each other about everything; there were no lines to read between, no double meanings. This was the first time in the entirety of their friendship that Shawn didn’t know what she was talking about. 

 “What do you mean?” 

 She pulls away from him and rolls over to face away from him, “nothing, never mind.” 

 “Do you - do you not want to do this anymore?” He asks, “if there’s someone and you want to be with them I want that for you. I just want you happiest.” 

 With me, he thinks. 

 She rolls over, “no, there’s no one, Shawn. It was just a stray thought in my stupid after sex girl brain. It’s called hormones.” 

 Her heart races, and she thinks that now is the perfect time. The perfect time to grab his big stupid face and look him in those honey eyes and tell him everything she’s wanted to tell him since the first time they met. 

 Shawn’s heart breaks a little thinking of her with someone else. He’s sure that comment had a second meaning and gets a surge of jealousy that weakens his bones at that thought of someone else holding her like he does. 

 She’s here though, in bed with him, fucking him, wearing his teeshirt. That has to mean something for now, that for now she’s his but not really. That whoever this mystery person is, is just a fleeting thought in the here and now and he is the here and now. 

 This is his chance, he thinks. This is that moment when the walls are down and it’s time to lay it all out on the table. Shawn tugs at the sleeve of her teeshirt and rolls her over onto her back so he can get a look at her. 

 “What?” She asks, pinching his chin between her thumb and forefinger. 

 He moves her hand to his chest, his heart beating beneath it so rapidly and harshly he can hear the way the blood surges through his veins. His breath comes in short gasps. It’s her turn to take his hand and press it to her chest. 

 Their misguided hearts beat in synchrony beneath each other’s palms, but neither have the gall to say the words that are on the tips of both their tongues. 

[nonbinaryresource]

ive been thinking abt this for a little while & have been needing to ask someone abt it. i am nb & have always considered myself trans but recently ive not been vibing with the trans label bc i am so sick of seeing ppl exclude & invalidate nb ppl. ik that i shouldnt stop doing smth just bc other ppl r being assholes but its so tiring to see ppl constantly say how u dont belong or arent valid. srry this is long & kinda rambly i just dont really know how to feel abt it

I will directly address your ask, but I’m going to start by telling you a story about my journey with identifying as asexual and queer.

.

When I was about 11, my friends suddenly started drooling over magazines and calling people hot, and I didn’t know what it was, but I knew I did not feel whatever it is my friends were feeling.

Until I was about 16/17, this part of me remained a mystery to me and to my friends. I never had crushes, I never found people hot, I never liked complimenting people physically, I was uncomfortable with sex on TV, and I didn’t even like platonic touch. Now my group of friends were all repressed and closeted queer folk, so I didn’t have to deal with “being left behind” as my friends dated. But the later we got into high school, the more my friends began discovering and exploring their sexualities.  A freshman became a part of our friend group and was openly trans and gay. One friend came out as gay. Another as bi. They started commenting more and more about other’s looks and having crushes.

Still, there was nothing on my end. My friends used to think I was just being vague and secretive because this is what I tended to be like. I don’t think they’ve ever realized how much of it was that I truly didn’t know or understand what my lack of sexual feelings meant or that it could even mean anything. I used to just consider it a “nothingness” of myself. Until, by complete chance, I came across the term asexual. I immediately connected with it. It explained so much that I didn’t even know I needed explained.

I came out quickly after that and I was really excited and happy and proud to know who I was and what how I felt meant. My friends were great and supportive. My mom was a little ignorant but overall supportive. AVEN was great and a community for me. But if I tried to talk about it anywhere else online…

Well, the effects of how people treated me would fester for years. See, I came out as asexual before exclusionism (the specific movement of anti-aro and anti-ace erasure and gatekeeping from lgbt+ spaces) was a movement or a named thing. Yet exclusionist attitudes were exactly what I faced. My queer friends all completely accepted me as one of them and I helped co-run our school’s new GSA with the rest of them. But online, as a teen, I was facing 30+ year olds telling me I wasn’t queer and that I was just trying to seem special and that I needed to shut up about my asexuality and my experiences and that I wasn’t valid and that asexuality wasn’t a real thing and that even if asexuality was a real thing it wasn’t valid and it certainly didn’t matter.

I graduated high school and went to college and was no longer really in touch with my group of friends. I therefore completely cut myself off from any lgbt+/queer community, even though a friend invited me to join the college’s queer association. I stopped participating so much in online asexual spaces. I become wrapped up in other things.

A couple of years went by and a lot of things in my life changed. By chance, mod applications for a blog about aro and ace headcanons for a fandom I enjoyed came across my dash. I had extra time on my hands and thought I could help, so I applied and was accepted. This increased my exposure to the aspec community again and thrust me back in… just around the time exclusionism was becoming a specific and named movement of bigotry.

At the same time I resisted these ideals, I was also still hurt and unhealed from what I’d gone through as a teen. I internalized a lot of the hatred and gatekeeping. I was so hurt and so tired. I just wanted to be able to exist in peace. And people I considered myself one of were harassing me and dismissing even my biromanticism. So I struggled with my identity and my asexuality. I did not specifically become an exclusionist, but I turned my back on the lgbt+ community and spaces. I did not consider myself lgbt+ because I learned that doing so only brought pain and upset and made me feel alone and isolated. I didn’t speak a lot on exclusionism or inclusionism, but at some point I did make a plea to my fellow aspecs to just let the larger community go and be our own community and accept that maybe we could be straight. I did it out of desperation and hurt, wanting to stop feeling targeted and attacked and to stop seeing the fighting on my dash and in the tags. I just wanted us all to be happy and feel accepted and supported.

On that post, one wonderfully kind and patient person opened up a discussion with me, explaining their own hurts over exclusionism and being so damn exhausted of them and fellow aspecs being targeted and excluded and written out and not supported and feeling like they had to split their asexuality from their other queer identities and how being asexual was a part of them and how it had strongly shaped their experiences, especially with realizing and coming to terms with the other parts of their queer identity. And through their raw honesty I came to realize… I had never stopped to process the harassment I had faced and the pain and hurt that cut me so deeply.

It was a changing point for me. I realized that I had handled my pain in a bad way and had ended up lashing out at other aspecs instead of the people who were actually hurting me. I realized how much I had hurt myself and held myself back and cut myself down and dismissed parts of myself trying to fit into the box exclusionists had laid out for me, as if I could ever made them happy enough to stop harassing me and just let me exist. I cut myself down for them, but the truth is that exclusionists don’t just want aspecs “out” of the community. They want to hurt us. They want us to hurt. They want us to doubt ourselves. They want to feel strong and powerful, and they feel they can achieve this through bullying us. Perhaps some, like myself, are trying to appeal to their oppressors by pointing out another vulnerable group they could target more/instead. They are passing on hurt instead of standing up to it and so they are actually festering in hurt instead of changing anything.

Today, I am a staunch inclusionist. I understand myself and the issues aspecs face much better. I am a more compassionate person regarding the confusion and upset aros and aces have over their identity and their place in the world. I feel more stable and confident regarding my identity as an asexual - and now as an aromantic - queer person who is lgbt+.

But it was a long, hard, difficult journey to get here. It was full of a lot of turmoil. I wish I would have had a happier journey where I felt more supported and accepted, and I hope I can help provide more stability and support for future generations to not have to go through what I did.

.

My point (or one among a few, anyway) is that I deeply and personally understand how you are feeling and the decision facing you now. As someone who went through a very similar experience, my advice to you is to take care of yourself and to prioritize your mental health.

It’s okay if you can’t handle identifying as trans right now. Maybe you do need some space from the label (and definitely from the hatred and gatekeeping). Maybe you need to pull back from certain communities or blogs or discussions.

However, I will say that not identifying as trans may not bring the peace you desire. It may end up making you feel even more isolated. Not identifying as LGBT+ certainly didn’t help me. It was reactionary and it only made me feel like there were less spaces for me. That said, you may find peace in this. But I think the bigger action to take is to separate yourself from those who are saying harmful things more than to separate yourself from a label you feel really suits you. Use your block button liberally. Don’t force yourself to partake in spaces where gatekeeping is allowed or encouraged. Follow and listen to more people who are inclusive.

I think burnout like this is unfortunately pretty common. You do not have to force yourself to face this hatred or exhaustion because you think it’s the right thing to do. It’s okay to pull back and just take care of yourself. Just work on some self-care. Work on building up a community of people around you who don’t resort to bigotry and hatred and exorsexism and gatekeeping and identity policing. Engage only with what you can actually, honestly handle.

We will confront and move past this bigotry only by acting as a united front. The responsibility for improving things isn’t on any one person’s shoulders. And no one needs to be on the front lines 100% of the time, especially at the cost of their own wellbeing. Take care of yourself and rest now before you completely burn out and break down.

You do not have anything to prove, okay? I have both hope and faith that there is a lot more to your journey - a lot more good things and a lot more happiness and belonging. Take whatever time it is you need to help heal yourself and recover from the hurt and harassment that’s been plaguing you. You are important and you matter, much moreso than whatever label you use at whatever point in time. It will be okay.

I am here for you.

~Pluto