#can't believe i never got around to drawing them before now. i've had them for so long they deserve some art finally.

[blueberry-blast]

the most popular guy in my lair + the weird old fae who follows him around

and their army of child soldier grandchildren.

[comicaurora]

Hey, sorry if you’ve been asked this before, but I have ADHD and I’ve been following your comic for years and just now have started to write my own comic (partially because you really inspired me). But I’m really struggling with staying on the project even when it’s boring and getting myself to work on it in the first place. Do you have any tips on how to keep your brain invested or just to make yourself do the work at all?

I have excellent news, I literally just figured out something really important about this.

So when you're an ADHD kiddo or otherwise have difficulty staying on task in a structured environment where Task is the Priority, the main way people try to MAKE you stay on task is by removing your access to anything that is not The Task. No phone, no TV, no doodling, no going outside, etc. In practice, this just makes us miserable because it takes the boredom that's always simmering around a 2 or 3 and cranks it all the way up to 11. In the same way that you would have difficulty staying on task if you were in physical pain, this crushing existential monotony makes it very difficult to work. The work might get done simply because you have no other options, but it will not be done quickly or well, and it will take a while to recover from how much it hurt.

What I realized earlier this week is I caught myself doing this to myself. I had 42 pages of background colors to do, and I thought to myself "this sounds really tedious, but I suppose I have nothing better I can do." And I realized what I'd just thought, and got very alarmed.

Because back when I was an ADHD kiddo imprisoned by school scheduling and a million little factors that keep children immobile and restrained, I couldn't stop thinking about how big and exciting the world was, and how much I wanted to be anywhere but here. When I was feeling really crushed in I'd pick a random spot on the maps on my wall and just imagine being there instead of my bedroom. This was the impetus behind almost all of my creative energy. I've said it before - anything is a prison if you can't leave, and being in a prison makes it easy to imagine how amazing things could be outside of it. Aurora's initial worldbuilding was forged in the crucible of fifth grade misery. My enthusiasm for art and my creative drive are inextricable from my sense of wonder and yearning for excitement in the real world. Not escapism, but appreciation. Wonders unimaginable are out there, and I gain just as much joy seeking them out as I do conjuring them up in my head and sharing them with all of you.

So now that I'm a grown-up with actual freedom in every way I've been able to get, the idea that I was staying on task by making myself believe the world was small and not worth seeing was extremely alarming. It could keep me on task for an afternoon, but at the cost of slowly extinguishing the thing that made me want to make art in the first place - the hunger to experience and draw inspiration from all the myriad complexities in the world.

So what I've been doing is I've been purposefully and intentionally taking excursions whenever I catch myself thinking "I could take a break but it wouldn't be worth it, it's the same outdoors as always, I'll be uncomfy and unproductive and tired." Because that is never true. Every time I've put down the stylus and gone out, I've been renewed in one way or another, and when I come back to comfort fully recharged I get a lot of shit done. Because it is easier to work on anything if you remember why you wanted to make it in the first place, and it is self-defeating misery to just lock yourself in with it and tell yourself you're a bad person if you can't get it done.

I honestly don't know how widely applicable this is. I have worse wanderlust than anyone I know, so for me this has always been modeled as imprisonment vs freedom. I've also been extremely lucky to find myself in a profession that lets me set my own pace on literally everything I do. But I genuinely believe that when it comes to making art with ADHD, you need to give yourself freedom to move laterally, not just in the direction of obvious forward progress. We don't think linearly in any other part of our lives - art is no different.

[prael]

c'est la vie - Kim Minju

Part 3 of folie à deux.

IZ*ONE Kim Minju x Male reader smut. (ft. a sprinkle of Wonyoung)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Masterlist word count: 10,553

c'est la vie - that's life

"I'm so fucked."

Fists clenched and eyes scrunched, you’re venting out loud to no one in particular. You repeat it, "I'm so fucked." Louder this time—to the sky. Well, more accurately, to the plastered ceiling of this little hole-in-the-wall. Either way, the solution isn't there.

It isn't at the bottom of a bottle either, but you're determined to find that out the hard way.

"Is there a friend I can call for you?" The woman behind the bar has stopped polishing off the glasses; interrupted by what she would say are the ramblings of a madman.

"There's no coming back from this." You throw your head forward, catching it in your now open hands, elbows resting on the wooden bar top.

"Sir? I'm going to call you a—"

"I don't need a cab." You draw your head from your hands and open your eyes—allowing the light to pour onto you from one of those little round lights above you. The drink sits in front of you, unfinished. Hard liquor in a tumbler just waiting to be thrown back like the three before it—a plea you can’t ignore. The large ice cube rests against your nose as you pour every last drop onto your tongue and swallow. "I do need another drink."

With the glass set back down, your body slouches and sinks. Eyes stare down at the empty glass and your face is cold to the world, cold to the woman across from you. You must reek of self-pity, the smell thick in the air. 

Let’s be honest, you've had far better days.

She's got her delicate fingers around the neck of the bottle, pouring you a fresh drink and placing it on a napkin, "you know, you're not the first person to stumble into this bar wearing a face like that."

You slide your eyes over to the glass and reach for it. "I highly doubt it."

"But, few of them show up this early, even if it is a Friday." She has a point: you’re propping up the bar alone and drowning your sorrows solo. In fact, there are only two other people in this whole place, sitting together at a table. "So what’s your story?"

"Does there have to be one?" You grip the glass in your hand, giving the stranger the best smile you can fake.

She steps back and brushes her hand on her trousers as she laughs, "I've seen many broken men and women sit at this bar and spend too many hours drinking their life savings, with hearts broken, dreams smashed and most of all, mistakes they regretted. But you seem different."

"Oh really, why's that?" Your eyes stare into your drink. It stares right back at you.

"You're still young."

"Does being broken have an age requirement?"

She shifts and reaches for something, something you can't quite make out, being locked in the most intimate of stares with your drink. It’s the sound of her placing down another fresh glass that gives it away. "Actually, yes. Because you've still got time to work with."

"That's the irony. All I have left is time."

“Then you have to believe in yourself to make the most of that time.” Her words are heavy, like their meaning holds weight within her too.

She lets you dwell on it for a moment while she pours her own drink. She settles herself against the bar top, across from you, resting her head in one open hand. Her gaze burns into you like sitting in the sun. You can feel something else too, a soft vibration in your pocket.

You finally break away from your staring contest with your drink—one you lost anyway—to fish your phone out of your pocket. The screen alights with Gaeul’s name and is followed by the words ‘1 new message’.

After a swipe, it reads, ‘wtf where are you? what happened?’ but the thought of sending a reply never crosses your mind. And, just in case, you switch it over to silent.

“Is that her?” The woman gently waves a slender finger towards your phone as you put it back where you found it. “The reason you’re here?”

"Do you press all your customers like this?"

“Only the interesting ones,” she returns her hand to her glass, taking a sip of it before continuing, “and there’s sadly so few of those.”

"And if I'm not as interesting as you think?"

"Then I'll buy you a drink.” She tilts her glass at you. "For the trouble."

"And if I'm fascinating?"

"I'll still buy you a drink." Another sip from her glass as her lip gloss stains the rim, "maybe two."

"Then no, it wasn't her." And here's the thing, you don't know who to blame. Yourself? Probably. Wonyoung? Maybe. The mystery cameraman who got it all on video? Almost definitely. 

“But it is another woman, right?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m not exactly rushed off my feet here.”

You sigh, unsure exactly where to begin with this whole mess. The complete story is a long one. You could tell her about your family—the trouble at home and why you had to leave—but that’s not for anyone to know.

"I transferred here. Moved here with my brother. He's at work right now, and he will be late into the evening." You pause to take another drink. Another burning sensation. "To keep food on our table and keep me in college." 

Even saying so little it weighs on you, the feelings of regret and the feeling that you're saying too much. You bite your tongue and hesitate.

"So why are you here and… you know... not at college?" She pushes you for more. She flicks a finger towards you with her free hand and then brings her glass to her lips.

You drag your eyes up for the first time and finally inspect the woman across from you.

She's your age, roughly—if you had to guess. She's pretty, and that part you're more confident about. She wears her long brunette hair over one shoulder, running in a loose wave, over her slate black blazer, which sits over a small black tee, cropped at the waist. She smiles when your eyes meet hers. And maybe she had no idea, and perhaps it's all subconscious, but the tips of her slender fingers squeeze slightly against the glass now that you're paying her some attention.

"I never got your name," you say with curiosity laden in your voice.

"Minju."

"And why is a young woman like you working here on a Friday afternoon?"

"Were you not the one telling me about your troubles?" She follows her words with a soft laugh.

"Call it quid pro quo. You answer and then I’ll tell you all about it," you say.

"Fine." She stands back upright, adjusting her blouse with a few gentle touches. The way her finger glides across the collar and tugs at it slightly. It's more than a little distracting. She cuts a sleek hourglass shape out of the shelves of bottled booze behind her. "I'm between gigs right now."

"Gigs?"

"Ah." She waves a finger. "My turn."

Minju tilts her head and then rests her palm against the bar—leaning toward you and eyes focused. It’s like an inspection and you instinctively sit up straighter.

"So why are you here?" she asks.

"Expelled. About..." You bring up your wristwatch into view. "About an hour ago."

Her brows go up a fraction and her eyes narrow on you again, almost as if to accuse you of lying to her. But her expression softens almost instantly. You would never notice if not for watching every second in painstaking detail. Her widening eyes reveal to you the thoughts passing through her mind as she racks her brain for a reason you would be expelled.

"You said that you're between gigs, so what is it you do?" you say, shifting the focus back away from yourself.

"I sing. I dance. I model. I act." She pauses with a bitter look. "However, right now, I serve drinks." You get it; she looks the part. That much is clear. She's far too gorgeous to be spending her time polishing glasses and serving screwdrivers to burnouts at happy hour. She looks every bit like a woman who should be so much more, but this isn't Hollywood, and the storybook tale of the waitress who makes it is so cliché.

You swill the last of your drink around in the glass, watching the little tidal pattern inside. The way the ice cube moves with the current, it hypnotises, entrances. You speak, looking down into the amber-hued ocean within your glass.

"And you have the talent to back up the looks?"

"So they tell me." There's no joy in the words or the tone. No pride or smug sense of achievement. If anything, it's dismissive. “It’s just a slow period. That’s life.”

“C’est la vie.” You catch her gaze as you utter the phrase under your breath.

Minju continues despite you, “but things will turn around soon enough. I'm going places."

"Every actor who is going places never seems to get there." Maybe it's the alcohol or maybe it's because, right now, you hate this city and everyone in it, but everything that comes out of your mouth is uncharacteristically curt.

And look, you regret it as soon as it leaves your mouth but that doesn't change the way you just dismissed her. It wasn't meant personally, but it's hard to stop your thoughts from curdling into words right now.

Minju is quiet, and the air becomes heavy. You swallow deep and finally look her in the eyes again. There's something there, some little flicker of emotion untold that gives her away for a moment. She is a woman told repeatedly that she has the world at her feet, but the hard truth of it is that she's here, working away behind the bar because, in fact, life is a lot more cruel.

Absorbed by her vulnerability, you feel the need to backtrack, "that's not—"

"So what, you look at me and see nothing but a girl who couldn't cut it?" There's a flash of fire in her eyes. A burn. A spark that sets the sky alight. A very attractive spark.

The way she fires it back. The passion in her words. The tension building between you as your eyes linger on each other.

You can't explain the attraction, but you can certainly feel it.

"No," you fire back without hesitation, leaning towards her, "what I see is a woman working two jobs just to afford a place to live." Your confidence rises with the alcohol pumping its way through your system and you do your damnedest to rescue the situation. "What I see is a girl with stars in her eyes and a dream that somehow she still keeps alive where so many more have given up. I'm not judging."

Silence.

Sudden, silent, and slightly sinister.

"Yeah, you were," Minju's eyebrows arch in amusement, "but that's fine, I'll take my turn now."

As she leans forward, there are words on her tongue. She looks ready to bite back, but she's looking over you, across the room, watching the only other two people in the bar leave. And for a minute, everything is held in suspense, you are locked together in silence, the clap of their shoes echoing through it. Then the sound of the door, and the brief exposure to the outside world, it's the rain pouring and the cars passing by and then it's the slam shut. It's just you and her, Minju, alone under the dim of the lights.

"So what was it?" she finally breaks the silence.

"Hm?"

"What got you expelled?"

You could lie. There's an opportunity for that. But what's the point? Even though she's a stranger, it doesn't feel like there's a risk if you just come clean and spill your dirty little secret, besides, you owe her one now.

"I got caught fucking in the library." The truth comes out plain and simple. It’s a brazen statement to make in the middle of the afternoon to a stranger. Her gaze shoots down at you. Whatever she expected, it wasn't that.

"I’m sorry, you were caught fucking in the library?" She repeats it out quizzically as if she’s taking time to process. Minju has this way of talking—a lilt in her voice. She has a tone and a pitch that rises and falls with each word. She's amused, that much is clear, by the slight smirk that has curled a corner of her mouth to accompany her sound.

"We were alone, or at least we thought we were, and it’s not like we hadn’t done it before, but apparently, there's evidence." You gesture your empty glass at her, a secondary conversation, unspoken but clear that you need another drink before you tell her anything else.

In doing so you see how she tenses her lips together, holding in her laughter at the thought. She’s holding and you’re watching until she finally cracks, her grin wide and laughter loud.

"Now I am the one judging you. You made fun of me for trying while you're too busy swinging your cock around to even try. So, you tell me, who is the stupid one here?"

"Alright I deserved that one." Your hand had been holding the empty glass to her but now you bring it to rest against the bar top. "In my defence, it's not like I had much of a choice. That girl..."

"Here we go. Let's see how you justify this one." She finally takes your empty glass and when the edge of her fingers brushes across the back of your hand, they linger for far too long. And when she draws back, dragging away those long, delicate fingers from your own, you find yourself suddenly cold.

"It's not like I could turn her down if I wanted to. Also I would never have done it in the library if she didn't make me."

"She 'made' you. Go on." There's scepticism in the words. Her mocking tone teasing you as you watch her turn to the shelves behind her, eyes scanning the possibilities.

"No one says no to her. Never."

"Wow, sounds like quite a woman," she says, ever more playful, as she reaches for the top shelf. Her blazer is pulled up now, ever so slightly exposing her back above the waist of her trousers. Trousers hugging the subtle swell of her hips. Her small, tight, round ass is defined through the fitted fabric. You can't look away.

"Everything comes easily for her. There are literally men fighting for her affections. They would die for her," the words tumble from your mouth, as your gaze lingers.

You must have been lost in the daze and absent-mindedly following the contours of her thighs because by the time you shift focus to her face, she's peering at you from over her shoulder. Eyes sharp as daggers, as if to say it’s a little too obvious.

"Wow she sounds like a real piece of work. I know someone like that too. " Minju turns with bottle in hand, hair swirling around her as she does so. She's graceful. Unbothered and unhurried by anything. "This one is perfect. This bottle is older than me."

She pours two fresh drinks with more ice in each.

"Am I going to regret this in the morning?" you question as the weight of the glass finds your hand.

"You might. But at this moment? No."

You trust her, somehow, inexplicably; you do.

She asks, “so, what will you do now?” it’s a question as funny as it is difficult to answer. 

The truth is that you haven’t got the slightest clue. You tell her as much and try to explain it as best you can, and her eyes soften as you share the details. It’s supposed to be a back-and-forth—quid pro quo—but she’s pressing you with question after question: how long have you known her? Is she pretty? Where does she see you in all of this?

“You and her. Still a thing?”

Minju is on your side of the bar now, sitting by your side with little caution about personal space; there’s not an inch of space between you. Her thigh presses against you and her upper arm is flush with your own.

"Me and Wonyoung were never a thing, not really."

Minju stops dead and chokes, holding her throat, and forcing the drink down. Her whole body shifts. She nearly falls off the bar stool and, after steadying herself, she stares blankly forwards.

"Wonyoung? Jang Wonyoung?"

"Yeah, her." The new drink meets your lips and its taste is a hell of a lot richer than the cheap stuff you were pouring down. It’s laden with a smoky taste over sweet tones.

There's a silence even after you finish taking a drink. Something untold hangs in the air. You know it. She knows it. She's here on the verge of telling you something, but what? And you sit here and wait, despite the racing of your heartbeat.

"I should have known." Minju shakes her head, laughing, but without a smile.

"Should've known what?"

"You're Wonyoung's new toy. I should have guessed as soon as I saw you, she has this effect on people."

You stiffen at that. It's always the truth that hurts the most and the fact is you really were just a toy. A convenient dildo.

"You know what you need right now?" She twists on the stool, and suddenly, you've got Minju looking straight at you. Eyes locking with you. Right there. Looking up at you. So close. Right there, leaning back ever so slightly so her chest arches towards you, accentuating her small breasts, straining against her shirt.

"Drinking helps," you reply, raising your glass.

"Yes, but so does fucking."

That’s a line. It’s one that shouldn’t come as a surprise because a girl like this probably has a lot of experience in being wanted, so who is to say she can’t turn the table for once? But in one breath you’re giddy, taken out of yourself and feeling drunker by the moment. Not on the booze, but her. She is intoxicating.

It takes you a few seconds to notice but her free hand slips on your leg, rubbing and caressing as it snakes further and further up.

"What?" You ask as if it needs confirmation and in those long few moments, you think you must have imagined it. And the same way a nervous laughter rises, the laughter spilling out of your throat, she is quick to quench the growing dread inside of you by sliding her palm across your bulge.

"Wait here." Something has switched inside her. You don’t know what, but either way, it's got her standing up and strutting towards the door. With each step, she opens her body language. A growing swagger, letting you see the sway of her hips. Left and right. Just enough to catch the eye. And oh boy, does your eye get caught. You couldn't pull your gaze away now if you wanted to.

She's swiping hands at the door now and flicking the locks. Then she's pulling the blinds shut. A giggle comes from Minju as she spins back to face you. She runs her bottom lip through her teeth and stares right into you.

You feel exposed but, strangely, comfortable. It's so very odd; with no clue as to what happens next. It has your heart pounding out of your chest.

"I thought you were alone tonight because you were upset, but no, I understand it now. You're frustrated. Angry. Stressed. She used you and got away with it."

She kicks off her heels, loses a few centimetres in height, and is walking barefoot across the floor - toward you. Her shoulder rolls to one side and then to the other as her body rises and falls, sashays with the pace of her hips. She can see that you're stuck. You’re rooted to the seat with a dumb look on your face, and yet she saunters ever closer.

“I am a little confused,” you finally say. She's so close that all your senses are lost to the approach of Minju's swaying frame. Her curves, her body, her gentle steps, the way her perfume smells—it's consuming you.

She ignores you and continues, "I’m frustrated too. I'm so frustrated that I'm wasting time in this damn bar. I'm angry at all the auditions that ended up with producers rejecting me. I know exactly what you're feeling. You're angry at the world and everyone in it." Her tone grows raspier. More raw and less stable. "You feel alone. Hung out to dry and in need of attention."

"And you feel the same?"

"Yes, and I'm hungry. Starved of any real satisfaction. You told me I’m going nowhere and I guess it means I need a little attention, too."

You watch her eyes flittering as she looks you up and down. The sultry grin she wears shows she likes what she sees.

"So what are you going to do about it, Minju? What is the solution?" You drop a look down to the soft and slender flesh of her neck.

"No strings. We get this all out of our system." Minju leans in. Lips so close to yours. She stays there. It's torture. "You let all that shit out. Take out your pent-up stress, frustration, anger."

"On you?"

"Exactly. You'll feel better. I will too. Because right now…" Her nose presses against the side of your own. Soft skin. Gentle pressure. "I need it rough."

Her hand lands on your thigh again, rubbing down the denim of your jeans.

The offer is enticing. It has your head swimming with dirty images of everything the two of you could do together, and your cock? Well, that's already twitching in your underwear.

"This isn’t going to help, it will just make things worse."

"Can they really get any worse?"

Minju brings your hand, hers and yours, to her waist. Your thumb feels the soft material of her shirt, and your fingers touch that small patch of skin below it.

"Are we prepared to find out?" Your lips graze gently against hers. The thrill. The electricity in the air.

"I’m ready. More than ready. Just this once, do what you want to do and make me the star of your fantasy. Use me. Make me everything you need." She plants her lips firmly on yours. You both go quiet, muffled by a kiss.

Nothing to do but feel.

Minju's grip tightens on your leg, and yours on her waist. The other hand slides up to her chest, finding her breast, cupping it and feeling her. She opens her mouth. And you follow. Your tongues are colliding and sweeping across one another, eager and desperate.

So you push, guiding the two of you to stand. Minju staggers back, and you're with her every step of the way. Stumbling through a kiss. Hands everywhere. Uncertain. Lost, confused, and passionate. It's an incoherent tumble that takes you both crashing through chairs, pushing them aside until you hit something sturdy. Minju's ass slams against the pool table and she grunts into your mouth.

Her lips drag away and she smiles. "Fuck me."

You grab her by the hips, lifting her onto the pool table.

"I need to see the big cock that’s got Wony all worked up. She wouldn’t settle for anything disappointing." She's fumbling at your waist, struggling with the buckle of your jeans.

"This what you want?" Your words vibrate through her. And when you take a handful of her hair and tug, there's a long, soft, desperate sigh from Minju's parted lips.

"Use me. Abuse me." Her fumbling finally succeeds and the waist of your trousers slackens. "I know how I look, but don't worry, you're not going to break me."

She's pushing at your trousers, your boxers, and when that stiff dick pops out, her smile spreads into a big, stupid grin. It's not an unattractive expression—not really. It just tells the truth. She is excited. 

It’s as clear as day that you are too. You’re rock hard, stiff as hell, ready to fuck, and this, this will give you the chance to let it all out. All of it.

"Perfect." Minju grabs your cock in both hands, still warm, throbbing, and strong. "Just look at this thing."

You pull on her hair again, harder, until she breaks away from you, until she gives way—losing the grip on your cock and falling back on the table. And now you slow as if to savour the moment as you’re sliding your fingers under the waist of her trousers. Not often you get afforded a measure of control.

"C’mon, please, don't be gentle," Minju moans out through gritted teeth. The desperation is painted on her face and that’s the difference here: while a girl like Wonyoung wouldn’t let you go slow, Minju is the type of girl who makes you not want to go slow.

So you pull at the trousers of the girl sprawling out in front of you, tearing the button from the fabric, yanking them open and pulling them down those long, slender legs. The flesh is soft. And to touch, so smooth and light. Minju's breathing picks up—becoming shorter and deeper with each touch to her sensitive skin.

"I might leave marks."

Minju stares you down, hands already massaging over her panties. "I hope you will."

The thought is intoxicating, so much more so than the alcohol in your blood, as your hands paw over her legs; you knead soft skin with a kind of aggression you haven't felt before.

Minju is a rare girl.

Beautiful. And by definition, beautiful women have seen it all before.

But her?

The look she gives? Like no man has ever fully satisfied the itch within her. It's deep-set hunger. The kind that she chases endlessly for.

This hunger makes people behave stupidly, careless and forgetful of the consequences. And maybe you know that all too well but even still it's a risk worth taking. Every choice has led you here and maybe that is your solace, that it's not all downhill from here.

And as your hands reach her small satin panties, the warmth embraces you, and the urge within you grows. You hook your fingers inside and draw the panties aside to expose the tight pink flesh of Minju's cunt.

Not that you would expect anything else, but she is clean-shaven. So smooth. Not a single blemish. This is a girl who kept herself neat and pristine, and yet from her mouth spills utter filth, "just look at how wet this pussy is for you."

She's running her fingers between her lips, showing you everything she has to offer between her legs, showing you where she expects you dick will get put to use.

"This tight fucking cunt can take everything your thick cock has to give."

"Minju, you’re so..." You're standing over her, her legs spread wide beside you, blazer falling from her shoulders leaving nothing covering her but that low-cut top.

Minju stares right at you, eyes fixed, wide and eager, her chest heaves with every deepening breath she takes in. She's wild, reaching for you with one hand, stretching to hold you and then pulling at your shirt to draw you in.

"I'm so needy. Please fuck me." She's whining through closed lips as her other hand slips away from her pussy and glides over her taut abs and leaving her cunt ready to be used. She wants it, desperately, and you're drawing it out. Making it build inside her, and you hold your cock in your hand.

You're stroking, and she's watching. And for all her strain to pull at your shirt, to pull you into her, you hold back. You hold just long enough. Enough for her arm to fall limp. Enough for her to almost give in. "Please..." she trails off with a whimper.

You push the head of your stiff cock against her cunt—against her clit. Your hips roll as you run the entire underside of your cock between her lips. She gasps and breathes deeply. She's holding it all the while. All the time it takes for you to draw your cock back, so the tip is right there. Ready.

She let's go as you do. The air escapes her lungs with a sharp squeal. You let your cock sink in. Slow but persistent, you push further and further, feeling her tensing. Then the clench and tightness overwhelms. She gasps and squirms, wriggles beneath you and her nails scratch at the fabric of the table beneath her.

You push again, sinking your cock as far as you can through her wet hole.

There's a loud snap and squeal from Minju. Pretty girl broke a nail. It flew off somewhere across the room, such is her grip onto the table. "Fuck. So fucking full," she manages, barely. It's more the noise you force from her than any actual communication.

You draw your hips back and she's quick to encourage you, "again," she says.

Your hips are driving forward again, pushing every last centimetre back through her.

Minju whimpers. There's this short, sweet purr from deep within her. You feel her stretch, she moves a little, adjusting herself atop the pool table. There's a warmth that swells, tightens, and pulsates. And you feel the breath come easier. It leaves her as though her body has settled to a kind of ease and pleasure, some form of satisfaction.

You refuse to let her rest. It's not what she would want.

It's not what you want.

You run your hands along her inner thighs, past her knees until you finally reach her ankles and pull them together and hold them aloft. You lift and pull her ass up slightly from the table. She's suspended now while you fuck into her.

The shake of her small frame is completely erotic. Watching her ass and thighs jiggle as you fuck into her. That plump little ass taking slap after slap from your hips.

Her perfect skin reddens as her moans louden the longer you last. There are high-pitched squeals and low and gritty growls. They bounce around the empty bar, reverberating and multiplying—echoing back louder than before.

"Harder." She thinks she can take more. Look, Wonyoung was demanding, she wanted to control everything and push your limits, but Minju? Minju is whole different type of demanding. She's welcoming everything you have with every fibre of her being. Her pussy so eagerly taking it all, and it just seems like no matter what limit you push past, or the more Minju takes, the more she craves.

You pull her legs to you, calves on your shoulders, feet in the air, and your hands move firmly onto her hips. You steady her—ready her. Your grip bruises the tender skin (hey, it's what she wants) and then you fuck her like your life depends on it. Your cock pumping inside with reckless abandon.

"Keep going! Just like that! Fuck!" her voice rises over the rhythm of your low grunts, and the crack of your hips slapping against her ass.

Minju's face twists, red and flushed. She's so tense. Muscles tight around the neck and her teeth buried in the soft flesh of her lower lip. Her voice is low and raw, growling, as she pleads for more with words you can't pretend to understand. It's not eloquent or graceful... In fact, it's that incoherence that makes this all the better—so utterly unbothered, unconcerned with anything other than being thoroughly used, fucked and defiled.

She has that hungry glaze in her eyes when you look down upon her, a girl being exactly the kind of filthy thing she promised to be. And those eyes only draw you in, you're pushing over her, folding her legs further against her body until she's truly helpless. Pinned to the table. Bent in two. No ability, nor want, to stop you from dominating her.

"I'm gonna—" she tries to speak until you press down, right into her. She squeezes your cock inside that tight, creaming hole. Then she whines, loud.

So loud.

Her back would arch high if it could. But she can't break free. You have her completely immobilized with your upper bodyweight. And fuck does she love every second of it. She's got handfuls of her shirt, pulling it, clutching, writhing. Ecstasy courses through her and eyes roll.

And now she's rolling, you're turning her. Ankles in your hands, you have pulled out and you're flipping her onto her front, face down into the table. She’s just… accepting it. Not an ounce of fight in her. Not even a word. Just a throaty moan.

"Be a good girl for me, won’t you?” you’re ordering, “give me your hands.” 

She reaches her arms back over her subdued body and lets you take her delicate wrists.

She submits.

Just lying there prone, her delicate body against the table, with that tight little ass perched on the edge of it, and that skimpy underwear still pushed aside for her throbbing cunt. Those slender legs left hanging either side of you. And go on, you're allowed to think it in the simplest of terms; Minju is sexy. In a word, that's it. Sexy. And yet, the reality is there's so much more you can say. Every soft curve of her toned body is alluring, she is magnetic and inviting, and that cute face peering over her shoulder, long hair spilled all behind it. All the words in the world couldn't do justice to describe her—couldn't properly capture the image.

"What are you going to do to me, daddy?" Oh, she says it so seamlessly, slips it in like it's been on her lips for a while - floating in the atmosphere since you took control. And now that it's finally landed, you feel its weight. It has her voice different; smokey and dripping with sex. And it hits you straight between your legs. 

She licks her lips and tests it out again, just for good measure: "what does daddy think I deserve?" 

One hand holding her wrists against the small of her back, another gripping her hip. Her legs sway lazily, unable to reach the floor. Helplessly dangling, waiting for her fate. And you're not a man to disappoint a girl like Minju.

"I'm going to use the needy little slut in front of me," you say as the head of your stiff cock probes at her cunt, slipping between her wet lips and sliding against her swollen clit. Teasing her. 

You draw it back up again and pushing apart her ass cheeks with the length of your cock. Slipping under the thin fabric of her soaked panties.

She bites her lower lip and whimpers through her teeth. The head of your wet cock slides against her tight asshole, and her hips twitch back. "Whatever you need, take it from me." She means that. There's yearning in every word. The hunger and desire in her voice growing thicker.

You push against her, cock sandwiched between her cheeks, pushing your weight down and pressing her against the table. Her eyes close for a moment, her fingers curl into her palms.

"Yes. Fuck," Minju's desperate encouragement spills through clenched teeth.

You pull back your cock and replace it with your thumb, sliding your hand over her ass and slipping it against her puckered hole.

"Please da—" You slip the tip of your thumb just inside her ass and hold it there while she holds her breath. 

Anticipation— 

Waiting— 

Knowing what's coming next. 

Minju is completely still as you drive your cock into her cunt again. Sinking yourself in so deep—balls deep. Her hands become tight fists and her whole body is shaking. You withdraw and plunge again, and she hisses, breathing from the bottom of her lungs, ragged and shallow, and fighting to speak.

"I'm a dirty, needy, little slut and you’re going to use me—"

You spit at her spread ass, right onto your thumb, and use it to dig a little deeper. "What are you?" your question provokes an instant answer,

"I'm a horny slut. I'm a fuck-hole. That's what I am."

As if it's a reward for her honesty, you fuck her a little harder. Push your thumb a little deeper. She smiles through a howl of ecstasy, the sound swelling into the room.

"Tell me again," you command with another pump of your hips, stretching her even more with your thumb.

Her words crackle, dying in her throat with each impact of your hips, "I'm just a dumb girl who needs to be full of cum."

No sane man would refuse it. Not you, not anyone. Definitely not you at all. You couldn't resist any part of her, but especially not that filthy demand. Especially not with how you felt watching those gorgeous fucking curves ripple every time your hips slapped against her ass.

It's all so easy, how you continue, keeping pace. Thumb deep in her ass. Balls smacking against her soaked pussy with every thrust. It's a pleasure all too overwhelming—a thrill, a sensation, a powerful sense of utter fucking satisfaction and all-consuming desire—an erotic overflow inundates, a swell, an ever-growing crest inside your balls.

"Minju. I'm. Gonna—"

"Cum in me? Please." She's the hallmark of innocence-gone-wrong; the way such words roll off her tongue with playful ease. And she knows all the right ones. The ones that she knows will bring all the right reactions. To speak to you on a primal level. She's at it again, cutting into you, "Inside— Inside me."

Cutting through you like the blade of a knife, right to your core and you obey—fuck.

"Daddy please."

You're incensed.

Dogged with the pounding you're giving her, you have lost control of just how deep you have your thumb in her ass. This is so Indecent. Obscene, even. For you, or for anyone, to just... enjoy something like this. Your body is roaring with lust as her ass and cunt both squeeze on you, clamping you as you drive yourself to the brink.

"I wanna... feel your hot load," her voice comes shaking through the unabated pounding you're inflicting. "Fill me please," she's begging and it sounds a little clearer now, stronger, a little louder, no doubt because she knows it's almost done.

You tug at her wrists, pulling her arms back and her body away from the table. Her head hangs forward beneath a wave of hair. Face covered by sweat streaks across those pretty sculpted features.

"Please, I'll be a good girl and take every drop. All the fucking cum that daddy has. Make me your stupid dirty little slut," she compels, then yelps with every new slam and stroke of the stiff cock being buried into her again and again.

That tight asshole, and that cock-hugging pussy. All the relentless slamming that you have done and will do. All the desires, with the pent-up frustration, the rage and anger and tension that has built up—you release it. Everything goes as you send your load rushing through your cock to paint her insides.

Pushing everything you have in. Pumping. Driving hard.

Her squeals are like music to the soul. Relief and rapture are overflowing. And fuck. What a ride. What a rush. You pump her full until she's gasping for air, struggling in your grasp and making sure to moan each and every dirty word into the atmosphere as she fights to hold on. What a thrill. And as the two of you hit the limits of physical exhaustion and exhilaration, you pull back. Letting the girl lay there, spent, and filled, on the pool table.

Used.

Satisfied.

Sullied.

Minju to you, today, is a feeling of freedom. Fulfilment. Absolution. As she lay limp, arms out, legs hanging, hair draped over her face and pooling on the table—a girl well fucked and on display. She is satisfaction. And she is dripping with your cum.

She slips her fingers under her panties. That shrivelled piece of fabric that clings, or struggles to. Now she pushes them off her hips and they tumble over her feet.

When this beautiful girl speaks her voice has the distinct scratch of someone whose lungs have had the oxygen stolen from them, her throat sore with moaning, "I need more."

She moves to her back and you can only watch in amazement as she turns to you with that flush face. One of her small, delicate hands falling between her legs and her dainty fingers tracing around her cunt—through her pink folds, and dousing them in your leaking cum.

There's a knock at the door. It rattles in the frame. "Open up!" It's the voice of the young man seeking an afternoon drink. You think that, luckily, hopefully, between the blinds, the posters and the neon lights in the windows along with the dim lighting, he can't see in.

"Fuck off!" Minju shouts. Her chest is heaving, and there are the gentle lulls of a giggle welling in her throat.

You notice she hasn't moved the fingers away from her swollen and sticky cunt. There's a building cackle, almost as if she is going to fall into hysterics.

"Let me in! You should be open!"

"I said fuck off!" Minju's climbing from the table with a wild smile on her face. Cum is trailing from her cunt, pooling, oozing, dripping down her thigh, down her leg. Her tongue slides over her lips, she's eying you up like a tiger.

"I want to ride your thick cock." She's breathing the words out heavy and finally pulling that shirt over her head. Small round breasts exposed. Stiff dark nipples. Hard and taught. That bare torso. Tight and tone. Firm and solid. Every muscle defined under glistening, sweaty skin.

She pushes herself against you until you push between a pair of stools and your ass plants against the bar. "You made me a dirty girl, and now I can't stop."

You find her strength a little unnerving, the way seems so unphased and determined. She's running on pure adrenaline. It's hot, sure, a kind of raw passion is certainly not without appeal, but also maybe a touch too overpowering. The way that she grabs at you, a touch forceful, and the way you come together is perhaps too rough and less than elegant.

So unkempt, un-romantic, yet so insanely gratifying as her soft skin finds yours.

You take her body in your arms, lips on one another, exploring mouths with tongues. Grasping the round cheek of her ass as she lifts her left thigh up to your waist. Hand trailing between the two of you and then grabbing a firm hold of your cock, guiding the thing back to her pussy—and not letting go.

This is it. This is where she belongs.

It’s all so natural for her to be on the end of your cock, so much so that she can casually pull away from the kiss to switch her focus to finding a drink on the bar behind you. She’s taking a drink of it now and some of it spills from the corner of her mouth.There is something undignified in that, but utterly perfect nonetheless.

She's grinding against you now, swirling her hips and cooing like a little kitten, as your hands move over her ass and that silken smooth back.

Minju sets the empty glass back down on the bar, and pulls back to meet your eyes. She presses a finger to her tongue, her eyes gleaming and focused solely on you, as she guides a small, playful trail of drool to run over her glistening tits. "Fuck," she breathes through a grin, taking both her hands and smoothing that drool over her chest.

Another knock at the door. Another fist pounded into its frame.

All these fucking interruptions.

"Ugh! Fuck this. Come on, follow me." And before you know it, she's guiding you across the room. "I'm going to ride you until I can't walk. Until I'm so sore that every step will remind me what it felt like to have you deep inside me."

Your phone rings, on the floor in the pocket of your trousers. Who would call right now? Just as one interruption finally concedes at the door, another emerges.

Minju bends to fish it out of your trousers. Her little ass, one cheek marred with a handprint from your grasp, is so close you could bend forward and eat it (any other time, you would.) but it's not that which intrigues you the most. When she rises, slowly, your phone is in her grasp, screen displaying Wonyoung's name.

"This should be fun," Minju chuckles to herself. She swipes the answer button and raises the device to her ear. "Hello?"

Minju reaches out to hold your hand and pulls you toward the staff only door. "Sorry, he's a little busy right now," she says as she walks through the door with you in tow. Her head pivots. Minju stares, eyes boring deep into yours. That sultry expression. The spark of desire igniting all over again.

Minju turns on her heel, letting you go and taking a step back. Thin fingers stroke over her cum-soaked thigh, up and along her wet lips, higher and past her flat stomach, sliding between her firm tits. "He is really busy."

She points at the couch in the break room, gesturing you to sit. You oblige, a little nervous about the turn of events. She's rubbing at her perky little tits as she speaks, "do you want me to take a message?"

"Minju..." you say with warning, ready to take the phone off her. But it's so hard to ignore how utterly sexy she is, and your hand starts to stroke along your shaft. She turns her body and poses, looking over her shoulder to you, and she grins. Minju affords you all the time you need to admire her while she listens to the ramblings of Wonyoung through your phone.

Minju steps toward you, looking down at you. "You need to speak to him?" She rests a hand on your shoulder, and then she clambers over you, straddles you. Her leaking cunt right above your cock. She licks her lips and rubs her slick pussy over your stiff dick, eyes focused on you, head tilted down. "Give me one second."

She holds the phone against her collar and shifts above you, resting the tip of your cock against her hole.

"Minju, let me—"

She sinks onto your cock. 

Inch by pleasurable inch, she takes you. Minju rocks forward and adjusts to settle on the length of your rod. Fully hilted and stuffed. She's a slick sheath of velvet on your stiff rod and you realise then just how perfectly she fits on you. You bite your tongue, trying to not make a noise so you don't alert the woman on the other end of the phone. Minju, however, is careless, and she lets out a soft moan as she shifts on you, readying herself.

Cum still seeps out of her cunt and down your shaft—your own and hers in some messy cocktail. The smell is sharp but unmistakable. It hangs in the air as the unmistakable evidence of what has happened and what will happen again. It’s so potent; invigorating and exciting. A reminder of everything and more, as if you would ever forget it—as if you could ever forget what she has become for you.

Minju draws the phone back to her face and, with a cocky smirk parting her lips, she speaks again, her voice breathy and full of lust. 

"He's in a bit of a tight spot right now." She throws you a wink and continues, "give him ten—wait, no—give him fifteen minutes and whatever is left of him is all yours."

There's the sound of a voice coming through the phone, so unmistakably Wonyoung's but you can't make a word of it out. There's another sound, one much dirtier, that fills the air between the two of you. The soft squelching as Minju rocks and rotates those full hips on you.

"Sorry, what was that?" Minju is stifling a giggle and not-really trying to keep the naughtiness of the situation in check. "Yeah, Wonyoung,you’re right. It's me, Minju," she purrs, biting her lip as her eyes fix on you. Then her tongue flits from her lips, sweeping from left to right.

‘It's me, Minju.’

Look, it’s not really a surprise that they know each other well. It was always a possibility that Minju had just heard of Wonyoung but had never really been acquainted. Thinking back, however, the strength of her reaction to the girl’s name should have told you everything. The truth is now ever so clear. 

Not that Minju is going to let you process it. She will not allow you to focus on anything other than the caress of her pussy over your sensitive cock. She's elegant with the movements of her hips—the motions subtle and slow. Her pace is sinful. She's running her tongue over her teeth and staring at you, enjoying the quiet grunts that rattle from your throat.

"He showed up in—" Her breath hitches and she catches a moan in her throat before it escapes. "In the bar, drinking alone."

There's a gasp, then another as she strokes her hands through the locks of your hair. "Yeah. He was doing that." She's laughing under her breath and looking you up and down. "That thing with his hand, yeah, it's cute."

“What? No. I wouldn’t.” You’re getting half a conversation and none of it makes any sense.

She reaches out her hand to the side of your face, thumb brushing the line of your jaw and her body leaning in. "He's got a sexy jaw line," she admits and then picks up the speed of her movement. 

Her hand slides down your neck and presses into your collar. "His body?" Minju hums as her hips are churning; her body is rolling and her abs are flexing. "Yeah, I think so too."

Minju's back arches and her tiny tits bounce as her movement changes, bouncing rhythmically on your cock. She's adjusting and getting more comfortable on you. As the seconds pass, she's getting rougher and moving ever faster. 

Fuck.

"Well, he's drunk, so it's no surprise."

It's been no end of strange situations over the past couple of months, but this may well be the strangest yet. The girls are having a friendly conversation, but one is on top of a cock that's dripping with her mess.You're still trying to piece it together. They're friends—that much is clear. But there's still so many questions unasked: How? Since when? And why are they having their catch up right fucking now?

Her delicate frame moves fast now and the rise and fall of her chest growing sharper leading to short breaths.

"Mhm," she utters, keeping her voice low and words at a premium. "N—No we aren't." To give her credit, she's actually very good at sounding natural. In some twisted way, it's one hell of an audition for how talented of actress she can actually be. 

But that image comes crumbling down before your eyes.

Just for a moment, the picture freezes. Her mouth is half-open, eyes wide. She bites down on her lip, silencing herself, and then she drops her hand from her ear. She's hitting her fist, clenched around the phone, against her thigh repeatedly as she fights against her own body. There's another choked grunt as she is being pushed ever so close to the edge.

She draws the phone to her face again, breathing in deep and staring at you with those glossy eyes scanning all across your body, and she swallows. 

"We aren't fucking," Minju denies, as your hands creep up from her slender thighs, sliding over those beautiful taut hips, gripping tight and helping pull her back and forth. It's clear, from the way she bites down on her bottom lip, the subtle trembling of her chin, she's hanging on by a thread, ready to lose it at any second.

"No. Don't—" Minju holds the phone out, and she’s looking at it—you can see it too—Wonyoung has just ended the call. "Ah fuck it." Minju throws the phone down on the couch.

She looks at you with a face that's a little lost in thought, considering things unknown to you. All while her body is on auto-pilot, still fucking down onto you. 

After a moment, her face changes, an expression of indifference, of calmness. She smiles a little and rests both of her hands on your shoulders. Staring deep into your eyes, she grows ever more serious with a tinge of intent. She shifts from auto-pilot to manual, tightening the grip with her legs and slowing the pace, but fucking you harder.

Minju rides the ridge of your cock. Your whole length is dragged up and down her insides, setting every inch of you on fire. She moans every time she slams onto you. 

Every time. 

She's falling further apart in front of you—coming completely undone. Eyes rolling and biting that lip again. Hips shifting in all kinds of directions. A cacophony of beautiful grunting sounds that flood the room.

Minju is a woman derailed by pleasure.

"God. Your cock— Your cock is—" She's struggling now and you're only going to make it worse. Using the hands on her hips, you buck yourself up into her, bringing yourself a fraction closer each time. 

"The things this cock— the things you— fuck." Minju has no power to string any kind of sentences together, no matter how many words you force from her. They grow less and less like words you can understand until all that remains are these loud and unashamed gasps. 

Gasp after sharp and unstoppable gasp.

The rush of exhilaration courses through her, from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. She feels it. All over. It's written on her face, in the way that she moves and in the look in her eyes. A look like that is a hard thing to fake, even for her—there's nothing else like it. Minju is cumming all over your cock and every bit of it is evident in every tense muscle, the quiver in the corner of her mouth, the sheen across her brow, the mist in her eyes as she blinks lazily and tries not to be overcome, overawed, with emotion and all the intense sensations, one wave after another, rippling through her.

You're just about there again too. You try to warn her, but you're fucking up into her with so much energy that you're not sure if the words ever left your mouth. But she knows it, somehow, because she has renewed aggression in her. Even through her orgasm, she's bouncing on your cock with such ferocity. Minju takes hold of your head and draws you into her. Nose to nose. Foreheads touch. "Cum in me again."

They're four of the best words she could have said.

She rides you faster still as you pump rope after hot rope into her cunt, your entire length filling her already overflowing cunt. You cum so hard inside her that the world seems to distort, twist, and wane.

"Yes! Yes!" she shouts in a whisper—her voice stolen by pleasure. "Fill my little pussy."

And with every last ounce of strength you have, you continue. Bucking into her, driving deeper with the last throes of your second load. It's too much. It's beyond pleasure and into pain now, as you have nothing left to give her.

You squeeze at her hips and waist, holding her down and doing everything you can to stop her fucking you.

You're panting. Tired. Done.

Done.

Minju raises herself just enough to slip that ruined and swollen cockhead from the depth of her. You watch as your combined fluids flow out of her onto your leg.

All that filth, a dirty combination of the two of you. Two loads of your cum drained into that one pretty pussy.

Minju is stroking a hand up your stomach, your chest, along your neck and jawline. Across your face and to your chin, so slowly, as if memorising your features.

You watch her body, so fucking perfect, flexing and trembling still and her breasts heave beneath sweat and exertion. Her breath is so ragged that a chuckle emerges between the hard, deep inhales and exhales. She's sweating, perspiration painting her body and strands of long hair matted to her head. So beautiful. Always so fucking beautiful.

She looks into your eyes, studying, thinking. "You feel better now," her voice has returned to the softness of before, low and sultry. "Don't you?"

With a smile, your hands move again, wandering further up. They snake their way around her slender waist. There's something strange, something new, about how they explore her—before, you were quick to set them and demand control. But not now. Now, it's tender and grateful and you have a slow, searching rhythm to the touches that skim the skin across her skin. 

"Yeah." It's honest. You do. She has done her magic, she has restored the balance, and the release has cleared a space within the self, within the mind. You stare back into her gaze, "thank you."

"No." Minju brings her head forward, her face almost colliding with yours. "Thank you. This is exactly what I needed, I really—" She bites down on her lips and hesitates. She pauses for a second before she begins to move herself off you. Standing up straight, wobbling for a moment on the spot before stepping off and the sticky remains of your fucking cling to her inner thighs, glistening on the flesh, thick and trailing down from her hole.

She stares at you for a moment in some profound silence. You sit on the couch, on that musty old fabric, fully spent and staring. She's searching for something, eyes drifting over the room until it catches her eye, and she heads right for it.

You find the strength to stand and as you do, you’re still watching the sway of her body—noticing each bounce of her perfectly formed butt. Your eyes linger, appreciating the body that was given to you, enjoyed by you, and that gave so much to you. Your strength slowly builds from within, your legs are sore, your stomach and core are aching, your lungs feel crushed.

She's fumbling around on the table for something, she's leaning over slightly, her thighs pressed together. She wears sex like a crown—the pride, confidence, and accomplishment manifesting in her natural glow. Minju radiates. There's always something so electric about a woman in the post coital haze.

"You smoke?" she asks.

"No."

"You should," she says as she turns, fishing one out of the pack and perching herself on the edge of the table, crossing over her legs. "Makes you less nervous. You might need it."

There's an elegance in the way she slips the filter between her lips. An attractiveness in the casual way that she places the box down. With practiced poise, she flicks her wrist with lighter in hand so it flips open and her thumb runs against the sparkwheel. Once, twice, and on the third go the light takes and the flame holds steady. Minju lights the end of the cigarette and leans in, taking a deep draw and holding it.

It's mesmerising to watch. The way her mouth closes around the stick, how the soft glow dances upon her features. A darkness in the hollows of her cheeks as the smoke fills within, while she flicks the lighter back closed and slides it on the table.

Minju tilts her head back as her lungs empty, billows and tendrils escape into the room.

In the silence, you've had some realisation.

Minju is cool.

Like— really cool.

So you stand naked, facing her, in the breakroom of the bar she... works in? Owns? Hell, you don't even know that. Doesn't matter. And you finally ask her, "how do you know Wonyoung?"

For a long moment she just smiles, blowing smoke towards you, teasing with silence.

"We go way back," she says, and that is hardly the complete answer that you've hoped for. 

Eventually, she offers more. "High school. We were friends." Minju studies the cigarette, eyeing the burning stub. "Guess you could say we were closer than that. Fuck. If not for—"

Silence.

And yet you wait.

"Well, there was this boy," she continues eventually, offering a soft and resigned smile. "My crush, and then my boyfriend. He was my first. First kiss, first date. First—" Minju looks over to the wall and inhales hard on the cigarette again. She breathes in slowly and you watch the small ember dance, the edges turning amber and glowing bright before she brings the cigarette down and flicks ash in the tray.

"What happened?" you ask, taking a seat alongside her on the table, pushing a cup aside to make space. It's not exactly hygienic, but nothing the two of you just did was.

"Wonyoung happened. Right before we left school, he left me for her and he thought he had a chance, but, well, you know Wonyoung. She's unattainable."

"You blame her?"

"Fuck no. But it didn't exactly bring us closer. He left me for her, she rejected him. What a mess."

There is always something when Wonyoung is in the picture, a messy little tangled web, something hidden behind those silky smiles. She's the reason for many lost loves and many lonely nights. You take a pause to appreciate that fact—to see what's really at the core. She’s the common denominator. Wonyoung—the arrogant heartbreaker.

"So what was all that about? On the phone?" you ask, trying to make some sense of it all.

Minju laughs aloud, tilting her head back and blowing smoke up towards the ceiling. She holds her cigarette between her slim fingers and rests her other hand on your thigh. "I wanted to play with her a little. I wanted her to know. Because well, and no offense, but you’re one of her possessions. She basically owns you. Don't get me wrong, it's kinda hot, but I wanted to see how she would react."

"So you teased her."

"Pretty much."

She laughs a little. There is some spark in her eye, born out of childish fun.

"Don't think she cares," you shrug.

You both turn toward the door that leads back into the bar. You both heard it. Out there. The knock against the front door of the bar.

Minju turns to you, crushing her cigarette into the ashtray beside her. There's a smirk on her lips and amusement in her eyes. In that look alone, there's a lot to unpack; there's an air of knowing, a glimmer of deviousness, and something else lurking beneath the surface.

"Then why is she knocking on the door?"

Next Part

[suugarbabe]

Heyy! I was wondering if you could write mattheo riddle x reader with prompts 49 and or 33 please? Fluff xx thanks xx 💗

(33) I can't believe I've never seen this side of you before

(49) I never knew that about you. It's cute

Today fucking sucked. There was no better way to put it. You needed a break from everything, from everyone, just needed to get away and be by yourself. That's how you found yourself on the dock of the black lake, just looking out into the water. You were leaning against one of the pillars, likely hidden from anyone's view that walked by, which was exactly what you wanted. So when you heard footsteps on the dock you froze, pressing your back further into the pillar, just wanting to disappear. You seemed to be doing a good job as you watched Mattheo go up to the edge of the dock, sitting down with his legs crossed to grab what looked like a muggle pencil and sketchbook out of his bag. Your curiosity was peaked at this point and you couldn't stop your mouth as the words came tumbling out, "What are you doing?" Mattheo nearly jumped out of his skin, whipping his head around at the direction of your voice, "Merlin's fucking beard, y/n. When the hell did you get here?" You stood, walking over to him before sitting back down next to him, "I've been here for nearly an hour. Now, tell me what you're doing?" If Mattheo was good at anything, it was avoiding answering questions he didn't want to, "What are you doing? You're just sitting here doing nothing by yourself?" You rolled your eyes, "I had a bad day okay, I come out here to be by myself when I don't want to verbally assault anyone." He smirked at this, "I'd love to see you do that actually, you wanna head back now?" He jutted his thumb over his shoulder back towards the castle. You scoffed, pushing his shoulder, "Okay, Riddle. What are you really doing out here? Why do you have muggle shit with you? That's not like you." He got a little sheepish now, "Oh this stuff, it's nothing. I just come out here to..." he mumbled the end of his sentence, so low you couldn't even make out what he said. "M'sorry, what was that?" you leaned in a little closer, cupping your ear dramatically. He dropped his shoulders, looking up towards the sky like the drama king he was, "I...draw. The muggle way...no magic just like...sketch and stuff." He cheeks were turning more and more pink the longer he spoke, but you had nothing smart to say back to him. You actually kind of admired his secret hobby. "I never knew that about you...it's cute." Your comment had his eyes on yours, "Really?" You nodded, "Really, do you have anything you've done in there? I'd love to see them." You would think he was a kid being told he could buy all the sweets he wanted from Honeydukes the way his eyes lit up, quickly flipping through his sketch pad to pick his favorites to show you. He really was good too, catching all the right details of a Grindylow down to the mischief in it's eyes you've seen as they swim past the windows in the common room. His attention to detail was immaculate. If he charmed it just right, you could swear the Thestral he drew was just a shrunken version of the real thing. You weren't able to see them with your own eyes, but you knew what it was from textbooks. You heart ached slightly from the realization that Mattheo was probably able to see them from a very young age, given his family history. Again you found your mouth unable to keep the words from tumbling out as you spoke, "I can't believe I've never seen this side of you before." Mattheo chuckled at this, "Yeah, well I don't exactly go around advertising I'm a sensitive ninny who plays with muggle shit." You shrugged, "I like this version of Mattheo Riddle. You don't always have to have such a stern face and flying fists." You mocked his usual face that he displayed, playfully punching his arm. He smiled shyly, "Well, thank you...I guess. I'm sorry you had a shit day today, though, Y/n, truly. Maybe next time it happens you come grab me? We can come back here? I won't make you talk about it, but I'll just draw and you can sit like you were before, but that way neither of us have to be alone." You don't think you had ever agreed to something so quickly.

[heeliopheelia]

"everything reminds me of you and it's driving me insane" (jay x fem! reader)

genre: smut word count: 0.7k requested by @forjongseong ♡

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

a/n: the last fic for the event!! i had so much fun guys, will definitely do it again once we hit another milestone!! nana babe i'm sorry it took me so long 🤍

masterlist

The floor is already drenched when Jay pulls out his thick fingers out of you. Letting go of his firm grip on your hips, he pulls away slightly to smirk at your trembling thighs as you struggle to keep yourself up on your feet.

"Fuck!" You gasp breathlessly, fingers clutching on the edge of the marble kitchen counter for your dear life.

If somebody told you that this is how the party would end – with your ex boyfriend fingering you stupid in the apartment that the two of you used to share together, you doubt you'd ever believe them... Or maybe you would?

With the way your heart increased three times on its pace when you first saw Jay after almost half a year of being deprived from his ridiculously handsome face – it's actually quite obvious you'd bend to every will of the man you're still shamefully in love with.

Even though you were the one who initiated the break up in the first place.

"Couldn't wait to get my hands on you, sweetheart," Jay mutters, closing the distance between the two of you again and grabbing you by your waist to pull you flush to his clothed bulge.

"Oh, really?" You scoff quietly, fingers brushing the sweaty hair away from your forehead as you turn your head to him over your shoulder. "Could've fooled me with this bitch hanging on your neck the entire night."

"No need to be so jealous. She could never be you," he chuckles underneath his breath and before you know his pants and underwear are dropped to the floor and he rubs his hard cock over your swollen folds. You moan simultaneously when he finally slides it inside of you, bottoming out slowly. Jay's knees feel as if made of cotton when he feels you clenching around him and now he's damn sure that you were literally molded just for him. "Missed this pussy so much," he breathes out, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

He's got you caged in between his arms and the counter as his deep thrusts rock your body into the cold surface. You're already dizzy from the two previous orgasms you've had couple minutes before, and now as you listen to his ragged breaths into your neck, all of your senses are completely blocked out in the favor of him.

The way he fucks you is so messy, so needy and it's thrilling and it's so Jay that you can't help but let your tongue run loose and spill your guts to him right then and there.

"There hasn't been a day that I didn't think about you. Everything reminds me of you and it's driving me insane. Even that stupid orchid I've seen on my way back home in a flower shop today," you confess breathlessly, voice stuttering with every thrust of his. Jay immediately catches the reference to your second date when he bought you the pink flower you desired so much. "We were so good together, weren't we, Jay?"

He groans, grabbing your hips a little firmer. "Shit, that we were, sweetheart."

Your abused hole squelches and drips after each time he bottoms out and you let out a whimper, body draping over the counter as you grip the wooden cupboard with your shaky hand. The sound only spurs him on to fuck you even harder, better, his eyes clenching tightly as he relishes in your small whines of his name. His fingers dig into the plush of your hips as he draws his body into you from behind, panting loudly and pushing you even further into the counter.

When your walls tighten nearly painfully around him, that's when he knows your third orgasm begins to build up. He snaps his hips faster and with you calling his name over and over again, you eventually let go and feel the hot pleasure swallow your tired body again.

It's impossible for him to last any longer with you falling apart before him, your doughy cunt throbbing around him mercilessly, and Jay cums hard, body slouching on top of yours as he holds you tightly with face pressed to your neck.

And maybe, just maybe you're not the only one who's been having a hard time moving on from your irrational decision all these months ago.

And you're sure of that when you feel his arms turning your body around, eyes looking softly into yours before he pulls on your chin and plants a hungry kiss on your wet lips.

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi @nichoswag @s00buwu @dazzlingligth

[ladyannemarie5]

Funny how Geralt always stayed on the sidelines with Jaskier's conquests for fear of a broken heart and yet he got a front row seat to watch the bard fall in love with the prince.

Geralt would cut the bard off when he started talking about the virtues of whatever man or woman he spent the night with, but he had no choice but to listen to Jaskier when he told him how the prince learned his song, because the poet appealed to their "best friends" bond.

Geralt smiled inwardly when the bard left his conquest for the night alone to go order him a bath and wash his hair with special soaps and oils after the hunts. And then the witcher had to witness Jaskier leaving him to go order Radovid a bath because "his long blond hair has never been anything less than perfect and cannot be left uncared for, Geralt." 

Geralt always distracted the bard with a story of past hauntings with terrifying creatures every time Jaskier began to compose a love song for his conquest, but nothing could distract the poet when he began to talk about how beautiful and bright Radovid's eyes were and how he wanted to find the perfect words to describe them. 

Geralt faked annoyance every time Jaskier asked to sleep next to him at night insinuating that he was too cold for a little bard. Geralt feigned relief when Jaskier told him that he would no longer bother him with that because he now slept with Radovid and his arms and fur blanket were more than warm. 

Geralt kept as much emotional distance as possible from the bard who approached him in a tavern in Posada so he wouldn't have to deal with a broken heart from falling in love with a human. 

But absolutely no distance in the world prepares him when that night while they were camping alone, Jaskier lying next to him and looking up at the stars, turns to him and says softly "I'm not in love with you anymore, Geralt. You don't have to act cautious around me anymore."

And Geralt can't say anything. Because he simply can't. He must have misheard, maybe the kikimore from earlier hit him too hard or something because there's no way, no world where Jaskier was in love with him. There's no way he would have wasted his chance. 

Jaskier, oblivious to the witcher's stupor, continues "I know I made you uncomfortable with my affections for you, I tried hard not to throw myself at you if I'm honest, but Radovid... I've fallen so much in love with Radovid that I'm ready to let you go. I'm sorry it took me so long to give you and Yenna peace."

Geralt looks up at the stars in silence, not believing what he just heard. Jaskier is about to turn away when Geralt takes his hand. He says nothing, just a simple squeeze. Jaskier breathes a sigh of relief, the witcher doesn't hate him for that, he doesn't ask him to leave as he had feared. Geralt is also relieved that he is no longer burdened with the bard's feelings. 

Geralt allows himself to hold his hand one last time. He allows himself a small luxury, so that he can silently mourn the loss of his bard and curse his own stupidity. Tomorrow he will watch as the bard is reunited with the prince, tomorrow he will watch with a broken heart as they embrace and the prince spins Jaskier in his arms, before kissing him and swearing eternal love. Tomorrow Geralt's heart breaks completely. 

But just for today, just for that night, he allows himself to take Jaskier's hand, draw him into his arms and breathe freely the scent of the man he has been in love with for over two decades. Just for that one night, Geralt allows himself to be happy.

----

I really love to make me cry ^^

[themultifandomgal]

Hank Voight- Secrets

Hank and I have been in a secret relationship the last year now. We've kept it secret because of 1 our age. I'm 25 years younger than he is for a start. 2 I'm part of the intelligence unit. Hank and I met before I was part of the intelligence unit, we had a one night stand the day before I actually joined thanks to alcohol. We tried to keep it professional but it was hard. Of course during work we are. He's my boss I listen to him, but as soon as we leave he's my boyfriend who I love

"Halstead, YLN I want you to go to the club and find out who's dealing the drugs. Don't separate who knows what the dealer is like"

"Got it" Jay gets up from his desk. I follow heading to the locker I go to mine taking out some clothes I leave here for different cases we may go on. I take them to the bathroom and get changed into a little back dress and black heals. I put on a little more makeup than I already have on. I walk out and into the bullpen

"Woah" Adam comments, his eyes nearly popping out of his head

"Eyes to yourself Ruzek" Hank comments making Adam hold his hands in the air "Halstead YLN be careful" Hank says looking at me

"We will" Jay says for me.

We head to the club and walk into the bar

"What can I get you both" the woman behind the bar smiles at us

"2 Vodka and cokes" Jay smiles back placing his hand on the small of my back

"No problem"

"Hey so we heard that you guys sell more than alcohol" I give the woman a little smile

"I don't know where you heard that"

"Come on" Jay leans over the bar "my girl is going to rehab tomorrow and we want to have one last party" the woman looks around then whispers

"Back room"

"Thank you, much appreciate"

Jay and I make our way the the back room with our drink. When we enter we see a man sat on a couch with a few girls around him and one on his lap

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" The man asks

"Looking for a good time" I look the man up and down

"Girls go and get yourselves a drink on me" he holds out some cash. The girl on his lap takes the money and they all walk out

"What can I do for you?"

"My girl here need some peal, shes going to rehab and we are having a party for her"

"Huh is that so"

"Remember he needs to take the money off you before we can make the arrest" I hear Voight say in my ear piece

"I have cash" Jay pulls out his wallet and holds the money out

"How do I know that you two aren't undercover cops trying to bust me?"

"Come on man" Jay laughs

"You have to understand where I'm coming from though. I've never seen either of you before and now your asking me for Pearl. How do you even know I have it?"

"Just heard around from some girls I work with"

"Who?"

"Well I mean they aren't going to use the same names? Who knows what creeps will find out who we are" I cross my arms

"I'm begging you man, just a bit for my girl to have one last good night. You know how rehab is"

"Ok" he gets up and walks over to a desk at the end of the room. He opens up a draw and we assume he's going to pull out the drugs, but instead he holds a gun in his hand

"I just don't believe you" Jay is quick to get his gun out, I don't have mine because I couldn't hide it with the dress I'm wearing

"Put the gun down now!" Jay shouts

"YN what's going on?" Voight asks me

"The deals off" I say standing behind Jay

"Ok we will just go ok?"

"No. I can't let you"

"YN get out of there now"

"Please just let us go. We made a mistake please"

"Shut up!"

"Put the gun down"

"We're coming in"

"They're cops!" One of the girls that was in the room earlier runs in

"Your fucking cops?"

"Put the gun down. If you shoot you'll be tried for attempted murder on a cop and possession of drugs"

"I'll take my chances" the guy shoots my leg making me fall before Jay shoots him in the head

"Fuck YN you ok?" Jay asks putting pressure on my gun shot "suspect down, officer shot roll and ambo" Jay says into is radio that he had hidden. Jay lifts me up and carries me out to where everyone else is

"YN? YN you ok" Hank runs over to me making everyone instantly confused

"I'm ok, just fucking hurts"

"Ok ok let's get you to Med" Hank takes me from Jay and puts me in the ambo, he follows in with me.

After I arrived to Med and was checked over Hank sits in the chair in my room with a hand in mine

"You know the cats out the bag now" I tell him

"Don't care. As long as your ok"

"I'm fine. Promise" I give his hand a squeeze "maybe this is the universe telling us we need to tell the others"

"Hey" there's a knock on the door and Jay walks in "just checking your good?" Jay looks between Hank and I

"Yeah we're good. Thanks Jay"

"Don't worry about it. Oh and just expect a lot of questions when your back at work"

"I will expect no questions" Hank defends

"Hank, no it's fine. I know you guys will have questions, just none about our sex life please"

"Deal. Get well soon" Jay leaves Hank and I alone  again in the room

"I love you YN"

"I love you too" Hank leans down and kisses my lips gently

[songbirdseung]

entangled fates / park sunghoon & nishimura riki

where  박성훈 and 西村リキ best friends since childhood, find their bond strained when they both fall for the same girl—YN. genre love triangle au warnings friendship tension, heartbreak, jealousy, angst

you never imagined that your life could become so complicated, that the simple act of falling in love could lead to such a tangled web of emotions. but here you are, caught between two hearts, each pulling you in a different direction. riki and sunghoon, best friends since childhood, now stand as rivals, and you are the unwitting cause.

the day starts like any other, the early morning sun casting a warm glow over seoul as you make your way to the local café. it's your sanctuary, a place where you can escape the chaos of your thoughts and find a moment of peace. as you step inside, the familiar scent of coffee and baked goods wraps around you, offering a small comfort.

you take your usual seat by the window, your eyes wandering over the bustling street outside. your mind drifts back to the events of the past few weeks, to the moment when everything changed. it was at a mutual friend's party, a night filled with laughter and music, when riki and sunghoon both confessed their feelings for you.

riki, with his infectious energy and dreamer’s heart, had pulled you aside, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "yn, i've liked you for a long time," he had said, his voice trembling slightly. "you inspire me, make me want to be better. i think we could be amazing together."

before you could even process his words, sunghoon had found you, his steady presence a stark contrast to riki’s exuberance. "yn, i need you to know something," he had begun, his voice calm and sincere. "you mean everything to me. i’ve always admired your strength and kindness. i believe we have something real, something lasting."

their confessions had left you reeling, your heart torn between the two. how could you choose between them? riki, who made your heart race with his spontaneity, and sunghoon, who made you feel safe and cherished?

your thoughts are interrupted as the café door swings open and riki strides in, his usual confident smile in place. he spots you and makes his way over, sliding into the seat across from you. "hey," he greets, his voice as warm as ever. "hope you haven't been waiting long."

"no, just got here," you reply, offering a small smile. his presence always brings a certain lightness to your day, a feeling of possibility and excitement.

as you chat, catching up on the latest happenings, you can't help but notice the way riki's eyes light up when he talks about his dreams, his passion for dance. it's infectious, drawing you in, making you want to be a part of his world.

but then, just as you're starting to relax, the door opens again and sunghoon walks in. his eyes immediately find yours, a soft smile spreading across his face. he makes his way to your table, greeting both you and riki with his usual calm demeanor.

"mind if i join you?" he asks, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

you nod, your heart caught in your throat as sunghoon takes a seat beside you. the dynamic at the table shifts, the air charged with unspoken tension. it's clear that both riki and sunghoon are acutely aware of each other’s feelings, and of the delicate balance that now exists between the three of you.

conversation flows, but there's an underlying current of competition, each of them vying for your attention, your affection. riki tells a funny story, making you laugh, and sunghoon counters with a thoughtful comment that shows how well he understands you.

as the morning turns to afternoon, you feel the weight of the situation pressing down on you. how can you navigate this without hurting either of them? how can you follow your heart when it's being pulled in two different directions?

leaving the café together, you part ways with promises to meet again soon. riki heads off to his dance practice, and sunghoon walks you home, his quiet presence a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves.

"i know this is hard for you," he says softly as you reach your door. "but whatever happens, i just want you to be happy. that's all that matters to me."

his words bring a lump to your throat, and you nod, unable to speak. as you watch him walk away, you realize that the choice ahead of you is not just about who you care for more, but about the future you envision for yourself.

and as the sun sets over seoul, casting long shadows across the city, you know that the days ahead will be filled with difficult decisions. but one thing is certain: your heart is entangled in a way you never expected, and there's no easy way out.

the days blur together as you try to navigate the complicated emotions that have taken root in your heart. every interaction with riki and sunghoon feels weighted with unspoken words and hidden meanings. the tension between them, once barely noticeable, now hangs in the air like a thick fog, impossible to ignore.

you wake up early one saturday, the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon, and decide to clear your mind with a walk through the nearby park. the cool morning air and the soft chirping of birds offer a welcome respite from the chaos in your head. you hope the tranquility will help you find some clarity.

as you wander down the familiar paths, your phone buzzes with a message from riki.

"morning, yn! any plans today? feel like dancing?"

you smile at his enthusiasm. dancing with riki has always been a joy, his energy contagious and his movements effortless. before you can reply, another message comes through from sunghoon.

"good morning, yn. would you like to grab lunch later? there's a new place i think you'd love."

your heart sinks. once again, you're faced with choosing between them. both offers are tempting in their own ways, but you know you can't keep splitting yourself in two forever. you need to find a way to be honest with them, and with yourself.

you decide to meet riki first, knowing his infectious energy might help lift your spirits. you send him a quick reply and head to the dance studio where he practices. as you enter, the sound of music fills the air, and you see riki lost in his movements, his passion evident in every step.

he spots you and his face lights up. "yn! you're here! come on, let's dance!"

you join him on the dance floor, letting the music wash over you, your bodies moving in sync. for a while, you forget about the turmoil inside you, lost in the rhythm and the joy of the moment. riki’s laughter and the sparkle in his eyes make everything else fade away.

after an hour, you take a break, sitting on the floor, catching your breath. riki looks at you, his expression turning serious for a moment. "yn, i've been thinking… about us. i know it's complicated, but i really believe we could make each other happy. don't you?"

his words catch you off guard, and you feel a pang of guilt. you care for riki deeply, but the thought of sunghoon and his quiet strength lingers in the back of your mind. you give riki a small smile, trying to keep your emotions in check. "i… i need some time, riki. this isn't easy for me."

he nods, understanding in his eyes. "i get it, yn. just know that i'm here, waiting."

leaving the dance studio, you feel a mix of emotions—joy from dancing with riki, and guilt for not being able to give him a clear answer. you check the time and realize it's almost noon, so you head to meet sunghoon for lunch.

you find sunghoon waiting outside the new restaurant, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to riki's exuberance. he greets you with a warm smile, holding the door open for you as you enter.

the restaurant is cozy, with soft lighting and a welcoming atmosphere. as you sit down, sunghoon looks at you with a gentle concern. "yn, you seem a bit off today. is everything okay?"

his perceptiveness catches you off guard, and you take a deep breath, deciding to be honest. "sunghoon, i've been feeling really overwhelmed lately. with everything… between us, and riki. it's just a lot to handle."

he reaches across the table, taking your hand in his. "i know it's not easy, yn. but i want you to know that no matter what, i'm here for you. your happiness is what matters most to me."

his words are sincere, and you feel a sense of comfort in his presence. lunch passes in a blur of conversation and laughter, and for a moment, you can almost forget the weight of the decision hanging over you.

as you walk home later, sunghoon by your side, you feel a sense of peace, but also a deepening confusion. both riki and sunghoon have their own unique ways of making you feel special, and the thought of hurting either of them is unbearable.

the days continue to pass, each one bringing you closer to a decision you know you must make. your heart is tangled in threads of affection and loyalty, and unraveling them seems an impossible task.

the days stretch into weeks, and the weight of your decision grows heavier. you continue to spend time with both riki and sunghoon, each encounter leaving you more torn than the last. their unwavering affection and kindness only deepen your confusion, making it clear just how much they both care for you.

one afternoon, as you sit in your room, the setting sun casting a golden glow through the window, you decide to seek advice from someone who knows you well. you dial the number of your best friend, sooyoung, hoping she can offer some clarity.

“hey, yn!” sooyoung's cheerful voice greets you. “what’s up?”

“hey, sooyoung. i really need to talk. i’m feeling so lost right now.”

“of course. what’s going on?”

you take a deep breath and recount everything that’s been happening—the confessions, the dates, the growing tension between riki and sunghoon, and the pressure you feel to make a decision.

sooyoung listens patiently, her silence encouraging you to spill your heart. when you finish, she lets out a thoughtful hum. “wow, yn. that’s a tough spot to be in. but, have you thought about what you really want? beyond their feelings, what does your heart say?”

her question strikes a chord within you. you’ve been so focused on riki and sunghoon’s feelings that you haven’t truly considered your own. “i... i don’t know,” you admit. “i care about both of them so much. it’s hard to imagine hurting either one.”

“i get that. but you need to be honest with yourself first. it’s your heart that’s on the line here. take some time, really think about what you want. and remember, it’s okay to take things slow. you don’t have to rush into a decision.”

her words resonate with you, and after you hang up, you feel a renewed sense of determination. you need to find some clarity, for your sake and theirs.

the following weekend, you decide to spend some time alone, away from the noise and distractions. you take a trip to the countryside, a place where you’ve always found peace and solace. the quiet of the rural landscape offers you a chance to reflect, away from the pressures of the city.

as you walk along a serene path, surrounded by nature, your mind drifts to the moments you’ve shared with both riki and sunghoon. you think about the spontaneous adventures with riki, his laughter and the way he makes your heart race. you also think about the quiet moments with sunghoon, his steady presence and the sense of security he brings.

sitting by a gentle stream, you close your eyes and let the sounds of nature soothe your mind. for the first time in weeks, you feel a sense of calm wash over you. you realize that you’ve been so afraid of making the wrong choice that you’ve been paralyzed by indecision.

but sooyoung’s advice echoes in your mind: what does your heart say?

you spend hours by the stream, reflecting on your feelings, letting your heart speak without the interference of guilt or fear. and slowly, a sense of clarity begins to emerge.

when you return to the city, you feel lighter, more certain of what you need to do. you know it won’t be easy, but you owe it to yourself—and to riki and sunghoon—to be honest about your feelings and the time you need to make a decision.

riki couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty after your conversation. his heart ached, but he respected your need for time. still, he wasn't ready to give up. he believed that his love for you deserved a fighting chance, and he was determined to show you how much he cared.

the next morning, riki woke up early, his mind buzzing with ideas. he wanted to do something special, something that would remind you of the bond you shared. as he made his way to the dance studio, he thought about the times you had laughed together, the moments when you had been happiest.

at the studio, riki poured his heart into creating a dance routine, one that would tell your story. every move was infused with emotion, every step a reflection of his feelings for you. he spent hours perfecting it, driven by the hope that this dance would convey what words couldn't.

a few days later, he invited you to the studio. you arrived, curious and a bit apprehensive, but riki's infectious energy soon put you at ease. he greeted you with a bright smile, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

“yn, i’ve been working on something special,” he said, taking your hand and leading you to the center of the studio. “i wanted to show you how much you mean to me through dance.”

you felt a flutter in your chest, touched by his dedication. riki started the music, and as the first notes filled the room, he began to move. his dance was a beautiful blend of passion and grace, each step telling a part of your story together. you watched in awe, feeling the emotions in every movement.

as the dance progressed, memories flooded your mind—the laughter, the late-night conversations, the way riki always knew how to make you smile. you realized how deeply he cared for you, how much effort he was putting into showing you his love.

when the music ended, riki stood before you, slightly out of breath but beaming with pride. “yn, i hope this dance showed you how much you mean to me. i’ll keep trying to make you happy, no matter what.”

you felt tears welling up in your eyes, moved by his sincerity. “riki, that was beautiful. thank you for putting so much effort into this.”

he stepped closer, taking your hands in his. “i know you need time, and i respect that. but i want you to know that i’m here, ready to give you everything i have. just know that i won’t stop fighting for you.”

your heart swelled with gratitude and affection. “thank you, riki. i appreciate everything you’ve done. this means a lot to me.”

over the next few weeks, riki continued to make his feelings known through small, thoughtful gestures. he would bring you your favorite coffee, surprise you with little gifts, and send you encouraging messages throughout the day. his efforts were a constant reminder of his love and dedication.

one evening, as you were sitting in your room, your phone buzzed with a message from riki.

"hey yn, want to join me for a night walk? i know a place where the stars are amazing."

you agreed, and soon you found yourself walking alongside him in a quiet park, the sky above dotted with twinkling stars. riki pointed out constellations, sharing stories and making you laugh. his presence was comforting, and you felt a sense of peace.

“riki, thank you for tonight. it’s been really nice,” you said, looking up at the stars.

he smiled, his eyes reflecting the starlight. “anything for you, yn. i just want you to be happy.”

as you walked back, riki gently took your hand. the simple gesture filled you with warmth. you knew that his efforts were genuine, that he truly cared for you. but the decision ahead was still daunting, and your heart was torn.

back at your apartment, riki gave you a warm hug before leaving. “goodnight, yn. remember, i’m here for you, always.”

as you watched him walk away, you felt a mixture of emotions—gratitude, affection, and a deep sense of confusion. riki’s dedication was undeniable, and his efforts to win you over were touching. but you knew you still had to find clarity in your heart, to understand where your true feelings lay.

when riki arrived home, he found sunghoon sitting on the couch, a thoughtful expression on his face. sensing the weight of the moment, riki sat down across from him, bracing himself for what was to come.

“riki, we need to talk,” sunghoon began, his voice calm but firm. “about yn.”

riki nodded, his heart pounding. “yeah, i figured this was coming.”

sunghoon took a deep breath. “we both care about her, that much is obvious. but we can’t keep dancing around this. it’s not fair to her, and it’s not fair to us.”

“i agree,” riki said, his tone steady. “but what do you suggest we do?”

“we need to be honest with each other,” sunghoon replied. “we need to acknowledge our feelings and find a way to move forward without tearing each other apart.”

riki appreciated sunghoon’s mature approach, but the underlying tension was palpable. “i respect that, sunghoon. and i respect you. but my feelings for yn aren’t going away. i’m going to fight for her.”

sunghoon’s expression hardened slightly. “i get that, riki. but this isn’t a competition. it’s about yn’s happiness. we need to keep that in mind.”

riki’s patience started to wear thin. “you think i don’t know that? everything i’m doing is for her. but i can’t just step aside.”

“neither can i,” sunghoon said, his voice rising. “i’ve been there for her through so much. i care about her deeply, and i won’t back down.”

the calm discussion quickly escalated into a heated argument. voices grew louder, accusations flew, and emotions ran high.

“you think you’re the only one who cares?” riki shouted. “i’ve been doing everything i can to show her how much she means to me!”

“and you think that’s enough?” sunghoon retorted. “it’s not just about grand gestures, riki. it’s about being there for her, understanding her, supporting her!”

“i know that!” riki yelled back. “i’m not some clueless kid. i get it. but i love her, and i’m not giving up!”

“neither am i!” sunghoon’s voice was sharp, filled with determination. “we both want the same thing, riki. but we can’t keep tearing each other apart. it’s not going to help anyone, least of all yn.”

the room fell into a tense silence, both boys breathing heavily, the weight of their words hanging in the air. they stared at each other, the depth of their feelings and the intensity of their emotions laid bare.

finally, riki spoke, his voice calmer but still resolute. “you’re right. this isn’t helping. but we need to find a way to handle this, for yn’s sake.”

sunghoon nodded, the fire in his eyes dimming slightly. “agreed. we need to put her first. no more fighting, no more accusations. just... let her make her own decision.”

with a mutual understanding, they both stood up, the tension between them still present but more manageable. they knew the path ahead would be challenging, but they were determined to navigate it with respect and maturity.

as riki headed to his room, he couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions—frustration, determination, and an unwavering hope that, in the end, love would find a way.

the atmosphere in the apartment had grown tense. riki and sunghoon moved around each other like strangers, the weight of their unresolved feelings for you hanging heavily in the air. their once easygoing camaraderie had been replaced by a strained silence, and both felt the loss deeply.

despite the unspoken tension, life had to go on. riki and sunghoon still saw each other daily, their paths crossing in the kitchen, the living room, and the hallway. every interaction was charged with unspoken words, their friendship now shackled by the emotional battle they were waging.

sunghoon woke up early, determined to make the most of the day. he had been thinking a lot about yn lately, and he knew that if he wanted to win her over, he needed to step up his game. after stretching and planning out his day, he decided to start with something thoughtful and personal. heading to a quaint flower shop, he browsed through the vibrant array of flowers until his eyes landed on a bouquet of yn's favorite lilies. with a smile, he imagined her reaction as he asked the florist to wrap them nicely.

nervously standing at yn's doorstep with the bouquet in hand, sunghoon took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. when yn opened the door, her eyes widened in surprise, and a smile spread across her face. "sunghoon! what are you doing here?" she asked. handing her the flowers, he replied, "I wanted to give you these. I know how much you love lilies." blushing, yn invited him in, and they settled on the couch, talking and laughing. sunghoon listened intently, noticing the way her eyes lit up when she spoke. "yn, I’ve been thinking a lot lately. I really enjoy spending time with you, and I want to make more memories together," he confessed. yn looked into his eyes and said, "I enjoy spending time with you too, sunghoon. you always know how to make me smile." "because your smile means the world to me," he added softly.

later that afternoon, sunghoon took yn to a cozy café where they sat by the window, sipping on their drinks. he had planned a special surprise for her and nervously pulled out a small, handmade scrapbook filled with photos, little notes, and memories they had shared over the years. yn’s eyes widened as she flipped through the pages, teary-eyed. "sunghoon, this is amazing. you did all this for me?" she asked. smiling, sunghoon replied, "yeah. I wanted to show you how much you mean to me. every moment with you is special, and I wanted to capture that." hugging him tightly, yn said, "thank you, sunghoon. this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me."

as the sun set, sunghoon took yn to a park where they walked hand in hand before settling on a blanket for a small picnic under the stars. they lay on the blanket, looking up at the sky, and sunghoon spoke softly, "yn, I know things are complicated right now with everything that’s going on. but I want you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what. you mean so much to me, and I just want you to be happy." yn whispered back, "thank you, sunghoon. you’ve always been so kind and caring. I appreciate everything you’ve done." gently, he replied, "I’ll always be here for you, yn. always." they sat in comfortable silence, the stars twinkling above them, and sunghoon felt a sense of peace knowing that he had done everything he could to show yn how much he cared.

as days turned into weeks, yn found herself torn between sunghoon's steady affection and riki's fiery passion. each boy had his own way of showing how much she meant to them, and yn's heart was a tumultuous sea of emotions, unsure of which direction to take. despite her confusion, she valued her friendship with both, fearing that any decision might shatter the delicate balance they had maintained for so long.

meanwhile, riki and sunghoon's friendship continued to strain under the weight of their rivalry. both boys tried to maintain a semblance of normalcy, but the tension was palpable. their interactions were polite but distant, and their shared moments were often marred by awkward silences and sidelong glances.

one evening, yn decided to spend some time alone at a quiet café, hoping to clear her mind. as she sipped her coffee and stared out the window, lost in thought, she heard the door chime. looking up, she saw riki walking in, his eyes lighting up when he spotted her.

"yn! fancy seeing you here," riki said, sliding into the seat across from her.

"hey, riki," yn replied with a smile, though her mind was still preoccupied.

riki noticed her distant expression and leaned forward. "is everything okay? you seem… off."

yn sighed, resting her chin on her hand. "just a lot on my mind, you know? it's been hard trying to figure everything out."

riki's expression softened. "I get it. it's been tough for all of us. but I want you to know that I'm here for you, no matter what. we all are."

yn appreciated his words, but the weight of her dilemma still hung heavily on her shoulders. "thanks, riki. I just don't want to hurt anyone."

"you won't," riki said firmly. "we'll figure this out together. and whatever happens, we'll deal with it."

as they talked, sunghoon entered the café, his eyes immediately finding yn and riki. he hesitated for a moment, then walked over to join them.

"hey, yn, riki," sunghoon greeted, forcing a smile.

"hey, sunghoon," yn said, feeling the tension rise again.

the three of them chatted for a while, but the conversation was stilted and awkward. sunghoon and riki exchanged wary glances, each boy trying to mask their jealousy and frustration. yn sensed the underlying conflict and decided it was time to leave.

"I should get going," yn said, standing up. "thanks for the company, guys."

riki and sunghoon both stood, offering her a hug goodbye. as yn walked out of the café, she couldn't shake the feeling that things were only going to get more complicated.

that night, riki and sunghoon found themselves alone in their shared apartment. the silence was heavy, each boy lost in his own thoughts. finally, sunghoon broke the silence.

"we need to talk," he said, his voice calm but firm.

riki looked up, meeting sunghoon's gaze. "yeah, we do."

they sat down at the kitchen table, the air thick with unspoken words. sunghoon took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

"I know this has been hard on both of us," he began. "but we can't keep pretending everything is okay. our friendship is suffering, and it's not fair to yn either."

riki nodded slowly. "I know. I hate that things have gotten so messed up between us."

"so what do we do?" sunghoon asked. "how do we fix this?"

riki sighed, running a hand through his hair. "maybe we need to be honest with each other. about everything."

sunghoon agreed. "I still care about yn, and I want her to be happy. but I also value our friendship. I don't want to lose that."

"same here," riki said. "I guess we need to figure out how to separate our feelings for yn from our friendship. maybe it's not about one of us winning, but about finding a way to support her and each other."

sunghoon smiled, feeling a glimmer of hope. "yeah. maybe we can."

as the night wore on, they talked openly about their feelings, their fears, and their hopes for the future. it wasn't an easy conversation, but it was a necessary one. by the time they went to bed, they felt a renewed sense of solidarity, determined to navigate this complicated situation together.

the next day, sunghoon decided to put his efforts into winning yn over with genuine kindness and thoughtfulness. he planned a day full of surprises, starting with a handwritten letter expressing his feelings and ending with a romantic picnic under the stars. riki, meanwhile, chose to give yn space, respecting her need to process everything at her own pace.

as yn received sunghoon's letter, she couldn't help but feel touched by his sincerity. she knew that whatever decision she made, it would be one that considered the feelings of both boys she cared deeply for.

the future was still uncertain, but with riki and sunghoon's friendship on the mend and yn taking her time to decide, there was hope that they could all find a way to move forward, together.

[insipid-drivel]

Horses: Since There Seems To Be An Even Wider Knowledge Gap Than I Anticipated

...And actually find it really exciting that I have a reason to expand and address some comments and questions from my first post!

This is a sequel/addition to my original post, "Horses: Since There Seems To be A Knowledge Gap". I want to address more horse-related knowledge gaps, common misinformation and mistakes made by well-meaning and very skilled creators that wouldn't know otherwise unless they worked with horses directly. You should not have to work hands-on with horses to learn some of this stuff, but the fact remains that horse facts and riding knowledge is often underdiscussed and usually only shared by other people that work with/around horses. A lot of this information should be within easier reach for writers and artists, too!

Before I begin, I'd like to thank all of you that politely reached out in the comments, tags, and my DMs/asks with your thoughtful additions to details I forgot/left out/hadn't even considered, and your brave questions posed to me personally that I was more than happy to answer. I'm truly thankful to all of you who contributed with a positive energy, or that had the courage to reach out to me - the OP - with questions my first post didn't manage to help you with. I will never punish, shame, or otherwise mistreat anyone who comes to me with an earnest question or correction in good faith, anonymous or not. If you're polite to me, I will be polite to you. I will try my hardest to answer questions I may not have much experience with, but I will still do my best to research the answers so you don't have to, and tag/cite/refer you to people, books, or other knowledge sources that have more answers and experience than I do if I can't.

So, what more is there to know about writing and portraying horses? I'll just get started off the top of my head with some of the most frequent additions other tumblr horse folk have been hollerin' at me about, and with good reason, because you guys were right to point out what you did and really got me thinking!

-Spurs: My Second Take. In my original post, I voiced my personal distaste for the use of spurs in riding. Spurs, for those who don't know, were traditionally made as sharp metal pinwheels that attached to the back of riding boots for enhanced communication between the rider and the horse, much like how riding crops are used. I, personally, have had a lot of bad experiences seeing riders misuse spurs to hurt horses that I cared for as a stable hand and genuinely loved, and so I've been very shut down about the topic of spurs for many years.

Several people spoke up in defense of spurs as riding and communication tools, and I honestly believe that you guys were very on-point and made some great arguments: Spurs are only as harmful to horses as the intent the rider has in applying them, and I didn't have enough updated information about the different types of spurs that can be used nowadays that are not designed to be sharp or uncomfortable for the horse! I always grew up around traditional Cowboy-style spurs, which are sharp, stabby, star-shaped wheels, and can wound a horse and draw blood if used too aggressively. Tragically, most inexperienced and newer riders will use spurs too forcefully and wind up hurting the horse, and it's largely because new riders are inherently scared of riding, and over-rely on tools like spurs and crops rather than trust the horse to know what it's doing and be intelligent enough to know how to care for a human rider's safety.

Now, I've since learned that there are spurs with rubber wheels, blunted tips like those on the ends of safety-fencing foils, round metal bumpers instead of spurs at all, and even spurs that sport rotating metal balls that just feel (to the horse) like someone rolling a large ball-point pen over their sides, and more! So, to those of you that spoke up in tags and comments, thank you for doing so in a way that got me to open my own mind and check myself and my bad memories. You guys taught me something really cool and valuable that genuinely changed my perspective and opinions, and that's a really good thing!

-A Group Of Zombies/Unarmed Humans Can Take Down A Healthy Adult Horse. This is specifically aimed at The Walking Dead, but... yeah, you know the second episode when Rick rides a horse into the zombie-overrun Atlanta and the only way he's able to survive is when the zombies are distracted taking down and eating his obviously-jello-and-rubber horse?

Yeah, no. That is not how it would happen. At all. I think any biologists in the audience would back me up on that.

See, horses are prey animals, and they are herbivores. We're often used to thinking of herbivorous prey animals as shy, retiring, vulnerable animals that will simply keel over and die of fright when cornered by a predator. In reality, the opposite is often the case! Predatory animals tend to be much more shy, and much more cautious with their physical safety and wellbeing than prey animals tend to be, and that's usually because predators need to be able to remain uninjured and able-bodied enough to hunt again later, or else they and their babies may starve to death. Prey animals, especially herbivores, have evolved to deal with being hunted, and inherently don't need to be quite as healthy and able-bodied as a predator in order to avoid starving in the wild. Grass and leaves don't run away or try to fight back (unless it's like, poison oak or something), so an herbivore can generally recover from more environmental beatings than a predator typically can.

When cornered, horses very often only understand one thing: Murder. That's why you need horse whisperers and stable hands that know how to "gentle" a panicked horse as essential personnel at boarding and teaching ranches. While a horse can absolutely love and adore even the smallest of children and never harm them (at least intentionally - accidents happen), they can and absolutely will kill in order to defend themselves if running isn't an option. Horses can kick with up to 2,000lbs/907kg of force with their back legs. That's enough to break bones, shatter skulls, insta-kill grown men, and if you're kicked in the chest? Cause spontaneous cardiac arrest. Horses kick so hard and so fast they can literally make your heart stop from the speed and force of the impact alone: not from tissue damage. Horses will also paw and stomp with their front hooves until the Threatening Thing is effectively a mincemeat pancake, bite hard enough to take off fingers and hands, and can even cat-jump into the air off all four hooves in order to kick outward with all four legs at once. Spanish cavalry officers traditionally trained their horses to cat-jump on command in order to prevent them and their horse from being surrounded by footsoldiers in battle.

Horses will also use their body weight to roll, crush, scrape, and flatten anything or anyone that they don't want holding onto them. They will use environmental objects like trees, fences, or the corners of buildings to scrape unwanted hangers-on off into bloody smears (my mom's horse actually did this to a guy twice and he wound up in the ER with severe lacerations, bruises, splinters, and worse). Basically: a horse will use its entire body and the weight that comes with it as well as the entire world around it to fucking OBLITERATE anything they see as an unavoidable threat to their safety.

Without heavy-duty ropes, weapons, or tools, a group of adult, living, human men the size of football (the fake kind) linebackers wouldn't be able to successfully wrestle a fully-grown, panicked horse to the ground, much less a bunch of undead, mostly-decomposing zombies that only know how to bite and scratch. The horse Rick is riding on looks like it's probably a Quarterhorse, too. Quarterhorses are very sturdy, moderately-sized breeds that are also the iconic Cowboy Horse. They're tough, they're brave, they're hearty, and if they snap, they can and will kill both other animals and humans.

A horse's skin is so thick and tough that it's virtually impossible for a human to successfully bite or scratch hard enough to puncture through their outer dermal layers. As stable hands, a regular tool we use for getting mud out of a horse's hair is a literal metal wire brush that can rip open our skin if we try to use them, but the horses lean into them without even a hint of damage to their skin from doing so. There may be some tiny welts and a little bit of blood if a human tries to claw and bite at a horse, but horses do far worse to each other when they're just playing! Our fingernails and jaw muscles just aren't strong enough to do much damage to a healthy horse's skin.

-Horses aren't domestic animals.

...Yes they are. But just like other domestic animals, there can be wild populations of them that have had little or no human contact or intervention. Genetically speaking, however, horses are indeed domesticated. They're large domestic animals , but they are very much domesticated. Humans have been working alongside horses for at least 6,000 years. Domestic cats have only been domesticated for about 10,000 years. Truly wild horses in herds today, sadly, are pretty much 100% descended from domesticated horses. The recently-reintroduced-to-the-wild Przewalski's Horse is probably the closest genetic link to the original wild horses native to what are now modern Mongolia and Kazakhstan. Even the revered American Mustang is the product of domestication and planned breeding practices by both white colonists and Indigenous Americans over thousands of years, but Indigenous Americans were capable of maintaining a healthy balance between their personal horses and the essential need for herds of wild horses for the environment, too. White colonists did not understand this and intentionally stripped the North American frontier of its herds of wild horses, and are the primary reason the Mustang is only recently reappearing in wild herds in North America.

Sheep are domestic animals. Cows are domestic animals. Goats are domestic animals. Just because an animal has hooves and doesn't usually live in your house with you does not mean it isn't domesticated: You've just never had to live in an environment where they're essential to daily life or considered welcome companions, so they seem more like wild animals than cats and dogs. Hundreds of years ago, before modern building techniques created houses that could stay sustainably warm year-round, it was very normal for families to bring in cattle as large as horses and cows into their homes and sleep in the same rooms together for security and warmth, dookie and all (horse and cow poop doesn't smell as rank as dog or cat poo; they're herbivores, so it just doesn't smell as foul, and happens to make very good fuel for the fire). We don't do that anymore for health and safety reasons, and so horses, among other farmyard and "rural" domestic animals have become increasingly alienated from most people's psyches as being animals just as capable of being pets as your dog or cat.

-You can calculate how long a horse can run or work every day. This one is largely in response to some well-meaning questions I got from anons that seemed to want me to give them precise hourly work rates and mileage horses can tolerate. I was frustrated by questions like this, because it's a really cool subject to discuss, but not an easy question to answer. Horses are not machines, and "horsepower" is a unit of measurement derived from horses - not applied to them. "Horsepower" is a term used in machinery like tractors and cars. The total horsepower of your average horse is... well, 1, because that's how many horses a single horse can be without getting into some Welcome To Night Vale shit, which I'd love to do, but is a bit too far off topic for this particular post.

A horse's capacity to work or travel is heavily determined by outside factors, as well as organic factors in regards to the individual horse. How old is the horse? How heavy is it? How heavy is the rider? Is it also carrying cargo, like armor and camping supplies? Is it working on a farm and pulling a plow? If so, what quality is the soil? Has it been plowed before? Does the farmer own more than one horse? Is it hot outside? Is the horse going up and downhill? Is it fly season? Is the ground rocky? Are there burrowing animals in the area? Is there clay in the soil? Did it rain recently? How well-kept are the roads? Are there roads to use? What time of year is it- Aaaaaaah!

Ultimately, the answer is: A horse can work as long as it's willing to, and as long as its owner/handler judges is safe for the horse. A horse may be able to pull an old-fashioned plow through well-tilled soil for most of a cool morning before needing a break to cool down, eat, and rehydrate. It takes the judgment of the person commanding the horse when to call for a break or a full-stop to working for that horse by observing how tired it is (is it panting? Sweating? Slowing down? Are there any signs of strain in the hooves or legs?) or if it's in any way injured or in pain. The same applies with traveling long distances: It's up to the rider's judgment and how forgiving the environment is on the horse's body. In some cases, a riding horse may not be able to be ridden safely if the road is too treacherous or uneven for the horse to handle balancing its own weight and the rider's. In those cases, it's better for the rider to get off the horse and gently lead them through the bad terrain until it smooths out.

Also... horses can just... choose to quit. Some are quite sassy or very clear about their boundaries, and if they don't feel motivated or get too bored, they won't cooperate at all. The only way to deal with this is by letting them go do their own thing in the paddock until they decide they wanna cooperate again. Abusive people my try to whip or spur a horse into working past its limits, but humane people just let the guys take a break.

-Two adult people can ride on the same horse for a long time. GOD NO. PLEASE GOD NO. DO NOT DO THIS. PLEASE DO NOT EVER, EVER DO THIS.

Horses can only safely carry a maximum of about 30% of their total body weight on their backs without risking severe spinal damage, if not a broken spine altogether. A Thoroughbred - the iconic racing horse - typically maxes out at about 1,000lbs total in weight as an adult. Thoroughbreds are fairly tall compared to other fast, hot-blooded horses, like Arabians. That means that, at best, a perfectly healthy, not-too-old, not-too-young Thoroughbred horse would not be able to carry a total weight of more than about 450lbs, including the weight of its saddle and other tack, supplies carried by the rider, armor or other gear worn by the rider, and the impacts of gravity and the shocks of the rider's weight on the horse's back when it's moving at any speed. In the vast majority of cases, two adults cannot safely ride on the same horse for more than a very short distance before the horse enters the danger-zone for suffering severe and permanent spinal damage that can result in euthanasia. An adult carrying a baby or toddler is different, but two adults? Please don't. Please. Even if you're getting married and the owner of the super-huge pretty draft horse you're renting to take a gallant shared ride with your spouse with for pictures that reassures you it's fine, do not do it. Please just rent a carriage or pay extra for two horses. Please.

-A paddock with grass is all a horse needs to meet its nutritional needs. If that were true, horses would still be kept as pets more commonly around the world than they actually are. Unfortunately, to really thrive in the wild, horses need hundreds, if not thousands, of hectares of territory they can freely travel around in, while most paddocks are rarely larger than 10-20 acres when you're not talking about generational wealth or land. One of the reasons domestically-raised horses are almost entirely dependent on humans for food is due to the restricted spaces they're kept in. Grass only produces nutrition when the soil itself is fertile, and we humans don't necessarily have the natural ability to sense when soil is too nutrient-deprived for the plant life growing from it to be enough to provide just one horse with the vitamins and minerals they need on a daily basis to be healthy.

Another fact largely lost to history is that, back when most families had to farm to survive, farmers would store green leaves from various healthy and tasty trees and bushes in the boughs of other trees within their cattle paddocks and fields. By doing this, it kept large amounts of pests like rats from infesting the leaves, and keeping the cut branches and leaves stored within other leafy trees actually kept the greens fresher much longer than if they were stored on the ground or in a storage room. Horses would then graze from the leaves in the trees above their heads as well as the grass.

Stable hands and private owners keep rigorous dietary routines tailored to the needs of each individual horse. We're usually up and feeding the horses by dawn at the latest. The horses are usually given a few scoops of oats (not too much, because oats bloat up when they absorb liquid, and too much of that can give a horse colic), carrots and other vegetables for extra vitamins, salt licks (which are infused with extra minerals like a giant multivitamin), and even vitamin tablets/powder that goes straight into their dinner hay or alfalfa. Vets are essential for evaluating a horse's specific nutritional needs, so horses can actually get "prescriptions" for specific ingredients in their regular meals given to us from licensed large animal veterinarians, and not just a wealthy owner's best guess.

-Horses can throw up. Nope! It's not even physically possible for a horse to spit up food! That's part of why stable hands and owners have to be so careful in maintaining a regular, stable, healthy diet for their horses and keep their pastures and paddocks checked for toxic substances like poisonous plants that a horse may not know is toxic, or notice in the grass it's munching on.

Because they have such long necks and tall legs, horses need special muscles in their upper GI tracts in order to graze and drink water without constantly choking and fighting gravity. By having an esophagus that's one-way-only, as well as a muscle that clamps their stomachs shut at the top called a French Tie, horses hold down anything they swallow, even if it's enough to kill them.

-Horses are the best farm animals for a pre-industrial setting. Goodness no! Not at all! In fact, horses didn't start really replacing oxen on farms until the dawn of Draft Horses in the Victorian Era in the West. While many Eastern countries still retain the use of oxen for farming, Western European farmers fell prey to what we all dread: Peer pressure.

When Draft Horses started to appear in the scene in formal horse fancier associations, they were readily advertised as being excellent replacements for oxen (neutered male cows; so, a bull that has no balls). Oxen can be very stubborn, yet affectionate animals, and newer farmers often struggle more with handling oxen compared to horses. The Victorian Era saw a small boom in private farms, and so there became an increasing demand for "easy" farm cattle for newbie farmers to employ.

The other factor that played into horses replacing oxen in Western farming was clout. Horses are more expensive than oxen and generally seen as more prestigious to own. So, farmers often wound up "upgrading" from oxen to horses when their financial means allowed them to. The problem was that, in order to do the same amount of farm work with horses, you need more horses to replace exhausted or injured horses throughout each working day compared to how many more oxen you need to swap out throughout a day of heavy labor. But, nonetheless, horses took over for being "more trainable" and "more intelligent" than oxen (admittedly, oxen can be trickier to work with, but that does NOT mean that horses do a better job at hard field labor), and the Western oxen training industry has almost completely gone extinct.

Really, oxen do a lot better at extremely heavy jobs like tilling and plowing soil for growing crops and hauling large, heavy weights. Because oxen have cloven (two) hooves, they're a lot better at gripping the terrain and avoiding injury to their feet when they're working hard at awkward angles or on rough terrain. Oxen also pack on a lot more muscle and fat around their entire bodies, and so they have fewer vulnerable zones that can become irreparably damaged from exerting a lot of muscle power. Horses, only having a single hoof, can be rendered completely incapable of working or even running just from fracturing a hoof or stepping on a sharp object, like a nail.

-Any leg injury means instant euthanasia. No! No, no, no! There are lots of ways to treat a variety of injuries and illnesses that present in a horse's leg or foot. Especially nowadays, thanks to advances in all forms of prosthetics and 3D printing, horses are euthanized less and less for increasingly severe leg injuries courtesy of prosthetics and mobility aids! Some advances have been made so far that a horse that loses the lower portion of its leg can live a healthy life with a prosthetic!

Don't believe me?

Even in history, there have been treatments for leg and foot ailments for horses used before any talk of euthanasia is brought up. Remember: horses are often beloved service animals to people, today and a thousand years ago! Would you jump straight to euthanizing not only your best friend, but your primary mode of transport, as well as your extraordinarily-expensive ESA?

It's only in cases of severe breaks in a leg bone that injury-related euthanasia is discussed for a horse. Smaller fractures and hoof damage can actually be treated and healed, especially with modern veterinary science, and some fractures can be so successfully treated that a horse can return to riding and competing after recovering!

-Bits are cruel.

Look. There's one person that raked me over the coals in the replies for being ignorant in espousing bits as essential parts of a horse's bridle. I know who you are, and honestly, I feel the compassion you have for the animals... but you're still sipping a little much from PETA's kool-aid and did not convince me over to your side.

Yes, there are bridles that do not require bits to control a horse's head and communicate with it. Yes, there are riders that prefer them, and there are horses that can only be ridden with them due to bad experiences with bit-training or past dental problems. No, it's not cool to tut your fucking finger at me and call me ignorant when I assert that it's a very normal, standard part of tacking up and riding a horse, and the worst a bit can do is pinch the corner of a horse's lip or tongue if you are a jerk with your rein-etiquette. There are bits, just like I observed with spurs, that are specifically designed not to hurt or cause any distress to the horse, so if the person that dumped on me in the last post reads this one: Calm the fuck down and go take yourself on a walk along with your horse. Have an apple. You've clearly been in your stall too long.

As I was saying: Yes, there are different kinds of bits that are specifically designed not to harm a horse. Sometimes horses with smaller mouths or wrinklier lips (it's a thing) can have a hard time with specific bits due many of them sporting hinges where they wrap around out of the horse's mouth and connect to the bridle. This can be easily addressed by switching to a different kind of bit that's less harsh and more flexible for the sake of a horse's comfort, or getting rid of a bit altogether and swapping to bitless bridles. Ironically, I've met horses that actually stim with their bridles; they play with the bits with their tongues when they're excited before an event, kinda like they're grinding their teeth.

And yes, some horses can still have bad sensory issues with bits, and can need bitless bridles, and that's okay! The important thing about bridles in general is that they're the primary way a rider can communicate with the horse's head and show them where they want to go. As with riding, horses tend to go in the direction their heads are facing; they don't usually walk while looking sideways, but rather stand still to look sideways before turning back to the direction they want to go in to walk or run. A lot of riders are taught the phrase, "Head like a princess, hips like a whore," as a reminder to keep their hips loose and moving with the horse, but their heads focusing on where they want the horse to go, rather than looking at the scenery. Most riders, even those that are very experienced, can get distracted and accidentally put a little too much pressure on the horse's bridle and side in the direction of where they're looking, and that causes the horse to go off course, too.

-Horseshoes are incredibly painful and must be replaced only when absolutely necessary. Not at all! A horse's hoof is basically like a gigantic fingernail. While the inner core of the hoof, which is typically concave with a V shape in the middle and needs cleaning by stable hands on a regular basis to keep gunk, debris, and dangerous stuff like nails out of their feet is vulnerable to pain and injury, the rest of the hoof is literally a giant fingernail! A ferrier specializes at grooming a horse's hooves and trimming them so they don't overgrow (which can happen if they spend a lot of time on soft surfaces like grass), and many ferriers also specialize at setting and replacing horseshoes. A horseshoe specifically sits around the outer edge of a horse's hoof - specifically where a hoof is least sensitive and most likely to split or become damaged while riding and lead to infection and pain later - where the horse has no nerve endings. The nails that go into the horseshoe to hold it in place are actually very short and narrow at the tips, and only go into the solid nail a couple of inches into that same nerveless outer edge. The shortest horseshoe nails I've seen used are only 1.5 inches, or 4cm, and the largest around 2 inches, or 5cm and the worst a horse feels when a shoe is being set or replaced is a dull thudding from the tapping of the small hammer used to set the nails. A horse can literally go right back to business after their shoes are fitted, although a ferrier may recommend having them spend some quiet time in their stall for a couple of hours to really make sure the shoes are set properly and the horse is comfortable if something like a trip caused the original shoe to come off (the technical term is "casting a shoe").

My evening meds are kicking in, so I'll stop this very, very long sequel here.

As before, feel free to send me asks with more questions. I'm sure there are even more things I'm too sleepy to remember right now, and this post is running incredibly long.

[lucy90712]

Can you do something like comforting Jude after losing the league

WC: 2.0k

It's been an up and down season but it has all come down to the last game. For Dortmund to win the title they really need to win this game as otherwise it's out of their hands. I believe in the team but I must admit I'm quite nervous for the game as it's a lot of pressure and Bayern always seem to pull out results when they need them. As much as I'm nervous I've been trying to keep those feelings suppressed and seem calm on the outside as I know Jude is way more nervous than I am and I want to try and keep him as calm as possible. All day he's been pacing around the house completely in his own world which I understand but I wish he would just sit down and talk to me so I can maybe help calm him down. 

Jude so desperately wants the team to win the title as it would mean so much to the club and he would love to win with them before moving on to another team. Knowing that he's injured and can't play I don't think is helping as he's just going to have to watch everything from the bench hoping the team can do it without him. It's the worst possible time for Jude to be out and I know he's beating himself up over it as he's been playing while not fully fit and that's put him out at a vital point of the season. Jude has been so important for the team this year but they can do it without him and they will have to. 

He left before me to get to the stadium early with the team like always but I too left early as I couldn't bare to sit around at home anymore and I wanted to see Jude before the game kicked off. When I arrived I made it in easily as the security know who I am so they let me in no problem and I headed towards the locker room while texting Jude to get him to come out. He was waiting for me outside by the time I made it up the corridor and when he saw me he put his arms out which I ran into to give him the hug he clearly wanted. Jude has never held me so tightly which told me all I needed to know about how he was feeling without even asking. I let him hold onto me for as long as he wanted before pulling away and giving him some last words of encouragement and some kisses that I hoped would make him feel at least a little bit better.

The game had not long started when news came that Bayern had scored and were already 1-0 up meaning the team had to win if they wanted to keep first place. It only got worse a few minutes later when the team conceded a goal but luckily the fans still seemed hopeful and kept cheering which motivated the team. Things got worse with dortmund conceding another goal before half time but afterwards things got slightly better with them getting one back. While all of this was going on I was watching Jude sat on the bench biting his nails which I've only seen him do before his first game at the World Cup so I knew he was incredibly nervous. I sat with my fingers crossed so tightly it was hurting but I didn't care it would be worth it if they won. Soon everyone's prayers were answered when it was announced that it was now a draw in the Bayern game. The fans went crazy and the belief that this could be the year was felt by everyone but you could tell there was still nerves in the air as anything could happen.

As the clock ticked on the excitement was only building in the stadium that was until everyone spirit was crushed. Bayern and Musiala got a last minute goal putting them back ahead and giving them the title. The fans tried to keep believing but it was clear that despite a miracle there was no way they were going to win the title this year. The atmosphere changed so quickly from excitement to pure despair that yet again the team were second best. Just before the end of the game a consolation prize in the form of an equaliser came but it wasn't enough although they were on the same points Bayerns goal difference was better giving them the title. It was hard to believe it until the final whistle came but then it really sunk in as I watched all the players drop to the floor. 

I was mostly in shock until I saw Jude sit down on the pitch with tears in his eyes seeing him so upset just broke me and I couldn’t stop tears leaving my own eyes. It was so hard to watch Jude so upset but I knew that he needed me so I wiped the tears from my eyes and did my best to stay strong. As soon as I was allowed I ran onto the pitch and straight to Jude to sit down on the pitch next to him. I took hold of his hand to let him know I was there and because I didn't want to smother him if he just wanted to sit and be alone. He clearly wanted some comfort as he rested his head on my shoulder so I held him while he cried into my neck. After a while I got him to look up and wiped the tears from his face but they were quickly replaced my new ones. 

"I'm sorry I know how much you wanted it but you did all you could you have worked so hard all season" I said 

"But we could've done better just one more win at some point this season would have been enough even a draw" he said 

"If it were that easy you guys would have got those results in the first place it just wasn't meant to be but that doesn't take away from everything you have achieved this season" I said 

"You're right it just hurts that we lost it so late on" he admitted 

"Don't think of it that way think about how you pushed until the very last seconds" I said trying to cheer him up

He simply nodded his head and got up from the ground to go and talk with his teammates and thank the fans. He pulled me up with him and we walked around together still hand in hand like we have been since I sat down with him. Of course there were lots of cameras around which I was very aware of as I tried to stop them filming Jude as much as I could. As we walked around Jude noticed one camera that was coming towards us and he put his hand over the lens and pushed the camera away a bit. I mouthed an apology as we continued walking because I didn't want for people to hate on Jude for doing that but I didn't really mean it as they shouldn’t have been trying to film him in this moment. It was clear that it was hard for him to try and thank the fans but he still did it as the team would be nowhere without the fans and he really does appreciate them. 

The entire team stayed out on the pitch for quite a while but eventually they headed inside to shower and change and I went back to the car to wait for Jude. While waiting I got my phone set up with a playlist of his favourite songs as that sometimes helps cheer him up although I don't think it will work in this situation it's worth trying. I also ordered some of his favourite food as I don't want to cook and I thought he would enjoy it especially now he doesn't have to be quite so strict with his diet. Just as I ordered the food the door of the car opened and Jude put his bag in the back before getting into the passenger seat. He looked so defeated but he still gave me a smile and a kiss on my cheek. 

When we made it home Jude went upstairs to change into comfier clothes and I collected the food so it was ready for us to eat as soon as he came back down. We ate and then I laid down on the sofa and encouraged Jude to lay on top of me which he did straight away and cuddled as close as he could to me. I played with his hair with one hand as while he held the other twisting my rings which he always likes to do with his favourite being the promise ring he gave to me on our anniversary as it has an engraving on the bottom of the band. He hummed as I continued to scratch his head and he even had a real smile on his face which made me happy as I was worried that I wouldn't be able to get him to smile for a few days. 

As he was smiling I wanted to take advantage of it so I stopped playing with his hair and started tickling him which had him laughing and trying to get away from me in seconds. He hates being tickled but it always makes him laugh in a way that just fills me with so much joy. I was planning to tickle him for a bit and then stop when he seemed like he'd had enough but all of a sudden he flipped the both of us over and started tickling me instead. I'm extremely ticklish so every second was torture but Jude was happy so I let him torture me for a while. It felt like an eternity but eventually he stopped tickling me and left me resting on his chest where he instead started assaulting my face with kisses. Seeing Jude happy again was such a relief I remember after the World Cup he was feeling down for weeks and I didn’t want that to happen again as it was a tough time for both of us. 

At some point we both settled down and there was silence again as this time I laid on Jude’s chest as he brushed through my hair with his hands. It was quite obvious that the longer we were in silence the more Jude’s mind was able to drift and the smile he had started to slowly fade. I had to do something but I felt like I had exhausted all the options I had thought of and all I had left was trying to talk to him but I don’t know if that’s going to work. 

“You know I’m so proud of you” I said 

“Thanks babe” he muttered 

“I’m serious I couldn’t be prouder to be able to call you my boyfriend you are just so amazing” I said 

“And I’m incredibly lucky to be able to call you my girlfriend I don’t know what I’d do without your support and your pretty face is a bonus” he teased

“Well I enjoy looking at your pretty face too” I said 

We teased each other for a while longer before we both started to get tired so I suggested we go to bed. He carried me up the stairs and we got into bed together where any normal night we cuddle slightly but not too much as Jude gets too hot when we cuddle. Tonight however he pulled me to his chest and wrapped his arms around me tightly. After the emotional rollercoaster of the last few hours I was exhausted but I stayed awake long enough to know that Jude was sound asleep and when he was I gave him one last kiss before settling down to get some sleep myself.

[merakiui]

Hello!!! I've been following you for a while, but this is my first ask >.< but I saw your friends with benefits dialog post and couldn't help thinking of reader being in a fwb situation with any of the octotrio (I personally like to think jade) with the dialog from reader being "i didn't know who else to call. you're all i've got right now." I like to think the octotrio are very protective, especially if they have developed feelings for the reader. Like, imagine that there is some dude that just won't leave reader alone and they don't feel safe. Just the thought of them taking us in and taking care of our "problem" has me orz

o o o o oo oooo overprotective Jade........ this is such a good thought, anon!!

(fwb dialogues)

When you see him, it's like the snow has melted away and flowers have sprung from cold, cracked earth. Jade Leech is, by all accounts, the last person you'd ever want to see after your inadvisable run-ins with him, but he's reliable. A little too reliable, admittedly. He looks like he rushed to get here, his coat buttoned haphazardly and his hat placed crookedly on his head. It's hard to believe the always-patient, ever-so-perfect Jade could forget to uphold that façade after your brief phone call.

For a short while, the both of you stare at the other. A frigid breeze blows between you, and you push past the few passersby on the pathway to reach him. He's in the process of saying something, but it's your arms thrown around him that abruptly cut him off. Relieved tears gather in your eyes, and you hold on tightly.

"I... I didn't know who else to call. You're all I've got right now," you whisper into his wool coat. "Sorry. I know you're busy."

Jade's arms close around you in reciprocation. "I'll always make time for you."

You're not used to this treatment. Neither is he. You've only ever known surface-level physicality. Emotions have always been shelved in favor of indulging in fleeting, present-day pleasures. You never go any deeper than you must.

Tonight's different.

Still reeling, nerves frazzled, you relay the story in a shaky mumbling. "I went to dinner with a classmate and we were only going to talk about the semester project, but then he started... It just got weird and I hid in the bathroom, and I had no idea what to do. Without thinking I called you and you answered and... And—"

Jade rubs soothing circles into your back. His touch is soothing, grounding you in the moment. It smooths out all of the icky feelings you'd previously been at war with, replacing every frightened imagining with something bright and beautiful.

"There's no need to push yourself. I understand the story well enough."

"Thanks..." You sniffle and slowly draw away, patting his coat for good measure. "For coming, I mean. I really didn't think you would."

Jade frowns. "I wouldn't ignore you in your time of need."

"Yes, you would—" You stop yourself. He's never once left a message on read. He always returns missed phone calls. And now, holding you in his arms, he's come to your aid.

Despite everything—all of the pointless promises for something with no strings attached—he cares. He always has and he always will.

"Ah. Um. Then I guess I owe you one."

Jade's mismatched eyes flick from you to the restaurant and then back. An emotion you can't quite decipher passes over his face, and he seems to be assessing something in silence. Eventually, his expression clears and he offers you a cordial smile.

"I assume you haven't eaten yet?"

"Are you kidding? Of course not! I can't go back in there and eat with that creep!"

His smile widens, and for once you trust that more than you've ever trusted anything before.

"Well, if you aren't opposed to it, we could get dinner at one of my favorite places. It's not too far from here. My treat."

You stare at him, shocked. This is new. You've never gone to dinner with him before. "Wait, really? You're serious?"

"There's no punchline to my words. So, yes, I'm quite serious."

"And you're not just asking because you want sex?"

Jade's lips drop into a disappointed moue. It's an expression you've yet to see on him. "Your lack of faith in me is woefully astounding. Must I wear a collar for you to recognize my loyalty?"

You roll your eyes, shoving him playfully. "Yeah, yeah. I get it. You're being honest." Heaving an exhausted breath, you slide out of his arms. "Okay, fine. Dinner sounds good."

He perks up, visibly pleased. "In that case, please wait here. There's one minor issue I must see to and then we can be off."

"Huh? Where are you going?"

"To say hello to your classmate." His smile is no longer the soft, sweet thing it once was. Now it's razored with malice, and it fills his eyes with a scheming sort of darkness. "I won't be long."

"Right..."

Amidst the wintry air and the confusion, you feel strangely fuzzy inside. You're sure it's just a side effect of encroaching hypothermia. Definitely nothing else.

Mysteriously, your classmate drops out of the course and you're left to finish the project on your own. But perhaps that was for the best. When asked what he said, Jade feigns innocence and speaks in convenient embellishments. Best not to press the matter any further.

[starfirewildheart]

Scars and Souvenirs

Chapter 19

Summary: Sy and his lady both retire from the army but not before tragedy befalls Sy. He slowly tries to adjust to life again on their ranch.

Pairing: Sy / OFC

Word count: 2,206

Rating: mentions of war; being a POW, death, talk of trafficking, forced prostitution and assault.

Chapter 19

~~~I was in the hospital for the last 6 days. I had hoped I'd have loads of time to write but in reality I spent that time being a human pin cushion, being sick from meds or having tests. Thanks for being patient with me!~~~

Sy paced impatiently back and forth in the small observation room as he watched Mike through the two way mirror. He'd argued Mike's plea to Walt and the attorneys and they finally relented, though of course there was a cost. Mike wouldn't be allowed to testify at trial after this but they all understood why he needed to do this. He also wanted to do this without Sy or Walt in the room so the compromise was using an interrogation room so they could be close by and see them at all times. He just hoped Mike got the answers he was looking for.

~~~~~~☆~~~~~~

Mike looked up when the door opened. A deputy led Mitch Holmes into the room and cuffed him to the metal ring in the center of the table then left again. Another man, dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase entered. “As agreed on, there will be no recordings, nothing said will be admissible under any circumstances, for anything.  I want it to be known that my client is doing this as an act of kindness and can stop at any time he chooses.” He looked at Mike then at the two way mirror where he knew Walt and Sy were before closing the door and leaving father and son alone while he joined the others behind the glass. 

“Are you OK? I was worried when I heard what happened to you.” Mitch was laying it on thick acting like father of the year. “I can't believe the court let you get involved with that damn man and woman who got you hurt!” He had no idea how much Mike had been told about his involvement in what happened but since he wanted to visit him he doubted that he knew much. Now was time to try and throw Sy and Deb under the bus. If he could get Mike to hate them then he might have a chance with the court. 

“Y..you were worried about me?”

“Of course I was! I should never have agreed to let them take you.”

“The court agreed, not you,” Mike reminded him.

“I've always told you that the court don't give a shit about us and that nosey assed cop neither!” Mitch complained. 

“So, do you have anything you want to ask me?’ when Mitch looked at him like he'd grown a third head he continued. “You've spent your time talking about and blaming everyone but not a single word about you or even me. Why is that?”

“I was talking about how they let you get kidnapped and hurt, Mike. You.. you're not still mad at me over boxin’ your ears when you drank my whiskey are ya? Cause you deserved that,” Mitch shook his finger at him.

Mike shook his head to clear it wondering if he'd somehow ventured into some alternate dimension of crazy. After a few minutes something dawned on him. Walt and Sy had told Mike that Mitch had been held in isolation since being arrested and the only thing he'd been told about Mike was that he'd been rescued and was alive. Mitch had no idea that Mike knew it was him that sold his son to the gang. Sitting up straight Mike leaned closer to the table. “You're a worthless junkie who couldn't pay off his debts so instead of dealing with it like a man, which you aren't, you SOLD me to them! You sold me for the cost of your own fucking habits KNOWING  what they were going to use me for.” 

“You don't talk to me like that!” Mitch snapped.

“Or what? You gonna hit me some more,  Mitch?” He let the sound of the last two letters in his name draw out. “That will never happen again.” Mike stood up and paced around the small room successfully making Mitch antsy and uncomfortable before coming to a stop facing the mirror in front of where Sy was standing on the other side. “When I started trying to arrange this meeting wanted to talk to you about a lot of stuff because I was going to demand answers. The moment I saw you though I realized you would never tell me the truth about anything. You would try to manipulate me to get what you want but nothing more.” He turned to face Mitch. “That being said, what I do want to say,” he sat down and leaned on the table. “I just wanted to say that I hope your prison stay is everything you deserve it to be and I have some friends now that will help me make sure that your cell mates know that you're available to work off your own debts now. Granted I'm sure you won't bring the same price I would have but they will just have to whore you out twice as much.”

“You little fuck!” Mitch growled and tried to lunge for him. Mike was much too fast and moved out of reach.

~~~~~~♡~~~~~~

Geralt watched intently as the doctor force bent Debbie's knee, ready to jump in if he felt he needed to but the woman was tough. There were tears in her eyes and she had his hand squeezed so tight he could hear the bones creak but she did exactly what she had to do.

“I'm impressed with how well you're doing. Incision is healing nicely and I'm going to start your physical therapy this week. Once they get your leg strength built back up…”

“You're going to do another surgery and then I start all over?” She interjected. 

“Not all over but re-healing, yes. Remember it is going to be a long road but we will get there!” 

“I'll get there…” She mocked as the door shut behind him, throwing a roll of tape in frustration. 

Geralt arched his brow at her and tisked but had to bite his lip when she blushed at his mild scolding. The nurse came in and fit a new brace on her leg. It was shorter and had locks so that she could start to bend the knee slowly and not cause damage. Finally, after setting up physio, the next doctor appointment and getting blood work done they made it out to the truck to head home. “Hungry little one?”

“Starving,” She nodded. 

“Pizza, burgers, Mexican, Chinese?” He listed off nearby options. 

“Chinese,” her stomach growled loudly.

When they were seated and placed their orders Deb sipped on a soda then twirled the straw in the bubbly liquid. “You and Sy are really close. He always talked about you but now that we've met on person I can tell the feelings are mutual.” Geralt took a drink of his water waiting to see where this was going. “None of you have girlfriends. Why?”

“A few of us have had in the past. Napoleon often has a female companion but not for long periods. Will has a girl back where he calls home.” 

“You don't agree with attachments though? You think they are an exploitable weakness.” She looked  down at her plate. 

He pondered carefully before answering.  “I think anything that we love or care about has the potential to be used against us. If the person is evil enough or ruthless enough they will exploit anything.”

“I don't want to be a weakness,” She sighed softly.  “I already have been though, for all of you. He called you to help him but if not for me he wouldn't have needed to.” 

“Don't do anything stupid,” he leveled his eyes at her.

“I'm not, i.. I just don't want to be a reason he gets hurt. I want to be an asset not a burden.” She munched a spring roll. 

~~~~~~☆~~~~~~

Sy stretched his back as he walked through the barn with Mike. It had been a crazy day that started with them and their attorney arguing with Mitch's attorney on whether or not Mike could even see him. Once they met most of Mitch's demands, around four in the afternoon, then it was finally 

tiime for the meeting. “Did you get what you wanted out of the meeting?” He asked Mike.

Mike scratched Rose's snout and neck. “I wanted him to explain why he would do all this to me? Why does he hate me so much that he would sell me to someone who was going to pimp me out? Why?” His voice rose as he turned to face Sy. “What about me is so fucking broken that….” He choked up and spun to the left punching a wall in frustration. 

Sy went to him and pulled him into a hug but quickly let go when Mike fought against it. “Kid you're not the one who's broken, he is. Your old man has an addiction but it's more than that. Mitch is,” he struggled to find the right words. “He's a monster. He is the one who disappointed you, who let you down.”

“No one else ever saw that.” Mike demanded.

“Because it's true,” Sy stood firm. 

“And what about Debbie and everything that happened to her because of me?” He yelled. “She nearly died because you both tried to help me!”

“What? Mike, no, that wasn't your fault. You and Deb both got caught up in something that you had no control over. You didn't do this to her anymore than she did it to you.”

“They took us because Mitch sold me!”

“Walter pulled Deb and I in on the gang case. We got involved knowing the risks, kid. You two happened to be together so they took you both. Your old man set it up, sure but they took her hoping to get information about our investigation.”

“He's right,” Deb said as she limped over to them on her crutches. When they pulled up they saw Sy's truck by the barn and stopped. “Truth be told, we all try to protect each other from bad stuff and sometimes end up making it worse. Sy was working with Walt and shut me out of the investigation trying to protect me. On my end all I saw was him secretly texting and calling some random woman, sneaking off to meet her in secret. Instead of talking to him about it I threw myself into my work which got me involved with the corrupt detective. I convinced myself that what Lindy said about me not being enough for Sy was true and was trying to distance myself so it wouldn't be such a shock when he left me.” It was the first time she'd said some of that out loud. Sy was looking at her like she was from Mars and Mike looked like he wanted it to be true. “I don't even pretend that I have all the answers any more because the truth is that I'm more worried now than ever but the few things I do know, I'm sure of. Love gets you hurt whether it's unintentionally or not. Loving someone makes you a point of weakness for them and leaves them open to getting hurt. What is the alternative? We've all found each other and formed bonds which I think we are weaker without. If we run away from each other then we're vulnerable and will do anything to find each other.” She scrubbed her hands over her face in frustration.  “I can't make you believe the truth any more than I can force you to stay here if you're determined to leave. None of this was your fault and I hope you believe that, Mike.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead, “and we want you here.”

Everything broke through Mike's walls at once and they crumbled. He wrapped his arms around Deb and buried his face against her shoulder and neck as the dam broke and he sobbed. He sobbed for his past, his childhood, his asshole father, his mom that left him and all the shit that happened recently. He cried until he had no tears left. He felt Sy's arms around him as well, helping comfort him. When the tears finally stopped and his heart rate came back down he felt completely drained. They must have been standing there for quite awhile because his legs were aching and going numb. 

The three of them headed back to the house. Mike was so drained he went to lay down for a nap before dinner. Debbie headed to the kitchen and grabbed her pain pills tossing a couple in her mouth then going to the fridge to get some water to rinse them down before bending down to try and grab an ice pack from the freezer. Sy's big hand reached in front of her and got the pack.

“What did the doctor say?”

She told him everything as they went to set on the sofa. It didn't take long between the exhaustion and the meds that she fell into a fitful sleep.

Tag List

@shellyshellshell

@enchantedbytomandhenry

@mrsevans90

@summersong69

@mollymal

@warriormirkwood

@bloodyinspiredme

@kneelforloki

@liecastillo

@mollymal

[thebearmage]

Ninjago - The Elements

Pt 2 - coming soon!

This has been something on my mind for a LONG time, so I wanted to write it out, just for me, just for the fucks, just because I CAN. This is my explanation of the continuity errors revolving around Ninjago's Elements/Elemental masters.

We all know that Ninjago has continuity errors due to the show running for many years, adapting over time, adding/taking away concepts, and making new characters to sell toys (we all know that's what's happening a LOT of the time).

Now, the MAIN error that I personally focus on revolves around the Elements - mainly the four main Ninja. How do their powers work? Are they from Lloyd, their parents, the Golden Weapons...what? Why are there so many NEW elements?

I believe I have answers to those questions. Just as a reminder, this is my personal headcanon, not fact.

This post will focus on the Ninjas' elements: Fire, Earth, Ice, Lighting, Water, and Energy. There are a couple of errors to tackle here.

First, where do the four main elements come from?

I personally think their power comes from their parents, passed down from parent to child from the First Spinjitzu Master. The Golden Weapons act as conductors, like Thor and his hammer in the MCU - it's a way to harness their powers, to control it. It is NOT the source of their power. So, why did the Ninja lose their powers in Season 5 - Possession? Are their powers connected to Lloyd?

Yes, their powers are connected to Lloyd, with him being the grandson of the FSM and Green Ninja, but their powers were never SUPPOSED to be connected to him as strongly as in season 5.

I headcanon that when someone inherits an Elemental power, their body must adapt and change to host the power. You can't use its full strength right off the bat, or your body will give out (in this HC, this is why Cole's mother dies, used too much power too early).

Using conductors - like the Golden Weapons - allows a newbie Elemental Master to use their full power without many drawbacks. The longer you host a power, the more you learn how to control it, the more power you can use. You have to cross a few thresholds before you can wield an element properly - one of these thresholds is unlocking your true potential.

So, what does this have to do with Lloyd? In season 3, we see him give up his Golden Power to activate the Ninjas' powers. Well, the reason their power was so strongly connected to him was because he activated the powers too early.

The Ninja's bodies were not ready for the power input Lloyd gave them, so instead of drawing power from the Ninja, the elements drew some power from Lloyd - for his element is Energy/Power itself. This is why Garmadon publicly disapproved of his son's decision; he knew what would happen.

The change was small enough that no one noticed it until Lloyd got possessed. For the Ninjas, it was like the power source was suddenly cut off, so they lost their powers.

Nya's body had already been trained due to her being Samurai X, so when she began her Elemental training, she progressed faster because her body could house more power. Lloyd never activated her powers, so her Element didn't draw energy from him. We can also argue that the four Elements of Creation are more powerful than the secondary elements, so she had less power to control - arguments can be made against this, though.

This would also explain why, when Lloyd lost his element or didn't have the energy to use it in Sons of Garmadon, the ninjas were still able to use theirs. By then, they had properly mastered their elements, so their powers no longer drew power from Lloyd.

Welp, that was part one of my little explanation rant. If I've missed anything, or it turns out everything was explained in the new seasons and I haven't seen it, tell me! In part two, I will talk about the secondary elements, their creation, their uses, and how new ones are just NOW popping up.

[sister-lucifer]

Teacher’s Pet(s)

toby x male reader x tim

reader uses he/him and has a penis 

genre: smut, some fluff

content/warnings: college au, tim is a professor but everyone is adults, threesome, dub con if you squint but not really reader is just nervous and shy, they do it on the nasty school floor which i think should be a warning 

To avoid any confusion, in my headcanons Toby has a stutter as well as but separate from his tourette’s. I am not writing his tics, I am writing his stutter.

When you heard your professor was being replaced, you immediately became worried. What if the new professor was mean? What if he was lazy? What if he was always late? 

What if, what if, what if? 

But Timothy Wright was none of those things. He was always on time, he made sure that everyone understood the material no matter what, and he always went the extra mile. He was perfect, and you always made an effort to tell him how much you appreciate him. 

When Tim heard that he and Toby were going undercover at a college to collect data on one of the students, he groaned. What if he had to deal with noisy kids? What if there was needless drama that Toby would undoubtedly get caught up in? What if their target was some annoying bimbo with a hollow skull? 

But that certainly wasn't you. On the contrary, you were an absolute sweetheart; you wanted nothing more than to help, and you made Toby so happy. Ever since the first day they both showed up, you'd never questioned Toby's tics or odd little habits, and you'd always stay after class in case Mr. Wright needed any help. 

Toby wasn't particularly thrilled about the mission either. His only memories of school were bad ones. What if he got made fun of? What if he got angry and blew their cover? What if being around you was unbearable? 

But none of those things happened. Instead, the first time Toby walked into class, his eyes immediately locked onto your smiling face. When he was done awkwardly introducing himself, you stood up and waved.

 "There's an empty seat next to me, Toby!" And, of course, he took it. You never looked at him funny when he twitched, and you never laughed at him when he stuttered or struggled to express his thoughts. Instead, you'd gently grab his hand and say, "It's alright, take your time. The words will still be there when you're done." 

They both adored you. 

Luckily for both them and you, it wasn't looking like you were very interested in the slenderman myth, let alone urban legends. But, even though they were sure you didn't know anything, they were still supposed to see this mission to the end, so they were sticking around a little longer. 

"Woah, Toby, are those your drawings?" You half-whispered, trying not to talk over Tim's lecture. Toby nodded, wide-eyed. "They're amazing! I can't believe I've never seen them before. May I?" You gestured to his notebook. 

"Oh, uh, s-sure." 

After he handed you the book, he couldn't help but look down at the floor. You seemed genuinely amazed, whereas most people would be freaked out by his dark scribbles of ominous figures. It was a little embarrassing to have someone take such an interest in his work. 

"You've got a real talent, Toby." You said as you passed his book back to him.

 "Um–thanks." He responded quietly, lifting the collar of his turtleneck to cover up his reddening face. "Usually, people think my drawings are weird or scary," He muttered. 

"I think they're perfect." You replied, beaming. "Never stop drawing, Toby. You're gifted." 

He always thought you were beautiful, but he especially liked how you looked when you smiled at him. He couldn't remember the last time someone looked at him with as much admiration as you did. He couldn't describe the feeling it gave him, but it certainly wasn't a bad one. 

Despite how wholesome you were, even in such a sweet moment, his mind began to wander, as it always did when he looked at you for too long. Your perfect face was smiling at him now, but he was imagining it contorted in pleasure as he pounded into your–

The bell interrupted his thoughts.

"That's it for now, have a nice day, everyone," Tim said as he waved goodbye to all of the leaving students, immediately reaching for a stack of papers after. He had a lot to do, and he was already dreading it. Unfortunately, going undercover as a teacher meant he actually had to have something to show for it, or there would surely be suspicion. He sighed as he sat down in his chair, reminding himself that it would all be worth it once he and Toby's plan was set into motion, once they finally had you–

"Mr. Wright!" 

Your voice suddenly brought him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see you approaching his desk, Toby trailing a few steps behind you. 

"Oh, hello, you two." He said, only giving you a glance before picking up one of the papers in the stack. He sighed again, this time loud enough for you to hear. 

"You seem stressed, Mr. Wright. I'm free the rest of the day. Is there anything I could do to help?" You asked him almost every day, and he almost always refused, aside from a few minor errands like grabbing papers from the copying machine or helping him retrieve a book. This time, though, he nodded.

 "Actually, that would be very nice. I've got a lot to do." 

He watched your face light up as he spoke. You were such a teacher's pet. His gaze slowly fell from your eyes to your lips, taking in every move they made. Just like the rest of you, they were beautiful. Their shine caught the light just perfectly, and he couldn't help but imagine what they'd look like wrapped around his–

"If a-all you're going to be doing is chores, I'm out!" Toby called over his shoulder as he headed towards the door, flashing Tim a knowing smirk. "Have fun!" 

"Bye, Toby!" You replied, waving him goodbye. Tim didn't bother waving. You would all see each other again soon enough. 

"So, Mr. Wright, what can I help you with?"  

A couple hours had passed since class ended, and both you and Tim agreed you'd been rather productive. Tasks that usually would've taken him days, although it would've only taken less than one if he wasn't such an awful procrastinator, were done in fifteen minutes, and getting to be alone with you was certainly a bonus. 

"There's only one more thing, then I'll let you go free." He joked. 

"Don't talk like that, Mr. Wright; I'm here because I wanna be." You insisted, sliding a book back into its place on the shelf. Your words instantly replayed in his mind. 

You're here because you want to be. 

You want to be here. 

You want to be here with him. 

"What else do we need to do?" You asked, turning around and looking up at him. 

"Oh, uh, I need to get some papers from the copying room. I have a lot more than usual, so I figured an extra pair of hands would be helpful." 

He had hardly finished his sentence before you headed to the door, pausing to hold it open for him before you were both making your way down the hallway. A very comfortable silence fell over you both as you walked, simply enjoying each other's presence. Forcing any small talk would make it awkward. 

"After you," Tim said, opening the door to the copying room and stepping to the side for you. You gave him a polite nod as you passed, watching as he took the paper he'd brought with him and copied it. The machine beeped and whirred in protest. 

"Damn this old thing." He muttered, but it seemed that one good hit was enough to get it going again. "There are two copies per person in every class, so there's gonna be a lot. I really should've split the load, but, y'know…" He trailed off.

You managed to keep a conversation going for a few minutes before the door creaked behind you. You turned around to see Toby standing awkwardly in the doorway, and he waved when he locked eyes with you. 

"Toby? What are you doing here?" You asked. 

"Oh, I-I uh, left something in the classroom, and I s-saw you guys when I was passing by since the door was half-open. I figured I'd s-say hi."  

You accepted this explanation and turned back towards the machine. You didn't notice when Toby shut and locked the door behind him, and you didn't see the nod he exchanged with Tim. 

They were both ready. 

"So, what's up?" Toby asked, putting his chin on your shoulder. He expected you to pull away or tell him to cut it out, but you gladly accepted the gesture. 

"I'm helping Mr. Wright take some papers back to the classroom." You looked back up at Tim, and he instantly averted his eyes and pretended to inspect the papers. 

"Is that all?" Toby questioned, turning his head toward you a bit. You could feel his breath on your neck now. 

"Um, yeah. We've been doing work for a while, so–" 

Suddenly his arms were around your waist, dragging you back a few steps. 

"Booooring!" Toby groaned dramatically, and you couldn't help but laugh. 

“Toby, cut it out!" Usually, you'd love to see him being so sweet, but you were embarrassed that he chose to do it in front of a teacher. You wanted Tim to see you as a respectable, proper student.  

Tim didn't seem to react, though. He only glanced up for a moment, not even long enough for you to notice, before he was back to looking down at the papers. 

Suddenly Toby stopped laughing. He tightened his arms around you, pulling you close.

 "Toby?" You whispered meekly. 

"You know," He began, putting his chin on your shoulder again, nuzzling into your neck. He took a deep breath, inhaling your scent before he continued. "We h-hardly ever see each other outside of class-s." 

You looked over at Tim again. You noticed him looking at you before he began messing with the machine. 

Why wasn't he stopping him? 

He should have been yelling at Toby about school-appropriate behavior, but he let him continue. 

You were brought away from your thoughts when Toby's lips just ghosted over your neck. You flinched, and his small chuckle told you that he noticed.

 "Toby, stop it." 

"What's the matter? I'm f-finally being nice for once. I figured you'd l-like it." 

"That's not the issue, it's just–not right now, I'm busy, and Mr. Wright is–" 

You trailed off when you looked up to see Tim staring directly at you like he was waiting for you to finish. You couldn't. 

Suddenly he was walking towards you, and now you were stuck between him and Toby. Tim put a finger under your chin and lifted your head to look at him. "Mr. Wright?" 

"You can call me Tim." He corrected, his face stern as ever. He was much more intimidating like this, which sparked unease in you. 

Unease and another feeling you couldn't quite understand yet. 

"What's going on?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper, but neither answered. They were both too focused on you. Tim was entranced by how your lip quivered when you spoke, your voice laced with fear, and Toby began pressing firm kisses to your neck and shoulder that sent shivers down your spine. 

"Knees." Tim suddenly demanded. 

"What?" 

"Knees. Now." 

This time he put a hand on your shoulder and pushed you down. You didn't fight him; you couldn't make yourself. 

You didn't expect them to both follow you to the ground, Toby pushing you over onto all fours. Now your face was just inches away from Tim's, and you could feel his breath when he smirked and let a small chuckle slip past his lips. He grabbed your chin with a firm hand and looked into your eyes. 

"Just sit still, alright?" 

You didn't respond. You didn't even nod. You were still in shock. 

You'd hardly processed his words when you felt Toby's arms wrap around you once more, moving his hands to the zipper of your pants. You glanced down to see Tim's free hand fumbling with his belt, quickly sliding it out and tossing it to the side. His arousal was obvious already, and you could feel Toby's bulge against your backside as he leaned over you.

"I don't understand." You rasped out. You could feel your heartbeat in your chest; it was loud in your ears and made your breath heavy. 

When you felt Toby tugging your pants down, you panicked a bit, attempting to turn around, but Tim held you firmly in place. He didn't have to say anything; his stare was enough to make you freeze. You'd known him as a bit of a serious man, but this was completely new, and it lit a fire in you. 

He leaned in close, his lips so close to touching yours, and he paused for only a moment to see if you'd fight him. When you didn't, he kissed you, and when you still made no move to pull away, he kissed harder. 

It took a few moments before you realized what he'd done, and it took a few more for you to shyly attempt kissing back. Toby had your pants off now, and his hands were rubbing at your bulge, making you moan into the kiss. You heard him giggle behind you. Even in a moment like this, he was still a bit childish. You couldn't have expected anything else. 

Tim had unbuttoned his pants and was now hooking a thumb under the waistband of his boxers. He pulled away from the kiss as his erection finally sprang free, cursing under his breath. 

The hand on your chin moved to the back of your head.

 "Be a good little student and suck it."

"What?!" You yelped but got no response except for Tim pushing your head down. 

Toby scoffed as he watched you gawk at Tim's length. "I s-still can't believe you won the coin toss; I wanted his mouth," Toby whined, but he didn't complain anymore as he started tugging at your underwear. 

"C'mon," Tim urged, grabbing his cock and guiding it towards your mouth, keeping your head still with a grip on your hair. You hesitantly opened your mouth to wrap your lips around the tip. You looked up at him for approval, and when he nodded, you went further. He let you take your time; he could tell you'd never done this before. 

Toby, on the other hand, was not as keen on waiting. He had your underwear around your knees now. He popped two fingers into his mouth to get them wet before shoving them into you without warning. You yelped around Tim's cock, tears welling up in your eyes from the sudden intrusion. 

"H-Holy shit!" Toby muttered, quickly pumping his fingers in and out of you. "I can already feel how t-tight you are. It's gonna feel s-so good when I–"

"You're drooling, Rodgers." 

He looked up at Tim, ready to be mad about the interruption, before he realized that he was, in fact, drooling. He grumbled and wiped his face with his sleeve, immediately returning his attention to stretching you out. 

Tim's grip on your hair tightened, gently encouraging you to go further. You took the hint and went down as far as you could. "That's it," He praised quietly, biting his lip when you swirled your tongue around him. 

As much as you were trying to focus on Tim, Toby was making it difficult. He curled his fingers inside you, hitting as deep as he could. It wasn't long before he added a third finger, making scissoring motions and stretching you out. He was still searching for your sweet spot, and when he found it, you let him know by practically screaming around Tim's cock. Toby couldn't help but laugh at you. 

"Looks-s like I found something." 

He hit it again, harder this time, and you had to grip onto Tim's legs. 

Again, again, and again he curled his fingers to hit that perfect spot, loving the way you tensed around him when he did. Tim loved the way it made your eyes roll back in your head as you squealed and desperately gripped onto him for some sort of relief, though he provided none. 

Instead, he pushed your head down as hard as he could, forcing you to take him all the way. You choked, trying to protest, but there was no way to do so. Your legs were trembling now, your cock twitching every time Toby shoved his fingers back into you. 

As much as Toby loved watching you choke, he could only enjoy it for a minute before he remembered how impatient he was. 

"That's-s enough." He said, pulling his fingers out of you. Tim grumbled but nevertheless pulled you off his cock. You came off with a pop, dazed and out of breath. 

They only let you rest for a second before Tim pushed you back against Toby, bringing your legs up and over his shoulders. Then, Toby was back to devouring your neck from behind, ripping your shirt open and sending a couple of the buttons flying. Unfortunately, he didn't have the patience to take it off of you. 

"Toby!" You screamed, suddenly feeling the cold air hit your chest.

"I'll buy you a new one." 

The next moment Toby had his pants and boxers out of the way, and now they were both lining up at your entrance. 

"Wait, I'm not–! I'm not…" Your voice fizzled out when Tim leaned forward to kiss your forehead gently. His silent way of telling you everything would be okay, and you knew it. You sighed, reaching up to loosely wrap your arms around his neck. 

"Just relax," He whispered. You did relax as best you could, but it didn't last very long before they were both pushing into you. You almost screamed, but the sound got caught in your throat. Tim silenced you with another kiss, a surprisingly caring gesture compared to how they were forcing themselves into you. On the other hand, Toby loved watching you whimper and whine as you struggled to take them. It seriously inflated his ego. 

"Look at our p-pretty boy, he can hardly t-take it." He taunted before going back to marking you up. 

They only took a moment to rest once they had filled you completely.

"T-Tight–! so fuckin' tight!" Toby muttered against your skin. 

It didn't take long before they were both ready to go again, and before you knew it, they were pulling out, only to push back all the way. 

"It's too much!" You whined, but it did nothing to discourage them. At first, they were sloppy and uncoordinated but quickly found a steady pace. Just as one of them was pulling out, the other was slamming back into you. 

Toby couldn't keep his hands off any part of you. He was feeling around all over you, on your stomach, chest, legs, and anywhere his hands could reach. First, he would squeeze your thighs, then move to your chest, pinching your nipples, then his hands would be rubbing over your stomach, feeling the bulge his cock made inside you. 

"Aw, you're s-so tiny! I can feel it in your belly." He laughed, pressing softly on the bump. You let out a high-pitched moan, gripping Tim's shirt hard enough to tear.

While Toby was busy teasing you and spewing obscenities in your ear, Tim hadn't said a word. Instead, he'd kept a firm grip on you, only letting out a few low grunts here and there. 

You nearly lost your mind when he wrapped a hand around your cock. 

You threw your head back, moaning his name through heavy breaths. "Tim! Too much!" You whimpered, but it only made him pump your cock faster. 

Toby snickered at the way you squirmed, licking a long stripe up from your shoulder to your neck. 

"I-I can feel him tightening up," He panted. "Is o-our pretty boy gonna cum? Hm?" 

You nodded, unable to form words. Your mouth was wide open, tongue out as you panted. Toby drooled shamelessly over your shoulder, watching you fall apart. Neither you nor Tim cared enough to tell him to stop.

"C'mon, pretty boy, make a mess for us," Tim said, pressing his forehead against yours. You could only whine pathetically in response. 

You could feel your release building, your words garbled as you tried begging them not to stop. They understood, though. 

"Pretty pretty boy, p-pretty pretty boy!" Toby repeated over and over again before he suddenly bit down on your shoulder hard enough to draw blood. 

You came without warning except for one last scream, releasing all over Tim's hand. 

Neither of them slowed down, but you could feel their pace becoming erratic. 

"Goddamn, I'm not gonna last much longer," Tim growled, nuzzling into your neck. His hot, heavy breaths set your skin on fire in the best way. 

"M-Me either, holy fuck–!" 

Their hips stuttered, and you had no time to brace before they both filled you with everything they had. 

It was a wonderful, pleasurable feeling that you would never forget. 

"God, fuck!" 

They didn't slow down until they were both done, and for a moment making you wonder if they would ever stop. You felt full, warm, and exhausted now that you were coming down from your high. You fell back against Toby, who kissed your cheek lovingly. 

"You alright?" Tim asked breathlessly, and you nodded. Toby trailed his tongue over the bite mark he'd left as a sort of apology for hurting you, even though you didn't really mind. 

Tim moved your legs off his shoulders and rested them on the floor. All three of you stayed like that, catching your breaths and enjoying each other's warmth. 

Finally, Tim spoke. 

"We need to get going. We'll both help you."

After they'd pulled out and collected themselves, Toby ran back to the classroom to grab your stuff while Tim helped you stand and get dressed, letting you borrow his jacket since your shirt had been obliterated. 

"I've, uh, got a car outside," Tim suggested. "I know you usually catch a bus home, but I'd feel bad just leaving you." 

And with that, they both assisted you in limping out to the parking lot, where you laid down in the back seat of Tim's car, almost immediately falling asleep. 

"H-Hey, Tim?" Toby asked quietly as he got into the front passenger's seat. 

"Hm?" 

“Be honest w-with me. On a scale from 1 to 10, h-how mad do you think the boss is gonna be?"

[atonalginger]

I'm Your Huckleberry

Howdy y'all! Today the first two (2) chapters of I'm Your Huckleberry went live on ao3! This is that story revolving around the big west west party I've been working on off and on since April. It would have been done sooner but we can all thank heath issues for that.

The story is rated Mature and will be 14 chapters. Contains explicit language and themes of past abuse and neglect for several adult characters.

As The Liberated's survey of Cassiopeia I draws to a close focus shifts to planning young Sophie's 7th birthday party. The birthday girl's request is a big one but nothing Delgado and the team can't handle. Everything feels smooth sailing with Doc Melody's help until specters start casting shadows on the Ranch. Will Del and Doc be able to shake off the weight of their pasts before the party? Or will trouble rain of the joyous day?

The first two chapters are on ao3 and you can quickly get there by clicking HERE!

And as always, a snippet from the first chapter under a read more:

“How did you…” he stopped next to her and joined in looking around, his voice more calm, “Did you find any better spots?”

“Yeah, three or four,” she sighed, “I still can’t believe I let you two talk me into this.”

“Oh, come on, the arrangement is perfect for you,” Del clapped her back and ignored the unseen glare under her helmet, “enemy of my enemy and all that shit. Plus how many old Earth artifacts have the Liberated gifted to Constellation since we started.”

“Just get moving, the girls and Rafa await your return.”

He turned and watched as Rokov, Jazz, and the others hustled off the beach, A few bags and small cases left up on the rocks in order to travel light. He gave Jay’s shoulder another couple pats and said in a softer tone, “thank you for the assist.”

“I’m sure you did have it covered,” she looked down her barrel and took a shot off to the north, the explosion causing several walking flowers to scatter, “but better safe than sorry.”

“And you wearing your getup?” he asked as they started moving for the ships.

“Aw, come on,” she playfully pushed him, “you telling me you never wanted to work with a superhero before?”

Delgado heard Jazz snort a laugh before turning on her heel and backpedaling with the group, “I’m still curious to see the superhero in action. The way Cora has talked you up I half expect you to fly off into the sunset with a green cape billowing in the wind.”

“She has a…vivid imagination,” Jay said with the shake of her head.

Something about the good doctor’s tone made Del perk up. She was holding something back there. But that was silly, Jay was just an adventurous anthropologist who got a lucky score with finding that abandoned lair. Yet she was also deceptively strong and both her and her twin were eerily perceptive in a firefight. He’d seen them call shots impossible to see and twice now his crew reported seeing her survive grenade blasts that would have ripped anyone else apart. “It was like her suit was made of fucking stone,” Seumas had said about it after their run-in with spacers on the northern pole.

“Vivid nothing,” Seumas chimed in now, “I’ve seen that suit of your shimmer.”

“Trick of the light,” Jay waved off with a chuckle, “the firefight had knocked up snow and the lights around that landing pad bounced off the ice particles.”

“Bullshit,” Seumas pointed at her, “I don’t know did do it but I know that’s bullshit.”

[ilkkawhat]

I can't believe it's almost been a year since AW2 was released. It really changed my life. For better or for worse? Who can say, but I've been having fun.

lol it's so surreal to me that it's been less than a year that I bought and played Alan Wake 2 (one month past release, in November) purely on a whim because I saw people on the silent hill subreddit talking about it and someone even made a meme about "friendship ended with silent hill now alan wake is my new best friend" and I kid you not within just a few days my life just...changed entirely.

I have a lot of depression and anxiety and somewhere in 2023 things just...went wrong and I stopped creating. stopped giffing, never thought I'd write again and drawing lmao forget it, that shit's been hard for me to do ever since a very discouraging experience back when I was maybe like, 11 or 12. stopped going on tumblr, had given up on discord a long time before then and became a miserable ghost doing nothing but burying myself in work in what i will admit is a toxic, overwhelming and stressful environment. I still played games, still watched shows but nothing was like. Sticking with me, I guess? Not like to obsession levels and minus some good vacations I was just...empty.

And playing Alan Wake 2 for the first time was a legit terrifying experience for me--not on the levels of the first time I played Silent Hill 2 maybe (legit locked myself in my room and put on my lamp in the middle of the day cause of the sound of footsteps behind me in that game lol and my dishwasher at the time sounded like that one chugging sound in the apartments) but the dread I was feeling as I got legitimately lost in the woods of Cauldron Lake and turned around in Coffee World (having basically explored it all before triggering the parts where the enemies spawn in) and the basement of Valhalla Nursing Home was thrilling and I was excited to be playing something that was so disturbing and mind bending and emotional, too. Not even knowing the story of Alan and Alice, my heart broke during Alice's final tape. Not knowing Alan's character outside of what I saw in the second game, his "fuck it" moment where he went back into the Dark Place felt so heroic. I felt an odd sense of nostalgia watching the Koskela brothers commercials, like I had known them my whole life. Alex Casey (both the FBI agent and fictional detective) is my favorite kind of wise-cracking guy who has a heart of gold, the old guy who I wish could be my dad. Tom Zane was that mysterious wild card that you know under the surface has something sinister, unsettling esp with his manipulation of Alan but is just so fascinating to watch. Of course I saw so much of my obsessive self in Rose with her shrine for Alan. Saga's time in the dark place felt so real to me, I cried and still cry every time I read that note from her mom at that part of the game (I know you can read it sooner but it packs a bigger punch with Saga's fight to get out of her own mind.) All of the characters quickly stole my heart and ran with it and maybe it was over a few days, maybe it was all at once the floodgates just...opened within me.

I started writing again. First with a character that I never thought I'd write for again because at the time, even just thinking about him legit hurt me. Then I started scheming up fics for Alan. Then I started giffing even from self-captured gameplay footage that I don't think I've ever done before. Then I started drawing in my Alan Wake journal--a journal which, I had not done since the peak of my CSI obsession during my teenage years and even then it wasn't to the extent of what that journal is now (which admittedly, has not been filled out in quite a number of weeks and maybe that's partially cause I tend to journalize myself on here too) And then one day I couldn't contain it anymore. I started sharing again. I don't talk to anybody really like, ever outside of these asks and occasional replies but I truly never thought I'd be part of a fandom again. I worried I'd fuck it all up again (still worry about that) for myself, or others. Or both. But all the kind messages, the kind tags, the awesome people I've started following because of Alan Wake, I wouldn't give any of that up.

And of course things branched off, crushing so hard on him I got obsessed with Ilkka. I played some of Remedy's other games (still working my way through Max Payne 2 and Quantum Break very very slowly) and went back to the first Alan Wake, of course which if I had known about earlier or had an Xbox I'm sure I would have loved it back then as much as I do now. Hell I even platinumed that and Alan Wake 2 and as someone who is notorious for not finishing games other than like. The Legend of Zelda series and playing some other endless games...think it says something that I've managed to beat and complete (I always do the rhymes, stashes, lunch boxes, every playthrough) Alan Wake 2 almost 10 times now.

I was happy. I'm still, for the most part when I'm not at work, happy. Call it what you want, a delusion brought on by a distraction of obsession, a dangerous escape threatening the part of me that is still rooted in reality in the way that like, what if I become too crazy about it where it blinds me to certain things or experiences or chases people away from me because I'm too weird about it (a very real thing that has happened before)

But damn with all of that...I'm having fun with it too.