#if you see Many Typos no you don't

[lost-in-fandoms]

Thought i would be done but...yeah didn't happen. Part one here.

Living with Max is easy.

He doesn't whine when Daniel is taking care of his leg, he doesn't mind sleeping on some blankets on the floor, next to the fireplace, he offers to help around, and best of all he doesn't ask questions.

Well, not exactly. He asks so many questions. Once he gets over his initial bout of shyness and quiet, he asks questions about Daniel's vegetables, about his horse, about the woods, about the traps, about the animals. He offers his own opinions too, telling Daniel he's growing peas in too much shade and that he's cooking his meat for too long. And, much to Daniel's annoyance, he is often right too.

But he doesn't ask questions about Daniel. He doesn't know if it is because Max doesn't care or because he doesn't want to be asked questions back, but he appreciates being spared the trouble of telling him to mind his own business.

They also work surprisingly well together. Max is older than he initially seemed, dirt, hunger and exhaustion making him look younger, and he seems to know a little bit of everything. Even if he doesn't ask, Daniel is a little curious about what path in life brought him to have such a wide mix of knowledge. He seems to know how to move around the woods without scaring the prey, how to skin and cook animals, how to take care of the vegetables (better than Daniel), how to keep himself and the house clean.

It's nice to have a second pair of hands around, even if the pair of hands should sit down more often to let their leg heal. Not that Max ever listened to that.

And he's funny. Daniel hadn't realised how much he missed just sitting around the table after dinner, talking and laughing with someone else. How good it was to wake up and find the fire already stoked and the water pitch already filled. To have someone to say good morning to who would say it back.

Daniel hadn't been thinking of himself as lonely before, he was content with his choice of life, but he can admit that he likes this. He is glad Max decided to stay and he's glad Max seems to be having a good time too, at least from what Daniel could tell.

This is why, when about three weeks after Max's arrival he wakes up in the middle of the night to the sounds of him moving around the house, his first thought isn't Max is leaving, but something is wrong.

"Are you okay?" he asks, voice scratchy with sleep and way too loud in the quiet of the night.

He watches Max flinch, dropping something, before turning around to face Daniel.

"Go back to sleep," he whispers, too shaky to be a good order. There's something different in his voice, and it only takes Daniel's tired brain a few moments to realise that he had heard those notes before, in the woods about three weeks ago. Fear.

Daniel sits up, eyes finally adjusting to the silver darkness of the room, moonlight streaming through the open windows.

"What's wrong?" he asks again, voice lower, matching Max's whisper.

He listens to the sounds coming from outside, thinking that maybe the men Max was running from have come back, but he can't hear anything unusual in the late summer night.

Max is grabbing what he dropped on the floor, stuffing it into a bag that he must have taken from Daniel's things, but the moment, Daniel doesn't even care about the fact that he's very obviously stealing from him.

"Max, what is happening?" He's getting frustrated now, hates not knowing what is going on, worry and irritation growing together.

He stands up, taking a couple of steps towards Max, wanting to see him better, but he stops when Max flinches back.

"I need to leave," he finally says, voice raspy. It's not an explanation, and Daniel suddenly regrets never asking any questions.

"Why? Where?"

He doesn't want Max to leave. The knowledge of that settles like armor on his chest, safe but heavy. Living with Max isn't just easy, it's good. He doesn't want to go back to an empty house, not after the past weeks have been so nice.

"I...I need..." Max shudders, as if in pain, and Daniel's legs ache with the need of walking closer.

"Did something happen?" Did I do something wrong?

Max shakes his head, jerky and sharp. When he exhales, Daniel can hear him bite back a whine.

He doesn't want to scare Max, but he is confused, and he is worried, and he is not going to let him go without an explanation.

He steps between Max and the door.

"You owe me an explanation," he says, hating the way it makes Max stiffen, unwilling to take it back anyway.

"I don't owe you..." Max snaps, before interrupting himself with half a growl. "You haven't told me anything either!"

"That's different. I'm not running away in the middle of the night."

Max takes a step forward, back tense, and Daniel instinctively braces himself, eyes flying towards the table, where his knife always is, but Max doesn't attack him.

He shivers again, hands clenching around the bag and then letting it fall on the ground with a thump, shoulders slumping as all the fight seems to leave him.

"Please, Daniel, I need to leave. It's...it's not safe."

Max looks up, finally meeting Daniel's eyes, and he's suddenly reminded of what the man had said, so many days ago.

He's dangerous. Cursed.

Max's eyes look weird, blue brighter than ever, almost glowing in the moonlight. His face is twisted in pain and there's the glimmer of sweat gathering at his hairline. None of that would worry Daniel, but there's something...different in him. Something other.

Cursed.

The room seems too bright now. The moon is almost full tonight.

Cursed.

Max had said he hadn't killed anyone, but if this is what Daniel is thinking of...

Max closes his eyes, whole body shivering again, his edges almost blurring with it. Or maybe it's not just a trick of the light. Daniel doesn't know what to think anymore.

He doesn't want Max to go. He doesn't want this to happen.

He steps away from the door.

For a moment, they both stand still, looking at each other.

For a moment, Daniel hopes he'll wake up and it will be morning, and Max will be coming in with the last tomatoes from the garden.

Then Max whines, something low and pained, something animal, and bolts.

Daniel doesn't stop him.

He watches as his shadow changes even before he's fully reached the trees.

Then he sits on the doorstep and waits for the sunrise.

[shyravenns]

yeah yeah yeah Soap is dead, but how about Soap coming back and haunting every member of 141 like the clingy bastard that he is

Farah who never really knew Soap as well as the others, but still feels the gaping hole that his presence left. Farah, who finds herself standing beside Ghost underneath the cool night sky, and surprises herself (and him) with a joke that's so oddly distasteful about the state of their recent mission and feeling a soft warmth flutter in her chest at his light huff of laughter. Laughter that she feels as if she hasn't heard in months. Remembering hours later that herself that she could have sworn that there had been a brief, additional gust of laughter along the wind that neither of them bothered to acknowledged.

Alex who feels the unsettling quiet that's grown between all of them at all times as if it were a blanket. He knew Soap as well as one might expect from the very few times they worked together, and oftentimes thinks about the blossoming friendship between them that had died along with him. Alex, who often wonders about the kind of leader Soap would have been and places him in the tiny cranny in his heart that's reserved for every man and woman that's worked alongside him and died. Alex who feels the unwelcome *push* of hands that cause him to stumble so hard he feels as if his teeth has knocked out, and just barely remembers that he's in an active warzone before he glances up and sees the tall tale imprint of a bullet in the wall right where his head had been.

Rudy who had the privledge of actually becoming Soap's friend, and remembers the exact moment he heard the news. They weren't *close*. Not in the way that Soap was close with Ghost or Gaz or even Alejandro, but he still felt as if a bullet had pierced his own heart at the confirmation of his death. Watching at the brief flicked of emotions crossing Alejandro's face at another soldier lost far too soon. Rudy who flips through the long forgotten sketchbook that Soap had left during one of his visits to Las Almas, and delicately places his fingers on the sketches. Rudy who doesn't remember falling asleep, and wakes up with the scent of a long forgotten friend floating in the air and a sketchbook that's been left on an empty page he doesn't remember seeing. He stands up to get his pencil.

Alejandro who takes every death to heart, and keeps every dog tag that he can find stored in a drawer in his desk of all the men and women he had the honor of fighting alongside with. Alejandro who grieves at the absolute unfairness of it all, and vows to kill Markarov himself if he should ever have the chance. Alejandro, who still wants to believe that there is some sort of afterlife and that maybe there's a point to all of this. Alejandro, who loses *another* soldier and feels the weight of a hand on his shoulder that squeezes, and thinks that just for a moment that he can hear the faint whisper of bad spanish with a slight scottish accent in his ear. Words barely perceptible even by his own trained ears, and yet it brings a small smile to his face.

[thedrotter]

I have a gift for y'all today !!! 😊 Ever wanted to find a line in Re:Kinder in a single place for the sake of reference?? How about multiple chunks of lines. how about all the little variations that arise in the text with it's many endings, item descriptions, text that comes from interacting with the enviroment, and character info from the menu without having to boot up the game and go through it at long minutes!!???

well i sure did😊 Since I do a lot of fanart and think up my own silly theories and thoughts that need me to reference the game lines a lot, i have made a transcript for it for convenience's sake. A weirdly thorough transcript handwritten and proofread by me including all character lines available in-game. And I'm sharing it with you all today for anyone that wants it !!! :3 To use as a reference for creative fanworks or a quick search for a line in-game, whatever you wish to use it for!!

It uses the english translation of the game by vgperson. So naturally all credit for the game lines available in here is to her and Parun who made the game.

I did my best to organize it in a way easy to digest. Do note that I'm still human, and there's still the chance for mistake in it no matter how much I've proofread it, since I'm not even an english native speaker ^^. But I hope it serves you well nonetheless if you wish to use it.

That's my gift for today!!! Not the usual art, but still a project I'm proud of. Enjoy!!! 😊

[coquelicoq]

i've gotten so used to my daily practice of reading french aloud that now when i have to read something boring in english for work i default to reading it aloud. which takes way longer and also i feel like i retain even less information than i would otherwise, somehow. the upside is that my oral reading cadence in english, even of dense scientific articles, is rather excellent nowadays. i could read scientific articles out loud for a living, if that was a thing people needed me to do. which they do not, because screenreaders are a thing. maybe i could read crusty PDFs out loud for a living? but anyway all this is to say shoutout to my man alexandre dumas and also my other man victor hugo for training me to read run-on sentences in my second language. after that, dry journal articles in my first language are easy peasy.

[omkookie]

D*ck measuring contest for Ikegen

I ran out of options to add Shigehira but just comment '🩵' for him ig... 😭

[lighthouseborn]

@daemondaes ( Cherry ) traded a ❧ for a folk-tale...

  Fast friendships sprouted easily among habitual travelers. They might meet on a job or at an event, perhaps brush shoulders totally at random, knock elbows and trade smiles, then like magnets, feel the push and the pull of the poles of the world and know. Henry knew. Before she ever deposited a curiously coffee-scented business card in his hand, he knew. Artist, person for hire, jack of all trades. This was someone who was looking for something, looking for everything. They fell in immediately.

  A game at one-upping each others anecdotes made it easy. Casual conversation became out together, at a local scene Henry was sure had to be someone local's private property, though he wasn't sure whose, and it didn't seem to matter. It was just the Place to Be. The group, a mixture of locals and adopted visitors, converged on the evening like old friends out for a weekend. Dinner and drinks and dancing. Whiling the evening well into the night, when they congregated on a furnished patio, which had as much of an ideal view as one could ask for. Far enough away from town that the street noise was minimal, and there were trees to lend a sense of safety, but near enough to see the lights woven through the balconies in the square, and -though there was none now, he bet- hear the music of a festival or parade going on.

  He had run through several stories already. A couple of local bits that had been rolling around in his pockets, and one larger than life legend about the ghosts said to haunt a fleeing treasure ship that sank somewhere just off the coast more than three hundred years ago (which was, of course, entirely fabricated.) Anecdotes of similar places, some entirely true and others a bit exaggerated, as one did. Stories that played well to audiences, and lent to the rowdy group who had been gathered 'round the table. Now, several people called had their nights, and others were absorbed in their own little fascinations, and each other, but here she still was, reclining on the sun faded furniture next to him, demanding another story.

  Henry toyed with his necklace, twisting the smooth charm and twining the chain through his fingers. Considering what kind of folk tale to tell to a habitual traveler with the wisps of something dark clinging to her soul.

  He could not see anything of it, in so literal a sense. But he felt it. Felt it double, when she looked him in the eye. He wondered what it was — if she knew it was there. It wasn't particularly blatant, to him, nor any shape he knew well, just something...a bit like déjà vu. Too vague to name. Too real feeling to completely ignore. (Was it — was he like this, to others? He'd wondered. He could not, the same way he sensed the twists of the world, sense it in himself, but he thought there must be something of it in him still. There nearly always was, with those who'd been dealt similar hands...)

  His head lolled against the wicker backing of the couch as he looked away, up at the sky between the trees. “A fairy tale, mm?” A wild shift from his earlier spinnings, but a bit of childish nonsense was good for the soul and the edge of the dark. And familiar strangers. And being more than a few drinks deep. Henry sat up, cleared his throat, and began, very classically, with:

  “Once upon a time... there was a Queen. The Queen's husband, was, naturally, the King. And beyond a King he was an enchanter considered to be at the heights of knowledge, so he was very wise, and he knew that when Kings and Queens want children, they must go to see a witch. So, when the Queen came to him one day talking of nurseries and babes and sweet little voices, the King, being quite preoccupied with his work, gave the Queen instruction for how to find the Witch, and sent her off on this child business.

 ‘The Queen, of course, was very frightened to go out into the darkest parts of the forest on her own. She did not like the shadows between the trees or the way things always made noise only when they were out of her sight at all, but she wanted a child more than anything, and so she followed her husband's instruction and went to find the Witch. And find the witch she did, after passing through the trees and into a dark arch in the side of the mountain that led into a cave. The witch was there, sitting by a fire of sticks, stirring something bubbly in a shiny copper cauldron.”

  Henry first heard this story from a woman he thought, at the time, to be a witch herself, for her face had been deeply lined with years of smiles and scrunches of her nose, and her hair had been a bolt of silver that gleamed, and this alone had convinced him -a child of eight- when she claimed she'd lived more than three hundred years by aid of spell and potion. So the effect, as he donned as close a mimic of her papery voice as he could, was perhaps not exactly the same. It was fairly effective nonetheless.

  “‘What do you want, my dear?’ the Witch asked. So the Queen explained herself to the witch. How she longed for a child to love and raise, and how her husband sent her along to gain one. The witch was quiet for awhile before she asked, ‘Do you know it will bring you sorrow?’

‘‘It will bring joy first, and ever after’ said the Queen.

‘‘Great sorrow,’ said the Witch.

‘‘Greater joy!’ insisted the Queen.

‘The Witch, seeing she could not convince the Queen any differently, relented. She set to work over her pot, and had the Queen hand over her golden crown, blue sapphire necklace, pearl bracelets, ruby clasps, and the diamonds of her shoe buckles. One by one these things were dropped in the cauldron. Last of all, the Witch dropped in a few lilies from her own garden. The potion bubbled up, foaming in ever-changing colors of yellow and blue and white and red and silver, and sent out a smell of lilies and roses and morning dew. The Witch poured the potion into a little pot and set it to cool in the open arch. She invited the Queen to tea while they waited.

‘Over their teacups, the witch told the Queen how the gold and gems thrown into the potion would lend the child shining beauty, pure, rare, goodness, and a wits as clear as diamonds. And the Queen asked about how magic could do such a thing. And their talk went on well after the potion had cooled. At last, when no more stalling could be done, the Witch prepared to send the Queen on her way. As she shuffled to her feet, the Queen mustered up the courage to ask ‘When will the child arrive?’

‘‘You will find it when you arrive home,’ the Witch answered.

‘‘Will you have something for yourself in return? Riches or land?’

‘But the Witch shook her head. ‘I could make more diamonds in a day than I should wear in a lifetime, and I need no more space that I've got.’ So the Queen asked what the Witch would have instead, titles or crownings, a position on the court, a castle! Anything at all that could be given. Time after time the Witch declined the Queen's offers until, at last, she confessed there was one thing she should like, which was nearly impossible for her to find in her trade. The Queen encourage her to speak of it. She could not bear to imagine the Witch being left with nothing after giving her such a wonderful thing. And so the Witch said ‘I should like someone to love me.’”

  Here, Henry paused. It was as much to take stock, pulling the next part of the story to mind, as it was to let his little audience of one take a leap. He liked to try and guess what people thought, with this one. How a person might scowl, and he guessed they thought that it was uncouth to ask. Or they might frown, but soften at the same time, and he'd guess they felt it was unfair anyone should have to. The part that came next was the same regardless, he never changed it even when he shuffled the rest around to suit a different shape or because he forgot how the specifics of part of it went. No matter what else:

  “The Queen threw her arms around the Witch at once! and kissed her half a dozen times each on her head and brow and both of her cheeks. ‘Why’ she said, ‘I love you better than my life! You who would give me a child and fear for my sorrows! And the baby shall love you too!’

‘The Witch was, at first, shocked by this. She did not think that it was as easy as that. No one in all the Witch's years had ever said such a thing to her, and she never saw it in all her travels. But the Queen was so joyous and tender that it was impossible to doubt the truth of her claim. So it was that they each would have what they wanted most. The Witch held her head high. ‘When the sorrow comes, send for me. Now- drink up that potion, and we shall both be happy.’

‘The Queen did as she was bid, and returned to the castle. As the Witch had promised, there was a baby there, lying in the cradle with little arms outstretched, sleeves done up with little ribbons so that it was plain to see the babe was a girl. The Queen took her up, delighted. When she brought the babe before the King, however, he went red in the face with fury.

‘The King berated the Queen, demanding to know why on earth she had not thought to specify to the Witch to give them a son. The King wanted an heir! a Prince to learn all the sorcery and statesmanship and rule the kingdom after him. Chastised, the Queen hung her head - it was true, she'd not thought at all to suggest this to the witch, only asking for a child. Quite disgusted with the whole situation, the King stormed out of the castle to speak with the Witch himself.

‘He demanded rectification, that she unmake the baby the same as magic had conjured her. The Witch refused, saying she knew only the ways of making things by magic, not unmaking them. And anyway, to do so would be the same as slaying the child, which would be a black mark against them both. Eventually, the King relented, though he was still mad as a bull. He never thought to ask the Witch for another child, and the Witch, thinking such a King would only ruin a perfectly good princeling, made no such offer, though the process was very simple.

‘The King returned to his castle and declared the Queen could keep the baby girl. And for a time, it was as a dream. The Queen's life had never held half so much happiness as lived in every moment she held her daughter in her arms. The Princess grew, as pure and clever as the Witch promised, and very dear beyond that. At each chance she got, when the King was annoyed or too absorbed in his studies of sorcery to bother with them, the Queen would bundle the Princess into her traveling cloak and they would journey into the depths of the wood to visit the Witch. There they played and talked and went on picnics, plucked up herbs the Witch used in her potions and made crowns from the twigs and the flowers. Each time they departed, the Princess cried, and the Queen kissed the Witch as she had on the day they met, upon the head and brow and cheeks.

‘In no time at all, and yet many years, the Princess became a young woman. The day after her eighteenth birthday, the Queen and the Princess were feeding the goldfish in the courtyard fountain the crumbs of the birthday cake when the King thundered own upon them. He was smiling, which frightened the Queen, for he only smiled when he got his way, which usually was not a very nice way. Thus the dream ended: The King announced that, until such time as a prince could prove himself -of course, by slaying the mountainous dragon that lived in the depths of the kingdom- that the Princess would be locked away from the world and ill-suited matches.

‘The castle guard took her up that very moment, not permitting the Princess even to hug her mother goodbye, and carried her away into a tower the King had built for this very purpose. It was done up with each floor like the halls of a castle, so there was a cellar, and a kitchen, a dining hall and a bedroom; all the things a princess should have to live and keep ordered. And the walls were built with spells as well as brick and mortar, so that the tower would not crumble and nothing inside would be touched by time. The old King locked the Princess away. ‘No living thing will enter or leave’ declared the king, ‘until the dragon is dead.’ And he sealed the room with his sorcery on those words.

‘The Queen was kept away from all these dismal proceedings by the King's Guard, who locked her in her away within her very own chambers. She cried. She thought it silly, for a Queen to cry and do nothing else, but there seemed to be nothing else she could do, and so she cried and cried, and refused to take food or drink, for she was quite convinced that she should never see her daughter again, and if she was to die never seeing her daughter again, she would rather it be sooner than later.

‘That was when the Witch appeared in the Queen's chambers, walking out of the hall as naturally as if she had come through the door, though that was of course impossible.

‘‘My dear,’ said the Witch, ‘why are you all in such a heap?’

‘The Queen did not know how to answer. She was stunned as anything to see the Witch, for amidst all her tears she'd thought to herself 'if only I could go to her', remembering how the Witch had told her, once, to seek her out when the sorrow came. But all shut up, there had been no way, and she was permitted no messages out. The Queen, as she so often did, threw her arms around the Witch, relieved and given new strength, and the Witch embraced her in turn.

‘‘Oh I thought all lost,’ the Queen cried. ‘My husband has locked away my poor babe, and barred me from going to her, and all the guard are loyal to him. I would have sent for you!’

‘‘You did,’ said the Witch. She smoothed her hands over the Queen's teary face and told her ‘Every kiss you ever gave me was true, and loving, and so each of them was a spell that, when you called out to me, the land and walls all meant nothing at all. No little old locked door could keep me out.’

‘And the Queen began to cry again. When she regained her breath, she told the Witch all that had happened, and answered as many questions as she could about the King's enchantments upon the tower, the words of power he used to seal it all up, and the challenge he set before any worthy enough prince to slay the terrible dragon who prowled the depths of the kingdom.

‘‘Well, what a great fool he is.’ The Witch said. She'd known that about the King, for many years already, but never had she heard the like of something so foolish as to send little brave but empty-headed princes into the depths of darkness for a girl they never met, even if it was the dear Princess. And anyway, she knew the dragon could not be killed by blade or even spell. She supposed this was part of the King's plan, to punish the Princess for not having been a prince, but it was all terribly short sighted. ‘Come with me, dear.’ The Witch said to the Queen. She raised her shoulders up stiff and, hand in hand with her royal majesty, stepped through the doors and the walls of the castle until they stood before the enchanted tower.

‘The Queen called into the tower, and the Princess came at once. Though they could not touch each other, they could see and speak to each other, they rested their hands on the door and it was almost the same. The Princess was quite overjoyed to see the Witch as well, believing that her fate was not to be locked up forever after all.

‘But it was as the Witch had told the King all those years ago: she knew not the ways of real unmaking. And unmaking something as complex as a tower made of sorcery was very tricky business indeed, and rather easily made worse.

‘‘My skill is in making,’ she told her dear ones, ‘and there we are in luck. I will make is so all the time in the world can pass, and you, my Princess, will not grow weary of mind or lonely. And I will make you and I, my Queen, into stone statues, so we may enter the tower and stand guard, and time and the King's silly sorcery will mean nothing to us, for stone does not live. That way we will stand safe, together, for the coming years. For the dragon cannot likely be killed, but it is certain he must one day die. And that is what all this magic is bound up upon: until the day the dragon is dead. It will be many years wait, I'm afraid, and the world will be very different when we see it again, but to us it will be no more than a days wait, and we shall all be together again.’

‘With the Queen's blessing and a cheerful see-you-on-the-morrow goodbye, the Witch made her magic. On each side of the tower door, like guarding suits of armor, appeared two stone statues. One of them had a stone crown on her head and a stone scepter in her hand. The other stood leaning on a long stone walking stick, a stone book held open before her.

‘And then all days seemed like one day to the Princess, and the next day always seemed the day when her mother and the Witch would come out of the stone and kiss her and hug her and laugh with her once more. Thusly, the years went slowly by. The wicked King died, and someone else took over his kingdom, and the tower remained as it was. The story of what happened was lost to memory, and people grew curious. They tried to peer in through the windows, and to pry their way in, but the stonework did not budge and the door did not open and nothing inside ever seemed to move, for the world of the outside was nothing to the inside of the tower, so the inside of the tower was nothing to the outside. Eventually nothing else at all remained of the King's castle and the old kingdom, as the years went by in tens and hundreds.”

  He felt the thread of the story slip, just a little. Henry considered that he might leave the story at an end, of sorts, there, though it wasn't the usual way it ended. And it wasn't really very much of an ending at all. Still, there was something to the question of it that somehow seemed… suited, this time. As if to say more way to speak on things he couldn't be sure of.

  He found folktales to be of that nature, sometimes. People thought them said and done, stitched up so neatly between their once upon and times and happily ever afters. But it didn't always feel right, steering them all the way into ever after. He canted his head, like he was listening to something, and said:

  “The story found a way back to light, of course. Though it is often said everyone forgot the kingdom so entirely no one could say what -if they had any- the names of the Queen and Princess and Witch were, and no one knows where the tower that cannot fall might stand, still, or how a dragon could live so very long in a world with far fewer magnificent hiding places. Still, somehow… word of what happened made its way into bedtime stories.” Not his finest finisher, perhaps, but forgivable for a late hour and otherwise not stumbling even once, despite the listing meander drink tended to inject into a story so long. And it fit, for reasons he was not sure of, better than what he might have said if he pushed for the ending he'd been told. For the first time, he did wonder…

  “Suppose any bit of it could be true?”

[lunarrampage]

I'm a big advocate of just blocking and moving on when seeing bad takes about your interests but that's mostly because I rarely travel outside the small circle of artists and mutuals I follow and ohhhh boy after having seen the worst take about a beloved blorbo I suddenly understand everything, it was like a redditer overtook my body and I almost went into a rage as I resisted the urge to "um actually" and type up an entire essay in ops comment section but I persevered. Are you all proud of me.

[homochihuahua]

Yo people think of this

Dick a lone hunter. Living on the skirt of town, all alone and isolated with only his two hounds as company. His relationship with his extended family is strained, especially after the death of that boy Bruce took in his place. The one who would look at him with worship in his eyes, like he had been searching for something all his life and had finally found it. His demise. His passing had broken them all. Dick didn't form that much of a relationship with him to began with. Too angry at Bruce and too involved in his work and life to care for one more stray Bruce plucked from the streets. But god it had left him wounded. And while the wound had closed it has yet to heal even now.

Dick spends a relatively simple life now. Long gone the glory he once bathed in with his team to a life of tending to cold hollow house with no one to wait for him in it.

Dick first met him after slipping from a cliff where he got himself injured. Something near fatal if he didn't get help as fast as possible. Apparently he separated far a way from his hounds way too far for them to find him in the right time. Not like the poor animals would be able to think of bringing in human help before setting in to find their master anyway.

As he was finishing that thought, He appeared right in front of him. From the snow like a soft blotch of blood with his red fur, a fox. It looked at him and he looked back at it in return. Tentatively inching to where he lay, Dick gripped the knife inside his pocket, ready for the worst, if it decided to attack for whatever reason. But just a few inches from him the fox looked into his eyes. This close Dick can see them now a beautiful haunting teal colour, something he hadn't seen on any other creature before, almost otherworldly. And in it's gaze Dick found something familiar, he doesn't know how, but it feels like this fox recognised him. And Dick in turn recognised him too.

He went away after that, leaving him all back alone. Dick contemplated his departure, somehow feeling lighter of his impeding end. After some time, that couldn't be even an hour long if his estimations were right, Dick heard the sound of dogs and people. He screamed his lunges out for them, with as much strength he musterd after much blood loss. Harsh haltings and the sound of shuffling through the snow, Dick looked up in time to see some of the town's hunters with their own hounds and his, coming his way.

"Richard! Thanks the Deity we found you"

"How?" He managed weakly.

"Your hounds came back to town following a fox! Our own joined them and we followed them to get them back to home, because for some reason they weren't listening to orders.", "and we also worried of your dog, as we know of how well trained they are and how they would not dare leave your side... we worried something happened to you"

Dick didn't really pay much attention past the "Fox" he looked around willing to catch him again and he did. It looked at him from far away. Kept on looking for sometime and then trotted away.

Dick thanked the fox and he thanked the gods for sending him to Dick.

The second time Dick met him, was when he was nursing a heavy fever amidst a snow storm. Harsh knocking on his door had awaken him from restless slumber. He wondered what person out of their mind would be out and about at this time, or it simply could be someone seeking refuge at his shamble of a house. Either way Dick readied his hunting knife and riffle. He opened his door with a harsh gush of storm air entering his house blocking it from him, almost protectively, was a younger man. Dick's high fever faced with sudden cold made his mind all fuzzy and dizzy, because he recognised those eyes, and that face looked like it belonged to someone who never got the chance to grow into it. His illness took the better of him, Dick fell into a strong, warm, chest. Wide shoulders and powerful arms engulfed him, warmth seeping into his quivering body.

"Shush, I got you now"

Tears filled his eyes for some reason, from his illness, the cold or the unexpected surge of weird emotions, he doesn't know. He Couldn't have put his fingers on it even as his life quite literally depended on it. With this stranger at his doorstep, and him in such weakened state.

But Dick felt safe. This man would keep him safe.

Dick woke up. His hounds were laying by either side of him. He looked into his room to find doctor Thompkins in a chair by his side.

"Good morning Dick. How are you feeling? Last night must have been a hard one on you."

"I had a simple fever. What are you doing her Dr Thompkins ?"

"I am afraid it wasn't as simple as you'd like to believe.. if not for that young man taking care of you through it, you might have not gone through last night Dick.", "which, answering to your question, was the one to seek me after you had stabilised a bit. Quite the young man he was, to seek me and drag me through the storm to get to you"

Dick's braind was still fuzzy with the memory. He had thought it a hallucination and nothing more. No person should have had those eye. Especially not him.

"Where did he go" he said instead "I don't know. After he got me here he just left without a word, and you know me I don't ask unnecessary question and would rather spend the time and effort tending to my patient" a beat of silence "you don't know him either" a statement not needing a confirmation "you don't know who I know or might not know", "But I do Dick. Everyone dose know how isolated you are and it's a face I haven't seen around town before"

Dick didn't have anything to say to that. He only thought "Maybe it's an envoy from the deity, a guardian angel, if you Will" he declared. And even through the dizziness and fuzziness he felt, he could confirm. That the weight he felt propping him was very real and human.

"Don't be ridiculous, I never sought you as a religious person"

"Hmm" Dick allowed, signalling he wanted the conversation to end. which Leslie allowed easily.

As she finished with directing him to each medicine he was supposed to take, she made a promis to come check on him in the early evening then she left him to his cold empty house again.

Dick stroked his hounds thinking, yearning, was the fox only going to come to him in times of need? Did he only allow himself in Dick's life only when death was at his door steps waiting for him? Did Jason only come to ward the angels of death away from him, because he regarded Dick as something precious to him,but his anger for Dick's neglect and detachment of him made Jason punish Dick by never returning back to his life properly?

Dick left his hands to his eyes slowly. As the weight of his loneliness settled on his shoulders, the tears started to flood. He hoped his hands were enough to shield him from Jason's ever watching eyes, least he be watching now, and so he might blame Dick's pain on his own self.

[loser-brain]

This thought is pestering my head and it's annoying me that it won't leave.

So, there's a post goin' around about how you lurk on Tumblr and just reblog. And many people in the replies and reblogs kept saying "It's not really lurking if you are engaging."

I have to say, as someone who has been here since 2012. Lurking on here is waaaaaaaaaaaayyy different than lurking on Twitter and other socials.

So with Twitter, when you lurk you see posts on your feed. Either by people retweeting or Twitter just shoving it into your face.

On Tumblr, it's alllllll and I mean IT'S ALLLLLL user base. Tumblr will not shove it in your face unless you have it switched on for Tumblr to do so.

I have, and mostly every day, mindlessly reblog stuff and just lurk on here. On Twitter when you Retweet/Like you're not really lurking because Twitter sees that and also they have an algorithm to give you stuff.

Tumblr does not have that. It's who you follow or the tags you follow.

So in conclusion, to get this thought out of my head, when lurking on Tumblr, mindlessly reblogging is a type of lurking on here. Because Tumblr does not have an algorithm but it does have a system to see what posts you like... but you can turn that off and I highly encourage you to do so so that way you can see more posts from people or tags you follow.

[tvrningout-a]

hmm the dash is slow and it would appear i'm back on my romance mess so have a few plots for chiyo bc i have her on the brain so much these days <3 and you can consider this a plotting call -- if you like this post, i'll message you and we can discuss one of these plots!

friends to lovers to exes to strangers and maybe right back to friends to lovers bc chiyo had a boyfriend in high school whose heart she broke ( she loved him but wasn't in love with him ), and he moved away so! they never really got to patch things up or keep in contact. perhaps they meet as adults bc of school or work, a well-meaning friend sets them up, etc. i just love!! the idea this kind of dynamic bc i feel like there would be a ton to explore development-wise. why didn't it work out the first time, and why might it work out this time? how have they changed? stuff like that uvu

what if chiyo had a crush on your muse when she was younger, and instead of ever approaching your muse like a normal person, she based the main love interest of her one shot manga off of them :) what if they didn’t find out until years later when she’s a big shot mangaka and they lead separate lives :) what if they both have unresolved feelings and maybe circumstances aren’t ideal for either of them to date :) and what if your muse confronts her about it anyway :) what if :))))))

chiyo going on a date to appease her friend? okay, she can do that as much as she hates the idea. chiyo going on another date bc the person was so nice and she felt too bad to turn them down or ghost them?? yep, but she'll really put an end to things after this date! except maybe the person is so lovely that chiyo really starts to develop feelings, but then they try to kiss her and she shies away and now they're sad and confused with her behavior but so is she :((( loving isn't easy when you have the emotional bravery of a mouse

any soulmate au you could think of bc chiyo probably thought she'd never meet hers/they didn't really exist/etc. and is so very skeptical of them when they do meet! just bc they're supposed to be " destined " to love each other doesn't mean it's destined to work out and chiyo will honestly tell them that. i think she'll generally be more honest ( to an extent ) with her soulmate bc? well, the situation kinda calls for it. she can't just be agreeable and nice when she isn't keen on diving headfirst into a relationship with them.

and tbh i'm just a sucker for plots with a lot of build up and/or that force chiyo out of her comfort zone, so if you have an idea that isn't listed here and you wanna write it with chiyo, gimme gimme <3

[anouri]

...all of this bleeds together into one coagulated mess of regret and pain and guilt.

chapter 34 of l'éphémère has been posted!

[earlgreytea68]

Okay. It's time for an AI rant.

My nephew is 13 years old. Whenever he writes a paper for school, I check it over and fix all of his mistakes for him. He said to me, "Maybe I'll proofread your paper for you in exchange," meaning one of the scholarly articles I write for work. I said, "Cool," and gave him the file. And he said, "Well, this is full of errors! See, you always say you have a lot to correct on my stuff, and look at all the stuff you got wrong!" And I said, surprised, "What? Where?" Because I'm sure there are typos in the draft I sent him, but not, like, that many.

And then he pointed to the screen and said, "Look at all the blue and red lines you have."

And I said, "Yeah, but those are wrong. Like, those are blue and red lines I'm ignoring because the computer is wrong." And then I paused and added, "You know you can't proofread a paper by just looking at the red and blue lines, right?" And he gave me the blankest look, because that clearly is EXACTLY what he thinks. And it became even clearer suddenly why, whenever I correct something on his paper, his immediate reaction is, "It didn't have a blue or red line."

There's a very good reason for that: THAT'S BECAUSE THE COMPUTER ISN'T SMART ENOUGH TO KNOW THAT IT WAS WRONG.

I am so tired of being sold the idea that computers are better than humans and so we should just outsource everything to them, which is clearly the lesson my nephew is absorbing in U.S. middle school. COMPUTERS ARE NOT BETTER THAN HUMANS. Like, maybe they are better at humans at crawling through rubble to find people trapped inside. They are also better at preserving things in a searchable format. Things like that. Very limited circumstances.

I don't want to sound alarmist but everything I hear about people using generative AI freaks me out. It's not just that I'm freaked out by people being like, "I use it to write novels!" (Although I don't see how they do, I have tried to have it write fiction for me and the output was truly terrible.) But I recognize my bias around creative writing and so no one needs to credit my views on artificial writing. But! Other things are alarming, too! "I use it to brainstorm x, y, or z." But...why? Why not just...use your own brain...to...brain...storm? The computer doesn't even have a brain to brainstorm with! And you might be like, "But it comes up with things that my brain would never think of!" So would other people! You could also brainstorm with other people! Or even through Google to see what other people have thought before you (not AI). Please don't belittle the wonder of thinking.

I just feel like the marketing around generative AI boils down to "Wouldn't it be easier not to use your own brain to think about things?" Everyone. No. It would not be. Please just trust me on this. I'm not just an old person who is out of touch with technology or something. I promise. USE YOUR BRAINS. IT WILL BE OKAY.

[someonesomewheredown]

If you think I'm noisy and annoying just wait until you see my thoughts! (they are also equally noisy and annoying)

[jensthwa]

show & tell (SMG x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

You have known Mingi since you both were fourteen. You’ve been by his side through thick and thin and you would do anything for him, really, considering he’s your other half. When he has an unfortunate bed experience and asks for your help and you say yes, he starts considering that, maybe, you’re just the best friend a guy like him can have.

PAIRING: best friend!mingi x afab reader.

GENRE: childhood best friends to ?

WORD COUNT: 8k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, wooyoung being a little shit, hwa being the voice of reason, sex talk, pet names (love and also dude and bro but in a sweet way), mingi scaring the sense out of you, descriptions of female anatomy, kissing, dirty talk (sort of), teasing, a little bit of voyeurism, fingering, squirting, almost getting caught, unresolved feelings.

NOTES: had to do a lot of research for this one, so i figured nothing better to post as my first fic here! this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: july 18th 2024.

masterlist. / part two.

“Delete her number right now!” 

“She's such a bitch for saying that to you…” 

“And over text too? Wow.” 

“Yeah, no, I didn't like her from the start.” 

Wooyoung’s living room comes to life once again that morning, voices echoing and insults flying out, all towards the girl Mingi’s seeing. 

Was seeing. You're sure she's out of his usual rotation with the lovely shit show she just caused. 

You stay silent, your eyes fixed on your best friend's expression, on his red cheeks and apologetic eyes because everyone told him that girl was bad news. 

He should've listened to you when you told him you liked her friend better. She was a sweet girl, clearly had a thing for Mingi. 

Unfortunately, Mingi has a type. And that type always ends up breaking his spirit one way or another. 

But you stay silent, letting your friends have their little rants about how much of a bitch she is for hurting Mingi's ego like that, until he covers up his face with his hands and lets out a frustrated whine. 

“That's enough, everyone. I think he got it.” You smile a little and everyone turns to you, Yunho’s chest heaving and everything but Seonghwa (who also kept his mouth shut all this time) interferes before anyone else has the chance to start again.

“You know you shouldn't feel ashamed for that, right?” he asks Mingi, who slowly lowers his hands to his lap and looks at you for a brief second. You nod, confirming what Hwa says “No one is born knowing everything and she shouldn't expect you to know how to make a girl squirt.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Mingi whines again, closing his eyes “Don't say it like that.” 

“How else should I say it?” Seonghwa is confused but he laughs a little bit and turns to you. 

Being the only girl in the room, you think everyone it's expecting you to pick your friend up and join them in their insults but you can't (for Mingi’s sake). Instead, you let out a sigh “I mean, it's hard to even make it happen on your own without any help, Mingi. I don't know what the fuck she's on but…” shrugging, you extend your arm to pat him in the shoulder two times “Hwa’s right.” 

“So you do know?” 

“Woo—” Hongjoong reprimands right away and you turn to Wooyoung, confused.

“Huh?” 

“You said that it's hard making it happen,” he explains, smiling because he just found a new target for the next few days “So you must know.” 

Talking about sex with them was never difficult, it didn't make you uncomfortable whatsoever but you know what Woo is doing. 

You look down at Mingi before answering though and his eyes are glued to the carpet, begging for the topic of his unfortunate encounter with that bitch to die on everyone's tongue. 

So you take mercy on him. 

“Oh. I mean… Yeah.” You shrug once again, leaning back against the cushions on the couch while Wooyoung claps like he just heard the most hilarious joke ever. 

“You truly are amazing.” 

Rolling your eyes, you get up from your comfy seat “Sure. But it took a lot of practice and the whole ordeal was frustrating for me, so, again, I don't know what the fuck she was on,” you say again, smiling down at Mingi before taking a few steps towards the door “It's noon already, by the way.” 

“Shit.” Woo gets up quickly from his spot on the floor and everyone else follows suit. 

“Alright, everyone out! We have a midterm to cheat on.” San calls out and everyone takes it as their sign to actually leave (not just hang around the apartment) and continue with their days. 

This reunion was a little impromptu, just because Wooyoung texted everyone begging to come over and hang out with him and San before their online philosophy midterm. 

“And by that he means that you need to stay,” Wooyoung hugs Seonghwa hard, almost begging him with his eyes “We didn't study… Don't look at me like that! Please?” 

“I'm not doing your fucking midterm for you!”

You chuckle, leaning on the door and waiting for your ride home to get his shoes on. When you look down at him again, Mingi mouths a thank you and you blow him a kiss. 

When you get downstairs, you swear you still hear Wooyoung begging his senior to take the test for him. 

Everyone is quiet in the car. You can tell they're tired from exams and life in general, so you don't press them with questions and just let the music play in the background while you look out the passenger window and, eventually, at Mingi. 

His grip on the steering wheel lets you know he's a little more affected than he let on back there. But, again, you say nothing. 

You know better than to pressure him into telling you his feelings. 

Mingi and you have been friends forever. He lived a few houses down from yours, becoming your first friend when you moved to the city. You both were fourteen when it happened, so you've known him long enough to know what happens when he gets his heart broken. 

Not that Mingi loved that girl or anything, but he never really took embarrassment well. He didn't when the first girl he liked rejected him in front of the whole ninth grade class and he didn't when his pants ripped in the middle of the stage while performing a routine with his dance team on senior year. 

You stood by his side every single time and every single time he waited to sit down and let everything out, collect his feelings and talk to you through his frustrations. You really loved that about him, because he never said anything he regretted just because he was upset at the moment. 

Maybe that's why you two have been friends for so long. Opposites attract, or whatever your mother told you one time. 

In reality, you think it's because you two complement each other well. 

He knows when to speak his mind and you're kind of impulsive, heart on your sleeve and sharp tongue ready to defend your and your loved ones honor if needed. 

That's why it takes a lot of strength for you to not pull up that girl's number from his phone and give her a piece of your mind. 

One by one, you drop your friends off in different parts of the city and when it's time to go into your own house, you circle the car and Mingi rolls his window down.

He reads the look you give him a little too well, so he opens his mouth to stop you but you shake your head. 

“Call me, come over or just let me know if you need anything,” you start before he says anything “If you need me to beat her up, I can do that too.” 

He huffs out a laugh “You don't even know how to fight, love.”

You sigh at the nickname, he's been using it since the time you told him you had a crush on his friend, way bsck in highschool, and that you were positive you were going to get together and he would csll you love because that's what good boyfriend's do. 

Turns out, you weren't exactly his friends type. Neither were the other girls in your school. 

“I don't give a shit, I'll do it,” You two smile to each other fondly for a few seconds and then you tap the top of the car “Thanks for the ride, dude.” 

“You’re welcome, bro.” He rolls his eyes, annoyed because he hates when you call him that, but waits for you to get inside either way. 

And in the solitude of your room, you wait. 

You distract yourself with papers that are due in a few days, you start studying for your finals even though they're months away and you even go downstairs to say goodbye to your parents when they leave for a fancy dinner with their colleagues before you hear your phone ring. 

Mingi's FaceTime comes right on time, because you were getting really anxious from the radio silence on his end. 

“I have a small query for you.” He puts on an accent that makes you grimace immediately and he laughs at you. 

“Ew. Never do that ever again,” you beg, going back upstairs to your room “Go ahead.” 

“How do you do it?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“How the fuck do you make yourself squirt, love?” 

Oh. 

Definitely not the conversation you were hoping to have with him. 

It caughts off guard and you stammer your response “Um… You— I mean, it's not really a thing I can explain.” 

“You have such a way with words, though.” 

You stare at him through the screen, annoyed, and he just laughs again “Don't make me come over and beat you up.” 

“Alright, alright,” his giggling dies out and you distract yourself from the heat you feel creeping over your cheeks while putting away your statistics prep for the quiz you have next week. There's a bit of silence and then you hear him sigh “I do really want to know, though.” 

“If you're asking me this to then go over to her house and prove her wrong, I'm not telling you shit.” 

“No! No, that's not it at all,” he defends himself quickly when you turn your head to the camera, scowl in your face “When she asked me to do it, I really did try to make her, you know…” 

“You said squirt so freely a minute ago, Mingi,” you tease, smiling, but at his expression, you give in “What exactly did you do?” 

“I tried to, you know, do it like they do it in the movies,” he demonstrates his point with his free hand, his middle and ring finger down on his sheets, pressing and moving side to side “And she was enjoying it and she came, but nothing really… came out.” 

“Wow, first of all: you make her come and she has the nerve to give you shit over text? I hate her,” you shake your head, disappointment written all over your face “and second of all, that was a terrible mistake.” 

“What? Going like this?” He does it again and you roll your eyes, laughing a second later. 

“No, dude, trying to porno your way into making her squirt.” 

“Oh.” His movements on the sheets slow down and you grimace again. 

“Please stop doing that,” you beg and he snaps out of his thoughts to look at you through the screen. You take your phone and move to the bed, resting your head against the pillows with a huff. 

You ponder for a moment. You're sure telling him what he wants to hear it's not really a threat to your friendship, but it's also something that's very personal and intimate. You can talk about sex with Mingi and the other guys, sure, what doesn't mean you tell them about your sex life. 

Maybe that's why Wooyoung was so excited earlier today, because you spilled something that involves you directly and not something vague and general like you usually do. 

“Would it give you peace of mind if I explained it to you?” You ask, your voice barely a whisper as you sit straight on the bed. 

Your best friend takes what feels like a lifetime to respond and, when does, it's in a hushed tone as well “Please.” 

You groan and you comply either way, trying to find the right words to even start “Okay, I'm going to be very technical about this.” 

“I wouldn't expect anything else from you.” 

His teasing tone makes you glare at him for a few seconds before dismissing it with a click of your tongue “The very first thing you need to make sure happens, is that you wash your hands—” 

“Yes, Y/N, I'm not a virgin,” he huffs this time, annoyed “I know all of that, just skip to the part where I make her squirt.” 

“Jesus, fine! I also want to clarify that this works on me and I'm not really sure if it'll work on anyone else, alright?” he nods and you look away from the screen because you're not sure how to look him in the eyes “The first thing that I do— The first thing that you need to do,” you correct yourself quickly “Is make sure she's comfortable. And I mean, the space. Towels, water bottles… She needs to hydrate a lot.” 

“Hydrate… a… lot…” You turn your head to the screen and your jaw goes slack at what you see. 

“Are you writing this down?!” 

“I’m making sure I don't forget anything!” 

“You're unbelievable…” You let out under your breath and take a deep one before resuming the, apparently, class “Squirting can be confused as peeing and—” 

“Shit, hold on.” He interrupts and you hear his mom’s voice at the door, asking him something you can't really catch through the shitty airpod audio “It's just Y/N… I'm not really saying anything so I don't understand how I'm being too loud for— Yes ma'am.” 

You try not to laugh because he's literally being scolded right in front of you. 

Old habits die hard, and Mingi's mom loves to put him on the spot. 

Your laugh dies hard as well, because the next words, for some reason, make your heart drop to your ass. 

“She's telling me to either cut it out or go to your house, so… I'm coming over.” 

“Oh, I— Hello?” Your lockscreen mocks you because the call literally ended before you could tell him to go and fuck himself “Shit.” 

You don't know why you panic, but you do. You tidy up the room, you change your pijamas into something more presentable and you try to remember what were you telling him before he pulls open your bedroom door. 

“Mingi! Fuck, you scared the shit out of me “ you're panting, hand over your chest. 

He’s also panting, like he runned to get to your house, but he looks dumbfounded by your reaction “Your mom literally gave me the spare keys in your presence.”  

When he steps closer, you notice he's wearing cologne and that his hair it's a little wet, still, so you figure he took a shower before calling you tonight. 

Which means he probably wanted to sleep everything off, like he usually does, but whatever this is made him call you. 

“Yeah! But I thought you— Nevermind.” He shrugs and gives your hair a kiss before he moves to sit at your desk, the same way he usually does when he steals your laptop and notes to complete his assignments for the few classes you share. 

God. Somehow, you wish he was doing just that so it brings back some sense of normalcy. Maybe then, your heart can calm down enough for you to understand why this specific situation has your senses going insane. 

You sit back down on your bed and try to get your heart back to its place in the meantime. 

“They're not home, right? I didn't see your dad’s car.” 

“Company dinner.” 

“Ah.” He nods and you both fall in uncomfortable silence. It shouldn't be awkward, but it kind of is, even if you laugh when he pulls out the notebook he was writing on from underneath his oversized shirt and steals a pen from your pencil case, it's still a little weird. 

You gulp. 

“So, squirting can be confused as peeing.” He recalls the last thing you said with a smile and then he turns to look at you for a second “Go on.” 

You're grateful he's taking notes all of the sudden. He's turned to you, so you have a clear view of his back and you can freely take a grounding breath before continuing “It can make you feel very uncomfortable if you think you're going to pee yourself and that's really why most women don't squirt in the first place.” 

“You sound like you're reading a text book.” He confesses with a laugh. 

“I told you, I'm being very technical about this— Besides, I did my research when I was trying to…” you gulp again “You know.” 

“You said squirt so freely a minute ago.” Mingi teases you the same way you teased him earlier and you squint your eyes in return. 

“Very funny. Anyways… Yeah, when you feel that, you usually tense up. You need to relax before even making it happen,” he nods, writing it down quickly “I also read that, depending on the person, you can confuse the liquid with, like, usual… arousal? Yeah, arousal” you sound more confident the second time you say it, unsure on how to call it because you never really explained anything related to your vagina to anyone else. 

He turns to you, confused “So… If she doesn't squirt a lot, how can I tell if she did it?” 

“I guess you'll notice it in her reaction?” You shrug and then cough a little to try and get rid of the sudden lump on your throat “I mean, it's not my case, so I wouldn't… I wouldn't know that.” 

Mingi, because -you guess- hates you, just raises a brow and looks you over one time before turning back to his notes. 

“A-anyways,” you cough again “It's all in her g-spot. It happens because it gets stimulated and that g-spot it's like…” you, once again, try to find the ideal words to explain “It's like the upper wall of the vagina? No, no, that's not right,” you see him draw a line over what he clearly wrote down on the paper and you laugh, apologetic “It's more like the, uh… Like the front wall of it.” 

“Front wall?” 

“Y-yeah?” you offer, nervous and unsure “I mean… Ugh, let me explain again. Something that you need to take into account is that you can only find it if she's really, really turned on.” 

“O… kay.” 

“Sort of like when you get hard we, uh, also get hard. Just differently,” you notice he's no longer taking notes when you turn to him again and the room is suddenly very hot. 

The AC’s on, right? 

Fuck. 

“And apparently it only really shows up when you're really aroused. The g-spot, I mean,” Quickly, you're up from your bed and walking around it, fetching your water bottle and taking a big gulp of it with your eyes closed. 

Mingi clears his throat a second later. 

“So it feels hard to the touch or…” 

“Not really, um… It kinda feels like a berry.” 

He laughs “What?” 

“Yeah, it's kind of soft but it has a texture to it too. And we, uh… have this gland that fills up with the liquid— Kind of like a prostate gland! Yeah, that's what that article said,” putting even more distance within Mingi and you, you sit back on the bed, just on the other side “If you try to do it before it fills up, you end up with nothing. That's what frustrated me the whole time I was learning how to do it.” 

“You didn't drink enough water?” 

“No, no— It fills up when you get really turned on. And when I was trying, I was trying way too hard and didn't, uh… I didn't do a lot of foreplay before trying, s-so.” You nod, finishing the explanation in a softer voice. 

Your cheeks feel hot and you swear your upper lip is sweating a bit. Why would you even say that? 

“Y-you didn't touch yourself enough or…?” 

“Exactly, I didn't, I just… Tried t-to stimulate it. Wasn't even wet enough so I used, uh, lube.” 

“Oh… Lube. Sure, okay.” He nods again, and then moves his hand over his face, looking away for a second “And then?” 

“I'm not really sure how to… Give me a second.”

What were you even telling him before exposing yourself like that? Before the tension in the room skyrocketed in a suffocating way? You're not sure. 

Oh, foreplay. Okay, what's next? 

“Fingering,” you say out loud when you remember and at the sudden word Mingi turns to you, eyes wide and you stumble over your words yet again “Y-you need to finger her to stimulate the g-spot, duh.” 

“Don't duh me, Y/N, I'm learning!” 

“Sorry!” 

“Okay! Now what do I do when… fingering.” 

That makes you frown. You're not really sure what to tell him next. So you look straight ahead and, unintentionally, move your ring and middle finger the way you do when you're touching yourself. 

In the silence of the room, you audibly hear Mingi’s breath hitching and that draws you back to reality. 

When you look at him, his eyes are solely focused on your fingers. 

“I don't really know how to explain this next part.” You sound apologetic, your lips tensing into a straight line. 

A bit passes. 

And then another one and another one where Mingi looks at you with a weird, foreign expression on his face. 

So you open your mouth to apologize to him, but he beats you to it. 

“Then show me.” 

You swear you never even heard him sound like that before. Or maybe you have, the tone of voice similar to when he just wakes up, low, grouchy, as if his throat might be dry. 

It just never affected you this way. 

“W-what?” you blink hard, a few times, trying to focus on whatever the hell is going on. 

“Show me how you do it… I-if you want to.” 

“Mingi!” 

“I just— Look, you don't have to,” he says right away “If you don't want to, you can forget I ever asked but I'm so… curious”, he says, getting up from your desk chair and planting his knee into the bed “And I'm also really butthurt over what happened. I want to learn but I don't really have anyone else to ask.” 

“What about, uh… Minseo! Yeah, what about her?” you offer quickly, also getting up. 

“San's ex?!” 

“I don't know any other woman that you also know, Mingi!” 

He gulps and breathes heavily, gathering his words, his thoughts, just like he always does and you remember: This is Mingi. Your Mingi. The Mingi you've known for years and care about more than anything. 

“I'm asking you because I trust you,” he says, looking you over once again “And because if I fail, you're not… going to make fun of me for it.”

There it is. 

You soften at that and he seems to relax at your reaction. His demeanor lets you know he's not just saying that because he wants to see you touch yourself, he's being honest. 

So you decide to be honest, as well. In a whisper, because your voice will tremble and give away how strongly you feel about his request. 

“I've never done it in front of anyone before.” 

“So no one has ever make you—” 

“No,” you confirm before he even gets it out and you sigh “I never ask for it and I haven't really… I've only slept with—” 

“Hangyeol.” He nods and scrunches his nose in disgust at the memory of your highschool boyfriend. They never really got along and it was a shame, because Han was a great guy, he just wasn't the one for you. 

“Mingi,” you walk over to him and he straightens up his spine “This could really… I mean, there's no getting rid of me on this lifetime, buddy,” reminding him makes him smile and you do as well, nervous, your body on high alert “But this could mess us up.” You finish in a whisper. 

“I'm not letting that happen.” He says back, eyes scanning your face before zeroing on your eyes “There's no getting rid of me either, love.” 

That nickname is going to be the death of you, you're sure. It makes you suck in air you very much need at this moment. 

Fuck it. 

“I'll… get the towels, then.” You smile a little even though your cheeks are burning and you feel a little dizzy while holding his gaze, but you don't back down. 

Before you move, though, he stops you with his hand holding your waist “I know where they are. Stay here.” 

You could literally melt right now. And you know it's a short trip to the downstairs hallway closet from your room, so you make sure you strip your duvet before things get messy. 

You should go to the bathroom, too, to clean yourself up a bit before Mingi finds out what you find out when you sit on your bed. 

You're so wet. 

And it's so fucking embarrassing, because you're not supposed to feel this way for him, for this.

Because, if anything, this is clearly just an educational experience.

And if Mingi’s excited look when he re-enters your bedroom tells you otherwise, you're choosing to ignore it for the clearly educational experience’s sake. 

“These will do?” 

You take the two mismatched towels and place them on the bed right away, not even looking at him. 

“Yep.” 

You think he nods but you're not sure, you just caught a glimpse of him moving towards your desk while you pretend to fix the towels in the bed to perfection. 

“Okay, so… You need to, uh, be comfy and shit. Drink water, you just did that a few minutes ago…” when you turn to him, he's reading his notes like he's actually about to conduct an experiment and you chuckle before shaking your head “The… The foreplay part should be next, right?” 

“Right…” you drag out, biting the inside of your cheek before he looks back at you. 

“You look really tense, Y/N,” he deadpans, looking down at his notes again “You need to relax so it can happen, right?” 

“You're about to see me touch myself and you think I can relax?” 

“Oh,” he frowns, immediately and then blinks a few times to refocus, you think “I'm not the one doing it?” 

“Uh… Yes? Later? I thought you wanted to see me first, y-you… You asked me to show you…” 

You can feel him think, the gears on his brain twisting and you think he's going to backpedal at any second because he's not really saying anything. Then you see it, the moment the image crosses his mind. 

And the next second you have him in front of you, towering over your form and then he's not.

Getting on his knees, he tentatively places a hand on your knee and parts your legs so you can make room for him to touch the end of the mattress with his chest and raise his chin just enough to make you think he's asking you to kiss him.

Oh God, you want to kiss him. 

His voice is a sweet murmur when he speaks again “Show me how to get you there, love,” he sounds like he's pleading, like he's begging you to instruct him and your breath catches when he moves his hand up your thigh “What do you like?” 

Your mouth moves before you can even think “Kiss me.” 

You don't even notice you're leaning forward until his breath fans against your chin and he tilts his head even more so that your noses touch. 

“How do you like being kissed?” 

You breathe out a laugh, a little annoyed by his constant questioning “Figure it out, Mingi.” And then the last thing you see is his smirk before his mouth presses against yours. 

It's not what you expect. If anything, you expected him to take the lead. Han used to do so, all the guys you've ever kissed did it as well. You don't really know why his patience surprises you, but it does and if your heart could race even more, it would. 

Because he waits for your guidance, waits for you to grab his shirt and jank him closer, waits for you to sigh against him and then returns the gesture when he feels your fingers move upwards and tangle in his dark hair. 

His mouth is complying to yours, his tongue is exploring it and wetting your lips in the process and you've never felt this good with anyone before. 

That's something you'll need to unpack later, but your brain disconnects when your best friend lets out a noise the second his hands touch your waist under your shirt and you forget, for a split second, that the point of this is to have you on your back pleasing yourself for him to learn. 

Because you want nothing more than to hear him make that noise again. 

The kisses grow needy and so do you when he trails a path with his wet lips from your chin to your neck and the next thing you know is that your back is against the towels you laid down before and his mouth is kissing the valley of your breasts over the cotton of your shirt. 

You look down and it takes a second for him to feel you staring before he looks up at you “Should we take this off?” 

Your voice gives away how gone you are when you reply a simple yes and your shirt is on the floor the next instant. 

Now, you're sure this is not the first time Mingi has seen you in your underwear. You both have gone swimming before and he has walked into your room a million times while you're getting ready. You're even sure he's seen you walk out from your bathroom in this specific bra before… But he's staring at you like it's the first time he's been able to trace the way your breasts spill a little bit over the fabric of this old bra you decided to wear today, like it's the first time he's allowed himself to enjoy it. 

Like it's the first time he's allowing himself to feel any sort of attraction for you. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, shallow breath hitting his cheek when he returns his mouth to your jaw “Let me… Come here.” 

You scoot up until your head rests against your pillows and he follows, resting his body weight on his side and chasing your mouth when you turn your face to him. 

You should speed this up. There's no way you're not going to feel like shit if tomorrow you wake up and remember you're letting yourself enjoy this more than you should. 

There’s no reason for you to lose your breath when his fingertips trace softly the skin under your breasts or for your legs to grant him access so quickly when they reach your belly and bypass every other part of your body before going straight in between them. 

And he notices it too. 

“I don't know why I asked you so many questions before,” he starts, turning his hand so that he back of it and his nails start caressing the inside of your thighs through your sweatpants “I know what you like. I pay attention to you whenever we're talking about sex with the guys.” 

You frown, about to remind him that you never speak directly about your own experiences but he continues his ministrations, giving your other thigh attention “I usually watch you closely in case any of it makes you uncomfortable, but I notice your reactions when they speak about something that you like.” 

Oh. Heart on your sleeve, your biggest flaw. 

“Like that one time Woo was going on and on about marking and you couldn't stop fidgeting on your seat…” his nose traces your jaw softly before his teeth take the skin underneath it and you gasp just enough to prove him right “Or that time Yunho said he hated teasing because he's an impatient little shit” he chuckles, his index finding the spot next to your mound and going down slowly until his knuckle graces the crevice where your leg and your hip connect “and you defended it until we had to stop you guys from yelling each other over it…” 

Your breath shakes and your eyes close at the sensation “Mingi…” 

“Am I wrong?” 

You shake your head no and you can all but hear him smile when he speaks again. 

“Of course I'm not.” 

You open your eyes and expect him to look at you the way he does when you're unable to defend yourself against his quips, but he's not. His eyes are following his own actions and his bottom lip is pulled by his teeth when he takes the fabric of your sweatpants and pulls it up, enough to give you some friction where you need it the most. 

“Can I take this off?” 

“Fuck, y-yes.” 

Joining your shirt on the ground, you're left only in your underwear while Mingi is fully clothed and it bothers you out of nowhere. 

“You're so wet already…” he observes and you blush, puffing some air and covering your eyes with you hand. He just laughs “That's a good thing, it means that I'm doing okay.” 

He's doing more than okay. Damn all the experience he has and the way he reads you so well. 

But his sweet tone gives you some clarity and you support your weight on your hand to fix your position on the bed. 

“Alright, let's… resume the lesson before my parents get home.” 

“They probably won't for now. The company dinners last until like… two in the morning, usually, right?” 

“That's when they decide to go out for drinks.” 

“Your mom always wants to go out for drinks.” 

“Let's not talk about my mom right now!” you beg and he laughs again, making you chuckle alongside him and you're glad he's talking all of this -the kissing, the teasing, the sweet-talk and the wet patch on your underwear- so well. 

The awkwardness from before dissipated the moment he got on his knees in front of you and all that followed was this lovely tension you're dying to keep between the two of you forever even though you shouldn't. 

“Show me, love,” he pleads and you sigh, his mouth finding your cheek for a quick second, encouraging you “And then you can show me how to make you feel good, too.” 

You stare at him for a few seconds “Damn, you're good,” he shakes his head and you smile, getting rid of your underwear and pushing the quick moment of embarrassment being bare with him in the room gives you “Remember that this is what works for me, okay?” 

He nods and then props himself up so he can see it better. 

You take a second before your fingers dive into your wet folds and, when you do, you gasp at the feeling. 

You've never been more wet just for kissing and teasing before. What the fuck. 

You do what you usually do when you're alone for a while and try to contain yourself from moaning because Mingi's eyes keep moving from your fingers to your face. Then, you remember you should be talking him through it, as well. 

“You see how I'm building it up?” you start, chest heaving and he hums as his reply “I'm not trying to make myself come but I'm kinda just… edging myself a little bit.” 

“Edging,” he repeats and then hisses when he sees your thumb pressing into your clit just how you like it, making you sigh heavily “I know all about that, that's good.” 

“Y-you do?” 

“You'll be surprised,” he smiles, proud of himself. 

“Okay,” you continue, taking a deep breath “Then you know about prepping, too,” he nods “So, a finger first…” you say, swallowing hard when your index makes its way into your cavity without much effort. 

Dragging back and forth for a minute or so, you're incapable of containing yourself any longer. Air leaves your mouth in pants and your eyes close when you drag the pad of your finger upwards, locating your g-spot with ease because you're used to it.

“And then, two fingers.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Look at the position of my hand. I read that these two fingers work the best because they're longer than the rest, although…” you look at Mingi's hand over your belly. You didn't even noticed before this that he was touching you, but he is and his thumb is tracing a pattern that both relaxes you and sends shivers down your spine “I'm sure that it won't be a problem for you, huh?” 

He sends a cocky smirk your way and you would've smacked him if you weren't so… preoccupied. 

Pressing your precious spot and then dragging back and forward, you stop the movements altogether. It felt too good, way more than good and it's a different sensation of what you're used to. 

And it's all because of him. 

You look at his side profile, his eager eyes commiting to memory what you're doing to yourself, probably taking mental notes now that his notebook is long forgotten over at your desk and… 

He deserves this. He deserves to be the one to have this, just tonight. 

You hate to leave what feels like it's about to be your best orgasm in the hands of someone who's just learning, yet alone a man.

But Mingi is not just any man. 

“Mingi,” you call and his curious eyes leave your heat a second later “your turn.” 

“Did you… Did it happen? I didn't see anythi—” 

“No,” you interrupt him, your fingers leaving you and you turn to him, your clean hand finding his face “show me what you learned.” 

His mouth parts, but you have a newfound confidence and a glint in your eyes that is new, so nothing comes out. 

“Prove that bitch wrong.” 

That seems to do it. 

His eyes go from being confused to spark with determination and want and electricity runs through you again because he seems so relieved he gets to touch you sooner than expected. 

Shyness and nervousness buried six feet under, you both smile to each other before you feel him. 

His fingers gathering your wetness, his thumb finding your clit with ease and expertise. 

“Wettest pussy I've ever touched.” You can tell he's a little lost in the heat of the moment but it's okay. So are you. 

Fuck. 

It's been way too long since someone else touched you this way, so you all but melt at the circles he draws on your clit. He paid close attention before, because he's touching you just the way you like it. 

“That feels so good…” 

“Yeah?” he asks, dark eyes finding yours before a particular stroke forces you to close them. And then he gathers enough slick to insert his ring finger inside and you can't help the moan that slips past your lips. 

You lift your hand to cover your mouth, but Mingi clicks his tongue in feign disappointment “I want to hear if I'm making you feel good, love. Don't hold back on me just because this is unconventional.” 

The worries die altogether with that. 

And now that you have free reign to stop containing yourself, you don't know how to stop. 

It's not long before his index joins his other finger but he doesn't go for it right away. He fucks you slowly, allowing you to get used to the unfamiliar stretch of his way longer, way thicker digits until they slide in and out with little effort. 

His pace picks up after what feels like ages and your hand fists his shirt for the second time tonight, nodding and moaning in encouragement. 

“Deeper,” you instruct “curl them upwards and go deeper, you'll feel it then.” 

He obeys immediately, his chest heaving and his mouth parting in delight when he finds it. The pad of his finger presses down on it tentatively and your grasp on his shirt hardens.

“Is that it?” you nod and he does it again, which earns another moan “What do I do now?” 

Before you completely get lost in the feeling, you decide to drop the step by step bullshit aside and give him the full instruction in hopes that he'll remember it all without fucking up: “What works for me is pressing… Fuck, yeah, just like that a-and then…” you take deep breath “Just a little harder… Yeah, then rub it in a circular motion while maintaining that same pressure… Fuck, Mingi!” 

He's a little too good at following instructions, because he touches you like he's been doing this forever and soon you feel the familiar swell, the usual buildup of it all and he's taking you over the age like it's nothing. 

You forget how to speak, you forget how to tell him what he needs to do next and so, when you finally explode, you take his wrist and place his two fingers over your clit. 

When you move them side by side, he lets out a fascinated giggle but knows exactly what to do. 

A second later, your release is coating your thighs and the towels underneath you and you don't register anything else because your ears are ringing. 

Did you lose consciousness for a second? It feels like you did. 

That was the best fucking orgasm you've ever felt in your entire life. 

And when you come back down, you only register the sound of your breathing and plump lips kissing your face, his fingers stopping their pace once he realizes you're done with it. 

Opening your eyes, you stare at your popcorn ceiling for a second. Then, you look at Mingi who's already staring at you with a what the fuck just happened expression. 

It makes you laugh. Softly at the beginning, post-orgasm bliss takes over but then Mingi laughs too and your whole chest swells with inexplicable pride. 

You don't think twice before kissing him again. When you realize you did it, you pull back and blink at him like he didn't make you see stars three seconds ago. 

“That was…” his eyes do the thing he usually does. You never notice it until now, but he scans your face so frequently you've grown used to it, but now… It feels different. His teeth nip his bottom lip and he shakes his head before speaking “Come here, love.” 

And then he's kissing you again, slow, intimate, beyond the stupid lesson you just taught him. 

But you don't mind it one bit. 

You sit up, getting on your knees on the bed and basically forcing him to do the same. Ignoring the gross sensation of the wet towel underneath you, you pull him further into you until his chest presses against yours, until his hands roam your body and settle on your waist, securing the embrace. 

This time, when you pull away, there's this whole unspoken new thing between you. 

“That was…?” you press, smiling a bit, pulling both you and him back to reality. 

Right now, with you half naked and his hard-on pressing on your belly, it's not the time to discuss your feelings. 

“Possibly the coolest thing I've seen,” he starts, giggling when you roll your eyes “and the hottest thing I've seen, too,” you shrug, dismissing his stare because it's making you feel hot all over your body, again “and I'm really, really grateful you said yes, love.” 

The soft tone he uses to say the last bit relaxes you and you nod, deciding it's not the time to tell him you never even came like that on your own. 

Instead, you decide to grasp this intimate moment and extend it as much as you can. You can see Mingi is not expecting it when you reach his sweatpants and let your shaky thumb trace the outline of his cock. 

Closing his eyes, he lets out a pleased sigh before he grabs you by the back of your neck and rests his forehead against yours. 

“This is supposed to be purely educational, Y/N” 

“Is that what you want it to be?” you softly ask, pulling your hand away but then his hips buck and chase after your touch, making you smile despite the emotions swelling in your chest “Let me help you… Please…” 

“Fuck, don't beg me, love.” 

“Don't make me beg, then.” 

What the fuck are you even doing? 

“Y/N, I—” he stops suddenly and you're too lost in the moment to notice why. 

But then the sound of keys and a door closing downstairs scares the fuck out of you and you push Mingi away without thinking it through. 

He lands with a thud on your bedroom floor, next to your discarded clothes. 

“What the fuck, Y/N?” he whispers-shouts, both shocked and offended, but you're getting off your bed and picking up your clothes and the soaked towels so you don't really care about his feelings right now. 

“Bathroom. Now.” 

You're so blessed for having your bedroom right next to the upstairs bathroom. And so blessed that it is your bathroom and you don't have to share it. You’ll get on your knees and thank your gods afterwards, but right now you can only think one thing.

Don't get caught. 

Lord knows you'll never hear the end of it if Mingi walks out of here with a hard-on. Your dad will kill him, your mom will cheer because she loves the idea of you and Mingi together and you'll probably pack your bags and move away if it happens. 

When you lock the door behind you and make a quick show of putting your underwear and pants back on, you hear Mingi chuckle. 

“We can always tell them we're having a sleepover, Y/N, you didn't have to karate kick me off the damn bed!” 

“Hush!” But he just keeps giggling at your very obvious flustered state.

You're about to rip him a new one when he takes two strides, backs you against the bathroom sink, and catches your lips in a quick, sweet kiss and all your worries dissolve just like that. 

“Guess they didn't go for drinks after all..” 

“You think?” cocking your head to side, the smile on your lips can't be fought at this point. 

He returns it and leans in for another kiss, longer this time and you sigh against his mouth before pulling away because you really, really shouldn't be doing this right now. 

You hear your mother calling your name and then footsteps up the stairs. A murmured she must be sleeping and a hum from your father before they pass the bathroom door. You truly only relax when you hear their door closing at the end of the hallway. 

“Okay, we're safe now.” 

“When were we ever not safe?” 

“When I was half naked on my bed, Mingi!” 

He shakes his head with a smile and takes a step back. 

You clear your throat. 

“I really did want to help you out but—” 

“Raincheck?” he asks and at you hesitation to say yes, he continues “If you want to. If you don't, it's okay. We… We'll figure it out, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

He smiles again “Good, uh…” 

Mingi seems unsure on what to do next. Feeling the same, you decide the best thing to do is to get him out of here. 

Opening the bathroom door, you carefully peek into the hallway, taking his hand in yours and beckoning him to follow you down the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible. 

“Shit, your shoes…” you whisper. 

“I don't think they noticed if they didn't barge into the bedroom to check on us like they usually do, love.” He returns, in the same tone. 

That does nothing to ease your mind, but he makes sure to put them on quickly and then grabs your shoulders, shaking you in a teasing manner. 

“Quit worrying, Y/N. I can feel you thinking.” 

Of course he does. There's no one, in this world, that knows you better than him. 

It makes your heart flutter and it shouldn't. But you're getting on your tippy toes and stealing a parting kiss before you think about it too much. 

It's irresponsible for you to do so, but Mingi grabs your waist and extends the duration of the kiss and suddenly you don't give a fuck about your parents or anyone else finding out about this… shift in your dynamic. 

“See you tomorrow?” he asks against your lips and you nod. 

“See you tomorrow.” 

And with that, he leaves. 

You lock the door and practically run to your room after. 

What the fuck have you done?

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated and since it’s an open ending (sort of), let me know if you want a second part! 

© jensthwa, 2024.

[spacemythic]

I just found such a huge roach in my bedroom right before getting ready for bed 🤢🤢🤢 Looks like my bug induced dreams are coming back tonight, boysssss 😭 I thought I'd left the bug nightmares behind two years ago when I moved out of my old hell hole of an apartment but I have a feeling this is gonna set us back 🥲

[naivegh0ul]

thinkin ab being ghost's little assistant <33

Being Ghost's assistant is actually more fun than it seems. Yes, you know he's a scary, powerful man. And he's fired many assistants before you just for breathing too loudly, but he seems to take a liking to you... sort of.

He orders you around most of the time, barking commands at you. "Go get my tea. And don't spill it this time." He grunts. The last time you had gotten him tea, you'd tripped over a wire and spilled it all over your white shirt, staining the fabric and making it see through. Ghost had been more concerned about his tea than the fact that your tits were visible through your blouse.

Like the dutiful little assistant you are, you wander off to the office's kitchen and brew Ghost a cup of tea, adding a tea bag and no sugars. That has been drilled into your head many times, most of those times have you bent over Ghost's desk, your hands pulled behind your back as Ghost thrusts roughly into your cunt, growling down at you about he specifically told you no sugars, and now his tea is too sweet to drink.

Occasionally, he's nice to you. Calling you into his office just so he can have you sit on his lap and look pretty, his chin resting on your shoulder as he types away emails and you lounge on his lap.

Once he's done with that, then he'll push your thighs apart and slip his hand under your skirt, kissing down your neck and along your shoulder as his fingers rub your clit through your lacy panties, his gravelly voice cooing in your ear about how good you're being for him, sittin' so pretty on his lap, letting him do whatever he wants with you.

He can play with you for hours, content to just lean back in his chair and play with your pussy, hiking up your skirt and forcing your legs apart so he can stuff his fingers inside you and make you cum over and over on his thick digits, curling them repeatedly to make you whimper and cry.

But you know his all time favourite thing to do with you is bend you over his desk and spank you. He just loves to teach you a lesson. It doesn't matter how trivial the mistake is, whether it be you messing up his tea again or just a little typo in an email. He'll use whatever excuse to have you in his office, bent over the desk with his hand coming down on your ass over and over.

You know the other office workers can hear your cries for mercy as Ghost hasn't bothered to soundproof his office, but you don't care. You want them to hear, want them to know how he treats you and that you're his good girl.