#except I can go back and change things and make them better

[dfroggofarson]

In the heat of rediscovering how this blessed app works and getting overly excited about posting and having new ideas, I totally forgot that I was actually here to post CB chapter four. So I apologize - I hope some funny moments with Gojo can make up for it :P Have fun reading, and see you next time actually on Tuesday! (Hit me if I forget to post on 24th too pls)

Cry, Baby.

Chapter 4. - Sticks, but no stones

After finally managing to escape from the weird men, you arrived back home. Your were puzzled, to say the least, so many questions floating in your head that you couldn’t even follow your own train of thought anymore. You felt worn-out, confused. And tired.

You crept back into your bed, not caring to change back into your pajamas, and thought back to the encounter. The pair of glasses this Gojo figure gave you was lying neatly on your desk, and you dared not to touch it anymore.

As you lifted the sheets and laid down, you noticed the knot in your stomach was still gone. That Itadori boy had really done something to you, you just refused to believe that disgusting thing was clinging to you all this time.

"Just give it a try. And call me when you’ve made up your mind, you know my number!"

The white-haired man had put his hand on your forehead before you could have flinched away, and you had felt a strange sense warmth rush through your body. After that he had said sleep should become easier now, but if any severe nightmares would come back…

"Call me anytime!"

You shivered. How can a smirk be this bright?

You let out a huff as you felt your body relaxing. You were surprised as your eyelids became so heavy you could not hold them open anymore. For the first time in two weeks, the fear of sleep vanished as you drifted off into a deep, undisturbed slumber.

* * *

"I don’t know, Yoriko-chan, this still seems pretty shady to me…"

You and Yamaguchi were sitting on his bed, and you were telling him about Gojo and Itadori. Even after almost twenty minutes of explaining him everything – maybe leaving out some more sensitive parts – he was quite sceptical of the whole situation. Which you understood, but…

"Look, it has been three nights ago, and I have been sleeping like a baby ever since! No nightmares, nothing! I haven’t even had any dreams, except for last night."

Those two nights after you met Gojo and Itadori were absolutely without dreaming anything, and it was pure bliss. Though you did dream some last night, they were not filled with that monster. They were just blurry and untangible, but that was way better than just four nights ago, and you took it gladly.

Yamaguchi, however, did not let the topic slide.

"Yes, and I am still mad about you not telling me right away!" He scolded you for the nth time today, flicking your forehead, again, to which you let out a pained yelp. "You should have taken me with you! What were you thinking, going out into the Shibuya night all alone to meet with creepy strangers?! Where did your common sense go?"

"Out the window because I have not been sleeping for fifteen days straight!" You now cracked, but regretted it right away. In a softer tone, you said, "I’m sorry, I know you’re just looking out for me, but Yama-kun… it has not been easy. I literally had no other choice. I just ran out of ideas."

The room grew silent.

"Okay, but please, for the sake of my sanity, do not ever do that again," he said, shyly putting his pinky on your palm. "Or at least take me with you. I know I’m not a huge help nowadays, but I’ll try my best."

"That’s not true! You are a big help!" You objected, taking his hand and holding it up in front of you. "You have been, since the day you gave me half your lunch and lent me Solo Leveling volume three! I hope you know that," you said, smiling, as he turned his blushing face away.

"O-okay, if you say so," he mumbled.

There was a knock on your door, and Yamaguchi’s mom, Himari peeked into the room. "Yoriko-chan, how are you feeling?" She asked, her voice so soft you swore to Yamaguchi one time that if you collected enough of his sweet mother’s tone, you could make a damn pink cloud out of it and float straight into heaven on it.

"I’m fine, thank you!" You answered, a bright smile on your face. Yamaguchi’s gaze softened as he looked at you.

"Would you like to join us for lunch? I’ve already set the table for five," she said. A moment later, a small head popped up at her feet. Yamaguchi’s little brother, Kenji peeked through the door and audibly gasped upon seeing you holding his brother’s hands.

"Mom, look! They’re finally dating! KENZO, SHIDOU-SAN AND KOUTA ARE FINALLY DATING! THEY ARE HOLDING HANDS, KENZO THEY ARE HOLDING HANDS" Little Kenji practically raced through the hallway, wailing to his eldest brother about you and your best friend. Both of you immediately stopped touching, face red as a can of premium tomato sauce, while looking anywhere but each other. His mom just giggled.

"Come, lunch is ready. Kenji, tell your brother lunch is ready," the woman shouted after the small boy, who was not even eight years old but ran like he was an olimpicon.

"KOUTA LUNCH READY!!" He yelled.

"The other one, honey."

"Oh, KENZO LUNCH READYYY!!!"

You and Yamaguchi awkwardly stood up from his bed and strolled down to the dining room and kitchen. Yamaguchi’s father was at work, so it was only five of you in the house. Besides Kenji shouting to his eldest brother about something involving toy trains, the house was calm. It did not feel loud, or not in a bad way.

You really liked being with the Yamaguchi family. It felt like a real, whole family, that actually functioned well. They were practically the family in the movies – perfect and supportive, no matter what happened they were there for one another. It made you jealous, so jealous, because your so-called family was nowhere near that. But Yamaguchi’s mom acted like a second mother to you, which was something you could never thank her enough for. When you did thank her once, during one of your weak moments when your relationship with your actual mother was at rock bottom, she just gave you one of her smiles and promised you that you were always welcome in this family, and that you had been part of it the moment his son brought you home for the first time. She told you you were the daughter she never had.

That time, you cried to her so hard you thought you had run out of tears forever. And she held you through it, something your mother had never done when you were emotional.

You had to admit that now, chaos did bring you and your mother together during these hard nights, and home felt a lot more like a welcoming place. She was more kind to you, cooked you meals regularly and took care of you. She never locked her bedroom door, in case she needed to run to you immediately to calm and support you after your nightmares. But as time passed, she stopped rushing, meal became less common, and it pained you to know that normally she wouldn’t do this for you, only when you were so deep in shit that you could not take care of yourself.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when all five of you sat down to the table. It was filled with delicious meals and you already felt yourself drooling just by looking at them. Yamaguchi’s mom even made mapo tofu, your favourite.

You put your hands together and said a prayer with your second family, then got to eating. You didn’t really talk while feeding yourself, your thoughts wandered back to the carousel you had been riding for the past three days.

Your nightmares ceased, and your stomach was no longer acting funny. Yes, you did occasionally woke up sweaty and out of breath in the middle of the night, but it was a lot better than it was before. And no new variables appeared – except for the two that you met that night at Yoyogi Park.

You put your left hand under the table, feeling for the glasses in your pocket. You pondered a bit, then pulled it out and put it on yourself. At first, you were afraid of opening your eyes, but when you did, and carefully glanced around, nothing seemed different. You let out a silent, relieved sigh.

"Yoriko-chan, do you wear glasses now?" Himari asked, curious. You snapped your head toward her, as you felt Yamaguchi’s gaze on you. You told him about the glasses, and he did not like this idea Gojo gave you, at all. You knew that.

"Ah, yes, my eyesight is starting to get a bit worse. Guess I’ve read too much manga," you snickered, trying to calm your heart. You saw no ugly fly-rabbits, and that was very good so far.

"I told you two to take better care of your eyes! Kouta, are your eyes okay? Should I take you to a doctor?"

"No, mom, I’m fine," he sighed, digging back to his rice. You knew he was displeased, but… you had to explore whatever fields you could. You knew you would not be able to endure another marathon of non-stop nightmares filled with that monster murdering people.

"I hope so. You two always read so much manga and watch so much anime together. Just keep the lights on and don’t stare at the screen too much, okay?"

You and Yamaguchi let out a "Yes," in unison, then went back to your food.

The rest of your dinner went quietly. When you were finished, you offered to help Himari with the dishes, but she just told you to get some rest as you already cleaned up the table.

Just as you were about to thank her and go back to Yamaguchi’s room, she turned her back to you and your heart skipped a beat.

A purple slug-ish monster was gripping on her back.

No damn way.

"Yoriko-chan? Is someting wrong?" She asked you, turning to you halfway, and you struggled to look away from the creature sticking to her.

"Um, sorry for asking, but has your back been feeling a bit sore lately?" You spoke hesitantly.

"Hm? Oh, yes, it actually has been doing that for a couple of months. I think I just need to start exercising a bit more, I have been falling back on my yoga lately," she hummed, and turned back to the dishes.

The slug looked at you and spun its eyes around.

You were sick to your stomach.

"Thank you for the lunch," you sputtered and almost ran up to Yamaguchi’s room to get your phone. He was already upstairs, and tried to signal you his disapproval towards the glasses, but you were focused on your mission. "I’ll be back in a sec, need to handle a phone call."

And with that, you were already out of the house, standing on the pavement as you pressed the call button. Your feet bounced under you anxiously while you waited for the phone to be picked up.

"Moshi-moshi, Shidou-chaan?" A familiar voice spoke, but you were not up for small-talk now. You felt you had no time to waste.

"I put on the glasses and there is a creepy slug-ish thing on a person’s back. How do I get it off?"

"Ohoho, I guess we got you good after all," he mused, but since you were creeped out and scared – and frankly, still doubted this whole thing altogether – you just ignored that sentence.

"How do I get it off?" You asked again, repeating your words irritated. There was a sigh on the other side of the line, but soon came over Gojo’s light voice.

"Do you have the case for the glasses? Open it up and search for an inner pocket. You’re gonna find two dark coloured rods in it. Pull them out."

You did as he told you and found the flat sticks. There were unfamiliar kanjis itched on it. They were a little longer than your palm, but surprisingly heavy for their sizes. So that’s why the case was larger than the glasses themselves. "Got it," you replied.

"Good. Now take one each in your hands and hold them like you were taking a pinch of salt. They’re small so they won’t fit entirely in your hands, place them mainly between your index finger and thumb."

"Okay," you said. "Now what do I do with them?"

"You sneak up behind the person the curse is on and hit it with them. Try to aim for the head, and hit from right to left, lift your arms up high and use gravity to your advantage. Make sure to not hit the person, though, that can hurt real bad," he explained, giggling at the end. "Oh, and call me back when you’re done! I want to know how my newest student did at her first exorcism!"

He hung up suddenly, and you were left on the pavement alone, with two strange sticks in your hand. You glanced at them, and decided it was now or never. You went back into the house, and sure as well, Himari was still doing the dishes. You decided to not take any chances and walked behind her.

"Himari-san, can I try something with you?" You asked, your heartbeat in your throat as you held the instruments the way Gojo told you. The slug was wiggling on her back, spinning its eyes around again. "It’s an experiment, uh, from something I read online."

"Ah, sure, what do I need to do?" She said, ever so eager to help. This sweet woman.

"Nothing, just stand right where you are. Try to move as little as possible.

"Oh, okay."

You took a deep breath, readied your arms and while focusing on the repulsive thing on her back. You lifted the rods and abruptly slashed downwards, aiming for the creature’s head. It was not elegant, but surprisingly, you hit bulls-eye, and the slug shook. Just a few seconds later it burst open, to which you closed your eyes and flinched back, but by the time you looked at Himari’s back again, it was gone.

It was gone!

A strange sense of pride flowed through you as you lowered your arms. Did it work? Did you help her?

"How does your back feel now?" You spoke, to which she rolled her shoulders and stretched a bit, then let out a surprised yowl.

"Huh, it doesn’t hurt anymore!" She turned around, her face carrying a little shocked mimic. "What did you do?"

"Oh, uh, I don’t know?" You said, more asking than answering. You were just as surprised as she was.

"Well, whatever you did, you can keep going because it feels really relieving!" She chuckled, while turning back to the sink.

"I think… I will," You smiled to yourself.

* * *

Gojo heard a buzz coming from his phone. He looked down to see a text from you.

It worked, thank you.

- Yoriko Shidou

He smiled and locked the screen.

It seemed like Jujutsu Tech would be welcoming a new student this year.

[painfully-painful-pain]

Poorly written lengthy Review of The Sims 2 Castaway for Nokia Phones.

Alternate title: I played The Sims Castaway for Mobile so you don't have to. Also I'm too scared to record my voice for a video.

I played another Sims Nokia game because I don't know what to do with my life 💙 so what better way to celebrate finishing another sims game than to force this post on peoples feeds. The game's exhausting and I'm pretty much done with it internally. This time it will be A LOT longer and have a bit more depth to it as I wrote everything while I played it (instead of writing it after I did) so. This will be an EVEN LONGER review than the sims DJ one. I hope you brought.... Good eyes.

Doubt anyone's gonna read this but I'm putting this out there if anyone ever comes across my account or something idk.

The Gameplay

This game is actually touch! Meaning you don't really need your Nokia phones' buttons. Sure you need the ok button sometimes but other than that it's pretty much like a modern phone game! Just smaller in size lol. You tap where your sim needs to walk over and press the stuff you want to collect. If it's a grabbable object, a hand appears as your cursor, if it has a chance to kill you (quicksand, beehives and poisonous berries) a skull head appears. Though death in this game isn't that easy (except quicksand as that one's 100% instant and way too easy to achieve, but you never have to do anything in there so idk why it's even an option)

There's the usual Castaway needs. Those are easy to manage here and I don't see a problem with them at all. Especially not if you always take stuff everywhere like I did.

There's multiple minigames and only one requires your OK button and I hate that game.

The Minigames

Not the best things ever. They're pretty tedious at times. ESPECIALLY the surfing one I fucking hate it. Stupid piece of- but they're ok.

Fishing:

really simple. But your stick moves on its own and the fish do too. You have to tap the screen on the correct moment to get them. You can get 5x fish max per spawn point.

Dancing:

you flick your screen to the direction that's given. It's really easy. Probably my favorite one because of it.

Surfing:

you have to balance out the green marks so it gets to the other side. Sometimes a shark (that looks more like an orca) comes through so you have to hit the ok button too. I hate it. (I deleted 3 paragraphs of rant for this)

Cup: (idk the name of this)

exactly how it looks. Really simple too. It's not fast either. You get prizes to romance every sim. The Orangutan asks you for a brush and it's never explained why he wants it or why he's even gifting it to you so you gift it back in the first place. He makes me question everything.

Hit the marked bongo: (Idk the name of this one either.)

Really simple too. Really easy. Really forgettable. Last minigame to be unlocked. Has ties to mark and is hosted by the monkeys.

The Story

The story begins with the usual that can be found in other iterations of Castaway too: People go on a boat for who knows why, storm arises and throws all of you into the water and on a deserted island yada yada yada. And then you wake up. But this time you can only play as either a man or a woman. You don't create your crew as you do on the PS2/Wii version. The crew actually has preset characters in this. And you unlock them per area.

After you wake up on the bay, your sim is required to do the tutorial level like picking up all the vines and getting bananas and coconuts from palm trees. But the game changes once you feel sleepy because you set up a bed in the camp area instead of the beach. And that's when you are directed to find your first crewmate, Sandi. She's INCREDIBLY fast at setting up the tent because apparently she already built a huge ass house when you were on the jungle. FOR 2 SIM MINUTES.

The characters give you tedious tasks all the time because, just as newlow said in the PSP game, everyone apparently only gets rid of their problems once YOU show up. You can unlock more areas without the tasks but later you reach a stop so you'll have to do those to get all of them and escape this mad house of an island.

The next area you unlock is the waterfall. Your friend Leyla put up her hut on it and, honestly, good for her. She is the only sim to have a shower next to her. Nobody ever uses it except you and you can only shower ONCE a day. And it looks incredibly goofy. It's just this image btw.

Layla is also the one that makes clothes for your sim. And from what I've seen is the only one of these guys to sleep during the late morning. All the sims sleep at night but she sleeps in the late mornings too.

The next area you unlock, the beach, has the character called Jeff. He's a surfer dude. You can tell by the way he talks to you and what he talks about. He's weird. I don't like his Minigame but his area has a lot of resources for some reason like driftwood for objectcrafting. I also don't like Jeff himself.

After that, Jeff's area is a dead end. So you'll have to go back to camp to find the other path. Jeff gifts you his axe he used for his surfboard if you give him stuff and then you can cut down the overgrown jungle. Sounds great in theory but. Once you get the axe, EVERYTHING IS ALREADY DONE! so there's no animation for it. Sims 4 level animations

On the next area, the jungle, you find Higgins the Orangutan. he can talk but this is never ever addressed for some reason. I am so conflicted about him. Anyways he builds your objects and your houses. Don't ask because I don't have answers. You can kinda skip him and walk straight into the cave.

There you meet Crazy Joe. A shipwrecked guy that's been there for 20 years apparently. Which is.... Odd as he looks pretty young to me. Anyways he's hungry and wants fish stew. ONLY fish stew. This pissed me off because fuck you?? just eat anything so I can advance and go home... He says "I will advance with you if you give me fish stew" BUT HE NEVER COMES WITH YOU!! he stays in his God damn cave and never leaves. He just gives you stupid tasks to do...

At this point you cannot go to the last 2 areas as you do need to fulfill some quests like the fish stew. Also the next area is apparently too dark so you need to get a Torch from Leyla because God forbid you do anything yourself.

She... wants to dance if you want her torch. These people and they're stupid standards I swear. 😭

Also to get a Fish stew you need Pineapples, Cucumbers and Fish. Disgusting. Sandi makes it for you. But you need a garden from the Orangutan then help Sandi get her seeds back from Jeff because???? and wait until you have all the ingredients. People can't do shit can they???

After you get a Torch you can skip hungry Carl for awhile. He doesn't die from hunger sadly. You can go to the last 2 areas without doing a quest. Only the cliffs are important because that's where the last character, Mike, lives.

One thing I didn't mention is that everyone thinks you didn't make it.... Which is such an asshole move???? Like? "Oh you're still alive." Like wow you're SUCH great friends.

i accidentally called my sim Kaw don't @ me

Anyways this is too long. One thing leads to another and the last mission is then given by Mike. He needs to complete his research on llamas back home in the city. So he orders you to get Leyla, Jeff and The Orangutan Higgins to build parts of a float so he can build that together. Then after doing that they want to throw a farewell party and the nightmare FINALLY ends.

this game exhausted me. It's a survival story but everyone already survived. They just waited for you to... Idk what they would've done IF you died but who cares. Also idk if the others came on the float too??? It's just you and Mike back home. Like where's Leyla?? Or Sandi?? Probably out of frame but still weird.

The Characters:

Talking about them because they have a bit more tied to them here than The Sims DJ. ALSO they are probably the closest thing to GBA sims lol. ALSO: everyone has seen all of these guys at least once. Because this game features all the cover sims as actual characters. Which is weird. Because why are they on the Wii and DS covers if they don't appear in it 😭

You:

There's not a lot to say about you. I believe the canon gender in this game is to play as the female character as she's also the one that is on the front cover and promo material of the game. The guy just feels like an afterthought 🤧 I believe his PNGs are actually Beta test screenshots of The Sims 2. also you're pretty much everyone's doormat to home. And I hate you.

Sandi:

i kinda forgot she was even at the bay. And that was 2 minutes after I met her lol. Her first mission is for you to find specific fish and coconuts so she can cook some weird coconutcrust snapper or whatever the fuck. Jeff steals her seeds. And I'm too done with this game I swear.

Leyla:

Honestly I kinda headcanon'd her to be Neo Flange(Foundry Urb)s sister while I was playing it. I just want more ties between the sims games like they used to have. Also adding her disappearance to Neos desperation "Sister shipwrecked on a deserted island and nobody knows where she is" yk? And also because she is a fashion stylist and is skilled in crafts, has dark hair, glasses and- these sims don't have an actual last name so I can make them anyone I want them to be. I'll turn her into an unofficial foundry Urb you can't stop me.

Rambling aside she has the dancing Minigame tied to her. When the story demands you to get an item from her, like the torch, she actually won't take your resources... she is really adamant to battle you in a dance session. Which is just flicking your screen in a certain direction. It's not even fast.

Romancing is possible in this game. I tried with her but you have to win some weird prize from the fuck ass orangutan and I don't want to do that

Jeff:

I hate his minigame. Also he's kinda like Dudley Landgraab. Only as a surfer. He steals Sandi's seeds and won't give them back to her. So you have to clear his minigame so that he does. He's kind of a jerk.

Higgins The Orangutan:

i want this Orangutan dead.

THE MONKEY:

They just host the Minigame 24/7. They don't sleep. They don't do shit.

Crazy Carl:

he was kinda boring... Like the concept sounds so cool. A guy that could never escape! For 20 years. But that only shows how stupid this guy is. Because you manage to escape after 6 days.

He's even more pathetic because once you get to the ghost of the pirate to get his treasure.... he just tells you it's somewhere here and it's literally right in front of the ghost I'm crying 😭 20 years for nothing

Mike:

so cool. Yet so undercooked. I wish he had something else to work with. Doesn't help that he's the last character you meet on the island. Like I said he should've had more to him. The Kayleigh Wintercrest of The Sims 2 Castaway.

Mike had his glasses stolen from the monkeys hosting the "bongos" minigame so you have to play it to get them back. But Mike's sprite never wears his glasses.

Fun fact: Mike DOES wear his glasses in ONE render for The Sims Castaway:

he carries the whole poster ngl

For some reason the poster ALSO shows an unknown character climbing up the tree. I don't know who that is but she's there.

Captain Busto:

He is not important at all

Its also weird he appears in the relationship panel. He doesn't do shit and you never see this portrait outside of it.

????????:

He's just a prop to talk with. No relationship gains or anything

Woohoo!!!

I nearly lost my shit when I saw this. After the party you can gift people something they want. And then after that you can romance and marry them. You can also be gay with them! But that woohoo Cutscene is.... Out of this world.

Conclusion/ TL;DR

That was The Sims Castaway for Nokia. I doubt anyone is ever reading this so... One of the games ever. Anyways:

Leyla and Mike carried this game for me

I'm not ever touching this game again

I need sleep

First Castaway game I actually finished

This game features every Castaway Cover sim

I kinda recommend it for you to try it out. It's a mediocre game.

Bye

[isat-script-project]

How did you get started creating the script project? I think it would be fun to try to do something similar for deltarune, but I'm not sure how feasible it would actually be

the age old tale is "i was writing isat fanfiction and really wanted to get some dialogue exactly right, so i combed through 100% playthroughts on youtube to find the right spot and jotted down what i needed in a document except it got so fucking annoying i contemplated just making a website for it and then i got my grubby mits on both rpgmaker mv and the isat data files and it was all joever"

if it's the actual PROCESS. well. it was a bit of a mess. the first thing i did was make the website itself, hammering out a general layout using the sadgrl layout builder over a whole weekend and an increasingly yelling filled call with my sibling who actually knows how websites work.

you can take a look at this post where i answered what to look out for more in-depth.

i've only played ch1&2 but honestly? deltarune seems feasible. i've seen people datamine sprites from it, at least, it seems like the engine is pretty well documented.

so yah i first figured out i COULD do it, then i made the website + website layout for it (if you know how, you should also hammer out your individual page layout at this point and not wait for other people to show up and do it for you).

then i just took a crack at making a page except my process was fucking horrid, i didn't actually have all the data files nor a proper way to read them (didn't have rpgmaker mv back then, i just looked at the .json files and tried my best, which is why some weird half completed pages were floating around in the site's early days, like the tutorial one from back when). I got tired of this pretty quick and very legally aquired rpgmaker (i actually own it on steam now and i never talked about piracy in isatcord and you can prove nothing and because this ISN'T isatcord i can make blatant euphemisms.)

and at that point i just went at it making whatever scrappy pages interested me. it was a sorta trial-by-fire thing where i got more familiar with rpgmaker and isat in specific as i went along, instead of putting in the effort to figure out how shit works first, because i am just a very learn by doing kinda guy. and that's how it all went along till the legendary hero Gold showed up and taught me github and made everything better and prettier (before this i was pushing every minor change directly to neocities which was especially funny when i was tinkering w the layout so the site just updated twenty bajillion times that one weekend)

for deltarune you'd probably also be pretty chill splitting things by area, and maybe subdividing area stuff into normal/weird route as is the room pages with normal/act5 or something. the battle stuff looks interesting to do with all the act options.

so yeah refer to the linked post for general tips but again for deltarune you do probably have a good shot? just the general stuff, decide how you wanna host it early, make a test page to check out what a page should look like and how to format it, and everything else (like How The Hell Do I Portray Conditionals: the story of how the <details> tag saved us all), but the real obscure stuff is only gonna sneak up on ya when you're already many many pages deep and trying to figure out where one specific variable is increased because the rpgmaker search function SUCKS SO BAD. s192 my fucking nemesis.

best of luck 👍

i'll prolly stop answering questions about this stuff at some point unless someone is asking for smth specific (like how to connect ur github repo to ur neocities or smth) bcuz i feel like i've said all that can be said at this point on the topic. go forth wiki warriors

[yjdrabbles123]

Pt 2

‘Hey, it’s ok-’ Van’s hand cups her wet cheek at the same time as she tries to hand Tai her cone to hold- clumsily, letting go too soon, and Tai fumbles it and Van’s cone splats to the ground too and that’s it, the thing that makes Mel burst into proper sobbing because she’s ruining everything-

‘C’mon sweetie-’ Tai wraps an arm around her shoulders, firmly leading her away from the icecream van: thank god at least that they’d decided to get icecream from the van in the parking lot. ‘It’s all alright, it’s fine-’

Except it’s not fine, she’s not fine-

At the car, Tai grabs Van’s flannel from the backseat. She has it covering the front seat and she’s gently sitting Mel down on it sideways before Mel can even think or protest. The embarrassment of it sears her, speeding up her breathing and her tears.

‘Let’s try to calm down, ok honey?’

She tries but she can’t, she’s going to ruin Van’s shirt if she stays sitting on it and then Van will be annoyed at her and-

‘Mel. Kid.’ Van crouches in front of her on the asphalt and takes one of Mel’s hands in each of hers- then relinquishes one so that Mel can jam her thumb into her mouth. It’s babyish but she can’t stop crying and she needs to ground herself somehow, she needs the familiar comfort- ‘Sit still ok?’

She makes herself stop trying to get up.

‘Good girl. Now. Do I look mad?’

She shakes her head tearily. 

‘Does Tai look mad?’

Another shakes.

Even through the whirl of fear and anxiety and upset, she has to admit- they don’t. Tai is biting her lip, her face soft and creased with sympathy, one hand on Mel’s shoulder, her thumb rubbing little circles. 

‘And are we acting like we’re mad at you?’

‘Nu-uh.’

‘No we’re not. Because this is nothing to be mad about, remember?’

This nod is a little harder. Van moves a little so that Tai can pass Mel some tissues. She presses them to her swollen eyes, sniffling, feeling stupid, feeling so small. Wishing, not for the first time, that she was little enough for Van to pick her up fully to cuddle her, even if she’d ruin Van’s outfit too.

Maybe Van picks up on it- somehow, the way she can somehow read Mel’s mind sometimes- because she leans into the car to wrap Mel up in a huge hug, in a position that probably isnt super comfy, one hand cupping the back of Mel’s head and one gently rubbing her back.

‘S-sorry-’

‘Shhhh no apologies buddy, we’re good.’

She and Tai are being so nice but Mel knows that they’re surely disappointed in her, they must regret inviting her out and-

‘Listen.’ Now Tai is leaning in close, her breath tickling Mel’s ear. ‘We absolutely can go home now if you’d like to- that would be fine, absolutely fine- but…’ She pauses. ‘If you want to just change clothes in the bathroom, we could stay out a bit longer. What do you say? We could go get some better icecream since you lost yours. The place that does the cherry kind you like is still open….’

Mel can feel Van tense up with eagerness before forcing herself to relax again and feign nonchalance: ‘Only if you’re feeling like it, ok kid?’

‘Really?’

Tai nods. ‘Of course! It’s not your fault you guys missed out- and my cone is basically soup now anyway-’

She’s smiling like she means it, like she really does want to keep hanging out with her, even though she had an accident, even though she cried like a baby about it.

She thinks They like me, they still like me- and the thought sends warmth through her that is enough to chase away some of the cold scared anxious sick feeling that an accident inevitably brings on.

‘O-ok’

‘Yay!’ Van squeezes her again in jubilation, then pulls back and offers a hand. ‘You wanna come with me to get cleaned up first?’

She nods and lets Van pull her up and sling an arm over her shoulders.

It’s ok, she’s ok.

Maybe a fic idea?Little Melissa and CG taivan going to the park. And little Mel wanting to impress two of her favorite people by going on the slides and swinging the highest. But she’s so excited and hyper she doesn’t realize she hasn’t went potty at all. And while getting ice cream a accident happens and little Mel feels so bad for “ruining” their outing. But tai and Van just reassure her (I love your stuff!)

Pt 1: Blame

Really, Tai blamed herself. She hadn’t reminded Mel to use the bathroom before they left for the park- she’d meant to but as she opened her mouth to do so, Mari had run into the kitchen with a nosebleed that seemed like it was trying to rival Thermopylae and her gentle reminder had been forgone for frantically asking Mel to grab her some paper towels.

(Mari’s rainbow shirt would never be the same again. Neither would two tiles of the kitchen floor.)

She HAD reminded to fill Mel’s green waterbottle before they left- it was, putting it lightly, not a cool day- and she HAD reminded both her and Van to keep drinking (no one wanted a repeat of last week when Van had crumpled to the floor half way through an argument about whether or not a pokemon could beat a digimon in a fight- at the time, Shauna had actually thought she was just being dramatic) and of course Mel had listened to her, because Mel was, on the whole, almost painfully obedient.

(Which was fine when it came to things like chores and bedtime and teeth-brushing and slightly less than fine when it came to things like Mel agreeing to lie on the ground so that Shauna could prove to Mari that she absolutely definitely could jump her bike off their home-made ramp.)

In any case, when Mel suddenly froze two seconds after being handed her icecream cone and frantically clutched at her pants- icecream cone dropping to the kerb in the process- and whimpered, Tai had felt nothing but guilt.

She could have stopped this- by being more responsible, by being more diligent- and she HADN’T.

It was her fault.

*

Van definitely blamed herself.

She was right to, too: it wasn’t as if she didn’t already KNOW that Mel listened to her more than she listened to any of the others. To Mel, what Van said was Gospel and she KNEW that if she’d told Mel it was ok to stop their tetris marathon to take a break before they went to the park, Mel would have listened to her. But she’d SO wanted to see if she could beat her high score and so….she hadn’t said anything, reasoning that if Mel needed to go, she’d have said something.

Except she knew and Tai knew and Mel knew and everyone knew that this wasn’t always true. She hadn’t ignored the fact exactly, but she hadn’t tried especially hard to remember it.

And if she’d been less selfish, not let herself get so invested in their ‘who can swing higher’ competition and actually paid attention, maybe she’d have been able to pick up on Mel’s slight wriggliness.

(She hadn’t even won the competition either- Tai had left both her and Mel in the dust. So it wasn’t even like it was worth it.)

Except by the time Mel’s slightly wriggliness became out-and-out squirming, they’d already been in line for icecream and she was already in the middle of digging coins out of her pockets (while also enjoying her usual struggle with keeping track of how much everything cost and what the coins in her hand added up to and how many other coins would be needed to cover the rest- if she pulls out a fifty cent piece she’ll need this much but if the coin turned out to be a nickel she’d need THIS much) and she figured they could wait a moment for the icecream guy to hand over their cones and to pay for them and THEN she’d insist they need to find a bathroom right away and she could just say that she needed to go so as to not embarrass Mel-

Except by THEN, Mel’s pants were already wet and Mel’s face was crumpling into tears and her icecream was melting onto the ground and the icecream guy was loudly pointing out that she’d underpaid and that he needed another quarter.

So she’d failed on every count.

It was her fault.

**

Mel blamed herself. Because of course it was no ones fault but her own.

She’d been SO excited when Tai had mentioned that she and Van were planning on going to the park and since her class was cancelled now, did she want to come?

It would have been so easy for Tai to have just said nothing and been able to enjoy alone time with just Van, since when they’d originally made the offer to everyone, no one else had been free.

But she’d noticed that Mel was still at home, she’d actually gone out of her way to let Mel know the invitation was still open even though she absolutely didn’t have to, and she hadn’t even ASKED Van first!

And yet when Van had found out that Mel was coming too, she’d actually beamed like it was the best news ever that the trip was going to be three of them rather than two.

Mel isn’t like painfully insecure of anything: she does know that the others like her a lot, maybe even love her, and that they like hanging out with her and don’t just let her hang around to be polite.

But still.

These reminders mean so much to her.

Except now she’s ruined it- just because she hadn’t even remembered to go to the bathroom before leaving the house although they all almost always get reminded to go before they go anywhere.

(Van has told her lots of times that it’s not just for her- that she herself is, in her own words, ‘super bad at knowing like….anything about my own body dude, you know that-’, that it’s not as if the others don’t need to be reminded too. The difference, Mel thinks but doesn’t say, is that while Jackie and Mari might end up squirming and demanding they stop five minutes after leaving the house if they aren’t reminded to go, Mel is usually the only one who will come home in different pants to the ones she left the house in.)

She hadn’t even realised she’d needed to go so badly until suddenly she DID and then it was almost too late to say anything- because they were in a queue and Van was literally mid conversation with the icecream man and how could she interrupt right then?

And then it was absolutely too late to say anything.

And she’d dropped her icecream- wasting Van’s money, wasting Van’s effort in making the payment when counting loose change could sometimes be a struggle and moreso when she felt under pressure, wasting the whole day because she’d turned what could have just been a nice day out into the boring routine of having to go clean up.

She was sure they both regretted inviting her out now.

[uwudonoodle]

That one scene I got sidetracked with? I thought it would take 1 or 2 days to write... It ended up taking like 3 weeks and became an almost 20 page chapter. I had a hard time with this one. The emotions ran from silly, to romantic, to frustrating, to devastating, to tender.

I was nervous sharing it with my beta reader because I had struggled and changed things so many times. Even though the reading took more than an hour, he said he was engaged and entertained the whole time, and the rollercoaster emotional arc felt very natural. He even laughed at a couple of my jokes, and pointed out lines he loved that were extremely in character. He only gave me a couple of suggestions, which were legitimately good additions.

It's so nice to know that after all the struggle, that I solved the problems, and made something that hit all the notes I wanted it to. My beta is getting to know my writing better too. He pointed out one spot that he said seemed less polished than the rest, and he was right. I'd spent the least amount of time on that part, and had been editing it right before I showed him. I'm so lucky to have such a good beta reader. Showing him my finished chapters is such a highlight of my writing time.

[rintinningvt]

Started watching the Bayverse movies with my besties and... Are we just too gay for these movies??? Admittedly we only finished the first two and got through a quarter of the third, but the second one was such a drag to sit through at times and it probably doesn't help that we do NOT care about Sam that much. I hope that there is a character arc for him in the rest of the third movie. Because so far he has not been fun to watch in that one. He just comes off as a slight manchild to me, like... I can see why he would be frustrated with where he is in life but the way he acts with others and lashes out does not help him in the slightest. I do have to admit though that seeing him go to Cybertronian Heaven in the second movie was the funniest part for me and my besties lol.

I'll just hope that the other guy in the next movies will be at least a bit more interesting. Doesn't even have to be a good guy, just an interesting guy for me lol

[cathymee]

maybe it's to maintain a sense of tension & turmoil that would eventually reach an explosive peak, a sense of tug-of-war, a back-and-forth to hammer home the ideals they want to deliver and for the viewers to chew on, but although these arguments regarding hiroshi & his stance as a man torn between his loyalty for his country & the loyalty for his Filipino friends and lover is of course important, how they write these scenes & the points they present from this week alone is getting too repetitive...? literally the argument scenes from last night & tonight between adelina & hiroshi is basically the same; the ideas were the same, the dynamics were the same: the aggressive, radical adelina, bristling rage and fear over the injustices she's seen thus far, and the cautious, inspiriting hiroshi, all hopefulness and reassurance one moment as a lover, defensiveness and sternness as a japanese soldier in another. this debate will be ever-present ofc, it is one of the series' biggest conflicts, but it is unfortunately so easy to tell when it is a.) being pulled up as a main topic to move the plot along / be a necessary conflict for character development/introspection / be the conflict to deliver the morals & messages the writers want to send to their viewers, or b.) when it is being pulled up only for the drama and filler to pass the time. like watching the characters sit down to argue for 10 minutes, do other things for the plot for 2 minutes, then sit down again to argue for the next 20 minutes. lol.

[weaselle]

there are two kinds of cat dislike. The first is by people who don't understand consent and don't understand personal space and don't like having to change their own behavior even a little bit to make anyone else more comfortable, and honestly huge red flag there's nothing you can really do for those people except don't date them and probably don't be friends with them either.

BUT

the other kind of cat dislike is the "my dad hated cats until i got him a kitten" kind of cat dislike, and the funniest thing about this kind of person is that cats actually get along really well with them... because that kind of person usually acts like a cat.

and that's what usually wins the person over too. Because that person can be like "hey fine we can snuggle or whatever, okay this is actually kind of nice, OW FUCK YOU THEN GET OFF ME I HATE YOU" and to the cat this is a perfectly natural feline interaction.

a dog will usually be like "oh no, figuring out what has gone wrong or continuing this argument is now the most important thing in my day" You ever try to get a dog to leave you alone after they've done something like accidentally kick you in the face, or on purpose punch you in the stomach with both front legs? They turn in to one of those people who you ask to give you some alone time and they spend the next hour on the "are you mad at me" treadmill. Unless it's a husky or something, and then they're more like "ha ha, i'm not touching you i'm not touching you" about it.

Either way "get off me and leave me alone" is all about them.

But a cat? You're suddenly over cuddle time and need to be alone? you seem upset for no reason? normal shit, i'll check back later.

With a cat you can be snuggling and then jump up irritably and walk away and the cat will be like "hey! whatever. I'm gonna go do my own thing then". Try that with a dog? lol no. They need to know what's bothering you now, it is more important than ever that they be in your face

of course these are generalizations and there will be cats and dogs who react somewhere on the range of different to opposite to this, but. I've seen a few people who "don't like cats" wind up with a cat in their home, and it's hilarious how their similarities are what wins them over.

Because, like, you know who else doesn't like you at first and takes a long time to work out a personal relationship before being willing to be friends? you know who else is often totally over dealing with cat bullshit? cats.

So they just take it in stride, and in fact often wind up better friends with "i don't like cats" people than they do with people who want to be friends with them right away. And the person often winds up appreciating the cats willingness to understand "i don't like you right now, check back later"... with the end result being: besties for life

[rafeovermorals]

overstimulating joel until he cums. again.

content: oral (m receiving), joel is 61 and has a hard time keeping up with his much younger girlfriends sex drive, use of daddy, slight dubcon

a/n: this is how im choosing to cope with this scene, okay? i can’t help that he looks hot as fuck.

joel was too worn out to move.

chest heaving, mouth quivering, all he could do was lay there and watch you take from him.

you were such a greedy lil’ thing, one round was never enough. so eager and needy. always wanting more, like you wouldn’t last a day without his cock.

he kept up with you as best as he could for a man his age, making sure to stay in shape so he that maintained his stamina, but it only got him so far.

it was a guilty reminder— he was old. you were young. nothin’ he could change about that. he already ran through the small supply of viagra he was able to get ahold of weeks ago, which left him at your mercy.

even after a long day of patrol he came home and fucked you every night, just like you wanted. what was left of his energy he thrusted deep into your cunt with his seed to prove it, giving you a kiss on the cheek before pulling out and turning onto his back to go to sleep.

it had been a while since you went down on him. he didn’t have much control on when or how often he got hard, so when he was he used those moments inside of you.

except joel didn’t realize how much you missed him in your mouth, so badly that you needed it.

as he rolled off of you to his side of the bed, you noticed how his cock was flushed— coated with your juices and his cum. he was softening but stayed big, thick in girth with graying hairs at the base.

he didn’t have the chance to recover before you had his cock in your hand, sitting on your knees and holding him straight as you licked the shaft.

“baby… what’re y’doin?” he asked timidly, still attempting to control his breaths from cumming just a minute or two prior. you simply responded with a hum, looking up at him through your lashes as you swirled your tongue— tasting yourself on him.

you placed a kiss on his tip, his cock reacting with a throb that pulsed in your grasp. “alright, that’s enough.” he spoke low, a quavering warning for you to stop— but his tone lacked in confidence.

“let me have this, daddy.” as if he had a choice.

you took him into your mouth, lips curling around his cock as you watched his face twist from the sensation.

fucking hell, you were going to be the death of him.

he clenched his jaw, teeth grinding while he tried to hold himself back— hold you back. he pushed at your head, attempting to shove you with what little control he had left, but you didn’t budge. you only went further, inching his cock deeper down your throat. he was forced into submission.

joel was so sensitive that he whined from the mix of pain and pleasure, the line blurring the more you swallowed him. “i don’t have anythin’ left in me, honey... gave you of it already.” he told you slow, his voice trembling.

you moaned in defiance, mouth stuffed full of his length. you brought a free hand to his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze which made him nearly whimper. you pull away, spit dribbling from the corners of your lip. “can feel that you still got some in here, just gotta get it out, daddy. it’ll feel so much better.”

he clenched his jaw, teeth grinding together as you continued to suck him— bobbing at a teasing speed while you massaged the rest of his length at the same time. he twitched his hips, his body defying his words.

it felt so good that it was hurting him. your throat was beginning to burn due to lack of recent experience, but you were determined for it.

“just couldn’t wait, huh? so cock drunk that y’had to use your old man like this, knowin’ im vulnerable?” you nodded, that familiar ache in your core returning.

he was thinking of all the ways to punish you once you were done— ready to spank you until you cried, maybe edge you if he was feeling mean. he would find a way to make you pay.

joel was determined to give you one more load since you went through all of this to get it. he couldn’t disappoint his girl.

he was so numb that he couldn’t even feel himself getting ready to cum, his eyes glossy and in a state of haze at the sight of you drooling on his thighs.

the warm, soft flesh of your cheeks hollowing in on him brought him to his release, spilling hot, creamy ropes on the pad of your tongue. whenever you thought he was done it didn’t stop— drops still leaking out after you finished.

“better lick me dry honey. since you wanted it so damn bad.”

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw implication, enemies to lovers, kinda bitchy reader,

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about the poor college boy who’s struggling to get used to dorm life and his loud neighbor who isn’t making matters any better.

He has never been shy about telling someone off. People should have the common decency not to blast their infernal music so loud that the entire dorm shakes. And you, whoever you may be, are no exception—he thinks while pounding on your door with his fist. Fuck knows if you can even hear him over your speakers.

But lo and behold and despite all odds, you open up.

“Excuse me, can you turn it down?” His words might be polite, but his voice is anything but—glaring down at you… who quickly turned out to be a girl… 

Yeah, definitely not the idiot ass-hat with the shitty body odor he was expecting. But a pretty girl in a short tank top without a bra and booty shorts so tight and short he would think you’d bought them ten years ago.

“It’s eight?” You raise your brow at him, face otherwise dull.

Okay, so you weren't what he was expecting. And sure, it might make his throat a little tight, among other things. But still, he not going to let it change anything. 

“Yeah, I’m tryna study.” 

That was a lie. He was actually about to go to bed. But he wasn’t about to tell you that. Judging by the way you were looking at him, he’d say you’d just laugh and slam the door in his face. Maybe even turn the volume up to spite him.

Not that telling you he was studying was any better.

“There’s something called a library for that sorta thing,” you drawl.

He’s right—you’re the sardonic type. There’s usually no use fighting with people like you, but still, he must stand his ground and insist, “Yeah, well, I prefer my room.”

You reply in kind, smiling now with a short excuse for a laugh, “Oh, what do you know, me too.”

You’re a little hard to read. That felt like sarcasm, but it wasn’t all that easy to tell. He’s mostly certain you couldn't care less, but at the same time, you’d humored him this long. So, maybe…

“You’ll turn it down then?”

As expected. You just laugh and shut the door in his face.

He stands there for a moment. You must be blowing your eardrums sitting in there. He thinks about knocking again, maybe dropping some of the politeness this time and demanding you turn it down.

But he ends up going back to his room. He decides then to wait another hour, thinking you might come to your senses despite your poor attitude. But at zero point, do you turn your music down by even a single lousy notch. 

Lying in his room, he’s hoping someone else might come by and tell you off. That maybe then you’d listen.

But a couple more minutes later, he realizes he can’t wait for that to happen and decides to test his luck again. Abruptly springing from his bed, he marches over to your room. Doing as he did last time, nearly kicking your door in with his banging.

“Oh my god, dude, what is your problem!?” you bark once seeing him.

And his eye nearly twitches in turn. “My problem? Really? You’re one to talk!”

You gape at him, both glaring at the other. 

“It’s eight-thirty. What? Is it your bedtime or something?”

“No. But I would appreciate it if I could hear myself think in my own room!”

“Oh? Well, maybe you should call your mommy and cry about it!”

Again, all you do is slam the door in his face. However, this time, you skip the laugh and settle for a simple yet efficient grimace that lets him know you’ll not be answering the door again.

Several days pass. He caved and invested in a pair of noise-canceling headphones. But still, he hadn’t been able to fall asleep when he wanted. But suppose that wasn’t all your fault. To be honest, he’d probably be struggling either way, with or without your music. It’s not easy living in a new place. 

It’s lonely, too.

But that can’t be helped. At least not for him. He’s not too good at trying to make friends. And yet, there’s someone at the door. 

Three firm knuckle knocks let him know. But who it might be is anyone’s guess. Still, he begrudgingly answers.

“Oh… so this is you, huh…” 

It’s you—the hot but nasty girl next door, wearing that same pair of shorts he’s been thinking about every day without wanting to. 

You don’t seem too pleased to see him either, even when you’d been the one to knock. 

“Ugh…” You look around, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly before gritting your teeth and finally mustering up enough gall to actually spit out what you’d come there for. “You wouldn’t happen to have a screwdriver or something?”

This time, it’s him who raises his eyebrow. “Or something?” he repeats. “What would that be exactly?”

You scoff then, about to leave, grumbling out, “Never mind–” but he interjects before you’re fully turned around.

“Wait there.” 

It’s to both of your surprise when he disappears into his room.

He isn’t gone long before he’s back with a screwdriver. 

“Here.”

You don’t say anything, just rudely rush to grab it without even looking at him, but when you pull it to yourself, you’re pulled back, stuck to the same spot. He holds onto the other end, looking you right in your shocked eyes.

“You know, it’s customary to say thank you when someone does something for you.”

You look flushed—a little chagrined, maybe—but ultimately, you can’t really argue with it, mumbling out a bitter “Thanks.”

He smiles then, chuckles even. Not nicely. Smugly. 

Admittedly, it’s not his best moment, but who can blame him? You haven’t exactly been so nice yourself. Right now, he can tell you almost feel like rejecting his offer altogether, but that refusing at this point would be too petty so you just have to grin and bear it. 

It’s actually kind of cute.

“Bring it back once you’re done,” he says, then lets go of you, and off you go, nearly stomping away.

He goes back to studying, shaking his head at you. You can’t have many friends either with that attitude. Suppose you have that in common.

Sometime later there’s a frustrated scream coming from the other room. Then, the sound of a door handle roughly getting yanked, someone storming down the short distance of the corridor before throwing his door open unannounced.

“Your useless screwdriver isn’t doing its stupid job!” you yell in a whine, almost throwing the tool at him where he sits by his desk. It lands in his bed next to him instead.

You look utterly disheveled at this point. Dewy-faced and frustrated, hair a total mess and even hotter still. It’s really unfair. How come a bitchy brat like you looks like that, even when you’re a wreck? It shouldn't be allowed.

“I highly doubt it’s the screwdriver's fault. You positive it’s the useless one?”

This time, you just growl without words before turning on your heel, about to stomp out the same way you’d arrived—but again, he finds himself stopping you for whatever reason he still can’t understand.

“Wait.” He gets up from his chair and picks up the screwdriver you’d chucked. “Le’mme have a look.”

You shake your head with a scoff, “No way. I’m not letting you in my room.”

“You didn’t seem so reserved when you came barging into mine.” Ignoring you, he walks straight past you.

“Wait–” you protest, but he doesn't bother. 

He just opens your door and reveals the breakdown you’d had just earlier. Having but one word to ascribe to the scene.

“Wow.”

Suppose you were both in your own right struggling with acclimating to dorm life…

“It’s not my fault I’m not a carpenter or whatever. The instructions said it was simple,” you excuse the mess of planks and screws and bits all belonging to your unassembled wardrobe among all the clothes that are meant to be in it. “They lied.”

He scratches his neck, feeling a little bad for you despite everything. This would take anyone over an hour—probably even more, to be honest. Even if you managed on your own, you’d have a hard time pushing it into place. Not that it’s any of his business. But hey… if he played his cards right, maybe he could get something out of this in the end.

“Alright. I’ll make you a deal,” he says then, folding his arms upon his chest while looking down at you. “I’ll set this up for you.” He leans down, that same smug smile from before plastered on his face as he comes with his condition, “If you promise to lower your music after eight.”

Honestly, with your looks, you could probably knock on just about anyone else's door and ask for their help instead. They probably wouldn’t ask anything in return. But hey, can’t blame a guy for trying.

And to his surprise, you actually seem to think about it. Maybe you’re one of those girls without a clue. You even do this cute thing where you chew your lip in thought, a furrow between your brows. 

You look up at him when you’re finished. “Ten.”

You’re bargaining with him now? He was expecting you to say something like fat chance. But no, you’re really that desperate.

He thinks about agreeing but then doesn’t. No, it might be a little scummy of him, but since he’s gotten this far, he might as well keep the act up and stand his ground. 

“Eight,” he insists.

And you’re face scrunches as you fold, going down to “Nine.”

But no, following the same logic that had worked for him up until now, he still doesn’t budge. “Eight.”

You purse your lips, and he thinks he’s blown it, that you’re just about ready to bark at him to get the fuck out. But you don’t. Instead, you become even cuter. Giving in with a sigh, “Okay, fine.”

He honestly can’t believe it. Though his face shows no shock, he’s dumbfounded on the inside. He can’t believe that worked. Here’s this chick who all but told him to go fuck himself just a few days ago, now all but begging him for his help. Or no, begging is a strong word, but still.

He has to go back into his room and fetch the rest of his toolbox. Turned out you did need an or-something—a drill. No wonder you weren’t managing. But after a little over an hour of tinkering while you lay on your bed reading a magazine—and at some point asking you if it was okay if he removed his shirt before he died of heatstroke, then bothering you for a drink—it was finally finished.

“Alright, all done.” He announced, and after sliding it into place for you, he clapped his hands together and said, “Ta-dah.”

He then takes a look at his wristwatch, wanting to see how long he’d spent, but comes away with another fun discovery.

“My my, would you look at the time?” he grins again, showing it to you. “Just passed eight.”

It makes him snicker. And not expecting a thank you after that comment, he just gathers his tools and slings his shirt over his shoulder, ready to excuse himself. 

“Let me know if you need a cup of sugar, neighbor.” 

He’s just about to open the door when you speak up.

“Thanks, but I'm good on sugar, actually.” 

Your voice is a little different this time—not annoyed, though not chagrined like earlier either—no, something new. Something that makes him turn around again. 

You’ve rolled off the bed, now standing just a short distance away, hips tilted, standing slanted with your arms crossed loosely, wearing those same tight little short shorts he’s never seen you without but could definitely picture on the floor.

Yeah, in his wildest dreams, or so he thought…

“I might need some help breaking in my bed, though, if you’re interested.” 

You step closer, sizing him up where he stands, and then you smile, offering him a small coy laugh. “That is, of course, if it’s not already passed your bedtime.”

He swallows thickly—nearly drops the toolbox to the floor but manages to keep his cool, though just barely.

“No, I think I can help you with that.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Touya, Natsuo ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Nanami, Geto, Megumi, Toji ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Kageyama, Kuro, Iwaizumi, Sakusa ♡ CSM – Aki ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin, Sae, Karasu ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi, Genya ♡ WB – Sakura, Kaji

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[wildflower-ramblings]

Surrender

You bite off more than you can chew

AKA you meet John Price at a bar and goad him into fucking you stupid

18+ MINORS DNI

This is basically porn without plot...except with plot hastily shoved in.

I just wanted to get railed by John Price 🤷‍♀️

I'm also going back to my roots - the first CoD fic I ever read was reader meeting John in a bar 🥺 it only feels right that my first full length smutty fic is the same

It's a long boi too - 5.7k

The air was thick with the press of bodies, heavy with the smell of sweat and sound of boisterous conversation. You weren’t drunk; far from it, but just tipsy enough for your inhibitions to be left at the door, rationality checked in like an unwanted coat. You weren’t even quite sure what you were celebrating any more – were you celebrating? – just that Jess had all but demand you come out and get drunk with her, and a combination of stress and frustration from your own life and worry for what she’d get up to without your presence had caused you to agree. Now, a couple of cocktails in, you were pleasantly buzzed enough that the presence of so many strangers around you brought excitement rather than apprehension. Jess seemed to agree, as she scanned the groups with an appraising eye, seemingly searching for something you were unaware of. Whatever it was, she didn’t seem to find it – instead turning to you with eyes even less focused than your own, grabbing your hands and dragging you to the bar with the loud declaration that she needs another round. It’s far from packed inside, but you still have to jostle for a place at the bar, fighting not to be pushed aside by a group of barely legal lads who are clearly soon to be cut off, if they haven’t been already. Your attention is only half on them as you try to talk Jess out of ordering shots, reminding her of the what happened last time she had tequila, enough so that you don’t notice the boys getting rowdy until one is shoved straight into you. You’re unsteady already, so the slight change in balance (and your damned heels) makes you stumble right into a solid body you hadn’t noticed was there before.

“Easy there, love.” a deep voice says, something about the tone making you feel hot all over, a fact not helped by the very large hand that’s splayed across your back. You look up, mouth already open to apologise, only to be rendered speechless.

Fuck me, he’s hot.

The bar is a regular haunt for them; far enough from base to be free of the fresh-faced privates with more testosterone than thoughts in their brains, sweet-talking pretty little things with tales of bravado that never left the tarmac; yet close enough that even the most impetuous of patrons know better than to bother the men in the corner with war in their eyes. It’s a good place to decompress, to shake off the weight of the latest deployment and attempt to settle back into something more domesticated, better suited to civilian life. Each new mission weighs heavier on John, the weight of every order he receives, every call he has to make dragging him further and further from something that can be tamed. This brief respite – the low light of a dingy bar, away from the prying eyes and rigidity of base, the buzz of alcohol in his system – is the only respite he allows himself, the closest he comes to allowing his iron-clad restraint to slip.

It’s busier than usual tonight – he thinks he saw some poster advertising some band earlier in the evening, and figures these must be the remnants of that crowd, already well on their way to intoxication. He thinks he should leave, head back to his office on base and fish out the bottle he keeps for best – and worst – days, and leave the younger men to their prowl; he can already see Kyle eyeing the prospects with the same calculating gaze he uses for missions, and he knows it won’t be long until Johnny spots some pretty thing at the bar and beelines for them with the excuse of buying another round. Simon had long since disappeared; though whether he’d decided he’d had enough or simply gone out for a smoke it was always hard to tell. But somehow, John found himself dragged to the crowded bar alongside Kyle with the promise of one last round, grumbling but unwilling to deny the younger man. The sergeant is in the middle of ordering when John feels someone stumble into him, and instinctively he reaches out to steady them, arm around their waist before he looks down, only to be met with a pair of eyes that immediately has him breathless.

Yeah, he can stay for another round.

You’re not sure to be grateful to Jess or curse her for knowing you so well, as she takes one look at the man whose arms you had – literally – fallen into, and seems to be determined to set you up. Either that, she’s trying to keep you occupied so she can hook up with his friend, who smoothly introduces himself as Kyle, and invites the two of you to join their table whilst you’re still stumbling over your words. You find yourself pressed into a booth between the man whose arms you’d fallen into (“John,” he’d introduced in that same deep voice, and you’d almost melted there and then), and a friend of theirs (“Sergeant John MacTavish, ma’am, call me Johnny.” he’d said – an attempt at flirtation that may have worked if you hadn’t already met the other John first). Both Johnny and Kyle were flirts big enough to rival Jess, and conversation was easy between your group as the two younger men attempted to one-up each other with increasingly wild tales of military antics; interrupted occasionally by John’s deep, gravelly voice in your ear, either calling them out or backing up their stories, though mostly he chose to remain silent, content to simply watch his mates flirt shamelessly.

Despite the attention of two very attractive and very interested men, you find yourself drawn to their companion, the one who isn’t fawning over you, but instead sits back and watches you, eyes dark as they catalogue every movement you make, trailing over the exposed parts of your skin when he thinks you’re not paying attention. At some point, your hand had come to rest on his burly thigh, far too high to be innocent, and despite his initial shock he hadn’t moved away.

You can tell he’s interested – knew from the first moment his eyes met yours at the bar, the way his pupils dilated and his gaze lingered on your skin – but something is holding him back, keeping him from indulging in what you both want, despite your obvious flirtations. You wonder if it’s part of military training, something drilled into them about keeping calm under pressure, that gave him his iron-clad will.

You wonder what it will take to break it.

You don’t know if Jess or Johnny who suggests it – your brief interactions with the rambunctious Scotsman had taught you that he was eerily similar to your best friend in his ability to seek out trouble – but somehow you’re coerced into the shots Jess had wanted earlier. You close your eyes as you tip the shot back, not noticing the way John’s eyes follow the curve of your neck when your head tips back, the bob of your throat as you swallow, his mind going to much different scenarios. You do notice his chuckle when you grimace at the taste of the alcohol, and you pout at him.

“Not going to join us?”

“I’ll stick to whisky, thank you.” he says, tipping his glass in acknowledgement.

“Probably a good idea. This stuff is foul, I’m not sure I’ll ever get the taste out of my mouth.”

“Here.” He holds the glass of amber liquid towards you. “This’ll help.”

You’re suddenly struck with an idea – you lean in, your eyes locked on his as your lip wraps around the glass, swallowing. A stray drop catches on your lip, and without breaking eye contact you flick your tongue out to catch it, enjoying the way John’s eyes follow the motion. You think you can hear someone wolf-whistle in the background, but you can’t find it in you to care, not with the way John is looking at you – like he could devour you whole.

It’s not long before you and John are the only ones left – Johnny having made an excuse about being tired, though it’s more likely he was sick of being the third (fifth) wheel; and Jess and Kyle having not-so-subtly disappeared to the ‘bathroom’ one after the other. Not that you can blame her – you would let John fuck you in the dirty bar bathroom, if he’d only ask. Unfortunately for you, he’s too much of a gentleman, refusing to allow you to walk the five minutes to your flat alone, even amongst your half-hearted protestations that you would be fine. You can’t find it in you to be truly upset, not when every part of you is humming with need, desperate to keep him in your presence.

The walk is mostly quiet – you’re not sure what’s going through his mind, but yours is occupied with with ways to get him inside your apartment, to convince him that you want this as much as he does. You barely even notice that you’ve arrived until you spot the familiar bright blue door.

“This it?”

“Yeah.” you bite your lip, suddenly unsure. Despite the obvious attraction, and your rather blatant flirtations, he’s given you no indication that he intends to take things any further. You’re not sure how to ask.

“I’ll walk you up.” his tone leaves no room for argument, and a part of you hopes it’s because he doesn’t plan to leave. Your mind swirls with with possibilities, both of dragging him into your bed, and of him leaving you at the door without a word, never to see you again.

You’re distracted as you pull out your keys, so much so that you forget about the dodgy step – the same hole that had been there since before you moved in, and had probably been there since the nineties – and immediately stumble, keys slipping from your grip. John is beside you in an instant, deftly plucking them from the air before you’ve even noticed you’ve dropped them, his hand on your waist to steady you.

“Careful, love.” he rumbles, dangerously close to your ear. He’s once again in your space, taking up all your senses. You want to keep him there as long as possible, and you’re fairly certain he wants that too, as he doesn’t hand you the keys, and he makes no move to pull away.

“Thank you, John.” you breathe, placing a hand on his thick bicep and squeezing lightly, and you can see the effect it has on him. His eyes darken, and his grip on your waist tightens just slightly.

“Don’t do that, love.”

“Why not?” you keep your voice low, unwilling to break whatever fragile bubble you’ve built around the two of you, the one where nothing else exists but you. The one where he’s so close to giving in, to giving you both what you want.

“I’m not what you want.”

“And how do you know that?” you murmur, letting your hand brush gently from his arm, across his broad shoulders, to rest on his chest, right over his heart. You can almost imagine you can feel it hammering under your touch. “Tell me you’re not interested and I’ll stop.”

“You don't know me, love. Trust me, you don’t want me.”

“You didn’t say you’re not interested.” You say, stepping closer to him, so close you swear you can see the conflict playing out behind his eyes. You lean up, lips ghosting against the shell of his ear. “You trying to scare me off? Or are you afraid you can’t handle me?”

His jaw twitches, clenched tight. Fingers clenching around around the keys, white-knuckled.

“Inside. Now.”

He doesn’t touch you as he follows you up the stairs to your apartment, but you can feel the weight of his stare on you, heavier than any hands you’ve had on your body before. Neither of you speaks – the tension is drawn so tight that you’re afraid the slightest sound will cause it to snap, and you’re not sure if you’re more frightened or excited by the prospect.

Your hands tremble as they try to fit the key into the lock, and suddenly his hand is covering yours, steadying it; but the electricity it sends through your skin nearly causes your knees to buckle. Almost as if he can read your thoughts, his other hand goes to your hip, his body a wall of muscle behind you, so close but not touching, almost as if to say fall if you have to, I’ll catch you.

You’re only too eager to take him up on the offer.

It’s only when the door clicks shut behind him that you turn to look at him. His broad frame almost dwarfs the door, but your entire world was drawn down to just his eyes; the bright blue is gone, replaced with a dark storm that under other circumstances would be terrifying, but here in the low light of your apartment it causes a thrill to go through you, heat pooling in your belly. You feel simultaneously powerful and fragile – a siren luring the sailor in, only to find you’ve been caught his net the whole time, your voice holding no more power over him than a ship has over the ocean.

It’s then that his control snaps; stepping forwards, he grips the back of your neck like he’s scruffing a stray cat, and drags you into an open-mouthed kiss. His other hand splays across your back, pressing you close with no way to escape his grip. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, unable to do anything but surrender. All of your senses are taken over by him – the warmth of his hands even through your clothes, the taste of whisky on this tongue, the scent of something masculine and faintly smoky overwhelming you until you couldn’t think of anything but him.

When he finally pulls away you’re breathless, staring up at him with glassy eyes, leaning into his hand like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. It might very well be; you feel so weightless you might float away, the warmth of his hands being the only things keeping you tethered. You let out a disappointed wine when he drops his hands and steps back from you, looking pleased with himself at the desperate noise. If you’d been any more lucid you might have noticed the faint growl in his voice, the only sign that he was just as affected as you were.

“Clothes off. Now.”

All your earlier bravado is gone; you can only scramble to obey with an eagerness unmatched by even the most well trained soldiers under his command. And he knows it too; there’s a knowing glint in his eyes as his lips curl in the hint of a smirk, arms folding across his chest as he watches you kick off your shoes, reaching for the zipper of your dress.

“Eager thing, aren’t you?” he murmurs, and you find yourself nodding reflexively, letting the dress fall to the ground, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties. His hands find your waist as you unclasp your bra, his lips at the shell of your ear, voice low and sending shivers down your spine. “Just need someone to tell you what to do, is that it?” His lips just barely brush against your skin, trailing a path across your jaw, as one hand skims up your side to your chest, palm cupping your breast, and you tangle your hand in his hair in a desperate attempt to keep his lips on your skin. “Need someone to make you behave?” He pulls back to watch your face as he gives your breast a squeeze, tugging at your peaked nipple and sending a jolt straight to your core.

“Yes.” You breathe, and his mouth is on yours again, tongue sweeping into your mouth and swallowing your gasp. His hands are everywhere, kneading at the swell of your breasts and tracing the curve of your spine, slipping beneath your panties to grip at the curve of your ass, pressing your hips against forward against the unmistakable bulge in his pants. Your hands leave his hair move to tug your underwear off, but you’re quickly stopped by his hands gripping yours, bringing them to his lips.

“Allow me.” He murmurs, sinking to the ground. His hands are delicate as they grip the waistband of your panties, dragging them slowly down as his lips follow, brushing kisses against the soft flesh of your hip, thigh, your knee; getting further and further from where you want them. He may be on his knees before you, but you’re acutely aware that he is still in control; each kiss to your bare skin perfectly calculated to bring you closer to madness, ignoring his own almost painful arousal. His lips trail back up your legs, and you can feel yourself growing wetter as he gets closer and closer to where you need him most – only to ghost right over your pussy, his lips instead moving to your hips, your stomach, everywhere but where you want them. You whine, hands tugging at his hair, try to bring his mouth where you want it. Instead, he continues up your body, until his lips brush the underside of your breast, before wrapping around a peaked nipple and sucking. You all but collapse into his arms with the jolt of pleasure it sends through your body and he chuckles lowly, standing to place a brief kiss to your lips.

“Bedroom, sweetheart.”

“Second door-” you barely have time breathe out before you’re swept off your feet, clinging to his shoulders as he swiftly locates your bedroom. Barely a beat passes between him laying you on the bed and fitting his body over yours, lips capturing your own, and fitting one large thigh in between your legs. He grips your hips and guides them over the rough fabric, his own arousal pressing into your hip. You can tell already that it’s going to be impressive, and your hand reaches down to grip him through the fabric, desperate to feel him.

With a groan he pulls away from your lips, gripping your wrist and pulling it off him as he looks down at you with pupils blow so wide they’re nearly black. For a moment you think he plans to fuck you just like this; you laid out bare, and him still fully clothed, and that just won’t do. You need to feel his skin against yours, need to be able to touch and kiss and bite. You impatiently paw at his shirt, and he separates from your lips just long enough to remove it, giving a breathy chuckle at your impatience. He doesn’t give you any time to admire him, as he moves down the bed, nudging your legs apart with his shoulders and settling between them. You think you should be self-conscious, having him so close to your most intimate parts, but the hungry look in his eyes only has you getting more worked up.

“Look at you…” he breathes, and you’re not sure it’s meant for you to hear. You shift impatiently, desperate for some kind of touch, anything, needing him to do something. His eyes flicker up to yours, amused.

“Need something?” He says, placing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, so close but so far from where you want him.

“Please, John-” you whine, hips bucking. Slowly he kisses up your thigh until he’s at your folds, so close-

His nose brushes against your clit and you jolt, fingers curling into the sheets. He’s barely even touched you, yet you’re so wound up that the slightest touch sends electricity through you. And then his mouth is on you, tongue rolling over your clit, and you arch off the bed with an obscene moan. A broad hand is splayed out on your stomach, holding your hips still, as he other hand grips your hip with almost bruising force to keep you against his mouth. His tongue laves through your folds, dipping into your entrance just slightly before rolling over your clit, and back again, your hips rocking into his face with every stroke, frantically chasing your pleasure. It’s devastating how fast he has you reaching your peak, the warmth pooling in your belly as your hand cards through his hair, walls clenching around his tongue as he fucks it into you, your whole body on fire. And then he wraps his lips around your clit and you break, eyes rolling, screaming his name as body tries to curl in on itself, thighs clamping around his head in a way you’d think would be painful, if you’d been able to think at all. You feel your orgasm in your whole body, every inch of you drawing tight before you melt, boneless and heavy, yet still not sated.

He kisses up your body slowly, giving you time to come down from your high. His hips slot between yours as he draws you into a slow kiss, letting you taste yourself on him as he grinds his clothed bulge against you with the same languid pace as his kiss. You’ve just come, but you want more – want all of him. You need to feel him inside you.

“Want you-” you whine, hands moving for his belt, clumsily tugging at it with clumsy hands, still shaking from your orgasm.

“’m getting there, sweetheart.” he groans into your mouth, gripping both your hands in one of his to try and move them away. “Patience.”

“No.” you whine, hand slipping under the waistband of his pants, reaching down to cup his length through his underwear. His movements still immediately, head dropping to your neck as his hips buck into the warmth of your hand.

“Brat.” he nips at your jaw, before he pulls away from you and moves to stand. You open your mouth to complain but are quickly silenced by the sight of his hands at his belt, thick fingers undoing the buckle with ease before impatiently shoving his pants and underwear down simultaneously, allowing his cock to spring free. You’re not sure what happens afterwards, too focused on the image of John’s large hand gripping his flushed length. He looks big even in his own hand – you want to know what he’ll look like with your smaller ones wrapped around it. You’re not sure you’ll be able to cover it completely even with both your hands, but god do you want to try. Your mouth practically waters as you rise up off the bed, reaching towards him, but he stops you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Lay back, sweetheart.” He growls, stills fisting his aching cock as he crawls back over you, pushing at your shoulder gently to force you down. But you resist, too focused on getting your mouth on him. You want to know how he’ll taste, how heavy he’ll will feel on your tongue, how wrecked he'll sound when he comes down your throat.

“Please, John, let me-” your hands are on his shoulders as you give him your best pleading eyes, licking your lips as you try to move on top of him. “Please let me suck your cock.”

“It’s alright-” he starts, but you silence him with a kiss, tongue licking into his mouth, giving him just a taste of what you want to do with his cock.

“I want to.” you breathe when you pull away, enjoying the heady look in his eyes as he gives in.

He allows you to push him back, to settle on your knees in front of him, but his eyes never leave yours. His tangles loosely in your hair, not tight enough to pull, but firm enough to remind you who’s in charge.

Your eyes remained fixed on his as take him into your hand, giving him a few languid strokes, before leaning down and letting your tongue flick over the head.

You watch as his breathing stutters, as his jaw twitches in what you’ve learnt is an attempt to restrain himself, to keep some semblance of control, as your hand continues to work his cock, your tongue swirling over the head and lapping at the beads of precum there.

You don’t want him controlled. You want to see him break.

Without warning you wrap your lips around his cock, taking him as deep as you can. You hear him swear above you, his hand tightening almost painfully in your hair as he fights the urge to buck his hips into the warmth of your mouth. You pull back, swirling your tongue around his tip, before bobbing your head again, taking him deeper, as your hand strokes what you can’t fit in your mouth. The noise he makes is positively sinful, half way between a moan and a growl, and you want to hear him make it again. You pull off his cock with a swirl of your tongue, but this time your mouth trails down his length, eventually reaching his heavy balls, and suck.

“Fuck.” He growls. With a grip just on the right side of painful, he pulls you off him, dragging your face up to his and meeting your lips in a bruising kiss. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, uncaring of the taste of himself as he guides you onto your back, hips slotting between yours, cock hot and heavy where it rests on your stomach. With his cock so close to where you need it, you think he might finally fuck you, but instead his hand trails down to cup your mound, fingers trailing through the arousal that’s gathered there, bringing it up tow swirl around your clit. You’re still sensitive from your previous orgasm, and the faint touch has you gasping, hips bucking into him, desperate to be filled.

“Have to get you ready, love.”

“’m ready now- please, John-”

“Patience.” he repeats his earlier words, thumb pressing lightly on your clit as his finger teases your entrance. “Gonna be a tight fit sweetheart, gotta stretch you out.” Just the thought of his cock bullying its way inside you has you clenching around nothing, and you think he can see it on you, as he teases a thick finger inside you, groaning at the way your walls clamp down around him. He adds a second finger, palm grinding against your clit, working you over into another orgasm with ease. You come with a cry, walls clenching around his fingers, and he groans at the sensation, imagining how you’ll feel coming around his cock. The thought alone is enough to have pulling his fingers from you, using the wetness on his fingers to fist his cock as he lines the weeping head with your slit. The feel of his tip pressing into you has you clinging to his shoulders, and he grips your leg, wrapping it over his hip, opening you further and allowing him to slip in deeper.

It’s achingly slow, the way he feeds his cock into you, as though he wants you to feel every single inch, every ridge and vein. By the time he bottoms out you’re nearly mad with anticipation, nails biting into his back as you try to force him to move, to give you some kind of relief.

“Fuck, sweetheart-” he groans at the sensation, fighting the urge to rut into with abandon, desperate to draw this out until he can feel you cumming.

You roll your hips up to meet his, desperately seeking the pleasure he’s withholding from you. But he denies you; keeping his thrusts just slow enough to keep you teetering on the edge without tipping over, driving you closer and closer to madness with each stroke, until you’re a sobbing, babbling wreck; begging him to please let you come.

“You wanna come, sweetheart?” He drawls, nosing along your jaw, his thumb just barely ghosting over where you need it.

“Yes.”

“Gonna have to ask nicer than that.” he teases, cock dragging against your walls in a way that's just shy of enough.

“Please, John, I – I’m so close – please, I –” you babble, half delirious with pleasure. Despite your previous orgasms, you need it, need him.

“Good girl.” he all but growls, thumb pressing down on your clit. That’s all it takes; you crash, white hot pleasure thrumming through every inch, clenching around his cock in attempt to drag him over the edge with you.

But he pulls out suddenly, cock slapping against your twitching, overstimulated clit as he squeezes the base to try and stave off his own orgasm. He taps it against your clit once, twice more more, enjoying the way you moan and writhe away from the contact, before he flips you over, dragging your limp and pliant body onto your knees. You can just barely manage to hold yourself up as he sinks his cock into your tight heat once more, the new angle hitting something inside you that has your eyes rolling back. The grip he has on your hips is is bruising as he sets a much faster pace, fucking into you as though you’re nothing more than a pretty little toy for him to use. It’s all you can do to grip the sheets but your head and try to keep yourself upright as he chases his own relief.

It’s not enough for John, however – if you can still hold yourself up, he hasn’t fucked you thoroughly enough. With one hand gripping your hips, his other arm against your chest and gripping the base of your throat like a collar, he drags your body up to meet his, your head dropping back onto his shoulder as his cock manages to hit even deeper inside you. Still not satisfied, he drags his fingers over your clit harshly; still sensitive, he has you on the precipice of another orgasm remarkably fast.

“I can’t- John-” Your hand goes to his where it fits over your cunt; you grip it tightly, but make no attempt to pull him away.

“One more, sweetheart. Let me feel you.” His lips ghost across your neck, his other hand kneading at your breast, and the combined sensations are enough to push you over the edge.

You come so hard you can’t even scream, your vision turning white and you collapse forward, the weight of John’s body following you, pinning you to the mattress. You barely register the feeling of John’s release shortly after, groaning as his hips stutter, as though trying to fuck his come deeper into you. He has just enough sense to roll off you slightly before he collapses fully, though his body is still a comforting weight tethering you to reality. Everything feels fuzzy, your limbs heavy. Even the brush of his breath against your neck lights up your skin like a livewire. You’re not sure how long the two of you lie there; with his warm body pressed against yours, and the gentle caress of his hands over your sweat-slicked skin, you feel lulled into an almost dreamlike state. You’re not sure if it’s minutes or hours before you feel his lips on your shoulder, his body pulling away from yours. You moan at the sensation of him slowly drags his cock from your sensitive walls, his cum already beginning to leak out. You barely even register him roll you onto your back, parting your thighs and settling between them, his eyes already dark as they fix onto your cunt.

“Fuck, that’s a pretty sight.” He says, mostly to himself, watching the pearly liquid dripping from your folds. He swipes his fingers through your folds, collecting what’s leaked out, before he stuffs them back inside of you.

“Look so pretty full of me, sweetheart.” You’re not sure if it’s the sound of his voice, his words, or his fingers inside you, but you can’t help but moan and clench down around him. He shifts his body so he can capture your lips, fingers still inside you. He kisses you languidly, tenderly, like he hadn’t just fucked your brain to liquid and left you boneless.

“You broken, love?” You can only weakly shake your head no, eyes still closed. “Don’t tell me you’ve had enough already.” You slowly open your eyes, finding him looking down at you with eyes dark, a smug look on his face like he’s won some game you weren't aware you were playing. Despite how tired you are, how blissed out you feel, you find yourself shaking your head, as if unwilling to disappoint him.

“Good. I’m not done with you yet.”

You wake in the morning with a pleasant ache between your thighs, your limbs still loose and boneless as you melt back into the mattress. You’re vaguely aware of the lack of another body in bed with you, but your limbs feel too heavy to move to check. You think you hear the sound of movement in your apartment, though it could just be your neighbours – either way, you’re too comfortable to care. It’s only when you hear the sound of footsteps approaching that you lazily open your eyes, just in time to see John, shirtless, broad chest and arms on full display as he places a steaming mug on your bedside table. You can’t help but admire him all over again in the golden morning light, eyes trailing over the expanse of his shoulders, remembering how he’d draped your legs over them whilst he buried his face in your cunt; the thickness of his fingers when he buried them inside you.

“Mornin’, love.” He leans over you, his hand gently cradling your face, and you rise up to meet his lips. It’s devoid of last night’s urgency, but still leaves you just as breathless and hungry. Your grip tightens as he moves to pull away, and you follow him, trying to bring his lips back to yours.

“Needy little thing.” He chuckles, pushing you back into the mattress and settling over you, his hand a solid weight on your throat as he tilts your head to look up at him. “Didn’t get enough last night?”

You say nothing, simply draw him back into a kiss, legs falling open as you allow him to settle between them.

[angelltheninth]

Do you think the Arcane lesbians tie their hair back when eating out?

Ya'll really trying to make me go feral with these eh?

Pairing: Vi, Caitlyn Kiramman, Maddie Nolen, Sevika, Ambessa Medarda x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, cunnilingus, hair-pulling, teasing, biting, being pinned down, praise, clit slapping

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: As far as I know Ambessa is a bisexual queen so I'm putting her in here.

Vi ran her hand through her buzzcut and sighed. "I mean, I can tie my hair back but I don't really see the point. It's just on the one side of my face, and my back." She shrugged as she leaned further down between your legs. "It doesn't bother me. What about you?"

"Not really. I thought you might wanna do it so I can see your eyes more clearly. Your hair has been getting a bit longer lately. Might need a haircut some time soon." You hooked your legs around Vi's shoulders and sighed heavily as her tongue prodded against your entrance.

As she licked into you your hands ran through her hair, seeing her point as your hands were enough to hold her hair back. She didn't need a hair tie. She looked perfect just like this, between your legs, about to eat you out like you were her last meal.

"If you wanna keep looking at me better keep those hands in place, sweet stuff." Her teasing words made you moan and tighten your grip. You didn't want her to stop, so you would do as you were told.

With your hands and your legs keeping her in pace Vi moved her tongue through your wet folds, savoring your sweet taste and the ever present tug you gave against her scalp every time her tongue played with your clit. The real reason why she enjoyed it is because she didn't mind the pain, when it mixed with pleasure.

If Caitlyn ties her hair back when you two have sex then you know she feels like giving rather than receiving that night. As soon as you saw her do it you knew you were for a really long night. "What are you smiling like that for darling?" Caitlyn asked as she leaned in for a kiss.

With a smirk and not breaking the kiss you pulled her on top of you and cupper her cheeks. "You know why. You tied your hair back. Just seeing you do that gets me wet." Caitlyn's eyebrows furrowed and she tilted her head. Her hands cupped over yours before she pushed them to your sides and kissed down your body. It seemed to make her conflicted that you knew what she was gonna do.

"Am I that predictable? Should I do something to spice things up?" There was something dangerous in her eyes as she asked. "Since you can see what I do, perhaps a nice blindfold, to keep you guessing."

"I-I wouldn't be opposed to that." You spread your legs open further and moved your panties to the side. "What else do you wanna do to me?"

Caitlyn looked up at you right as her tongue pressed against your clit and stayed there. She pulled away after a few seconds. "I'm sure I can think of a few things. After I make you come." You couldn't think of anything either as Caitlyn started mercilessly licking at your clit.

Maddie always wore her hair tied back except for when she was sleeping or taking a shower. It was no different when she was between your legs. Other might argue she's silly when she ties her hair back like that but they don't know how much easier it makes it to please her favorite girl.

"Do you not like it? You always said my ponytail was pretty cute. What changed?" The look on her face was an almost rejected pout.

"Nothing." You laughed at the idea that she thought you were rejecting her sense of style. "I love how you look with your hair tied up. Makes you look so damn cute. When you're under me like this."

In retaliation of you calling her cute Maddie bit your inner thigh, pretty hard too, which made you exhale sharply and brace yourself against the headboard of the bed. "Don't go calling me cute while I'm making you come all over my face." The fact that you were above her, pussy dripping on her wasn't enough to make her blush, but your praise sure did.

"Aww, but you are cute. My cute, sweet girl. Being so good for me right now yeah?" As if it could help her Maddie pressed her face between your legs again, her tongue licking at double speed. "See, you're going so good. Of course you are, using your tongue just the way I want you to."

"Sweetheart, fuck, hold on, stop for a moment." Sevika moved away from you, her chin dripping with your pussy juices. You groaned, tried to pull her back but she pushed you back. "I said hold on. I'm just getting something real quick. I'll be right back."

You licked your lips as you watched her make her way to one of the drawers. To your disappointment it wasn't the one where she kept her strap, but she did pull out a hair tie. The disappointment may have been on your face for a split second but Sevika saw it and it made her grin even wider.

"Don't look so let down. I'm about to eat your sweet cunt until you pass out. Now lay back and wait until I get this thing on." It was a bit of a challenge to do with one hand. You saw her struggle with it before.

You sighed and gave her a bit of encouragement. "I can do that for you. I'm really good with my fingers." You waived at her with one hand while cupping your pussy with the other. "So I've been told anyway."

Sevika's eyes widened when she saw your slick dripping onto the sheets. "Hey, hands off what's mine. You're being a real brat right now." She fumbled with the hair tie a few more times before she managed to get it on. Her hand grabbed your wrist. "Mine." She growled possessively as she pushed her tongue into your pussyhole.

Ambessa never ties her hair back unless she's on the battlefield. She has no reason to tie her hair when she's in bed with you, pinning you down by the hips and absolutely feasting, licking and sucking on your clit and keeping your pussy lips parted so she can see your hole clench around nothing.

"More, please, please, I want you inside." You begged, your voice strained as you tried to push her face further down.

"Hm, brave tonight. Aren't you, pet? Thinking you can order me around, grabbing my hair like that. Was I away for too long that you forgot yourself?" She pulled away, her rough palm delivering a hard slap on your clit. Then another, and another until you were a crying, drooling mess. "Behave yourself."

Unfortunately, or fortunately, you couldn't do that. Your nails dug into her hair further and you saw her roll her eyes. "I'm sorry. I missed you so much, I promise I'll behave next time. Just... please..."

"Fine, fine." Ambessa reached over to the nightstand and pulled her hair back into a bun. It wasn't nearly as neat as she usually wore it but she was in a hurry. "I'll spend all night reminding your body of who it belongs to." The look she gave you then was similar to how you saw her look at her targets across the battlefield, dark, cocky, a little amused, and very determined.

[onskepa]

Hi how are you? If you want, could you tell us what your headcanons would be for what the Sully children's relationship would be like with a human/avatar mother who was mated with Jake and Neytiri? Thank you very much, have a great day!

I can see a lot of possible outcomes for this one! So here ya go! Enjoy!

P.S: Reader will not be given a name in this one, instead she will be called "small mama"

Pinnacle protection

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

Pinnacle motherhood

Right off the bat, the whole family loves their third mother, second mate. Jake sully couldn't ask for a better family, and better mates. Especially his little human mate. Neytiri will agree with him, while yes she has her children to hug, her little mate is just what she needs. Something small yet full of love just for her. 

Now like any trio, there is a balance between the parents. Jake is the head of the family, the brains with his clever ideas. Neytiri at times can be the brains but most muscle due to her skills in fighting and hunting. And their beloved human is the heart of the family. Keeping everyone together. 

And like any child, the sully kids will have favorites. And their favorite is their amazing human mother. She is the most fun, loving parent any child could ever ask for. Are they not getting their way with Jake or neytiri? To mama it is! And mama will always fold by the simple look of her kids. 

Another thing about their favorite mama, they all believe she has the power to read their minds. How else would it explain she knows their next move? 

Lo’ak and tuk can recall so many instances where they were barely forming an idea only for their mama to say “dont even think about it” or “it is not worth the trouble”. 

For neteyam, as he is the oldest he does try to be a good example for his mischievous siblings, along with holding so many responsibilities, but he can always count on his small mama for anything. Small mama consoles him, talking about anything neteyam has his mind about. 

Unlike Jake or neytiri who neteyam has to put up a strong warrior face, with a small mama he can revert back to being a baby with her. He feels safe and be a kid again with her. And small mama always called him her “little baby boy”. Neteyam won't admit it but he likes it when she calls him that. 

For kiri, she definitely adores her small mama. She is closer to her third parent than she is with neytiri. Not to be mean or anything. But with Jake, Kiri can talk about what odd things happen around her, ask her about her mother and stuff but with her small mama. Well, she can express far more with her, be free to say anything not be judged upon. Kiri can dare say small mama understands her more than anyone in the world.

With tuk, the baby of the family. Why, she loves to be the taller one, it makes her happy. Of course she would never tease her small mama that she is taller, but small mama would call her “tiny tuk”. A name tuk loves and will glady flex it for some reason. 

If tuk can't go somewhere with her older siblings, small mama would personally take her anywhere she wants to go. As long as it is safe. With small mama, everything is fun and never boring. Tuk loves the times where her hair is braided or she braids small mama’s hair. 

Now, if small mama would use her avatar, nothing much would change. Except that now the kids will demand piggy back rides. Tuk or lo’ak would be front of the line for that.  

Hunting would be easier and much more fun with jake and neytiri, running, riding their ikrans, less risk overall. 

Even with her avatar, she is still short compared to her two mates. She is smaller than Neytiri by 9 ½ inches. Not something she is super thrilled about. No matter what body, she is still small mama through and through. 

Small mama is forever grateful to live her best life with her family, loving them and saying her thanks to Eywa for blessing her to be the best of her two worlds. Through hardships, through trials, small mama has a mighty heart and a roar of an ikran. Yes sometimes she might be stressed or frustrated but life is not perfect. Small mama knows that all too well. But there is nothing better than what she has. 

[sirfrogsworth]

I've been thinking deeply about "good people" and "bad people" and how those labels don't work for me anymore except in rare cases (Elon, Trump, MTG, etc).

I've switched to good and bad behaviors as much as I can.

Jay Leno the comedian was just bad behaviors all the way down. He literally made Monica Lewinsky's life nearly intolerable. He was in some part responsible for her brush with suicide. Not only did he make jokes about her every night, but he has kept those jokes in his act TO THIS DAY.

He was probably the first mainstream transphobic comedian. When Cher's son Chaz Bono came out as a trans man, Jay did jokes for months. To his credit, he later did an interview with Chaz and you could see in real time Jay thinking, "Oh, this isn't what I thought." It seemed like meeting an actual trans person changed his perspective a bit. (Imagine that.)

And, of course, the entire saga screwing over Conan was just peak bad behavior. Conan's 60 Minutes interview is the perfect thing to watch if you want to know more.

HOWEVER...

Jay Leno the boss is a solid dude. He was the Anti-Ellen. Got along with everyone. Took an interest in their lives. He'd give them extra jobs like paying the art department to recreate vintage car advertisements for his car museum.

He rewarded loyalty and took care of his crew for the run of his show. He'd give them bonuses and expensive gifts for years of service. When there were strikes he would pay their salaries. He was so loved as a boss, that many of his crew members stuck with him for the entire run of his Tonight Show. They once did a thing where they showed the crew babies born during the Tonight Show and it looked like they brought in the entire student body of a grade school.

Jay Leno the car historian is a sweet old grandpa doing important work in conservation. Cars are a part of our history and I think it is important to have a robust historical sample. Jay does not just collect expensive cars just to have them and show off his wealth. He collects cars throughout history, preserves them as they were (to the best of his ability), and he *drives* them.

So many museums will do this historical pausing thing where they take an old thing, stop any current degradation, and then preserve it from that point forward. Or they might restore the car to its former glory and then do the pause. Keeping it on display and never driving it again.

But I find this problematic with cars for a couple of reasons. First, when you do that, you lose the context of how the cars needed to be maintained. You can lose access to mechanics that can work on them and create parts for them. Cars are not just visual objects, they are mechanisms with thousands of moving parts and the history of those moving parts is important too. Cars need to be driven to be maintained. The longer you let them sit, the more they will break down, the harder it will be to keep them in working order for preservation. Perhaps one paused and one driven would be a better approach due to the risk of accidents.

But also, the experience of driving these cars is important historically. How fast were they? How good was the acceleration? How did they corner? What did all the buttons and dials do? Were they fun to drive? Were they scary death traps? (Looking at you Dodge Viper. How many dentists did you kill?) The actual driving of the cars has important historical context. I think car museums should be next to a track and people should be allowed to experience riding in them.

Jay is an amazing historian and has a wonderful sampling of important cars going back to steam. He even has a steam fire engine from the early 1900s. He is a gracious host and gives lots of people access to his collection. He does weekly videos so there is a great visual record of this history and anyone can watch and learn about these old (and new but inaccessible) cars.

If you were to poke me with a stick, I'd say Jay Leno the comedian is a giant asshole. And Jay Leno the boss and historian is a solid dude.

And holding those two ideas in my head breaks my brain a little.

But I think there is merit in thinking of people as collections of good and bad behaviors rather than just giving them a singular verdict of good or bad person.

Jimmy Kimmel is another interesting study in good vs bad behavior.

He started doing comedy in the misogynistic manosphere genre. Famously, he did "The Man Show" with Adam Corolla. What's funny about that is I think Jimmy thought it was mostly satire (though he was absolutely problematic) and Adam was a true believer who thought he was really sticking it to those feminist bitches.

Jimmy Kimmel might be one of the most public examples of genuine, authentic growth. A person who analyzed his bad behaviors and decided to limit or replace them with good behaviors. I'm guessing his marriage and family helped push him along. But he started this journey long before that. He learned he could still push the limits of crude humor and even satirize his misogynistic past while generally being a solid dude. Slowly he became one of celebrities' favorite shows to go on. And, because of his growth, he started making friends with tons of them. You would not believe how many big stars are good friends with Jimmy Kimmel outside his show.

And when Trump came along, Jimmy got fucking WOKE. (The OG usage) His empathetic side came out in a big way. He couldn't hold it back with his crude man humor facade. He started caring about the world and what his kids were going to grow up in, and he added scathing political humor to his repertoire.

Jay Leno remains apolitical as much as possible with some mildly shitty conservative views popping out every once in a while. He is into old school WWII style patriotism and thinks everything should be made in America. Like, when someone says a car part is made in America, I worry Jay is just going to jizz in his pants right on camera.

Is Jay Leno a bad person? Sometimes. Absolutely.

Was Jimmy Kimmel a bad person? Sometimes. Absolutely.

Is Jimmy still a bad person? Not as far as I can tell.

Is Adam Corolla a piece of shit? Absolutely. Absolutely.

[talesofesther]

best kept secret

➥ Yelena Belova x Reader/fem!OC

Summary: Yelena had chosen to keep what she feels for you a secret. Feelings were dangerous, after all. But maybe walking into the void could make her see things differently.

A/N: This is a very random little idea that I wrote in under an hour loll. It's not masterfully elaborated, but it's cute! Set during Thunderbolts, so expect some spoilers ahead.

Word count: 1,5k

Masterlist

"Why don't you ask her for something different?" You took a sip from your iced coffee, head resting on one palm. "A change of scenery?"

Yelena hummed. She had her eyes cast down, holding a staring contest with her coffee. She hadn't taken a single sip yet. "Valentina is not exactly malleable." She shrugged; there was a tiredness to her that had been there a while.

The night would settle in soon enough; the sky was already a darker shade of blue and orange. The air was fresh, though, that's why you had decided to sit together at the tables outside, instead of inside the little café.

Yelena's hair, still wet from a fresh shower, was combed back and framed her face prettily. She wore a dark grey hoodie and a silver chain around her neck. Her eyes reflected the last rays of sun. She was the most beautiful woman you had ever known.

Yelena had lost contact with all the Widows she set free from mind control. All, except you. She kept you close, she called time and time again to check on you.

You were the only one whom she sought out at night, when her knuckles were bloody and her lips tasted of sin. You kissed it all away. You were the one she'd hold close and press her mouth against with no words necessary.

You were the one no one knew about, the one who she'd deny being hers if anyone asked.

You were the one she couldn't let go of. And the one she'd never admit having.

"Try anyway?" You hoped, leaning down to try and find her gaze. Genuine worry for her hid behind the sweetness of your voice.

One side of Yelena's mouth quirked up. If you looked closely, you'd see her cheeks turning a soft pink. She wasn't used to having someone around, perhaps that's why you sometimes missed her, even when she was right in front of you.

Yelena reached over the table, all timid and reluctant. Her fingers brushed over your knuckles in a silent request for closeness.

It was all she'd give you out here in the streets, under so many watchful eyes. You could only love her in secret—safer that way, or so she'd say.

You turned your hand over, welcoming her touch when she tangled her fingers with yours. There were new scars on Yelena's hands. You made a mental note to kiss them later.

Yelena squeezed your hand. "Can I see you later?" She always asked. Her brows would always tilt up a little with the vulnerability she tried to hide. You could almost hear how she held her breath while you held the silence.

Yelena still feared the day you'd tell her no. The day you'd walk away, too.

You took hold of the spoon resting on Yelena's forgotten coffee. You stirred it lazily, each swirl clinking against the mug's porcelain.

Yelena glanced down, finally took the mug, and brought it to her lips. You smiled; "You better."

—⧗—

The clock read 12:36 a.m. when Yelena knocked on your apartment door.

She felt her heart skip a beat upon hearing your soft steps come to her. Yelena bit the inside of her cheek and wondered if the anticipation would ever go away. Part of her hoped it wouldn't.

When you opened the door for her, a sigh she'd been holding since leaving her father's house fell past her lips. Yelena knew the dangers of getting attached, but every time she tried telling herself it would be the last time, her throat closed up tight, and her fingers shook.

An empty cup of tea was on top of your coffee table, and the only light came from the kitchen adjacent to your living room. There was a wildlife documentary on, serving as background noise. And a fluffy blanket over the couch.

You'd been waiting for her.

Maybe it was unfair. Because Yelena would come back to you tasting of heartache and all the sins that wouldn't let her sleep at night, and still you'd kiss her, and hold her, and look at her as if she's someone worth looking at.

Yelena's hands were dripping with so much blood, but you held them anyway. And you pulled her in and you pressed your lips to each one of her scars, even the ones you couldn't see.

Yelena held onto your waist, falling forward like she had many times before. Her upper lip brushed yours. Yelena couldn't get enough of you.

"I called her," she breathed against you, Russian accent heavy on the syllables, "Just one more job and I'm done." Yelena's hands sneaked under your pajama shirt. She felt your goosebumps. She shivered at the thought of being the one to cause it.

You smiled into the kiss, hands buried in her short hair. You felt giddy at her consideration of what you'd said.

Yelena mimicked your smile with one of her own. She breathed you in. When you held her, she was free of all her sins.

Yelena loved you. She'd never tell you. You were her best kept secret.

—⧗—

New Yorkers were almost used to seeing disasters and superhumans wreak havoc in their city. You would have kept your distance from the chaos, but the city had been engulfed in a black void, and Yelena was at the heart of it.

You'd run to the eye of the storm, with fear sinking in your stomach and your heart beating at the rhythm of her name. There were fires to one side of you and rubble to the other. The smoke in your lungs made it difficult to breathe, but you needed to find her.

When you did, you caught the tail end of Valentina's speech about the new Avengers.

You stood among the crowd of civilians, rising on tiptoes, trying to catch a glimpse of who was at the front of the commotion.

Yelena froze when her gaze landed on you. Her eyes widened, and she took a step forward as if going to your side was second nature.

And you, you felt tears pooling in your eyes as soon as you finally caught sight of her. Dirty skin, bloody lip, torn clothes—but alive, and with the prettiest green eyes, finding you amidst so many people.

As soon as Valentina finished her speech, Yelena rushed forward without a second thought, pushing her way through the crowd. Reporters called out her name, and civilians tried to thank her for saving their lives. Yelena ignored them all, she kept walking, and then running towards you.

You met her in the middle, falling into a bone-crushing hug with the same kind of desperation and relief.

Yelena's arms closed tightly around your waist, her hands roamed over your back, trying to convince herself you were real. Her head fell to your shoulder, nuzzling there. You did the exact same, hands bunching up the fabric of her suit.

She smelled like smoke, blood, and sweat. But still had the same soft warmth you knew so well. Your lips found the space just under Yelena's ear, you placed a kiss there. It was gratitude for her coming back to you and a plea that she'd never leave again.

"What are you doing here? Are you okay?" Yelena's voice broke in the middle, out of relief, or something deeper.

You pulled away only to look her in the eyes, feeling the taste of tears on your lips. "Me? What about you? I was so worried, Lena."

A chuckle escaped her then, all shaky and happy. Her own tears left a clear path down the dust on her cheeks. "I'm okay. I'm okay now."

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Yelena's new teammates throwing very curious glances your way. An older man in red seemed especially excited, and the one you knew to be Bucky Barnes had to hold him back from running in your direction.

Part of you almost instinctively felt compelled to let go of Yelena, to put a respectable distance between the two of you. Yelena had always kept things private and hidden, after all.

But today, she didn't let you. Yelena's hold was strong for both of you; she wouldn't let you take a single step away.

You sighed, feeling your heart rate slow down for the first time in what had been an exceptionally long day. You let your forehead fall against hers at last. "Some last job, huh?"

"I'm sorry," Yelena whispered, one of her hands found your jaw. You felt the warmth of her skin and the fabric of her glove. "Please don't leave."

You closed your eyes. Your nose bumped hers when you shook your head vehemently. "I would never."

Yelena kissed your lips with poorly concealed love. Her hands held the back of your neck, fingers tangled in your hair and pressing into the skin there—it gave beneath her fingertips, as if it'd been made for her touch alone.

Yelena's love was familiar. You felt the taste of it on your lips, felt the shape of it on your skin. It had always been there.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Yelena’s taglist is open, let me know if you’d like to be added. Or you can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I’ve posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

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[aakeysmash]

I just saw something about Sukuna wearing glasses and I was just thinking yeah he definitely does and its definitely like the reading glasses kind and when he needs to like at y/n or something he does that thing where he lowers his glasses😭💔 (both au’s kinda except maybe in the college au he wears like actual glasses sometimes and it's like the big frame kind) just a thought tho!

film night and glasses

college!sukuna’s masterlist

You find out one random evening.

It’s just you two because Yuuji stayed over at Megumi’s last-minute, but you already planned on having a film night today. You’re preparing snacks and he’s next to you, in charge of the drinks, grumbling about how he could be sleeping or finishing his macros for the day or literally doing anything else right now.

“Go away then. If you don’t care about the whole dorm knowing you own a pair of bubblegum pink boxers with ‘baby boy’ written on your ass, that is,” you nonchalantly shrug, not able to contain an evil smirk.

“Fuck you, bitch,” he grunts, rolling his eyes. “I already told you everything else was in the washing machine and that those were a fuckin’ gift from the team,” he adds, squinting at your head, wishing his eyes could burn flesh.

“And I already told you I don’t care. Next time don’t come out of your room not wearing anything else beside those,” you sing, walking across the living room and putting down a bowl of popcorn.

“I’m spiking your drink,” he deadpans, following you with two glasses of alcohol-free mojito (he says you’re obnoxious when drunk, so he’s ‘protecting his patience’).

You whistle. “You want me in your bed that bad, baby boy?” You say seductively, doing a come here motion with your index finger. He lifts a corner of his mouth, disgusted, then puts down your drinks near the popcorn bowl.

“Maybe I should just strangle you,” he mumbles while you turn off the lights, giggling.

“What are we watching?” He sighs, resigned, plopping down on the sofa and scooting a little bit over to make space for you.

“Can’t you see the title on the TV?” You respond, raising one eyebrow while pit-patting over to him. He grunts as an answer. You get your feet up and he automatically lifts them on his thighs, rubbing little circles on your ankles. None of you seem bothered by how easily you fall in the position.

15 minutes into the film and you see he keeps on squinting at the TV. You initially shrug it off, but he keeps on doing it for another ten minutes.

“Yo, do you need glasses?” You say, munching on your popcorns. You finish the drink while waiting for his answer. It’s good. He’d be a great barman.

“Yeah,” he says casually, not even turning around to watch you, reaching for the bowl now resting on your stomach. You choke.

“If you die, I’m taking your room,” he says, glancing over, not moving a muscle to help you. You glare at him. You keep on coughing though, so he reluctantly starts to pat your back while rolling his eyes.

“Thanks,” you croak when you get better, wiping tears from the corner of your eyes.

“I’m always saving your dumb ass anyway,” he grunts, but he doesn’t move his hand from your back for some time, and he nods at his drink, currently in his hand and under your nose, so you can drink it.

“You wear glasses?!” You exclaim, voice still rough. Meanwhile, the film is still playing in the background, but your gaze is fixed on his side profile. Flashes of colors dance on his skin, illuminating his relaxed face.

“I don’t. I should,” he shrugs, not turning around to look you in the eye. “Only when I’m tired”.

“Can I please see you with them?!” You clap, changing position and getting on your knees on the couch’s cushion. He brings the arm closer to you on the back of the couch, slowly dragging his gaze on your expectant face.

“Hell no.”

“But whyyy,” you whine. You see a corner of his mouth lifting lazily.

“Don’t want you to die when you see how hot I am with them, baby,” he winks.

You throw a pillow at his face.