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casualhedonists · 10 months

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✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism (lmk if i forgot anything!) murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, oral sex, thigh riding, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here

chapter: 1/? (chapter 2 here)

MASTERLIST

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

A/N: this is what happens when i let my brain loose to do whatever tf it wants (title is from attention by doja cat as is the general theme)

Show you how to touch it Hold it like it's precious It don't need your lovin' It just needs attention

You were getting tired of this charade.

Snow was courting you, or so it would seem. In truth, it was all for show. He was seen with you on his arm at public events, just enough to make it look like you were together. Marriage was probably further down the line, but Snow was in no rush for that to happen. For now, he was pleased with the positive attention he received for appearing like a reliable, loving, doting partner.

“There’s a science behind it,” Cordelia, Snow’s preferred public relations manager - and one of the Capitol’s best - had told you in a meeting between the three of you, discussing strategy, coordinating events, and how best to make the relationship seem authentic. “The more the public see you as grounded, committed, and warm, the more respect they hold for you. The more open they are to your ideas, and any changes you make as president.”

You’d concealed your smirk well enough for it to go unnoticed upon hearing that.

Snow was a lot of things, but he was never warm. The name itself decreed it. He was cold, calculating, sharp witted, manipulative. Power hungry.

You were fine with the arrangement at first. It suited your thirst for power; despite coming from one of the richest families in the capital, Snow’s power was of a different breed. You wanted in, and so when your social circles crossed over and the proposition was made, you’d risen to the occasion.

The reality was this: it was a good arrangement. Coriolanus was adored and admired by any outsider with a pair of eyes, and you got anything you wanted. You got to live in the manor house Coriolanus occupied, eating good food while being waited on hand and foot. You got to network with powerful people in the highest of society. Even if you wanted someone executed, it would be carried out in turn, without question. Name it, and it was yours. Snow was a generous host and ally to you.

It was everything you wanted.

Almost.

Somehow, despite it all, all the custom gowns shipped in from the expensive designers, the buffet spreads and the silk sheets, the way that people had begun to stare in respect as soon as you walked into a room, there was just one thing that itched at you, one thing you knew wasn’t part of the plan.

It was Snow.

Somewhere, between the light kisses in front of expectant eyes, the gentle hand on yours at dinner, that was hurriedly removed once you were behind closed doors again, you’d grown a gnawing, incessant want towards the man that had given you almost everything you could ever hope for.

Eight months, this had been going on. Eight months since Snow suggested this business proposal. Sex was never a part of the deal. And of course, you couldn’t sleep with anyone you pleased; that would be catastrophic for both of your reputations. And so it had been eight months since anybody had touched you other than yourself, biting your pillow so nobody could hear Snow’s name on your lips as you gripped the sheets. Even if you wanted to sleep with other people, you couldn’t. Truth is though, you’d developed rather expensive taste. A taste for only him. Even if you had the choice, nobody else would do.

You wondered if he ever thought of you while he touched himself. That thought slipped into your head every so often, when your hand was between your thighs. Then it became a more frequent occurrence. Then it became a nightly one, and by then, you were pretty sure you’d started going crazy.

You weren’t a romantic - this arrangement would never have worked if you were. You were like him; power hungry, relentless, impatient. And most of all, when you wanted something, you got it. And you wanted to seduce Coriolanus Snow.

So you’d started leaving breadcrumbs. Put an extra glint in your eyes when you glanced over at him, in public, first, and then in private more and more. You’d thrown out dozens of your more conservative dresses, keeping only the shortest ones that hugged your hips and dropped tantalisingly low on the neckline. Started wearing them more around the house, pretending to drop things just so you could bend down in front of him.

You estimated this act would last for a good week or two before Snow folded.

You were wrong.

If anything, it seemed to render Snow even more indifferent to you than he’d been before you started playing your little games. And each time he ignored you, glanced unimpressed at your outfit then looked away, or full-on walked right past you out the room, you started to simmer even more.

A normal girl in a normal situation would take a hint, cut her losses. But you were no normal girl, and this was no ordinary situation.

You had to be in the same boat, surely. Snow was still just a man, after all. A man with similarly limited options, and you knew he must’ve at least found you a little attractive, else he wouldn’t have chosen you to parade around on his arm in public, in pretty dresses and expensive jewellery.

Snow’s indifference only fuelled your fire. Sure, an ordinary girl would just give up. But eight months of this torture and you were at your breaking point. Besides, it was either him, or nobody. You weren’t giving up. Not in this lifetime.

So you got more obvious. Started taking breakfast in your nightgown each morning instead of getting dressed, sitting opposite Coriolanus with several feet of the mahogany table between you, biting into grapes from the fruit bowl and letting the juice trail down your chin, wiping it off then sucking your fingers clean, humming with your digits in your mouth, glancing at him with full-blown bedroom eyes when he’d look over at you from behind his paper.

It was no use. Nearly a month had passed and he’d barely even looked at you for more than a second at a time. Your conversations were short, lacklustre and strictly business related. You’d even tried playing on his heartstrings, asking about his day and work and his family. You were lucky if you got more than blunt, one-worded answers every time.

You’d exhausted yourself with all these failed attempts, until one Thursday night you heard footsteps walking past your bedroom door. This wasn’t abnormal - Snow kept extensive household staff - except for the sound of these were different. You recognised the faint clicking of heels against the hardwood, a sound you heard all the time at galas and balls, but never in these halls, when an event was nowhere on the radar. And this was one such night.

Your curiosity led you off your bed and to the door, gently opening it to glance outside. Whoever it was had turned the corner, the clicking fading down the hallway. You carefully closed the door behind you and began to follow the sound. A chill ran up the backs of your legs as you walked; it was getting slightly colder as winter closed in, and your bedroom attire wasn’t exactly fit for the weather, given that you picked out the laciest, most impractical slips to sleep in, ready for your performance the next morning at breakfast.

You paced down the corridor, winding past the door to each room, a study, a small library (the larger one was downstairs), Snow’s office, and then finally, at the end, the door to Snow’s bedroom.

Oh.

This room was always enigmatic to you, as you’d never been inside. Your obsession with Snow had led you to wonder, day in and day out, what lay behind that door. The color of his bedsheets, what sat on his dresser, the contents of his closet, what aftershave he wore that had caused you to develop a practically pavlovian reaction anytime he got close to you.

You paused, a few feet away from the door, fearing Snow’s response if you crossed that line, if he were to walk out and find you hovering between his office and his room, clearly attempting to eavesdrop.

You heard shifting, then voices inside as you focused all your attention onto listening, trying hard to pick up on the conversation. You took another tentative step forward, practicing in your head what you would say if he stepped outside. I just wanted to ask what you wanted me to wear on Monday’s gala, I was thinking the white dress with the gold detailing. It wasn’t too late in the evening for that to be a viable excuse, if you could make it sound convincing enough.

But as you got closer you noticed something. There was a soft light spilling out from behind the door, which was in fact, just slightly ajar.

Snow usually kept the door locked at all times, you knew that from testing the handle - admittedly more than a few times - when he had been out of the house, and you were certain he wouldn’t be home for hours. This was something different. This felt dangerous, like walking a tightrope that was about to get cut, but the thrill of adrenaline pushed you forward.

You’d stopped hearing voices by then. You snuck ever closer, ears starting to ring as you found yourself drawn to the open door, taking silent steps towards it until there was no going back, and your body was practically flush to it. Holding your breath, you peeked through, pushing it ever so gently, praying that it wouldn’t creak. You had to crane your neck slightly to see any movement in the room, but it didn’t take long to see it, and when you did, you certainly didn’t feel cold anymore. Any curious whims on the color of his furniture and walls were long pushed to the side, because you couldn’t have focused on anything else in the room if you tried.

Snow was sat on a deep red velvet ottoman at the foot of his bed, shirt buttons undone and pushed behind him, leaving you with a full view of his chest. Your eyes panned down to see his usually pristine dress pants rolled carelessly down, pooling around his ankles. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows in a similarly rushed manner. One hand was behind him, propping himself up, and the other was tightly gripping a handful of blonde hair, belonging to a girl that knelt at his feet in nothing but black underwear and stiletto heels - the culprit of the footsteps - moving her head up and down as Snow roughly guided her, lips parted, head tipped back, eyes firmly shut, breathing roughly. A few strands of damp blonde hair had fallen to his temples, just enough to make him look disheveled, yet somehow still regal, like a greek god.

You stood there, frozen. A million emotions battling for dominance in your head, anger, panic, fear, raging jealousy. Desire.

That was the one that stuck with you in the moment. It was a good thing Snow’s eyes were closed and the girl’s back was facing you, because your feet were firmly planted on the ground, watching this scene unfold, and you wouldn’t be able to go anywhere even if you tried. Watching as Snow’s breathing got heavier, as his grip on the girl’s hair got tighter and more forceful. Watching as her one arm gripped his thigh, and the other moved to where her mouth was, out of your eyeshot, and the obscenity of this was made somehow worse by the fact that you couldn’t see exactly what was happening.

Firstly, because it allowed your brain to fill in the blanks as Snow hissed through his teeth and dropped his head back. Secondly, because from this angle, you couldn’t see the girl’s face, and you were able to picture yourself in her place, wet mouth wrapped around him, being the cause of his undoing.

Come to think of it, there was another reason you were glad you couldn’t see her face, and it was purely for her sake. Because if you could’ve seen her, you would’ve had no excuse not to kill the bitch then and there.

You could hear, though. You could hear her soft moans and the lewd wetness of her mouth as her head moved even faster, before Snow took full control as his hips started to jerk, holding her head in place. There was a fire in the pit of your stomach and your lips were parted, staring. Knowing that if even for a second, Snow opened his eyes just for a glance, he’d see you immediately. You’d be hanged, probably. Or worse. And yet you didn’t run; you couldn’t. Nothing on God’s earth could’ve caused your feet to turn you around and leave the room. It was like you were suspended in some dream-like state, hearing going fuzzy, head spinning.

Then Snow started groaning, breath hitching in his throat as he got closer to the edge, you could hear it. Your brain began melting, and you didn’t have time to think through what would happen after he was finished and he saw you. If you were going to be hanged for this, it would be worth it, you thought, as his hips started to jerk even faster and his groans turned into strained whispers. Fuck and that’s it and good girl, and finally, as his eyes squeezed shut even tighter, and he came into her mouth with a strangled cry, you heard a name.

Yours.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #snow x reader #snow x you #the hunger games #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow smut #tom blyth #ugh i haven't written in so long and this is my first time writing for this fandom go easy on me pls

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lia-loves · 24 days

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(kpop) songs that remind me of honkai star rail men but i give a horrible and delulu explanation, part 2 (part 3 in the making? Lmk if that sounds like a good idea)

warnings: none, except poor attempts at humor bc i'm not funny :D

aventurine: nobody knows by kiss of life

“I wanted to be true to myself” -aka allusions to aven’s past and how he feels about it

“My villain-like vibe hidden behind a smile”

Dancing and being together forever

dan heng: hwaa by (g)-idle (fave group mention!!)

song about betrayal and moving on

You help dan heng move on and he’s eternally grateful for it

“Reddest red all my flowers bloom/ When my heart forgets your old wordless tune/And now with my flame/ I'll ignite the sun just like the spring has won/Flames come alive”

dr. ratio: roller coaster by chungha

your relationship is literally a roller coaster because of him addressing his feelings, denying it, and the cycle continues.

At first, can’t understand the feelings but as time progresses, the feelings become more evident and real

jiaoqiu: spicy by aespa

y’all, i’m so funny for this one

“'Cause I'm too spicy for your heart, ring the fire alarm/You tiptoe into my heart, I'm too spicy/While the fire spreads, in that very moment/Finding another part of mе, I'm too spicy”

Sneaking into his heart like that, woahhh!

This literally just reminded me of him, i don’t have an explanation for this one, unfortunately

jing yuan (part 2): blue hour by txt

i imagine jing yuan as a romantic (sue me) and wanting an intimate relationship with his partner

discusses freezing time in order to preserve special moments

“You are my special/My only one special”

and tell me that wouldn’t describe him in a relationship

welt: imperfect love by svt (credits to @danyezheng my lovely moot for this idea)

discusses loving yourself despite all of your “flaws” which i think welt does constantly

“Together we become old and worn out”

welt’s dynamic with his love

taglist: @danyezheng, @ayrastv

(let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!)

#airlia writes #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan x reader #aventurine x reader #dr ratio x reader #welt x reader #dan heng x reader

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potatocitytechnology · 1 year

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Sweet Like Pumpkin Pie - S.JN

Kinktober Day 2

Face sitting: also known as queening or kinging, is a sexual practice with one partner sitting over the other's face.

INTRO: One fall day, you decide it's time to let go of your worries. Turns out you're a natural freak in the sheets and Johnny loves it.

GENRES: Smut

PAIRING: reader (afab) x boyfriend!johnny suh

WARNINGS: profanity/swearing, face sitting (F), face riding (F), a little body worship, more dominant Johnny but mostly no power dynamic, marking, hair pulling/scalp scratching - overall explicit content - PLEASE, DO NOT ENGAGE WITH THIS POST/BLOG IF YOU'RE UNDERAGE. MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED.

WORD COUNT: 1.86k (remember, size doesn't matter)

AUTHORS NOTE: Okay. I'm already a day behind but we got this team. Also, I've noticed that my posts aren't coming up under the tags for some reason? If anyone is coming from one of the tags lmk cause it would be cool to see who is. Otherwise I'm trying my best to fix it. Anyways, enjoy October 2nd! (＞﹏＜)

*unedited*

It wasn’t something you never discussed, yet it still took you by surprise when Johnny suggested we actually try it this time. “I want you to sit on my face.” He states, no hesitation in his voice because he clearly knows no shame. It is Johnny after-all.

You stutter over your words, trying not to choke on the words as they get stuck in your throat. “Um, are you sure?” You ask. It’s not that you don’t want to sit on Johnny’s gorgeous face, it’s just that you haven’t done it before, the activity foreign.

A chill runs up your spine as your eyes cast past Johnny’s shoulder, watching out the window. Green leaves on your cherry tree turning orange with the call of fall. You’re almost envious of how pretty it turns with each season, but fall being the most beautiful concept on it in your opinion.

Your eyes meet his again, determined mindset in tow as he gives you begging eyes. Johnny never wants to push you, that’s why you’re so glad he’s your boyfriend, but you need to give too. Besides, this will be fun and with Johnny you will be safe.

You nod, “Okay.”. He smiles, giving you a peck on the lips. “It’s gonna be so much fun, baby. You have no idea how long I wanted to do this with you.” His excitement sends a thrill of excitement through your body, the feeling stopping at your lower stomach. God, he makes you wet without even touching you.

You tread behind him as he leads you to your shared bedroom. You must admit out of the two of you, Johnny is most definitely the more adventurous lover. He always wants to try new things, but you always say ‘maybe’ or ‘next time’, though it never happens next time. To be honest, this is probably the only thing off ‘vanilla’ sex that you’ve ever done. It's more than a little sad.

His hand reaches for yours, squeezing you lightly in reassurance as he shuts the bedroom door behind you. His hand then leaves yours in favour of joining the other as they wrap themselves around your waist, the rest of his body leaning into your back. “I got you.” He mumbles through your hair. “Waited so long, gonna make it worth it.” His voice darkens as each word leaves his lips, a shiver running up your spine.

“I trust you.” You gulp, voice sounding small. “I know, baby.” He hums, his hold on your body firm and safe, just how you like it. He gently runs his hands down your stomach until his fingertips grip at the fabric of your sweater, tugging it up. You grin, taking the hint and lifting your arms as he discards both your sweater and thermal. He kisses your neck, goosebumps following his fingertips.

Next he gets down on his knees, surprising you as you clutch his shoulders. “Johnny what’re you-” He silences you, a ‘shushh’ leaving his lips as he pulls your sweatpants down. Lifting your ankles, he throws them behind him, your bare legs catching his attention. Smiling, he begins kissing the flesh of your thighs. “You’re so beautiful, baby.” he mumbles against you.

“Stop teasing.” you whine, annoyed that he’s not touching you where you need him. “I’m not teasing, just showing you how much I love everything about you.” His eyes lock onto yours as you look down on him. “I want you to always be comfortable coming to me if you want to try new things.” Returning to his assault on your thighs, you moan. His affirmations and sweet kisses driving you mad.

He nips and bites at your sensitive skin, marks following the path of his mouth, but you don’t mind. All the more of him to feel tomorrow. His attention spans from your knees to above your belly button. Butterflies erupting in your stomach everytime he gets closer to your aching pussy.

When he finally peels away your dripping panties, you’re practically panting. Your head feels lighter as all blood seemingly rushes to your core, the heat he’s kindled making you hot to the touch. He licks across your pelvic bone, the sensation making you breathe faster. His tongue swipes just a half inch from your clit and your body shakes.

He grins, eyes mischievously peering up at you, “you’re so sensitive, baby.” he chuckles and you roll your eyes half-heartedly. “I wonder why.” is your completely sarcastic response. You want to say, how the fuck can you not be after the torcher he’s putting you through? It’s a wonder you’re still standing while he taunts you with the promise of a mind blowing orgasm.

Your hands grip his hair as he pokes his tongue at your clit, finally giving you something. You don’t even try to hold back the moan that escapes your lips, ecstasy filling you for a short moment before he stops again.

This time you groan in frustration, your nails accidentally scratching the surface of his scalp a little harder than you intended it to. A sharp hiss that draws into a hidden moan passes his lips, making you laugh internally. His slitted eyes glare up at you as a smile tugs at your lips. “Oops.” you add to the silence, the insincerity clearer than you meant for it to be.

“Alright, let’s do it then.” he announces and you nod your head, wanting nothing more at this point than to sit on his face. “You sure you’re ready though?” He questions, a pointed and soft look that shows he genuinely wants to know if you’re ready. “Johnny, I’m practically leaking like a dam. Please, I want to do this.” He nods, sucking in a breath. “Okay, baby.”

He stands up from his knees before grabbing your hand and bringing you to the side of the bed. He smiles at you, proceeding to pull his shirt over his head. You’ll never get used to the sight of Johnny’s body, he really is gorgeous inside and out.

Going ahead, he climbs onto the bed, lying down in the centre and pointing at you. “Come’ere.” You obey, crawling to him and sitting back on parted knees, hands between your open thighs. Johnny can’t help the groan that leaves him as he strokes up your marked thighs, mouth salivating.

“Now you just gotta put your knees beside my head, baby.” He says, leaning back to rest his neck on the mattress. You follow his instructions, moving to place your knees on either side of his head so that you’re facing down his body. He places a hand on your thigh, stopping you. “Not that way, baby. Turn around, I want to see you.”

You gulp, a weak ‘okay’ your response. Turning around so you’re facing the headboard of the bed, you see his eyes peer up at you through his long lashes. You hover above him, your nerves now distracting you from how turned on you were, Johnny notices.

Quick to distract you from your thoughts, he licks a path up your inner thigh, collecting the juices that drip from you. You’re too high for him to reach, still hovering above his face. He grabs your hips, swiftly pulling you down onto his already parted lips. You are then left with no room in your mind to stress as it quickly fills with pleasure.

His tongue moves with skill around your clit, the feeling so foreign yet familiar. Of course Johnny’s eaten you out, just now like this. It’s so new it feels taboo to you, which only turns you on more as his warm tongue darts into your hole.

Johnny looks up and watches you as your lips part in moan after beautiful moan. Each time the sound sending blood pumping to his hard cock. His lips work to form an ‘o’ around your sensitive clit before he sucks on it. It sends your mind into a frenzy, your hips beginning to grind against his face.

He groans into you when your hands reach for tufts of his dark hair, lacing through each strand and tugging as you desperately find a way to keep yourself grounded. Each frenzied moan that leaves your mouth becomes more and more careless, the fucks to give leaving your thoughts.

His strong arms wrap securely around your hips, pulling you further into his mouth to the point you're almost worried. Johnny, however, has been waiting to do this with you for a long time, the need to have your cum covering his face overwhelms his need to breathe at this moment.

“Wanna ride your face.” you gasp between moans and Johnny groans beneath you, your words both turning him on and making him so proud that you're telling him what you want.

You feel him nod into you, loosening his hold on your hips and flattening his tongue. Your heart quickens its beat, but you push the anxiety to the back of your mind. You hesitantly start rocking your hips back and forth, the feeling making your eyes roll back and an unholy sound releasing from your chest.

You get no time to be embarrassed about it, and you don’t want to be. This feeling is a pure drug, he’s your ecstacy and you’re addicted. His nose bumps your clit and your fist your fingers in his hair, moving both your hips and his face against you.

Johnny can’t believe it. His timid girlfriend becoming so animalistically wild and using his face like a toy. It’s the turn on he never knew he wanted, but god does it feel good. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips, working with you to rock them against his tongue.

Your breaths quicken, the heavenly feeling of your orgasm building up making the movement of your hips stutter and and falter. You’re lucky Johnny’s strong enough to keep you shifting over him. He watches your face carefully, looking for the expression he’s longing to see.

He picks up when your body loosens up, mouth parting and eyes going blank as you sit on the edge of euphoria. He quickly stops your movement, arms cementing you in place as he attaches his lips around your clit again and sucks. Fucking hard.

It pushes you into your orgasm as your eyebrows furrow and your mouth forms a perfect ‘o’. Your entire body shakes as spluttered and broken moans leave your lips along with short, gasped breaths.

Johnny watches you in amazement, pure admiration on his face as he watches you unfold on top of him. He couldn’t be prouder of you.

You go limp, gently lifting yourself from him but not after he cleans you up. You tumble down beside him as he wraps you in his arms. Safe with him. Always safe.

“You did so well, baby.” He mumbles into your ear, a smile gracing your lips as you hum a ‘yeah?’.

He hums back. “And you taste like heaven.”

You groan, really not wanting to hear about how your taste as a blush rises to your cheeks.

“Sweet like pumpkin pie.”

You scowl, slapping his bare shoulder as he laughs at you. Secretly you look pleased.

#nct smut #kpop smut #nct 127 smut #nct johnny #johnny suh #nct x reader #neohub #potatocitytechnology #nct dream #nct dream smut #kpop scenarios #nct 127 #nct scenarios #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

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hwaightme · 2 years

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Motivate me

THIS IS 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI FOR CAPTAIN'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist)

📝 pairing: postgrad!hongjoong x afab!undergrad!reader 📝 genre: smut, fluff if you squint, psychology 📝 summary: every week, you met with your tutor, Kim Hongjoong. And every week, you told yourself to let go of your fantasies. But what if just a dive into self-determination was all what was needed to stop the hour from running out? 📝 wordcount: 10.2k 📝 warnings/tags: MINORS DNI, language, teasing, references to psychology studies, mention of losing one's mind, fantasising, day dreaming, university setting, lecture hall, mention of tests, hj fluctuating between hard and soft dom, tutor hj, lmk if anything! 📝 taglist: @doom-fics @layzfeelit @acciocriativity @izuijin @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 📝 a/n: Good time of day~ sometimes one wonders if Freud would be a fanfic writer, sometimes one is just in the mode of 'head empty only Hongjoong'. Thank you so much for your love and support, biggest hugs

📝 nsfw tags: fingering, overstimulation (a bit), edging, sub!reader, dom!hj, a tid-bit of pain play - smacking/slapping/stepping on someone, exhibitionism(???), public sex, protected sex, a lot of petnames (sweetheart, pet, baby girl), sir, slave, degradation, humiliation, pet/master and slave/master dynamic

The ticking of a clock from a bygone era, clinging onto the wall by a rusty nail, a sword of Damocles over head of any professor to use the blackboards above which it was hanging. The distant shouts and laughter of students outside the lecture hall, enthusiastically recounting their weekend plans even though it was still the middle of the week– every attempt to erase the gruelling hours of study. The soft golden sunrays, not caring for the half-closed venetian blinds over the windows occupying nearly the entire side of the room, sneaking into the room and dancing over your skin as you cupped your head in your hand and leaned onto the desk.

You were here again, waiting to get your fix; a habit you could not quit. There was no real purpose for you to be meeting with Kim Hongjoong, revising the same material over and over until you could recount it in your sleep. You were doing well enough in your studies now, had other plans, other interests, and yet all the roads still led you right back to the psychology department building. Its carved mahogany pillars, antique tomes overfilling the grand shelves in the main library, the intricate plaster design in the myriad of maze-like, marble tile corridors. Your feet moved on their own accord, leading you to the same hall, again and again, hoping for some miracle.

The way you and Hongjoong had met could not be any more standard and uninspiring. It was the middle of the fall semester. You were an undergraduate student having trouble with a particular module, he was a postgraduate student conducting research with your professor as his supervisor, you asked for help, were appointed to Hongjoong as a tutee… and the rest was history. Truth be told, you had been terrified of having him help you study initially – from the few students who he had agreed to work with in the past, you had heard that he was strict, demanding, impatient and near despotic. He had a reputation of a judgemental man who counted down the seconds until he could free himself of the vermin that were his juniors.

How you wanted to laugh at this severe prejudice now! After the initial session where you two had established ground rules and expectations, and you had the bright idea of preparing a concise collection of syllabus requirements together with known assessment timings, it was as though someone had flipped a switch inside the young man. Hongjoong had perked up at your interest and had gotten rid of his cold demeanour once you had managed to remain proactive and engaged all throughout his ramblings – no easy feat when discussing human development and cognition.

And now, with two terms having passed by and the end of your academic journey approaching, you were still meeting. Hongjoong seemed to have an innate talent for thinking of something new to discuss with you – just so another session could take place. You strongly doubted that what was happening between you could still be considered a mere tutorship, however; While the core of your conversations remained locked in the realm of psychology and human behaviour analysis, the subtle nuances and implied deviations of meaning had taken on an entirely different palette.

The distance between you was continuously being tested, with a fleeting caress here, a playful touch there, but never anything beyond that. Even though you, supposedly, were training to be masters of understanding the human psyche, you were struggling, or perhaps more accurately, afraid to decipher each other’s intentions, instead leaving it to wishful thinking and irretrievable opportunities lost. Your heart remained in the paradise of the hours spent with Hongjoong but hoped that time could freeze. The clock on the wall was showing five minutes past five – quite unlike him to be late.

Part of you wondered if it was because, finally, Hongjoong began to grow tired of these sessions, of you. Perhaps those students were right after all, and you had merely been seeing what you wanted to see, falling into the trap of confirmation bias. But that hypothesis had no anecdotal evidence to support it – he was an ‘exact’ man, arriving and leaving on the dot regardless of any circumstances. Aside from staying over time once last term, resulting in him physically stiffening around you and being jittery for the next few meetings. You took it as anxiety or need for order, projecting what you had covered in class onto him.

The man in question was gazing at you through the window in the door, having spent the last few minutes trying to collect his thoughts. After having spent the last two terms in torturous denial, he could not find strength in himself to hold back anymore. And that started with this damn hour. It was like a shackle, constraining the two of you to a particular routine and forcing you to remain going round and round in circles. Hongjoong figured that you probably even struggled to ideate meeting him outside of these bounds, remembering the barely audible gasp and widened eyes when you accidentally bumped into him a couple of weeks ago. It probably had meant nothing to you, but to him it turned into a time bomb mechanism. He needed to do something, and fast, before the chances to act ran out entirely.

But look who was talking - at first opportunity he would jolt out of his seat and guide you to the door. He did not dare entertain the thought of going any further, for he knew, if he did so, there would be no going back. Such a move – out of line, and out of the allocated time, had served as the beginning of his highly unprofessional interest in you. That additional half an hour, last term in mid-December, poring over a textbook, one that he was not even able to read in the blur of his emotion and acute sensitivity towards your warmth, nearly right against his cheek, those thirty minutes had spelled his personal disaster.

Hongjoong had never expected to be anything but indifferent towards you. In the grand scheme of things, you could have been just a passing figure. But life had other plans and led him right into the trap that you had not realised you set. First, you came to be who he thought of when he worked - he grew accustomed to filtering papers and studies through a lens of what you could find interesting and relevant, inadvertently leading him to making double the efforts - for the both of you. Next, you transformed into his daydream, consuming his rest and innocuous musings - on multiple occasions he had caught himself contemplating what your preferences were between this or that, or whether you went to see the play you had told him about last week... He thought it would stop at that, alas, the control you had over his mind could not be contained. From day to night, you haunted him, your tasteful attire mentally exterminated by the unbridled desire that consumed him, from early echoes in-situ to hurricanes that left him shuddering in the privacy of his sin. Hongjoong was driving himself insane with you, and he was exhausted of not knowing whether you felt the same way about him.

There were signs, of course, hell, even the pretty little skirt and thigh high boots you chose to wear today were screaming at him and leaving him breathless. But this was all elements of uncertainty, at least until he was to make it the one goal to carry out his series of experiments and prove to both of you that you had long passed the stage of wanting. To one another, you had transformed into an unavoidable need.

It was another three minutes until he finally deemed it appropriate to press down on the door handle, and make his presence known. He expected the same reaction from you as always - a flutter of the eyelashes as you raised your head, how you studied him as though you were committing him to memory, and those soft, plump lips forming a coy smile in greeting. These traditionally insignificant gestures made Hongjoong go into overdrive and fantasise a totally different agenda for the tutorial. Maybe you knew what you were doing, maybe you didn't. But either way, he desperately wanted to become the only one to control those expressions, that inner world you only revealed to him in teasing snippets. Hongjoong simply wanted to own it.

“Did you read the papers I recommended?” It was something of a ritual at this point: he asked a question, you answered, then silence overtaking and lasting from the first exchange to the moment he sat right beside you in the same row, and then you began sharing musings on whatever topic of the week was.

Your head snapped up as soon as you heard the familiar dulcet tone. Finally, Hongjoong had decided to make an appearance, you had feigned ignorance of his lingering form, allowing him to loiter in the corridors while you took in the blissful ambiance of the quiet lecture hall, and considered possible reasons behind his silly actions. So, in a split second, you decided, if he was to be starting the session in an odd manner, it was only your duty to continue.

“Why were you late, Doctor Kim?” you asked, coquettish, emphasising the title that Hongjoong was in the process of trying to attain. He attempted to convince you on a number of occasions that you had no grounds to call him that, but the suppressed look of pride that graced his features, even if just due to the sense of superiority, made your little joke worth it.

The question made Hongjoong freeze in place, right at the entrance to your row. His grip on the leather briefcase he carried almost everywhere tightened, and he readjusted his glasses as a way to distract and calm himself. Evidently, you were onto him, seeing as you decided to veer off-script too. Had you been watching without him realising? With all his might he fought his darkening expression and stalked towards you without saying a single word in return. As he flipped the cushioned seat down and set the case on the elongated table attached to the next line of chairs, you unabashedly continued to follow his every move with your eyes.

Hongjoong’s look was what could be described as a simple elegance. Dressed from head to toe in black, each article of clothing fit immaculately, and highlighted his toned form in just the right places. The thin cashmere turtleneck, together with what you could only assume to be a tailormade blazer, perfectly accentuated his torso, and guided the vision from his delicate hands to his neck, and finally, to his bespectacled face. Effortlessly styled onyx locks made him appear every bit a gentleman, while the studded earrings hinted at a subliminal rebelliousness. His remarkable sense of taste, along with the way in which he could steal all your attention, were timeless truths.

Only once he was settled, his tablet set aside and stylus in one hand, knee almost brushing against yours as he turned a little ways towards you, did he recall what you had said, wondering whether he should let you keep calling him that, as a pleasant formality. In spite of the appeal that the notion had, Hongjoong chose to not entertain the thought any further, and instead let his discreet glances trail down your body, landing on the edge of the mini skirt where it had ridden up, only a little, but enough to give space for creative thought.

“I had some… business to attend to.” He could not think of anything better, but did not want the quiet to last any longer than it had already been. You were polite enough to not keep this particular conversation going, humming in return as you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

As you did so, Hongjoong caught the scent of your perfume, his favourite, which left him intoxicated. The floral notes with deliciously sweet undertones dealt permanent damage and taught him to search for you whenever there would be as much as a hint of anything similar. He bit the inside of his cheek as he watched you uncross and slide one leg over the other again. He was at his limit with you, this weekly hour having become a test in its own right.

Now that he was so close, the hall shrunk to a tiny suffocating chamber, where it was only you and him, and the setting sun lazily dragging across the sky outside. You had a tendency to forget just how quickly time could pass when with Hongjoong and were cursing the almost fifteen minutes that had already disappeared. It was easy to form an image in your mind of him showing up later and later, until he would appear one minute before the end, and then not at all. Perhaps, you needed to start getting over your private teacher, but that was definitely difficult to start when you could sense his scrutiny – his special focus on your thighs did not go unnoticed, a win in your outfit selection books. His overwhelmingly tantalising presence. His hand suddenly tapping your shoulder, not remaining there for as long as you would like.

“So, about that reading?” Hongjoong tilted his head, and smiled softly, though his eyes held something unreadable.

“Of course.” Your voice had inadvertently dropped to a whisper, making the young man’s wandering observations cease immediately, snapping right back to you. After a short pause, he cleared his throat, and forced himself to steer back to the standard collection of lines you had abided by for long enough.

“Then let’s get started?” he wished the phrase would come out less as a question, but for today, or well, tonight in particular, he felt the need to ask for affirmation; subconsciously, he was testing the waters. “Explain to me, what is self-determination theory, and who are some prominent figures that helped develop it?”

You smoothed the pages of the notebook laid open right before you.

"The macro theory of self-determination, which has first been actively developed and brought to our modern understanding by Ryan and Deci, explores and evaluates the outcomes of actions related to human agency. This theory proposes three basic psychological needs, namely autonomy, competence, and relatedness, and introduces a relationship between the satisfaction of said needs, intrinsic motivation, and the regulation of extrinsic motivation.”

You kept your voice as steady as you could, reciting the passages you had highlighted while reviewing the material. Hongjoong was listening intently, nodding along to every phrase, humming in approval as you halted. His stylus remained hovering above the tablet, not touching it a single time. Before, he would litter page after page with critiques, ranging from semantics and your choice of phrasing to the way in which you would reference relevant works. The list of adjustments had been endless, but instead of deterring you, like it had done for your peers, it ignited a foreign motivation. You wanted to prove that you were better. That, give you one piece of advice, you would move ten steps forward and soar. This drive had been your saving grace as it helped you forget prior failure. Prevented unnecessary worry. Along with the fervent wish to impress your tutor came the consistency and dedication to the subject necessary for you to pass with flying colours. In a way, Hongjoong had made you. Crafted who you needed to be in the span of a few weeks. And permanently etched himself into your psyche.

The blank state of the page was a testament to just how intertwined you were, tied together so tight you could barely breathe. You would not be surprised if you moved in synchronicity, and your hearts beat at the same rhythm. All the usual words had already been spoken, leaving behind an electrifying atmosphere that needed a new, symbiotic approach. A fresh start. An unspoken agreement seemed to pass between you and Hongjoong, as with one final spin of the pen-like accessory, he returned it to the built in holder in the casing, and clicked the tablet locked. You paid unnecessarily close attention to the darkening of the screen, until you realised that the man beside you was doing the exact same, and you accidentally locked eyes in the reflection. The fraying edge of your notebook’s cover was suddenly beyond interesting, and you darted to fixate on the miniature tears. You demonstratively picked at the faux leather binding to expose a tiny portion of the cardboard underneath, and waited for Hongjoong to continue. He was yet to comment, but took it upon himself to stop the nervous motion by placing his hand over yours, and lightly shaking his head.

The innocent gesture, gone as fast as it had happened, did the opposite of soothing you – instead of the ticking of the clock, you were listening to the adrenaline-fuelled heartbeat, a staccato resonating in the eardrums. All you were hoping for was that you were not prudish enough to let blush coat your cheeks from a mere few seconds of contact. But your yearning was slowly becoming more and more of a problem, now that his leg was pressed against yours. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

Hongjoong remained outwardly unperturbed, though the same could not be said for his inner world – that slight reaction from you, one that he was able to detect only because he was searching for it, was enough to set him ablaze and reeling. He needed to slow down if he wanted this to go according to plan. The now continuous touch was enough for the time being - discreet enough to not be outwardly suspicious, but if his investigation and desires were to align, a respectable next step.

“Good. Very good, now let’s take that apart, shall we?” he praised, and leaned on the table with his elbow, facing you. You were curious about what exactly did he actually want to take apart. “You mentioned human agency. Care to elaborate on what that means?”

An instinctive reach for your notes – a desperate cry for support from your brain that was currently going haywire, was cut short by a soft reprimand from your not quite tutor, not quite something more. He encouraged you to be a bit more patient, stating as a matter of factly that this was something you should be able to recollect without assistance. Maybe if you were being assessed by anyone else, just not him. Hongjoong was visually ravaging you, more and more of you, with each passing minute, and you were afraid that soon enough, you would lose control. You wanted to allow yourself to melt under his gaze, to sink into his momentary touches and feel more than just the enticing heat emanating from his body.

Back and forth, the two of you exchanged one fact after another, not once veering off into any other territory except self-development theory. However, within it, your communication had transformed into something a lot less bland for your excited tastes. In a brazen manner, Hongjoong navigated you through a myriad of themes, maintaining a level of seductive ambiguity that was sufficient to keep you guessing and riled up.

It was an odd stroke of luck, how you had been assigned to the one teaching assistant and postgraduate student who was your favourite eye candy during the lectures. He had agreed to attend only a few in the very beginning of the series, since he much preferred to follow his own rhythm, but had stolen your focus at once. Following a disastrous mock test, it was only common practice for your department to assign you to a senior buddy – even if they initially protested and explicitly, in your presence, rejected the deal. Had that been hurtful? Only a little, dissipating in a blink, especially since it led you to where you were now. With forty-five minutes having past, breathing shallowing out into haphazard gulps, and conversation deeply dedicated to extrinsic and intrinsic motivation.

Hongjoong currently had one arm resting on the back of your chair, almost embracing you, and the other gliding with a pen over your notebook, sketching out the diagram of the self-determination continuum from memory. While he was concentrating, you were indulging in the closeness, no longer as engaged in what he was explaining – you had shutdown some time ago, choosing to admit your fervid attraction towards him, at least to yourself. It was comical how you still could hum in agreement at all the right times, nod, or tilt your head. A couple of times you had even mustered a pout, which had made Hongjoong noticeably still.

“…Y/N.” he roughly called you out of your daydream, eyebrow raised. He was obviously unamused, but you could see something contradictory between his actions and the picture painted in his dark orbs. You could almost believe that he had been waiting for a slip up like this, an opportunity to scold you, to really teach you a lesson. “You know I don’t like it when you misbehave and do not listen.”

He could have used passive terms, different pronouns, phrased the comment differently, but no. This was Hongjoong we were talking about. The Hongjoong with his eyes glazed over, resisting the impulse to pounce on you then and there, hanging on by a thread of professional theory. There was not much other proof that he required from you, as you were obvious enough. It did give him a level of satisfaction to know just how severely he could affect you, however, his charms turned out to be a double-edged sword. The more responsive you became, the more intensely his desire resonated.

“But I was…” you trailed off, arguing just for the sake of it.

“Then repeat what I just said.”

“Uhm, that the motivation is regulated by means of punishment on one side,” you slowed your speech, raising one hand to point at the left side of the unfinished diagram with a perfectly manicured nail, “and inherent satisfaction on the other.” Your tone exposed your goal of making the explanation into a euphemism and made Hongjoong bite his lower lip. You were catching up to him in your guesswork, weren’t you?

You yearned for Hongjoong to act before you did something indecent. So, you eagerly played along. If he wanted you to be a little more needy, you were more than happy to oblige and act clueless. Anything for this hour to become an eternity.

You felt a hand being placed on your exposed thigh, between your skirt and boot, then slowly, tentatively, it moved up, closer and closer to the checkered fabric. Fingers flittered across your skin and made it under the material, stopping only right at the sensation of having found the concealed lace. As his other hand let go of the pen to cup your chin and direct you to meet his darkened, sultry gaze, you let out a soft gasp, and shifted your hips just a little, to highlight to yourself that he could have you right where he wanted, and you were ready to beg for it.

“Not quite. But of course, this is something you want to focus on, you…” he hesitated to continue the sentence, choosing to prolong the silence, and keep you frozen in place.

“You… what?” you tried to coax the inevitable change out of him. This limbo could not be left to remain between you.

“…need…” he forced out, fighting himself. Holding back. You felt the pressure on your jaw weaken, so you took to nudging his thumb out of position, making it graze your lips.

“Need?” you repeated after him and waited for a continuation. After a second, ten, thirty, you realised that Hongjoong was peeking at the omnipresent timekeeper above the blackboards.

It was the hour. It had not even crossed your mind, since normally it would be the duty of an obnoxiously loud alarm on Hongjoong’s phone to alert you. But today, it was dead silent. He was so unlike the tutor you had interacted with before, but so like the man who you wanted to belong to. You tuned into the ticking and the heat building up inside you. Leaning in closer, with the tension between your bodies having reached unprecedented heights, you fluttered your eyelashes a few times, formed a cute smile and made a simple request that you knew would be the trigger:

“Please, Joongie, can you help me revise?” the nickname made his cognition fuzzy, so he remained conflicted and held back.

“Shit, Y/N. You are making things really hard for me, you know that?” he breathed out, turning to peer at you through half-lidded eyes. In flash of confidence after being humoured by the phrase you reached out to put a hand on Hongjoong’s chest, tracing a line with a finger, all the way down until you reached the waistband of his trousers, and toyed with the golden buckle of what had to be a rather pricey belt.

“Oh yes, I do. Much like you know that I am in dire need of motivation.” enveloped in an uncontainable lust, Hongjoong let go of your chin, positioning his hand right on the back of your head, fingers snaking themselves through your hair, and pulled you in until you were a mere couple of centimetres away.

“Are you sure, pet?” his exhale was hot on your skin, and you tilted yourself into him, impatient with this back and forth.

“You sure ask a lot of questions, Joongie-”

Any further retorts were cut off by Hongjoong taking off his glasses and closing the space between you and crashing his lips with yours. You barely had time to react as he gave your hair a slight tug to angle you for a deeper kiss. There was no longer any pressure against your thigh, as instead, his arm had slinked around your waist, and was urging you to slide even closer. Without much resistance you let yourself be guided, twisting yourself and letting the seat which you had occupied return to its folded state before lifting a leg and moving to straddle the handsome brunette.

Though you now had a certain advantage, with Hongjoong having to tilt his head up a little, it did nothing to change just how quickly you unravelled at his touch. It felt like a hallucination, finally getting a taste of what you had been craving for too long. But, despite the fact that you were here, revelling in this united intimacy, it was not enough. A greed had awoken within you alongside the building unrefined high, provoking you to give into the animalistic hunger and quit pretending. Remnants of your usual elegance evaporated as the temperature rose, leaving the real, primal you. The tantalising possibility of having the numerous scenarios occupying the inner conscious erased your ability to form any coherent thoughts. You wanted to be capable of only one thing now, and that was devoting yourself to the man whose saliva was sending you into a frenzy. The man who was physically under you, but you constantly struggled to reach. The man who had you wrapped around his finger.

"Hongjoong..." you sighed into the kiss, earning a hum from your seducer.

Masterfully, without breaking away from the electrifying contact, he began to unbutton your silk blouse, only stopping once to admire you, whispering a string of praises. Each one cemented itself within you, as though it was novel, unheard of. It was reminiscent of a scientific discovery, like those words had no significance to you before he carefully selected them in your address. It wasn't long before your top was shrugged off, and found a home under Hongjoong's seat, having you remain only in your bra. You had ensured that every Wednesday, you were to dress your best at every layer, if not for exposure, then at least for confidence. And now it paid off, as your target audience slid his hands with the attentiveness of an examiner across from your abdomen to your chest, halting at the solar plexus.

Hongjoong leaned back to appreciate how worked up you already were, on the verge of mewling like a kitten for him to give you more. Before you could say anything, he manoeuvred to unclasp the article. The suddenness of the motion made your teeth click together, but instead of deterring you only added fuel to the fire in your core. Now having full access to your breasts, he did not hesitate to cup them in his hands, unrestrained, and proceeded to knead them, paying special attention to your aroused nipples with a few methodical flicks and teasing pinches. You were putty in his hands, fading into moans muted by Hongjoong’s tongue grazing your canines, exploring you.

His hands traced the contours of your body, gliding down to your hips and pulling the skirt further up until it was a flimsy accessory that left nothing to the imagination. Roughly grabbing your ass, he moved up towards you as you grinded once, twice, until you were on the growing bulge underneath his trousers. As soon as you were flush against him, you own movement growing sloppier by the second, he tilted his head back just a little and hissed by your cheek:

“So fucking selfish, baby girl. Demanding all this attention from me.” He moved to plant a kiss on your earlobe, nipping at the cartilage. You let out a shaky breath, returning the sensation by peppering a series of kisses across the side of his face, stopping right at the corner of his plump lips.

“You’re making me feel so good, Joong-” your hunger was not subsiding as you tried to capture his mouth with yours, only to be rejected by a harsh comment:

“That’s Sir to you, pet.”

“I knew you liked it when I-”

“One more word out of that pretty mouth of yours and I am not going to be so nice.” Hongjoong warned you, sternly, a hint of aggression behind his words. This made you wonder how he would be if completely enraged. Perhaps you would find out someday, but this time around, you wanted to try your best to be a good girl for him.

“Anything to help me learn my lesson…” you paused to glance into Hongjoong’s eyes, as wild as yours, “…Sir.”

“Little troublemaker trying to be the teacher’s pet?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Then tell me, what’s intrinsic motivation again?” he smirked as he kissed your jawline and breathed right against the side of your neck, making you whine. He took great pleasure in seeing how your head rolled back as he found a particularly sensitive region, and after giving it a quick introductory peck, began to hungrily devour, sucking and nipping at the skin until it grew a new shade of pink.

“Mpfh- this-” you gasped as he moved to treat another area with the same affection, peppering kisses across your collar bone and jugular.

“Well, isn’t that just lovely. So desperate to be satisfied that you are willing to do anything. Well tell me, what do you need to do to get what you need?”

“Anything?” a sharp slap resounded when his palm made contact with your ass, accompanied by a yelp from you. You had to steady yourself by grabbing onto Hongjoong’s shoulders, and refrain from shaking.

“Try harder, baby girl. As if I’d give you the answer just like that.”

“Make you… feel so good…”

“Lacking in originality, but I’ll give it to you. Well done, you’re catching on. Never disregard the extrinsic, Y/N. We all want motivation.” He dropped his voice low, mocking your earlier words, and planted one more kiss right on your collarbone, taking a couple of seconds to commit his artwork on your skin to memory.

You felt him adjust his positioning, and wrap his arms around your thighs, somehow managing to move you even closer to him. It was impossible to ignore your own arousal, as well as his that you could feel through your own panties, while in one effort, he carefully rose from his seat and planted you in front of him, right on the table. The desks were probably the newest addition to the lecture hall, having been completed out of a sturdy fibreboard. But that also meant that they barely registered any changes in temperature and shocked you with their coolness against your exposed flesh. When Hongjoong set you down on, he reached for the soaked material of your panties, tugging on the waistband a couple of times.

“But I like to lead by example, pet. I want to show you how I want you, and how you should want me.”

You were about to give a feeble response, but it got caught inside your throat along with a gasp for air, as you were overwhelmed by the feeling of Hongjoong’s fingers going under the fabric, along your sensitive folds and deep into your pussy. Taking it slow, he let his fingers glide right back out, now coated with your nectar, and he took to massaging your blooming clit, rubbing the region unhurriedly, only to move right down between the lips once more, and up again.

You desperately needed him inside you, and attempted to encourage this by bucking your hips just a bit towards him, but to no avail, as with his free hand he grasped your hip roughly, and tugged you back to the table. Once he decided that you were ready, Hongjoong easily slid his nimble digits inside, up to his knuckles, and commenced their ecstasy-inducing pumping at a steady pace, albeit slow for your preferences. But you knew better than to complain when your desires were still progressively being fulfilled.

“Look at you, pretty girl, so fucking wet for me already,” he picked up his speed, enjoying how rapidly that forced a lewd moan out of you and caused you to lean forward, seeking stability in Hongjoong’s body. With your foreheads pressed together, and your breaths becoming shakier, he continued to taunt you, “See how willing you are to bow to me?”

“Yes, shit, please, just don’t stop-”

“Enthusiastic, are we? Well, remember this for how I will quiz you later by seeing how you treat me. I want you to imprint this in your mind. Every damn second. How well your tight cunt takes to me, how you crumble beneath me.”

“Yes Sir-ah!”

He curled his fingers and stepped closer towards you, his body turned a little off to the side. The pulsing of his still-clothed erection against your leg, as well as the stimulation he was giving to your sex was making you see stars. You had dreamt of this for so long and were not holding back in letting Hongjoong know of your pleasure by the pants and hushed yelps that escaped your open mouth. Music to his ears.

“You’re such a slut for this, so fucked out from just my fingers. I bet you have thought about this before, haven’t you, Y/N?”

“Oh fuck yes, Sir, yes I have, I…” you could not finish your sentence as he began to pump at an even faster rate than before. The knot that had formed in your stomach since the beginning of the ‘tutorial’ you had together, which turned out to be prolonged intellectual foreplay, was now growing unbelievably stronger, and stronger, coiling light a metal spring.

“I’ll let you in on a secret – I have wanted to see you like this, squirming underneath me, for just as long.”

Though his words were an unabashed expression of salaciousness, you could read a genuine affection in his eyes. You could almost guarantee that there was a life, perhaps even a love beyond this common indulgence in carnality. At least you wanted to believe that that was the case, even though your focus was also fully lust-riddled, and your high was fast-approaching.

“Every time you would follow me with your eyes as I excited the room, or how you would shamelessly flirt with me though I did not give anything back… you really are so needy. Practically begging to worship me, huh?”

“Y-yes…” your speech was faltering, and you locked your hands behind Hongjoong’s neck, unable to stabilise yourself alone any longer. Your climax was imminent.

“Dreaming of when you could have all of me to yourself… so fucking dedicated. Do you think you deserve a reward?”

“You… decide… Sir…” you choked out, resting your head against the crook of his neck, inhaling his inebriating scent.

“Such a good girl, that’s right. I do decide. And because you are being so obedient, I am treating you this well. How does that make you feel?” He teased, purposefully employing the overused phrase. It made you recall where you were exactly, and just what you were doing, the shame spurring you on.

“Thank you, sir- ah!”

“Grateful, is that right?” voice husky, he confirmed.

“Yes… mmh, fuck yes please-”

You were drawing a blank – if before you were at least able to state a few words in an order that made sense, now you were approaching the edge of complete ruin and could no longer contain yourself. An intense warmth was spreading all through your lower half, shooting outwards to every neuron in your body, down to your toes, contracted in pleasure, and all the way to your dishevelled locks. Only a couple of seconds ago did shame flash before you, accusing you for whoring yourself out so impatiently and desperately inside a university classroom, but Hongjoong had a talent for making you forget. If he kept at it, you would even forget your own name. He was pumping faster and faster, his arm muscles tightening along with your grip on his blazer, crumpling the material. It was only a matter of seconds, your breathing shallowed, moans grew breathier – if you were a gun, then Hongjoong was about to pull the trigger. You shut your eyes on instinct, expecting the rolling waves of a climax to hit you, but-

Your ‘small death’ never arrived. With a whine you sent a confused glare in Hongjoong’s direction, searching for an answer, any sign from him. This was not fair. You needed his attention back this instant, how dare he cut this euphoria? Why was he so intent on driving you to the verge of insanity? You did not have a single chance to complain, nor to initiate payback, as Hongjoong groaned and picked you up, manhandling you to the ground. Astonished, you stayed compliant.

The carpeted floor did not bring much comfort, the artificial fibre digging into your bare back, and the whiff of an amalgamation of industrial cleaner and something similar to puddle water made you scowl. A look to the side revealed a pencil, evidently forgotten by a student from one of the classes earlier that day, but was still better than facing Hongjoong's unreadable expression as he hovered above you. He appeared to be listening out for something, a suspicion confirmed when you were about to speak, and he pressed a hot finger against your lips, making you state yourself while simultaneously silencing you.

“Not. A. Single. Sound. You hear me?”

You merely nodded, unsure of how else to respond. Not when Hongjoong appeared so frustrated. Only once he rose up, pushing himself up using the table did you manage to pick apart the sound of conversation from outside of the hall. There appeared to be a group of students passing by, taking their sweet time. In an efficient manner, he took out a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his fingers. From your angle, though you could not exactly tell, but it appeared that the ghost of a smirk was dancing on his features. It did not take much deduction to figure out that he was enjoying the humiliating state you were in, your own horniness trapping you in a need to follow his orders.

As if to emphasize this, he picked the seat right above you to plant himself in, effectively masking you from view and leaving you quite literally at his feet. You noticed that Hongjoong had returned to his regular demeanour, calm and collected, unlocking his tablet for full effect, and behaving as though you were not there at all. As one final alteration to the scene, he tossed your belongings into your bag which was now right by your head and began to take some abstract notes. It was at that moment that you heard the foreign conversation get louder, and in a couple of seconds, the door being clicked open to reveal some unfamiliar faces.

After spotting Hongjoong seated in the very centre of the second row, looking very authoritative, aura occupying the entire room, they cowered back into the corridor, with just one of them remaining to prop the door open and call out to him.

“Sorry, is there something happening in this room?”

“Oh, sure is.” he uttered, pretending as though his focus on some incredibly important task was broken, and he was doing the group a favour by entertaining their pesky inquiries.

The attitude carried across effectively, as the student lowered his head sheepishly, but not enough to prevent them from raising their arm to motion towards the back of the hall and ask one final time:

“So, it’s fully booked? We can’t sit… like… up there?”

“Booked. And I am afraid you cannot.”

Waiting through this exchange was becoming unbearable, and each second was equivalent to an eternity amidst your arousal. Careful to not disturb the man above you, nor the items strewn across the floor, you gingerly moved your legs closer together, and inched your hand to your sensitive bud, seeking for more stimulation and what you deemed to be a well-deserved release. You did not realise just how sensitive you were, for as soon as you grazed the area, you practically let out a whimper, the only thing stopping you was you slamming a palm over your mouth on instinct. Trying to emulate Hongjoong’s motions, mind replaying the scenes from only a few minutes ago, you were easing yourself into self-gratification, abdominal muscles tightening. But this build-up did not last long either, as through your blurred vision, you noticed Hongjoong glowering at you, eyes turned daggers. Not long after, a new pressure found itself on the back of your hand and on your pelvis in the form of his lacquered moccasin. It was a raw, hateful move that degraded you to nothing but an object to be stepped on, but something about the forcefulness and intent made you desire for the charming, devious man to do it again.

“If you check out the department library there is normally some space. You aren’t in psychology, right?” he turned his attention back to the student across the room, ignoring your existence aside from a nudge for you to remove your hand from your still-dripping pussy, which you, albeit with hesitation, did.

“You are right, we do history, but our building’s packed so we ventured out.”

“Ah, then let me point you in the right direction.” He began to rise, making a show out of the inconvenience their intrusion was causing, exaggerating his body language; before he could fully stand up straight, however, the student stopped him and apologised profusely, settling for a couple of verbal pointers. You were astounded by Hongjoong’s ability to swiftly manipulate the environment and the people around him – equal parts dangerous and impeccably professional. He could make a home in anyone’s psyche, especially yours.

Once the disturbance had disappeared from the vicinity of the hall, Hongjoong rose from his seat and made his way swiftly to the door, slamming it shut; you remained still, mind hazy from the brush with almost being caught in your lecherous performance. You recognised the clicks that followed as him locking it, and a rustling as him rolling down the blind for the miniature built in window. There was no way you were going to be disturbed now. The world narrowed in, no longer escaping the boundaries of antiquity harboured in the theatre. Even the clock, still carrying out its duties, no longer held the same overbearing meaning.

“At any point in time, did I say that you could touch yourself without my permission? Or are you so filthy that you want to gather a crowd?” his question hung in the air, as he, seething, returned to the row. Raising your head slightly, you could now see just how turned on he was, with his erection almost threatening to burst out of his trousers, and a hint of discomfort on his face as he continued to storm down to you, stopping when his feet hit your boots. It was incredible how much restraint he had shown up until this point, but the temporary loss of control, and your light naughtiness was the final straw.

“Get the fuck over here.”

He roughly grabbed you by your wrist and dragged you to the front of the hall. He looked positively livid, but simultaneously, there was a burning desire within him to just have his way with you. The longer he kept at prolonging your lack of stimulation, the more agonising his arousal became until he could not take it anymore and needed you to take care of his problem. As he shoved you to centre stage, giving your ass a couple of well-placed smacks strong enough to leave redness, he began to unbuckle his belt.

When you stood in front of him, he caressed your cheek with one of his hands, only to switch it to a tight hold around your throat, so unexpected that you could not restrain a yelp. Pressing in his thumb until he could feel the contours of your larynx, he watched as you shuddered in pleasure at the change in treatment. You really were phenomenal.

“On your knees.” He pushed you down, letting go and dragging a finger up to your chin, and soon enough you were looking up at him, eyes glazed over with a fiery lust, spelling total submission.

“You have just been taking, and taking, and taking. That’s not quite fair, is it? And on top of that you are being so unbelievably naughty, that I am not sure what to do with you.”

“Forgive me, Sir, I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh yes, you did. You can’t control yourself. Need it all at once. I do not think I can let go of that too easily. You need to make it up to me.”

Dragging the belt out, he took a step closer to you, taking a deep breath in. In contrast to his spitting accusations, he very carefully moved your hair out of the way as he wrapped the belt around your throat, hooked it through and tightened it until it took on the appearance of a leash. He gave it a few tugs to check for your response, giving you a lewd grin once you nodded and mumbled the ever so sweet:

“Please.”

Dragging you until you were only centimetres away from his barely concealed member, he gestured for you to finish undressing his lower half. With a quick nod you rushed to unbutton and unzip the clothing.

“Convince me that I shouldn’t just leave you here like the desperate whore you are, since you are so self-determined.” You bit back a response, as you slid Hongjoong’s underwear down, and were more than pleased with the sight before you. Yes, you indeed were a whore for this man.

Taking the throbbing cock into one of your hands, you rubbed the ample amount of precum across its entire length, giving special attention to its base, which elicited a satisfied hiss from Hongjoong, and a lazy tug on the accessory around your neck. Understanding it as a silent command to hurry up, you leaned in and licked the tip, glancing up and batting your eyelashes as though you were the picture of innocence.

It drove Hongjoong wild, watching you as your mouth took over, with your tongue caressing the member up and down while you adjusted to his size. You had not even taken him in fully yet, and he was already concerned with just how desperate he was for more. Unable to sustain the leisurely pace which you had selected, he took a fistful of your hair with his free hand and tightened the belt with the other, yanking you back until just his tip was between your lips, to peer into your eyes. There you were, all pretty, jaw slackened to take him in, terrified that you had done something to wrong him any further. Hongjoong chuckled, high off the control he had, and in one swift motion shoved his length into your mouth until it hit the back of your throat, making you choke momentarily and have tears spring to your eyes.

“Do you think your sorry attempts are eloquent enough? I need to see better than that.” He challenged between laboured breaths, holding you in place.

The contraction of your throat, every shudder from your body, and finally, the vibration you emitted when you hummed in understanding before beginning to bob your head back and forth were unbelievable, overriding any fantasy he had developed before experiencing the real you. The stark difference between the you – a diligent student, an attentive tutee, a young, classic lady, and the you – a sex-driven fiend, an adorably acquiescent star of his consciousness, a vixen hidden behind a supposedly pure image, was making the sight even more addictive.

“Aahh… fuuuck, baby girl…” he muttered as you aided yourself with your hands, one running over and massaging his balls, while the other remained at the base, providing a rhythmic, slow pump.

Instinctively, Hongjoong rolled his hips to further speed up the movement; this time you were ready to take it, mouth widening and tongue lapping at his delicious cock, now lubricated by your hot spit. Your eyelids were growing heavier as your own desire began to build once more. The moans that the man was trying to muffle so as to not lose his sanity to you while he throat fucked you were a haunting melody to your ears that you undoubtedly would be hearing for weeks on end. You needed to be good to him and coax out a crescendo, you did have forgiveness to beg for, didn’t you?

The heat inside your core was growing steadily, making you squeeze your kneeling legs together to provide at least some support. The action did not go unnoticed by Hongjoong who let out an airy chuckle and brushed some stray hairs out of your face.

“You really are such a slave to my dick, aren’t you? Eating it up… such a good cocksleeve…” the words inspired you to go faster, seeking for more praise to fall from your master’s lips. He gripped the belt for dear life, making the friction around your neck rise, along with sinful sounds coming with each pump as you started deepthroating him almost entirely on your own, his hand that was on the back of your head merely following along with your motions.

He could sense that he was getting close, the aching in his abdomen, tingling in his extremities turning his vision into a blurry mess that would unlikely be fixed even if he were to perch his lenses back onto his nose. But he was far from done with you, as much as he wanted to shoot strings of his cum into your oesophagus and watch you swallow it all like a good girl. Unwillingly he grabbed your locks again, and guided you away from him, nearly regretting it when he heard you whine. Like you were the one who was being pleasured. Truly, one of a kind. Breathless and pouting.

“Are you ready to deliver a presentation, baby girl?”

“What-” confused, you asked, but after being reminded by the choking of the belt, added “sir?”

“Tell me what fucking theory you follow,” he retorted, huffing, and made you get off the floor, “now, up, c’m’ere, pet.” Treating you every bit like an animal, he pulled on the makeshift leash and took you to the lectern, moving behind it and making you face the hall. Now that you were standing there did you realise just how vast the space was, how many ghosts of inquisitive eyes there were, one in each seat. How willing you were to put this show on and embed it into the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Turn it into an altar of sin that you wanted to never leave.

“Bend over… that’s right, good girl.” He instructed you to lean forwards onto the wooden structure, and you automatically placed your hands on its edges. Spreading your legs, you enthusiastically gave Hongjoong access to your wet pussy, and sighed as he flipped your skirt up once again. Finally, you were about to get your fill.

You heard the crinkling of what could only be some kind of wrapper behind you, and glanced, curious. Hongjoong was in the process of rolling a condom over his rock hard member, shutting his eyes as he stimulated it. Smirking at you, he explained:

“See, I’ve been bringing these to all of our little meetings lately. There’s not enough time in the world to describe in just how many ways I want to ruin you, Y/N.” he chose to utter your name instead of the substitutes, voice dangerously low. He wanted you to remember this as a promise that he was not going to hold himself back anymore. Both of you wanted to live and fuck with no limits. You bit your lower lip, hiding a lustful grin.

“Show me an example, sir.”

That was enough for him to let go of the belt, leaving it to hit the lectern and dangle under you and take you roughly by the hips. Using one hand he positioned his cock right by your entrance, running it over your folds a couple of times, and without further hesitation pushed deep into you, bottoming out. Awestruck at how good you felt with your cunt clenched around him, he failed to stop a guttural groan from escaping him, which in turn made you respond with a few whimpers and a grinding of your backside, adding to his growing high. Slapping you back into submission, he pulled out fully, only to shove himself back in, revelling in the tightness of your walls.

“Don’t test me, sweetheart,” he warned barely present as he began to thrust with a slightly higher frequency, pressing himself flush against you every time.

You were barely remembering to breathe as Hongjoong’s pulsing cock was being pounded into you, stretching you out repeatedly. More on edge than ever before, you were feeling every touch, every graze, every exhale of his that could reach you. He was in a similar state, air knocked out of him as he rocked harder and harder into you until the temporary break after his prior build up was long gone. To curb the wave that was about to take over him, he bent closer to you. His clothing fell over your back as he teased your soaked pussy with his tip, it twitching from the contact. Missing the perfection that you offered, he could not keep up this game much longer, sliding his pulsating cock back between your soaked folds.

Beads of sweat were beginning to accumulate on Hongjoong’s forehead from the sheer heat of your bodies moving in tandem, your moans forming a harmony. The teasing was fanning the flames, the approach of your climax accelerating. He took the end of the belt again and tightened the collar-like hold it had on you, making your vision darken at the edges. Almost immediately he let go, intuitively knowing the limit of restriction. You adored the feeling of being his fuckdoll, existing as a vessel for the filthy noise your pussy was making as he continued to penetrate you. He moved a hand to your swollen clit to rub languid circles over it, and slammed his dick deeper into you, making you yelp at the heightened stimulation.

"Funny how autonomy is a basic need, and yet you are so willing to give it up for that same satisfaction. Are you that drunk off my cock that you lost rationality?

"Yes... Hong..joong... ah fuck! Sir!" You yelped when he suddenly bucked his hips upwards, delivering a particularly well aimed stroke that hit your g-spot.

As you gripped onto the lectern until your knuckles turned white, Hongjoong began to pick up his pace. He nudged one of your feet, a signal to spread wider, and placed one of his own on an elevated part of the platform, giving him a new angle, and fully unlocking the path to your orgasm. His touch was hot against your skin, with him continuing to abuse your overly sensitive bud, and the other surely leaving marks as he pressed his fingers into your waist.

“No more sirs, Y/N, aahhh shit, I want to- mfph, hear you scream my name. Yell who you belong to.” He commanded, going harder than ever. You tried to answer, but no sound came out of your mouth as you were enveloped in the ecstasy. He was immaculate, taking you apart how you had dreamt of him doing. Your arousal was unbearably close, and all you could think about was how Hongjoong’s cock was stuffing your sex, which was begging for release.

The knot in your stomach was about to burst; you followed the beautiful man’s demands and chanted his name like a mantra, fluctuating between barely audible and soaring to squeals at the top of your lungs, echoing right back at you and blending with Hongjoong’s carnal growls. He was catching up with you, his own desire starting to overflow. As your movements started to falter, he read you instantly, adjusting himself so that one arm was out to support you, while the other continued to help you in reaching that explosion of all senses. You grew completely silent as the awaited orgasm shook you, tightening all muscles, a knee-buckling attack, effectively immobilising you.

“Good girl, Y/N, come for me. Ah- you’re so damn beautiful.”

It was almost possible to count the constellations racing in your eyes from the overstimulation, which not even a forehead pressed onto the cool surface of the lectern could subdue. Your juices started to stream out of your overfilled pussy and treacle down your thighs. Hongjoong was entranced by how you were letting him enjoy you to the fullest, even after you have reached your peak. You were better than anything he could have hypothesised. You were his motivation.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m about to-” he mustered before it all hit him, and he pulled you into an embrace to prevent himself from shaking too violently, whispering ‘Y/N’.

Your aroma, the fucked out, glazed over haze written all over you was making him want to fall in love because shit, you were perfect. To reel himself back into reality he shifted his focus back to you, even though his member was still throbbing aggressively, hitting your leg as he side stepped away. He became ever so gentle, removing his belt from your throat and peppering kisses over your shoulders, your neck, your face. He retraced the love bruises he had left, now tenderly pecking each one.

“You’re so wonderful, you know that?” He mumbled into your ear, unsure if you could even register that he was speaking to you, but your soft hum proved otherwise. “Thank you, Y/N, my sweet,” planting a kiss on your cheek, and then turning you for another on your lips, he expressed his gratitude, and helped you down into a seated position at the base of the lectern when you stated you needed a moment to recover.

Your eyes followed Hongjoong’s form, as he waddled from the bin to dispose of the condom, to the box of tissues tucked away on a shelf by the door. While he cleaned himself up, and as soon as he was fully dressed, moved to wipe away your release, you pondered how this all unfolded. You had been incredibly silly to think he did not want you, that was certain. Even now, on a post-coital high he was taking care of you diligently, moving away only to rush to take your clothes from where you had thrown them. He was treating you like the most fragile, precious being on this earth, a total contrast to a few minutes ago.

The clock, abandoned by its previously dedicated followers, was still ticking away but you and Hongjoong did the impossible, and remained in your shared hour. That was all either of you wanted, and felt you needed. Your breathing levelled out, and you leaned back, letting both your hands drop to either side of you. Hongjoong joined you, and cautiously took one of them, intertwining your fingers together. In a soothing pattern he ran a thumb over the back.

“Thank you.” You finally managed, to which Hongjoong beamed, and squeezed your digits.

You sat together in silence, sinking into the dimming surroundings, at ease, blissful.

“So… same time next week?” you wiggled your eyebrows and chuckled.

“Let me take you out for dinner first, say tonight?”

“I’d love that… but, so soon?”

“Perhaps, but you motivate me.”

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runawaymun · 5 months

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if nobody's been here yet I'm gonna be very cringe and on brand and ask about the Partake Prequel

also Rivendell's Tiny Tearaway sounds DELIGHTFUL

Ahhhh thank you!

Ask me about my not-yet-written-fics from this list

The Partake Prequel

(also if you wanted to know more about Rivendell's tiny tearaway just lmk I can make another post for that haha. But I am glad it sounds good!!!)

(cw: discussions of pretty abusive dynamics and questionable consent, also discussion of sex)

so this only exists in my head because a) I'm morbidly curious and have a fascination with the psychology of messed up relationships and b) I am a masochist.

I am just constantly thinking about how the fuck We Got Here when it comes to To Partake. Like how do things get to a point where it's this fucked up and messy and tangly and Bad?

and of course there are bits and snatches that are mixed in to Partake -- like little glimpses into the backstory of Elrond and Gil's situationship, but I want to know more specifically how we got to where we are now.

We know that Elrond started pining after Gil sometime in the late first age when he was roughly in between the age of fifty and seventy. Which...for a Peredhel is a perfectly acceptable age to be sexual (Elwing and Dior had kids and were married by 30). But from an Elvish perspective (i,e. Gil's) that's a baby.

Literally he does not think about anyone else. This is a somewhat unhealthy obsession already. There's a fealty-kink wrapped up in here somehow that's all messily combined with the fact that Gil is currently the only adult who is really present in Elrond's life (if we're going with ROP's timeline Galadriel seems to fuck off to hunt Sauron shortly after Morgoth's imprisonment in the void, and you know...Earendil is busy Earendiling)

So to start I don't think Gil even really saw anything with Elrond as being on the table until sometime in the very early second age, after he appoints Elrond as herald. It's unclear when this happened -- I couldn't find a date for it. But I presume it to be sometime after Lindon is founded and Mithlond constructed and certainly after Elros sailed for Numenor (Elrond would have been emotionally vulnerable and attached to Gil-Galad even more -- and in my head Elros would not have approved of anything going on between Elrond and Gil-Galad so that's very off limits until he's gone)

But--- with Elros gone indefinitely, yeah Elrond gets more attached to Gil.

They're still not sexual yet though.

Elrond is taking regular trips to Numenor etc.

So I generally imagine that things really Began between the two of them sometime shortly after SA 432, when Elrond is around 500 years old. He's "mature" at this point in Elvish terms, and Elros has just died -- so, unhinged and probably at one of his lowest points.

SEX CW: I have a VERY firm idea in my head which I was planning to make a oneshot of. But Elrond at this point does get Very Horny about Gil and starts masturbating about it sometime around here. Gil catches him and that's how....uhhhh things start.

Because OBVIOUSLY (Gil brain here) he is into Gil and THEREFORE this is a PERFECTLY NORMAL and FINE thing to do!

Plus he is OF. AGE.

Nevermind the fact that Elrond is incredibly unstable and vulnerable and depressed & still extremely young, completely inexperienced, and there's some really fucky power dynamics -- all of which affect his ability to consent properly to ANYTHING.

So that's how it starts. They just start having sex. I think nobody really knows about it at this point.

(we start with mostly just Gil on the receiving end of some oral sex that Elrond is getting rapidly better at)

Gil's the one to broach anything more than that and Elrond is down for anything as long as Gil is happy.

rumors do start circulating at this point but absolutely nobody is keen to confront them about it.

I feel like there's potential here for Galadriel to catch wind of things, directly ask, and for Elrond to deny absolutely everything.

If she asked Gil there's no way that he'd admit that anything is going on either because she makes him fear for his life haha.

Elrond has been actively suppressing links to Melian at this point because it freaks out most Elves -- and because Gil doesn't like it.

At some point Gil broaches-- and by broaches what I really mean here is tries (he doesn't ASK!!) an osanwe link. Likely either during or just after sex.

Elrond does not know any better and his brain is full of dopamine and he thinks this is AWESOME. The king wants to be EVEN MORE INTIMATE

boom osanwe link. Far more of an osanwe link than they ever should have had.

boom immediate dissonance which is painful for Gil and so he assumes it is painful for Elrond

Elrond has not had enough osanwe experience to know this is pretty insular to the specific way his and Gil's Themes don't mesh.

"Let me fix it ok?" "Oh god please fix it"

Also there's the undertone here of Gil doesn't like it and Elrond feeling the need to manage his emotions and divest himself of anything displeasing even if that's his fucking Theme.

Hence the theme fuckery begins.

And things really really really start to devolve with their relationship.

Like I imagine in the beginning Gil was pretty cautious and careful -- not in a lovey dovey way but he's not wholly inconsiderate and it's within his Partake characterization that he doesn't like to hurt his partner unless it's in a fun kinky way. He also does not get off on someone being scared. That's an ick for him. So initially he would be careful.

But Elrond starts getting really good at masking things and figuring out that Gil likes to be rough.

And of course, anything for Gil.

Do you see where we're going.

Well and it's compounded by the fact that Elrond does actually like it, too. It just scares him. So he as a lot of really confusing feelings going on that he doesn't know how to handle and there's also a lot of shame wrapped up in it too

And obviously Gil is not um. Guiding him through this in the way that a more experienced partner who is sometimes building scenes and domming should.

And again -- there's that messy thing of "I need to please you in absolutely every way possible and also clearly my differences are Bad, and therefore I must mask all of them as best I can and keep up with my work demands because being useful is better than being loved."

(Which is a lesson he learned from literally everyone, even Elros in the end. It is not a lesson that Elros meant to teach him. But Elros loved him. And then he left.)

Anyway that's as far as I've gotten. The beginning is much more specific and it gets more nebulous as we get closer to the Partake timeline, but it's very easy for me to see the trajectory of their relationship, and that's really what I want to explore.

OHHHH also the undertone of codependency because Elrond and Gil are both fundamentally isolated and find solace in each other. And Gil isolates Elrond further to ensure that He Will Not Be Left. Because Gil is afraid of being inadequate and has literally no one else except like, Cirdan, who cares for him so deeply. (I mean, he would. If he wasn't an asshole. But you get where I am going with this.)

Yeah. Sorry.

There is no happy ending to this fic it is just a dissection of how we get from point A to point B. The happy ending would be Partake alkdhg.

#finally actually have time to respond to this today #to partake #partake prequel fic #cw abuse mention #cw sex mention #Gil is a very bad partner #and by that I mean he strategically isolates people because he is fundamentally afraid of being left alone #and Elrond is uniquely vulnerable to being isolated #because he also has the same fundamental fear #Gil responds to that fear by needing to control everything around him #and Elrond responds to that fear by making himself into an exact mirror image of whomever he is trying to form an attachment with #this is a horrible combination

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roosunday · 2 months

Text

Vague spoilers ahead for the Umbrella Academy S4.

I am looking to write as Klaus Hargreeves across from your Male Character in a TUA roleplay - either Five, Ben or a Male OC.

If you read this through and are interested, like this as or DM Me (preferred) and lmk a bit about you!

I’m 21+, write multi-paragraph to novella style, so advanced lit partners only, and I am based in GMT. I am currently regular with reply times and so I am looking for the same. I have zero limits and I am a massive fan of angst, trauma and all that dark and twisty stuff so I would love to include some of that. I write on discord!

I have a few ideas for each pairing but I am big on creating a world and a plot as a pair and really making it our own so come at me with your own thoughts. But let’s please fix some of the mess of S4!

I love side characters so I would adore finding a partner who is also interested in that and up for exploring other bonds, like the sibling relationships and other friendships or past romances! S4 has made me even more fond of the Ali and Klaus dynamic and having Claire there was beautiful.

Five/Klaus

- AU where Klaus takes on the Lila role as seen in S4 and we write about Klaus and Five’s life together, their years spent riding the train and eventually coming together. Let’s discuss! I have the most ideas for this pairing.

Your Male OC/Klaus

- Maybe a Keeper? If they were around for all that time, maybe Jean and Gene were able to isolate the individual components of the Umbrella Effect and so one member was assigned to Klaus. Eventually they would defect from the Keepers because they fall in love.

- I would just love to find a morally grey character. I want a ‘hate everybody but him’ vibe. Klaus also deserves to have someone he can adore.

Ben/Klaus

- I’m honestly happy to erase the Jennifer incident entirely and do a rewrite of Ben’s storyline. Either post prison or we get rid of that too, maybe have Ben show up at Allison’s at some point? These two are the ones I have the least ideas for atm but I’m always interested in Ben and Klaus!

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imminent-danger-came · 1 year

Note

Here comes the complaining about Mei's treatment in the fandom:

Mei gets basically zero fandom attention unless it's about shipping her with Red Son tbh, and even then it's barely ever discussion about her character. I've seen nearly everything she does in S4 be somehow attributed to Red Son, her temper, her impatience, even being concerned about Heaven(?). It's like she's a satellite character, like she doesn't matter until it relates to a man.

The thing about her temper especially gets to me because it's a trait she had since the pilot, and it feels just the teeniest bit like sexism to erase it in favor of making her into a Wholesome Softgirl.

(Also isn't her temper the main reason her dynamic with Red Son works? Like they play off of each other well because of how similar they are?)

Shipping is fun, I get it. I really like a lot of the popular ships, and Red Son is probably my favorite character but sometimes it feels like people don't actually care about Mei's canon character, they just care about giving him someone to blush or angst about.

Not to mention, for a fandom that loves angst I've seen nothing about her canonically tense relationship with her family or her fear of hurting others with the samadhi fire. That and her focus ep's almost never get talked about, except for the one with Ao Lie but even then, the discussion isn't about Mei, it's about Ao Lie.

Sorry if this isn't coherent I just have very strong feelings about this.

Anyways Mei deserves better

We are holding hands anon.

This was SUPER coherent, and I totally agree with all of your points—hope you don't mind if I write a kinda-sorta-meta about it! This is a long rant, and it's full of a ton of things that have been in my head for months.

Mei is rarely discussed as a character, and it's such a shame! Mei, MK, and LBD are my favorites, and I think I need to express my Mei love here more.

I think Mei being sidelined and ignored is far too common in the lmk fandom. I saw one person complain that Red Son should have gotten the Samadhi fire, and that it was "nothing against Mei", and it just kinda left me dumbfounded.

Like, there's nothing that giving Red Son the Samahdi fire would have added to the story that would trump what giving the Samahdi fire to Mei, our main female lead, added to the story:

"MK: “Mei! You have to stop. I know you’re upset, and that’s okay! I know what it’s like to have a power you don’t know how to control—to feel like the fate of the world is in your hands and you have no idea what to do! But you always have my back, and help me through it. We, will figure this out! Together!” (3x10 The Samadhi Fire)

This sentiment of "having no idea what to do", and that being okay, is something that MK is repeating back to Mei all the way from the Revenge of the Spider Queen special. They're truly friends—best friends who are always there for each other—and I don't think MK could have even gotten through to Red Son in this situation. He got through to Mei, because if "you're bonds of friendship are as strong as you say, you will always find your way back to one another", you can always reach one another.

To me, it just feels like they want to "give" this important place in the story to a popular male side character, rather than give it to the female lead they don't care about. And it just feels misogynistic. The particular post I'm thinking of mentioned how amazing it would have been for Red Son as a character to gain back and learn to control the Samadhi fire, completely ignoring what the Samadhi fire did for Mei as a character. This is not something that could be "handed" over to any one else, not without taking away everything thematically and narratively relevant about this part of the story.

As I've mentioned in my dear Hero and Warrior meta, MK and Mei fulfill the "roles" of the Hero and the Warrior to each other. MK's choice to not abandon Mei when she needs him is a CRUCIAL choice, and something that wouldn't have even close to the same amount of impact if it were replaced by anyone else.

There's also the matter of how Mei's trust impacts the story, for better or for worse. When she makes the decision to trust someone in the name of what she thinks is right (like how she trusted Sun Wukong's plan to defeat LBD, or Azure's plan to save their friends), it leads to her being tricked. To pain—which parallels her to both MK and Lady Bone Demon in such a significant way.

However, instead of MK's-

“No matter what I do, it’s going to lead to pain. It’s like the Lady Bone Demon said—it doesn’t matter if I want to help people or not! Everything I do just- it just makes things worse!”

-Mei instead takes on the position of "We have to try." Even if the odds are stacked against them, even if it doesn't work, even if it just makes things worse—she has to try. And that works with how Mei more often than not is the one supporting MK, always having his back. If I see one more person describe MK as the "optimist" of the group when Mei is so clearly the hopepunk girly we deserve, I may lose it.

All the way back in 1x10, MK is doubtful about their victory against Demon Bull King and Mei reassures him: "But we won...right?". Mei, AGAIN, in Revenge of the Spider Queen is the one to comfort MK that "They got this" and that they would "'Figure it out. Together". Mei assures MK in 2x10 that he's mastered so many powers and that Monkey King might not even need to come back, and when MK stares in his lemonade cup sadly, cocks an eyebrow insinuating that she knows something is wrong. In 3x04 when MK is wondering what use he is without his powers and how he's going to fight the Lady Bone Demon, Mei pokes his cheek and tells him that's why they're getting the Samadhi fire.

She has her own doubts, but she stubbornly works through them—anything to protect and support her friends.

Mei is her own character. And it's a good one at that.

(The rest of my thoughts are going under the cut, this is getting a bit long lol)

Now, this brings me to Mei and Red Son's dynamic.

"Also isn't her temper the main reason her dynamic with Red Son works? Like they play off of each other well because of how similar they are"

100% IT IS. Mei and Red Son's dynamic is lovely, and I think Red Son becoming Mei's teacher really expanded on that. Red Son giving Mei "some fire training" was a perfectly fine role for him to have in the Embrace Your Destiny Special, furthering their dynamic from Revenge of the Spider Queen.

Mei: "But...what if I fail everyone? What if I...lose control" Red Son: "My parents have succumbed to the Lady Bone Demon’s power—like countless others. You, and the Noodle Boy, will stop at nothing to free them. That’s how I know you won’t lose control. You can’t. Because you’re the only hope I- The only hope this world has left."

(3x11 This Imperfect World)

Red Son was so anti-hero originally, and yet here...he needs a hero. He needs Mei. Together they have to wrangle the wild emotions and energies around them to save everything. Mei is a feisty and angry character, rushing into things headfirst, and she couldn't do that or be that with the Samadhi fire, lest she destroy all she holds dear.

And, Red Son understands that. That's why he's there in the first place—to make sure Mei doesn't burn herself from the inside out. Red Son doesn't want to fail his parents and Mei doesn't want to fail the world. That's why I find them interesting.

So yeah, I really feel your "it's like she's a satellite character, like she doesn't matter until it relates to a man" sentiment. It's painfully true.

Honestly, I've been spinning around Mei's conversation with Ao Lie in 4x05 in my head for MONTHS, and not because of Ao Lie lol:

Mei: “What’s the point of having power if you won’t use it? Don’t you have people you want to protect?” Ao Lie: “Of course I do! But I can’t protect them with careless actions!” Mei: “Inaction is careless! If you’re not giving everything you have to protect the people you care about, you are nothing!"

Mei: I would watch my sword shatter into pieces a thousands times, so long as I used it to protect the ones I care about. If you're just going to sit here and screw around, then maybe, you don't deserve power." Ao Lie: "And perhaps with greater caution you would still have you're sword. I know a thing or two about disappointing people, about feeling powerless to protect them, but I do not sense you are a disappointment! Even now, locked away in imminent danger you're thoughts are to protect others!"

Mei: "But how am I supposed to protect everyone if I don't have my sword?" Ao Lie: "A sword is powerless without the hand that wields it."

(4x05 Court of the Yellow Robed Demon)

(omg hi hand motif) (Whenever characters (most often MK, followed up by Mei) look at their hands, it's typically as a sign of resolve or the character showing that they feel the weight of the world on their shoulders. I know I keep mentioning hand motif but god I love it so much and it's important to this convo about Mei.)

Here we see Mei all laid out: she doesn't want to be a disappointment and she's motivated by protecting her friends, which all tracks. Her first scene in the whole show is saving MK, and every damn day I think about her smile towards MK before she sacrifices herself to the Lady Bone Demon.

The dialogue "What’s the point of having power if you won’t use it?" is such a lovely paring with her "We have to try" mentality. If you have the power to do something, you should do it. You should try. In this sense Mei is bound by an incredible sense of duty to her friends and to the world.

And GOD, did we need a female character entirely motivated by helping the people she cares about, armed with a kick-ass sword and her temper. She's basically a female shonen protagonist, and I think most people don't realize that about her.

Mei's line “Inaction is careless! If you’re not giving everything you have to protect the people you care about, you are nothing!" in particular is interesting. Like I've said, she's a character whose whole motivation is protecting the people she cares about, and yet she hurt MK and everyone else at the end of s3.

There are certain things in s4 that lead me to believe she feels like "nothing" because of how she handled the Samadhi fire. Like, look at Mei's face when Subodhi mentions it for the first time in s4:

Subodhi: "As someone who once wielded the Samadhi fire, I thought that you would know that the flame that lights a candle is ALSO capable of lighting a forest fire."

(4x09 Roast of the Monkie Kids)

It reminds me of this scene from 3x09:

Macaque: "How do you still not see that he has no idea what he’s doing?"

(3x09 The King, the Prince, and the Shadow)

And, along with this parallel to MK—our poster boy of low self-esteem/belief—I just have to say I'm a little worried about our girl! I'm so excited to see where her character arc goes in the future, especially with how her own self-doubt is going to mesh with her duty to her friends.

I was thinking about it earlier—and as a fun little bonus theory at the end of this meta—I wonder if a Mei VS MK fight is in the cards for us. The line "They will destroy you, harbinger of chaos" doesn't fill me with much confidence, however I also doubt any of the main cast is going to fight MK with the intent of destroying him. So, that got me thinking that maybe they're going to fight MK to save MK, in a sense. I'm a "Mei is going to get a dragon form" truther (thank you Lego set), and Mei unlocking her dragon form while trying to save MK would be ONE hell of a way to debut it.

Anyways, I'm going to cut this off here, but tldr: Mei deserves better.

#thanks for the excuse to ramble about Mei o7 #God I love her. Literally she is like #The PERFECT weird girl character. To me. And also she's a shonen protagonist #lmk #lego monkie kid #monkie kid #lmk meta #lmk mei #lmk MK #asks

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nowordsformylove · 8 months

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Jonessmith. Discuss (is so so bad at thinking of questions)

so much that I could say

I’m gonna start here even though I already posted about this before but I definitely think Mike fell for Davy first and kept it a secret for so long and never intended to do anything about it. Silent pining. Davy would fall hard for Mike but would also try to keep it a secret to not ruin their friendship, eventually tho it would come out that he loves Mike, whether he acts on it or says something or Mike just figures it out (or Micky and Peter try to set them up bc they know they like each other hah).

I talked about date ideas :) so im going to jump into some reasons why i like them paired together

I think they are really well suited for each other bc they tend to be on the same page, like Mike can start saying something and Davy will pick up on it and add to it. like for example in Monkees Race Again when they’re explaining why the engine blew up and Mike says it makes the car lighter and Davy adds “so it goes faster” (Micky does this too! but I like to think Mike and Davy are really good at picking up on little things from each other so they do it more often)

I also love their contrasts with the obvious being British/American (specifically from a southern state cause they got an accent difference going on). Mike’s bit of country twang vs Davy’s broadway type ballad voice. I think they have very complimentary sounding voices and the live on the Johnny Cash show version of Nine Times Blue is my favorite for this reason (the monkees should’ve done more duet/group-type songs rip).

Their other obvious contrast is their tall guy small guy thing! I’m not usually one for height difference ships but they’ve turned me onto the idea :D I really love the way Davy can just lean his head onto Mike shoulder and Mike can rest his chin on Davy’s head 🥹 Davy is also the perfect height for Mike to just drape his arm over his shoulders. Also I really love how grabby Davy is, he is with all the guys but it’s extra cute when he’s pulling on Mike’s sleeves or hiding behind him because Mike likes being the protector and caretaker of the group, so I think it’s a nice dynamic for them. Also I like to think that because Davy is so grabby he’s probably also a cuddler. I just know he always ends up spooning Mike even if that’s not how they fall asleep.

Random headcanons:

Mike definitely uses romantic nicknames and my favorite one he uses for Davy is “doll” (i know the special nickname used in fics is honeychild and that one is sooo cute too)

This one kinda goes along with Davy being touchy but I know he loveessss wrapping his arms around Mike’s waist either as a hug from behind or just to hold him while standing next to him. He just can’t resist it me too Davy

Davy obviously has great puppydog eyes bc he’s so pretty and young looking but Mike’s puppydog eyes when he decides to use them are an instant knockout you just can’t say no to him.

This one is nsfw: I do see them as a switch couple but primarily Mike tops bc I think he would feel like there’s more control being in a “dominant” position and also he likes being the provider (a service top). But Davy does get to top occasionally and when he does he puts his all into making Mike come apart under his touch, LOTS of foreplay until Mike is whimpering and even begging 😳

ok since this has been sitting in my drafts for 10 days 🫣 im posting it as is but i may come back and add more to it if i think of other stuff, or if you want me to expand on anything ive said lmk!

if anyone else wants to add to this pleaseeee feel free I would love to hear other people’s thoughts or random headcanons 🩷🩷🩷

#thanks again for this ask even tho i forgot about it for a while #well i didnt forget i wanted it to be better organized but its still scattered and undetailed wahh #64answers #jonesmith #showverse

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chernayavidua · 4 months

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incoming signal from @hexsreality: "do you want some company?" / meme ➢ accepting

the early morning sun filtered in through the automatically tinted windows of the tower's vast training level. natasha was dressed in sweats and a tank top. it was a rare sight. she rarely stopped by the tower let alone visited any floor that wasn't the common area. at least that's how it had been for a few years now. but the her most recent assignment with clint had them both tired and soar. so she'd decided to stay if only for a shower and a half decent nights sleep.

do you want some company? wanda's voice filled the room. gracefully, natasha moved through the downward dog to upward dog flow. eyes closed, she breathed in slowly through her nose, once, twice, three times before finally opening her eyes, blue gaze landing upon the brunette, she smiled softly. “hey. i'm actually just about done. how have you been?” sitting back on her heels, natasha stands and rolls up the mat.

#hexsreality #thank you so much for sending this !! <3 #if you want to discuss ideas or dynamics lmk !#два › truth is a matter of circumstance. ❪ ic reply ❫#q.

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gemkun · 7 months

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@chasersglow said : ✔ For any muse you like honestly! gimme ↬ a quick and easy plotting guide

My muse(s): dr. ratio ( bold ) & dan heng ( italics ) & caelus ( underlined ) — i’ll keep it to hsr muses but there is always the possibility of expanding to genshin or others

Do I know your muse(s): yes | no I a little | tell me about your muse

our verse can also apply to mine and yours as well — i could see modern for all 3 but ratio might need more establishing — they could be teachers or something perhaps ? in a modern context

Pre-established relationships? yes | no I depends on the relationship

i do think veritas and himeko will interact in 2.1 which im so excited for but we can always discuss potentials like how they might have been students in the past

i would love to explore any of these sections despite it mostly already established in hsr but i think there’s definitely aspects where we can weave it into our own dynamics — that being said veritas and himeko are a blank slate and if anything comes to mind lmk and i’ll do the same

honestly we could spin it however you feel like — veritas is just fussy but dh and caelus are flexible and up for any quality himeko time

Feel free to: message me ooc l message me ic | tell me your ideas | write a starter | answer one of my opens | send a meme I reblog this with your preferences - let's find common interests!

if you want to talk or anything my ims are always open and if you need my disc feel free to ask !

#* ✦ 𝐈𝐈. ❮ asks ❯ ⸻ ❝#* ✦ chasersglow #* ✦ chasersglow | himeko #this was fun to do but i had to knock around my braincells #i do really think there’s heaps of potential between himeko and veritas but that’s dependent on their history too #dh and caelus just love himeko full stop #but yes pls give her to me

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vastiitas · 2 years

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Wishlist:

Gimme that ride or die friendship where the greeting to each other is “die” and the natural response is, “naw, u first”; the one where they get into bar fights bc one or both of them are absolute dipshits and if one of them starts something, u know ur obligated no-thoughts-head-empty-style in getting in there urself no matter how stupid it is. It’s always open season to bully tf outta each other. They’re tired as all hell of the other, but who else is gonna have the ol’ slugger’s back? Lowkey, highkey(?), it’s the sort of, “aw, for fuck’s sake, i’m probably gonna die with your stinking corpse next to me u stupid bastard.” (For the modern verse and deadlock, possibly for the period western verse too i sppose??)

i am always looking for discussions on the nature of religio.n with this character, whether your muse has religious trauma or sincerely practices faith; let me come into ur inbox with that "are you praying again? How raw are your knees"

Adrenaline mistaken for love; ["love is when you’re wrestling for control of the gun and there’s only one bullet left. love is when you grab the knife theyre swinging at you by the blade and look into their eyes and laugh. love is when someone is so obsessed with you they have to kill you."]

Hateships, but we will have to discuss this; Cole doesn't harbor hate for long. He'll dislike you, disagree with you, but can remain cordial. I've yet to knuckle into what he can't swallow. He's less raw and vulnerable at the age of 37-39, so saddling into this will mean either working out histories or writing with a younger variant.

Frenemies is p fun.

Bounty character? meets bounty hunter. They bitch at each other.

And in the reverse: somebody coming after his ridiculously priced bounty, lord help him.

Bounty rivalry?! Bickering over who gets the cash and losing the bastard in the midst of it. Having to work together to get said asshole back.

Escort, recon, undercover or guard mission, hello 👋

Im always down for blackwatch era ocs? Gang era ocs? Hell yea, hell yea.

Kiddo cole is so fckin funny to me, if u want to deal w this pissy punk of a teenager, pls, god, let me know. No weird shit tho, i beg.

the nikk.i la.uda to his jam.es hunt,,,,

Roadtrip threads

Threads where he’s still in prison. Modern, Period, or an AU where he never accepted BW.

i need more threads of cole acting as or during when he was a gang enforcer (modern)

3 Godfathers/Tokyo Godfathers plot for Modern or Western (and i suppose it can work for Post-Apocalypse or OVW between either him as a runaway or him post-BW). The idea is that the muses find an abandoned child and take up the mantel of trying to take care of it while trying to find their parent. The important part of this is that there is a certain level of underqualification to the muses that results in a sort of chaos. I'm not looking for domestic, fluffy end game for this; the bulk would be on exploring nonconventional guardianship. Trying to do the right thing despite being seemingly built for everything but. The original short story involves the trio all dying by the time they deliver the child to the safe harbor of a town.

Not so much an active wishlist but a possible dynamic for modern: The first responder who found him beneath the farm equipment when he lost his arm, or the physical therapist that helped to fit him with a prosthetic.

Dynamics and threads in which he is still in prison for Modern would be interesting, whether your character is also an inmate, a worker of volunteer, or somebody who is dealing with this man making a getaway.

character specific:

pls,,, if u have a cassidy, lmk, let’s have them fight -- pls, i am so desperate to see them kick each other’s asses

would like to explore further ak.ande’s attempt to suggest talon was an option; hell, it’d be an interesting conversation to be had with other characters as well.

The Wishlist Tag for Other Variants.

#navigation&mastermaps;;#//to be added and expanded upon 👍

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tianshiisdead · 2 years

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Hiatus.

Info, tags, fandoms, BYF, etc. under the cut 💖🥮

FAQ is at the bottom, for any controversial questions about my choices on Hetalia and nation/culture personifications, please read that first before sending me an ask.

🍒 fandoms: hetalia, misc cdrama, babel _(´ཀ`」 ∠) _

🍒 other: history, politics, culture, rambles, etc.

🍒 English, Chinese, (some) Japanese, OK. I am slowly learning Russian, Arabic, and Manchu ✌️

🌸 tags 🌸

Art - #tiart

Politics, history, social issues, racism and orientalism, etc - #thoughts and stuff

Manchu cultural content - #manchu tag

Hui cultural content - #hui tag

Book/reading/research tag - #library tag

Fandom thonking - #tia rambles

Random thoughts - #diary

Angry complaining - #hater tag

Fandoms are tagged as such, characters are tagged (usually), discourse and current events are tagged, there are a few other tags for organization

Content warnings are '*content that is being warned*' and I tag gore, violence, abuse, etc. lmk if there's anything else you want tagged

🍓 hetalia 🍓

I talk about East Asia and its many tendrils

i love easia and unfortunately this includes japan. Basically any intraregional ship in the east+inner asian region I enjoy. No white x asian shipping sorry

China regional/cultural OCs @sinocore

asia 💖💖💖

multishipper, I'm mainly sticking around for my history interest so I’ll ship anything funny in history

菊耀/桜燕/桜耀/菊燕 fixed dynamics. idc about the rest

Not that into yts.... sowwy guys

🍑 BYF + info 🍑

if you want anything tagged just shoot me an ask and I'll get on it

technically an art blog (lol)

My interests focus on the Japanese colonial era in East and Northeast Asia and subsequent decolonization/the ongoing modern effects of that. I don’t support Japanese imperialism.

annoyingly loud about (easian targeted) orientalism

the usual DNIs

🗿 FAQ 🗿

"Why make cultural minority and city OCs?"

The idea of the 'nation' is a fluid one, and our modern strictly bordered Westphalian Nation State is a western construct. Throughout history and cultures, movements of in vs outgroups that define 'national' identity and the ways government and scope of government interact with cultural borders are complex. I approach Hetalia's concept as one that can include groups with a shared cultural consciousness or define themselves as an in-group on a large enough level.

"What is 'Manchuria'? Why do you use 'Manchuria' for your character instead of Dongbei?"

My Manchuria OC doesn't represent the specifically bounded landmass but rather the Manchu people, who are one of but not the only indigenous group in Dongbei. I am well aware of the connotations and roots of the word 'Manchuria', however, given a) the naming conventions of Hetalia (ie Germany instead of German, China instead of Chinese) as well as b) the way 'Manchuria' is commonly accepted in English scholarship when speaking of the concept of a Manchu indigenous land, I choose to use it in place of 'Manchu'. I also have OCs representing the three provinces of Dongbei, and when speaking of the region I use Dongbei or 'Manchuria' in quotations if speaking of history before the Qing, or grouping it in with Inner Asia in some way.

I am not promoting the legitimacy of 'Manchuria' or the legacy of Japanese Imperialism that still affects my family to this day. If you are pro all of that please get off of my blog

I'm a HOI4 playing ww2 bro (half joke)

"What are your thoughts on racebending in Hetalia?"

Same as Irithnova and Peonycat's 👍 I was there when Peonycat's essay was written and we discussed it then. Idc about individualism and individual reclaimation tbqh my priority is broader structures and implications, I can't police you on what you can or can't do, but neither can you police other POC on discomfort.

#my japan main era… how embarassing

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storiesofsvu · 3 years

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Sweet Thing

Poly!Barhoun x reader. (Established relationship) Covers the “double penetration“ on @thatesqcrush kink bingo. Warnings: language, smut, ass play, butt plugs, sex toys, strap on, threesome (F/F/M), polyamorous relationship, anal sex, double penetration. A/n: I’ve tagged both the Barhoun Taglist and others from the Taglist for the other two since it’s x reader. Poly!Barhoun will be making more appearances here so lmk if you want to be included/not included on those lists.

A soft moan escaped out of your lips, half muffled by the bedspread as Rafael gently eased the jewelled plug in and out of your ass, his free hand softly massaging at your cheeks while he did so. You could already feel dampness between your legs at the thought of what was to come, your hips rocking back onto the plug and rutting against the bed at the same time.

“Well isn’t this a lovely sight.” Rita’s voice came from the doorway and your head rolled to shoot her a grin, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of her open robe, already strapped and ready for you.

“Speak for yourself.” You teased back and she chuckled, moving into the room.

The three of you had always kept a very open conversation about both the dynamic of your relationship, and your sexual relationship. You absolutely loved the idea of getting to please both of them at the same time, and while not every day had enough time or energy to do so, you loved weekends like this week, where you had all the time in the world. You’d brought up the idea of them double teaming you a few weeks ago and in the meantime, you’d discussed the logistics of how it would work. Rita wasn’t a fan of being on the receiving end of anything anal, but that certainly didn’t stop her from finding the idea of stuffing you full utterly enticing (or from owning a strap that was specifically for pegging Rafael). She got off enough on getting the two of you off that she wasn’t one to turn things down, she’d try anything once.

Throughout the past couple of weeks both of them had been preparing you, stretching you out, easing you into it to make sure you were still on board and not getting hurt. Rita had picked up an exquisite set of plugs varying from trainer sized ones to larger ones to really stretch you out. Rafael particularly loved it when after putting one in you rode him in reverse, the gem glittering in the light of the bedroom. It was while Rita had been away at a weekend conference that you and Raf divulged into it even more as he gently fucked your tight hole, surprised at the level of moans you let out from the moment the tip slipped in, there was absolutely no doubt you were enjoying this.

The bed dipped with Rita’s weight as she sat on the edge of it, stroking at your cheek tenderly while Rafael continued to work the plug in and out of you.

“Feel good darling?”

“Yes…” you breathed out in a happy sigh.

“You ready for me to warm you up?”

“Absolutely.” You shot her a wicked grin and she laughed, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Rafael sunk the plug all the way into you, nestling it in between your cheeks, then shifted back into the plush chair that sat beside the bed. Rita’s hands delicately grabbed at your hips, flipping you over on the bed, her robe dropping to the floor before she settled between your legs.

“Always so fucking pretty.” She murmured, her fingers spreading your lower lips open, admiring your glistening pussy. She pressed soft kisses into the tender skin of your thighs, her teeth scraping against you every so often.

Letting out a gentle moan, your hand tangled into her hair, urging her towards you pussy. Rafael let out a quiet chuckle at your neediness, slipping out of his pants before he settled into his chair to watch, slowly stroking his cock. He always loved watching you and Rita, there was a sense of delicateness, the way you devoured each other’s bodies, leaving no inch of skin undiscovered. No matter how many nights you spent together you would never be able to get enough of the other woman and he adored seeing one of you bring the other to their peak.

Rita’s tongue darted out, laying a broad strip through your pussy and you groaned, your eyes fluttering shut. She began to eat you like no one else truly could, moaning into your cunt, little satisfied groans of how absolutely delectable you were. Her lips wrapped around your lower ones, sucking and kissing into you, pulling as much of your arousal out of you as she could. Her tongue traced patterns through you, pulling moan after moan from you, your hand tightening into her hair. Not wanting to tease you too much, knowing you’d been in the bedroom with Rafael for over an hour already, her lips moved up, wrapping around your clit.

“Fuck! Rita!” Your fingers clenched into her hair, tugging her impossibly close to you as she smirked into your cunt. Her hand joined her mouth, easily slipping two fingers into your drenched heat, a small groan coming from Rafael as he pumped his cock, smearing pre-cum over it.

Rita’s fingers thrusted into you, curling as she dragged passed your gspot, her tongue dancing over your clit. You let out a gasp at the sensation, feeling your coil about to burst, a string of whimpers leaving your lips as your body began to shiver. Your thighs trembled around her as heat coursed through you, suddenly unbearable, a cry leaving you as your juices dribbled around Rita’s hand. She barely let up, her tongue flicking against your clit as her fingers continued to pump into you, although slowly this time, fucking you through your orgasm.

“Don’t wear her out yet.” Rafael teased a with a chuckle and she shot him a glare, pressing a tender kiss to your clit.

“She’s fine.” She sassed back, her voice softening as she cooed back at you , “aren’t you sweet thing? You still want our cocks?”

“Oh fuck yes.” you panted. There was absolutely no way you were about miss this chance, not that it wouldn’t present itself again if you needed to bow out, but you were already fluttering at the thought of it.

“Perfect.” Rita crawled up the bed, kissing your lips, her tongue sneaking into your mouth and you moaned at the taste of yourself on her lips, “what’s our word?”

“Koala.”

“Good girl.” She praised with a soft grin as she dropped onto her back beside you.

Eagerly, you let out a small giggle, quickly straddling her, casting a grin over to Rafael, your mouth watering at the sight of him stroking his cock, his eyes dark, full of lust and need. One of Rita’s hands came to your hip, guiding you up while the other rested on the base of the dildo, making sure you were lined up properly before you sunk down onto it, letting out a soft moan.

“Do you have any idea how fucking hot you are riding cock princesa?” Rafael groaned and you giggled out again, pulling another moan from the man. As if the noise wasn’t enough on its own, while you were riding Rita (or him) made it absolutely unbearable in the best way possible.

Bracing yourself on Rita’s stomach you started to bounce in her lap, happy gasps leaving your grinning lips at the sensation of being filled with her cock and the plug. You couldn’t believe how much your body was tingling with pleasure already, knowing there was more to come. You let out a particularly loud moan, your eyes fluttering shut as Rita thrusted up to bury her cock in you and you dropped over her body, burying your face in her neck. She chuckled softly, her hips lazily meeting yours as you pumped yours onto the dildo.

“How do you feel?” She asked gently, hand pushing back some of your mussed up hair.

“So ready…” you pulled your head up enough to gain her gaze, a small grin on both your cheeks before she turned to Rafael.

“You heard the girl.” She smirked, “don’t let her down now.”

Rafael scoffed, rolling his eyes at her antics as his hand grabbed the lube from the night stand, shifting onto the bed behind you. Rita’s hands grasped at your hips, causing you to still in your movements, she pressed a soft kiss to your neck, reminding you to relax. You let out a soft whimper, wanting nothing more than to ride her cock earnestly, but you knew what was to come.

Rafael’s hand came up, easing the plug out of you, his lube coated fingers replacing it, twisting and scissoring within you. You let out a small whine, your eyes fluttering shut at the sensation as Rita softly stroked at your skin, holding you tight to her.

“More…please sir…”

“Yeah?” He teased, adding a third finger, slowly pumping them in and out of you.

“Want your cock…” you whined, pushing back onto his hand, letting out a gasp as Rita’s cock shifted within you at the movement.

“Alright alright.” He chuckled, pressing kisses down your spine as he lined up with your stretched hole.

He went slowly, slipping just the tip in, shallowly thrusting into you bit by bit. There was a hint of a burn but a hell of a lot more pleasure, sparks shooting to your core with every inch he thrusted into you.

“Fuck..” you swore. It came out almost in a squeak when he was fully seated inside of you, his balls hot against your tingling skin. You panted against Rita’s skin, your pussy fluttering around the dildo, body already shivering at simply the feel of being so full and stretched. “Move…please!”

Rita chuckled softly, her hips beginning to roll gently, letting you adjust to the feeling before Rafael began to thrust, matching her rhythm.

“Oh fuck…fuck…fuck…” your whimpers built louder and longer, turning into moans and whines as they both steadily rocked into you.

The feeling of both their cocks dragging across your walls was incredible, building the heat higher and higher, prickling under your skin. With every thrust down onto Rita your clit brushed against her body, intensifying everything, the friction of that alone was often enough to make you come, but partnered with both your pussy and ass filled you were already seeing stars, whining heavily as Rafael increased his pace of his thrusts.

“Harder..please!” You begged, tears pricking in the corner of your eyes. You let out a low moan when Rafael’s hand spanked at the globe of your ass, shooting even more pleasure down to your pulsating cunt.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” Rita smirked, her lips making a home in the crook of your neck, biting and sucking into your tender skin, knowing she would leave a mark for the following day.

“Yes! Oh god, oh…fuck! Yes.”

“Come for me darling.” She purred.

You cried out, your cunt clenching down around the silicone cock, your body shaking between the two of them. Juices leaking out, the squelching sounds coming from your pussy bouncing off the walls alongside the sound of skin on skin, your own whimpers and Rafael’s grunts as he continued to pound into you. Rita fucked you through your orgasm, not letting up quite yet before she glanced up at Rafael, pushing your body up and off hers,

“Pull her up.” She instructed, Rafael’s arms wound around you, pulling you flush to him while his hips continued to meet yours with power behind them.

You cracked your eyes open at the sound of Rita letting out a quiet groan as her fingers slipped under the harness, rubbing furiously at her clit while she watched Rafael absolutely wreck you. You could feel your juices coating your thighs, dripping down onto the bedspread, lube smeared across your ass, the entire thing was a whole new level of erotic you were completely lost in the pleasure of it all. Rafael’s hand snuck down your body, you could feel his cock twitching inside you, and he wanted to pull one more orgasm from you before he did.

His fingers pinched at your throbbing clit, rubbing at it, pressing down hard as he did so, you let out a string of whimpers, your pussy fluttering once more. The electricity shooting straight down to your core as his cock continued to thrust into your ass.

Rita broke first, a gasp of a moan escaping her lips as her hips rocked upwards, her hand stilling before she paused, panting. Her eyes opened in time to see the tear of pleasure rolling down your cheek while your body shook in Rafael’s arms. She slipped out of the harness, dropping it on the bedside table and disappeared into the bathroom momentarily.

You cried out, your pussy clenching down around nothing while your body vibrated, your eyes scrunched so tightly shut you saw stars as your third orgasm of the day swept over you. Exhausted, you dropped down onto the bed, giving Rafael better leverage to pound into you, grunting and moaning, his cock twitching. A particularly heavy thrust was his last one, stilling inside you as his cum painted your walls. Panting, he leant over your limp body, pressing a trail of kisses down your spine before he gently eased his cock out of you, earning a whimper from your shuddering body. He dropped onto his back beside you, his fingers coming to trace delicate patterns onto your burning skin as he recovered.

Rita came back into the room with a warm damp washcloth and a small hand towel, padding over to the bed she perched herself on the edge beside you. With her free hand she pushed the hair off your face, happy with the little blissed out smile you gave her in return.

“You alright darling?”

“We need to do that more often.” You huffed out.

“Agreed.” Rafael chimed in from beside you and Rita laughed. She pressed a soft kiss to your temple, leaning over you to lay a gentle one on Rafael’s panting lips, then her hand clasped at your hip.

“Roll.” Weakly, you did so, shifting closer to her. With the damp cloth she wiped at your pussy, pulling another tremor from you as she cleaned your thighs of your juices and drying lube before drying you off and rolling you back over to repeat the process on your ass. “How about we get you into a nice relaxing bath and then get some food into you?”

“That sounds perfect.” You smiled up at her, tugging her down for a gentle kiss.

“C’mon.” She helped you up, steadying you on your wobbly feet, “you coming?” She asked Rafael, who shook his head.

“Just give me a minute and then I’ll get started on dinner.” His hand grasped up to reach Rita’s, placing a kiss into her palm, “hey…I love you both, so much.”

There were quiet choruses of ‘I love you’s’ all around as Rita guided you to the steaming, waiting bathtub, slipping into the water behind you while she welcomed you into her embrace. A short while later you could hear Rafael clattering around in the kitchen and by the time you were fully recovered, and starving, dinner was finished. Opting for ultimate relaxation, the three of you curled up on the couch together to eat, limbs entangled while you ate and caught up on t.v before officially retiring for the night.

_________ @laurenhope13 @beccabarba @altsvu @svulife-rl @gay-ass-bitch @whimsicallymad @mysticfalls01 @michael-rooker @nocreditinthestraightworld @infernumlilith @australiancarisi @readerhermit @ex-uallyactive @lawandorderuswnt @Weexinling @tinyboxxtink @natasha-danvers @1000spices @bumblebear30 @prettypyschoinpink @detective-giggles @itsjustmyfantasyroom @mrsrafaelbarba @dreila03 @bisexual-dreamer02 @caracalwithchips @alwaysachorusgirl @barbasbodaciousbeard @chasingeverybreakingwave @rafivadafreddy @darkheart-brightsmile @newyorker14 @teamsladsandgents

#rita calhoun #rafael barba #barhoun #thatesqcrushsummerbingo #poly!barhoun #poly!barhoun x reader #rita calhoun x reader #rafael barba x reader #rita calhoun x reader x Rafael barba #law and order svu

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anjumstar · 2 years

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Ok I read your post. Literally sat down with my cup of morning coffee first thing in the morning and read it start to finish. I was busy traveling which is why I'm just getting back to you now though, by ask because my followers probably aren't expecting a reblogged discussion of top/bottom dynamics on my otherwise sfw blog.

So let me know if I'm getting this right:

Like, Bakugo wanting to give something to Izuku he would never give anyone else (the vulnerability, I mean!!! not, y'know, access to his... god, just forget it). And their relationship has shifted so fundamentally since when they were kids, multiple times, and opening up (figuratively!!) in such a way to Izuku is just another way for him to shift from whatever toxic shit they had going on earlier to the mutual love and understanding and willingness to be vulnerable with each other they have now. I don't even know if that makes sense. The point is, I totally hc them as vers now.

Also Izuku taking charge. It really is such a huge part of his character, becoming stronger and a leader and more confident and it's so easy to set that aside and focus on his cute, bubbly side but my man's got both! Honestly it's why I tend to avoid fics in general, and fandom too (tho I'm weak and couldn't stay away from mha/bkdk tumblr). I'm always afraid that the versions of characters in my head will be fanonized. I hope I didn't do that to Izuku and Kacchan, ykwim? :| (If you ever wanna like, idk, 👉👈 check out one of my fics and tell me if you think I got them right, that would be cool but no worries if not.)

Also I get what you mean about the feminized Izuku, no shade to anyone who likes that (I mean, he did wear a maid costume in MHA Smash and he does look cute with puppy dog eyes and bunny ears) but omega/bunny/thicc/size-difference Izuku isn't really my thing because... Well, I prefer canonverse too and I've rewatched dvk2 like four times and for me it really hammers home that their power dynamic has evened out so any dom/sub-type dynamic doesn't feel like it fits.

[also re: soyboy. If you check my blog on mobile, it has the urban dictionary definition of soyboy as the header. Plus the first syllable of my irl name sounds like "soy" so that's why I picked it haha :) ]

I'm so flattered that you bothered to read all that word vom! I hope that you're traveling for something fun, or at least that the travels go well. And yeah, please, keep your blog sfw if that's what it is, lol. I'm such a mess in that respect.

But yes, I'd say you've distilled my opinion! Thank you, haha. Squeezed some good puns in there as well. I'm glad you've been pulled over to vers, tho 😈 I know I said that I wasn't trying to convert you, but let's face it, I'm always lowkey trying to convert people, hahahaha. I wish I weren't but I just want people to like what I like, lol.

The way you broke my heart when you said you avoid fics 💀 Let me send you recs! I think I've got an idea of your taste and I can PROMISE quality! However, avoiding fandom is a good choice, haha. Like, I'm happy about all the friends I'm making, and I have a very visceral need to have many many bkdkbks to scream about our boys with, but at the same time, there are a lot of ways in which I was happier in past fandoms where I wasn't involved in the fandom beyond reading and writing fanfic. I could engage with only the content I enjoyed much easier. So, you know, some of this, some of that.

I'd totally read your stuff! Message me or otherwise lmk what one you want me to try and I'll word vom at you again!

#omg i had no clue that's what soyboy meant 💀#how embarrassing #i feel so old #actualsoyboy #anjum answers #not/sfw

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hadtochangemyurlquick · 4 years

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here’s 7.1k of Toni pining and Shelby and Toni being childhood friends and also far more character analysis of Rachel than I was expecting? also Marcus is real and I made him a gorgeous himbo. it’s based off that poem by @theycallmedizzy and you can find it here. lmk if you want a second chapter from shelby’s perspective, tho i literally just finished this one. like literally ten minute ago.

Mr. Williams finishes reading the poem and looks over his spectacles at the class. Yes, they’re spectacles, those kind of tiny thick ones that make his eyes too big because he’s much too old to be teaching.

It’s eight am on a Tuesday, Toni walked the three miles to school because she missed the bus only to walk into her shitty honors English class and hear the teacher reading a poem aloud to the class. Her poem. She’d sat down after a momentary pause and listened to him read the final damning stanza.

And then he looks at Toni.

He reads her essays right? What if he recognizes her writing voice? Is that a thing? Or maybe her handwriting or—

“Toni, I was just explaining to the class that whoever wrote this should submit it to the state literature festival,” Mr. Williams says, Toni almost sags against her chair. “I was hoping someone would come forward,” He turns back to the class, eyes hovering over Quinn and Monty, two of the more sensitive guys who sit in the back and ruin the curve for everyone. “But I’ll leave it on the board here,” he clacks it on with a magnet and Toni flinches, “and hopefully someone will come forward. Now onto today’s lesson.”

After class Martha goes up to the board and takes a picture of it, her eyes a little starry at the words and Toni grits her teeth.

“You have to admit it’s pretty,” Martha says. “Even you can’t deny that.”

“It’s dumb,” Toni says flatly, crossing her arms.

“Well I’m keeping it anyway, maybe someday someone will write a poem about me,” Martha says.

“How do you know it’s not about you?” Shelby asks coming out of nowhere and uninvited too. Toni glares at her, letting her open disdain shine through like sunshine through clouds after a gully washer.

“No guys notice me,” Martha informs Shelby sadly. “I bet Andrew wrote it for you.”

Shelby purses her lips and looks over the poem, “I doubt it. He’s more of a doer, I think. Besides, I’m sure that guys notice you, you went on a date with that boy Sam last month.”

Martha sighs and before she can launch into what a disaster that date was, Toni tightens her hands around her backpack.

“I’ll see you in science,” She tells Martha and manages to escape Shelby’s eyes burning at the back of her neck.

———

reasons not to kiss her

1.) this sort of love is not allowed. you are both too soft, and the world around you is all knives and chipped teeth

Toni had played about every sport she was allowed to growing up. Basketball was her favorite, but she loved beat it ball, the game she made up with the other kids in the neighborhood. It was basketball but without rules, devolving into fist fights within the first half. Nothing tasted better than her own bloody lip on a hot summer day. Not even the cool glass of lemonade Mrs. Blackburn always had ready when she ran all skinned knees to Martha’s telling her about how she beat guys two years older than her.

She got angry when she had to stop playing, moving to a different neighborhood. Apparently, Mrs. Blackburn had figured out that she wasn’t only getting her split lip from the older kids in the neighborhood.

The new foster parents were a little stricter, a little richer, and signed her up for youth soccer when she complained about how there was nothing to do without beat it ball.

Martha Blackburn would always be her person, but Toni didn’t expect to find her people so young. Dottie killed as goalie, and Becca’s sweetness made her defense all the better. But it was Shelby and Toni who were the dynamic duo. Toni had a never ending amount of energy as a midfielder and Shelby’s precision made her the perfect striker. It worked the same way every game, Becca would kick it to Toni, who got it to Shelby, who scored a goal. It got to the point that Becca didn’t even need to do much and the coach had to pull Toni aside to tell her to pass to the other girls too.

At the end of the season they sat together at the team party, wearing orange slice smiles. With sticky fingers they held hands and Toni kinda wondered how someone’s eyes could be so green.

Toni doesn’t remember why Shelby’s parents were so angry about them holding hands, but she knows Mr. Goodkind talked to her foster parents and Toni was off to a different home, in a different district, and she lost even Martha for a few months.

———

At lunch everyone’s talking about that fucking poem. Martha sent it around to the whole school and Leah is discussing its merits with Rachel and Nora. Even they don’t seem bored with the topic, though Nora is sure Quinn didn’t write it.

“It could be Monty,” Leah says. “I wouldn’t have thought he had an eye for this stuff.”

“I don’t think it’s Monty,” Rachel says. She looks at Nora, “C’mon, you know what I’m talking about, right?”

“What?” Nora asks.

“I mean it smells like Anna Akhmatova had a baby with Adrienne Rich,” Rachel says.

“Who had a baby with who?” Martha asks.

“Please,” Fatin says. “You’re not exactly the world’s leading expert on free form poetry.”

“Uh, I know when something’s written by a girl,” Rachel says. “I bet you fifty bucks some closet case wrote this.”

Everyone looks at Toni. “You caught me,” Toni deadpans.

“Rachel’s right,” Nora says. “A girl definitely wrote this. Toni, do you know anyone?”

Toni glares at her. “I’ll shake the lesbian phone tree and see what comes out.”

“Well, could it be Regan?” Martha asks. “Maybe she wants to—”

“It’s not fucking Regan,” Toni grabs her books and stalks out, kicking a chair randomly strewn around away as she did.

She hears Shelby sit down just as she leaves, “What’s got her madder than a baptized cat?” Shelby asks and Toni rolls her eyes.

———

2.) no one ever taught you how to love. your war paint and scarred hands could never hold her like she deserves

The worst of it was that Shelby was gentle. Her hands were warm and soft around Toni’s callouses, and there was a crinkle between her eyebrows as she focused on Toni’s hands. No, the worst of it was that Shelby didn’t let go of Toni’s hands when she finished, kept holding onto them as she met Toni’s eyes.

“Well?”

Toni swallowed hard, “I’m not gonna apologize.”

Shelby sighed, her thumb traced little circles around Toni’s hands. “I know today ain’t easy for you.” Toni scoffed and looked away. “But you know you were pickin' a fight. Andrew promised to leave you alone.”

Toni ripped her hands away and jumped from the bench of the locker room. “What the fuck do you know? You weren’t fucking there.”

Shelby’s calm only made Toni’s anger redder, “You ain’t denying it.”

“Why the fuck are you dating him? He’s a self-satisfied little asshole who just wants a little trophy girlfriend to—”

“Toni,” Shelby cut her off sharply and got to her feet, meeting Toni’s eyes.

“You’re not denying that either,” Toni spat.

She could’ve screamed at the hypocrisy. She wanted to scream. She wanted to pound her fists against the walls and bleed all over the bandages Shelby wrapped around her knuckles. She wanted to hurt, to make Shelby hurt. She wanted everyone to see and feel how hurt she was, and hurt them with that hurt. Finally level the playing field.

“Andrew is my business,” Shelby said. “Not yours.”

“He becomes my business when you—”

“When I what?” Shelby asked.

Toni looked at her hands, “Never mind.”

Shelby sighed, “Martha’s helping you move in today, right? Shel’ll be there the whole time?”

“Don’t pretend you give a shit.”

“Of course I care. The last time you lived with your mom you didn’t eat for a week.”

“I was five, not fifteen,” Toni said. “And seriously, stop pretending you give a shit.”

She shoulder checked Shelby as she walked out and winced at the sound of Shelby hitting the gym lockers. Her hands still sting where Andrew’s teeth had scrapped them.

———

Regan approaches Toni during science, her eyes serious. Martha straightens, and Toni does her best not to make eye contact.

“It’s not mine,” Regan says.

“Yeah duh,” Toni mutters.

Regan frowns, “I just—I didn’t want you to—”

“You made it perfectly clear what you want,” Toni says.

Regan sighs and leaves and Toni regrets it.

“Shelby thinks it’s Marcus,” Martha tells her. Toni blinks up at her and Martha nods. “She thinks he wrote it for me.”

“Martha, that kid is dumber than a box of rocks,” Toni says.

Martha furrows her brow, “Maybe he has hidden depths.”

“If you think it’s him ask him out,” Toni says.

“Shelby thinks it’s him,” Martha is quick to correct. “But he doesn’t even know who I am.”

Toni rolls her eyes. Marcus had been in love with Martha since the ninth grade. They had gotten placed as lab partners and he literally didn’t take his eyes off her the entire time. Every time there was a dance he would always look like he was about to say something, shoot his shot, when Martha would loudly proclaim she couldn’t wait to go with her friends.

Toni would’ve pulled the guy aside and told him to grow a pair, but a guy who’s not brave enough to go after what he wants wasn’t good enough for her Marty, not by a long shot.

“Rachel still thinks a girl wrote it,” Martha says.

“Maybe Rachel wrote it,” Toni mutters.

Martha’s eyes light up.

———

3.) no one has ever loved you this full surely you would drown in it all

Being a lifeguard was the worst. It was super boring, the pay was shit, and also Toni would probably get someone killed. Like, they pretended she was CPR certified but she absolutely had no idea how to do it. She went to some hour long course, slept through it, took a test that was just: should you kill people? And then they wrote some bullshit on some papers about a three week long set of classes.

But Shelby was tanned and golden looking and on their shifts they’d text back and forth about which kids they were betting on to win sharks and minnows. Tweenage boys in all their adolescent infancy would gaze open mouthed at Shelby and Toni alike but Shelby was the only one who let them down gently. Toni would ruin them for girls forever with something enough to cut through even the thickest skin.

On the fourth of July the pool paid for fireworks and Toni found a blanket and Shelby found her and they sat watching the reflections of the lights together. Shelby rested her head on Toni’s shoulder, all gentle, like she was afraid Toni would spook.

“I know this ain’t much of a holiday for you,” Shelby said. “But thank you for spending it with me.”

She had her hand on the blanket, splayed out like she was waiting for Toni to take it, there in front of everyone. Toni imagined a world in which she did.

———

“Yeah it’s not me,” Rachel says. “I wish I could write that good.”

Which is such bullshit because Toni knows Rachel could say well if she wanted to. Rachel’s weird inferiority complex about Nora pisses off Toni to no end. Nora’s the smart one, Rachel will be the first to say, and Rachel’s the athletic one. But Nora has a six minute mile and Rachel has perfect pitch so Toni hates them both.

“Maybe it’s Dot,” Toni suggests and Rachel, Nora, and Martha snicker.

Out of all of them, Martha’s the best driver, but they always end up in Rachel’s car after school anyway.

“Most of the school seems to think it’s by Andrew,” Nora says. Toni’s fists clench.

“Yeah,” Rachel rolls her eyes, “I’m sure he would love to take the credit. C’mon Toni, you don’t know any lesbians who could’ve written this?”

“You’re a lesbian too,” Toni says. “You don’t know any?”

“I don’t have a life outside of the pool,” Rachel says, “and none of them have picked up a book since Hop on Pop.”

“Regan says it wasn’t her,” Martha cuts in helpfully. “But maybe it’s another kid in theatre. Shelby says—”

“Oh my god,” Toni grits out. “What is everyone’s deal with her anyway? Why is everyone still obsessed with her? She’s just another basic Jesus bitch.”

The car goes quiet and Toni wishes she could melt into her seat cushion.

“I didn’t mean that,” Toni says.

“Except you did,” Martha snaps.

Toni winces.

“What’s your deal with her?” Rachel asks. “You guys were fine last year.”

“Quinn says there’s a poetry club,” Nora says. “Maybe it’s someone there?”

No one takes the bait and they don’t talk the rest of the way.

———

4.) she belongs in a museum, and you are merely here to gaze. look around you, all the signs scream ‘do not touch’

“Shelby?”

Toni grabbed the shoulder of the girl and pulled her away from Marcus. Shelby was bruised lips and ruined make up and Toni took her by the hand. Thank god Martha wasn’t here, thank god Andrew wasn’t here, thank god Marcus looked just as trashed.

“Toni?” Shelby sorta stumbled, her ankle twisting painfully on her heel and Toni steadied her.

Shelby could do a cartwheel in six inch heels.

“I’m gonna get you home, okay?” Toni called over the music.

Shelby didn’t really respond, just leant into Toni as she led her away and outside. The party had spilled into the backyard and front yard some, the cops probably already on their way, but everyone was too fucking hammered to notice them making their way out.

Shelby’s house was only about a twenty minute walk but it was cold and Toni was only wearing her basketball shorts and her mom’s jacket that she promptly put over Shelby’s shoulders.

“Are you still—” Shelby swallowed hard, “You’re still living with your mom?”

“Mostly with Martha,” Toni said.

“Martha’s great,” Shelby said. “She’s so pretty it makes my eyes hurt.”

“One of our finest,” Toni grunted as Shelby nearly fell on her heels again.

“She could be a model,” Shelby told her. “We should get waffle house.”

“Shelbs, we’re nowhere near a waffle house.”

“What was Becca’s order? At waffle house?”

Toni sighed, looping an arm around her. “I dunno.”

“Neither do I,” Shelby said.

“I’m sorry, Shelby,” Toni said.

Shelby shook her head and stopped right there, circling her arms around Toni and pressing her into a hug. Toni closed her eyes, holding her back as tightly as she dared.

“Oh, Shelby, I’m so fucking sorry.”

———

“Day two!” Mr. Williams calls. He taps the poem again, “I will investigate the handwriting if the poet doesn’t come forward by Friday. I know it’s someone in one of my classes.”

His eyes narrow as he takes them all in and his eyes don’t linger on Toni. Not even for a moment.

There’s a part of her that wants to march up to the front of the room and write her name down, make eye contact with everyone who never even considered her before. But no one expects shit from her, and even if he does go over the handwriting he won’t really be able to pin it on her. He might not even bother checking to see if it matches.

Toni tries not to jump when Marcus takes the seat in front of her during quant lit. It’s not like they have assigned seating but everyone sticks to the same seats anyway. Marcus won’t get shit for it though, perks of being the quarterback.

“So, listen,” he scratches the back of his head and Toni rolls her eyes at him. “I know we aren’t really friends but I—um.”

“Marcus,” Toni says.

“I wanna ask Martha out,” Marcus rushes out. “She’s like the nicest, smartest, coolest girl in the school and like her eyes are out of this world radical.” Radical? “And I would take her somewhere nice like Olive Garden. Or Cheesecake Factory? And pay for it, and open all the doors for her, and I’d carry her books to class—”

“On your date? This is happening during school?” Toni asks.

His eyebrows furrow as he tries to connect the dots. Football players.

“Oh no! I meant like, after, if she wants me to,” He says. “Can I?”

“Can you what?”

“Can I ask her out?”

Toni blinks at him. “What?”

“My buddy said if you want to get with a girl you get close to the best friend first, and I figured I’d ask you for your blessing because that’s what they do in old fashioned stuff right?” He bounces up in down in his seat. “Can I? Or like, do you wanna give me your blessing?”

She feels like she’s having an aneurysm.

Listen, Marcus having feelings for Martha is one thing. Everyone on the planet who’s ever met Martha falls a little in love with her. That’s kinda just how she operates. Toni narrowly avoided that pitfall by being lucky enough to know her since she was five, but it was a tough time. But Marcus was never gonna act on it. Marcus can’t—he’s the quarterback.

It’s basic math, Marcus is a six foot five football player with shoulders wide enough to bench press the Subaru Forrester Toni’s legally required to buy when she turns thirty-two. He’s got that all American boy smile that shows of perfectly white teeth, and dark hair that sweeps in front of his eyes. His face looks like it was sculpted out of marble, like literally he looks like some sort of roman god, except if that roman god volunteered at the humane society on the weekends and called his mom Mami.

Martha is a res girl who’s best friend is the dyke with anger issues. And like yeah, she’s stupid pretty, but Marcus has exclusively dated varsity cheerleaders since the seventh grade.

So yeah, even if Marcus may have feelings for Marty, everyone fucking does, and there’s a host of reasons why she doesn’t have a date to every dance and a new guy every week. And most of them are the cliche high school movie hierarchy sort.

“It’s really none of my business, man,” she says.

“Dude, it’s totally your business,” Marcus says. He leans closer, “you two are like sisters right? What do I gotta do to prove I’m not gonna hurt her? I’ll do your math homework for a month, no two months.”

A thought occurs to Toni and it’s a terrible one. But when has that ever stopped her?

“You’re in my honors English class right?”

Marcus’s face screws in, “Uh, yeah. But I don’t think you want me doing your homework in there, I’m like totally failing.”

“I have a better idea.”

———

5.) she touches you like youre fragile, and if you break you wont be able put yourself together again

Dot was asleep which was Toni’s first indication that something was deeply wrong. The second was that Shelby wasn’t. She was definitely trying her darnedest, but Toni could tell she was awake. Awake in her arms.

Toni shifted, just enough to let Shelby know she was awake too. The movie was some horror flick, something dumb and flashy and almost muted it was so quiet. It was the only thing rated R that they could all agree on. Dot’s house was the only place they were allowed to watch anything rated R when they were still thirteen, so it was all they watched there.

She felt Shelby shift up, so her head rested on Toni’s chest, shifted until her lips met Toni’s clavicle.

Toni wondered if she’d die.

Shelby went up instead of down, pressing kisses up the length of Toni’s neck, soft barely there things that made Toni’s breath catch as she watched Dot snore on the couch next to them.

Toni’s hands moved to the inside of Shelby’s thighs and they stared there, tracing delicate patterns that only made Shelby curl closer.

“I think you’re probably the most beautiful girl I ever saw,” Shelby whispered.

“I—”

“I’m not done.”

Toni’s mouth clamped shut.

“I think about you all the time,” Shelby whispered. “Even when I—”

“Shelby,” Toni warned. Shelby pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“You’re right,” Shelby said.

Neither of them slept that night.

———

Toni walks into class three minutes late with Mr. Williams, and takes her seat with a sulk.

“He still won’t let me redo that paper,” Toni mutters to Martha who’s eyes are wide.

“Toni, Marcus just—” She nods her head at the poem where Mr. Williams is studying it too.

“Marcus Gonzales?” Mr. Williams asks.

Marcus gets to his feet.

“You wrote this?”

“Yessir.”

“This poem right here?”

“Yessir.”

Mr. Williams blinks and takes off his spectacles, setting them down on the desk. “We’ll talk after class. I should hope everyone has a copy of—”

“I wrote it for Martha,” Marcus doesn’t sit down and the entire class stares at him.

“—Franny and Zooey and I would like you all to turn to page 52. Begin by annotating—”

“Martha, can I take you out on a date?” Marcus asks.

“—this first section, and on to page 64. Remember what Seymour serves as in—”

Martha blushes hard and glances at Toni who smiles before she looks back at Marcus in all his golden boy 6’5” glory.

“Um, okay,” she mutters out and he grins.

“Cool.” Marcus finally sits and gives Toni a thumbs up. She rolls her eyes.

“—this story and compare that to his roles in the other parts of the work we’ve read.”

“I told you it was for you, girl,” Shelby says on Martha’s other side. “People always have a way of surprising you.”

———

6.) she is all bubblegum skies and chapped stick kisses, and you cannot watch the love run out of another persons eyes

They were all a little bit slap happy by the end of the night. A little bit drunk, a little bit high, and laughing far too hard at one another.

“I’m scared,” Shelby told them, still grinning wider than any pageant smile.

“Girl, you picked dare,” Fatin said.

“I did,” Shelby bit her lip. “But all y’all dared Leah to do was finish the vodka.”

“That was—that was bad vodka,” Leah slurred from her position on Dot’s lap.

“But now we’re out of vodka,” Martha sang. “You picked dare.”

“I’ll go with you,” Toni got to her feet, surprised when they were more steady than she assumed they’d be. “Two chairs right?”

“Alright,” Shelby said. “And you’ll hold my hand?”

“Sure princess,” Toni rolled her eyes.

It was an office supply place, probably. The parking lot had this killer decline, and it was one of those spring nights where nothing could really ruin anything. Not forever.

The rolling chairs were kinda gross, left there but not yet picked up by the garbage men. They had to do a special pickup for that, which costed extra. No one in the office had done it for the weeks the girls had been going there after parties.

“Be careful,” Nora urged.

“Don’t fall,” Rachel suggested.

“Hold on, I’m not recording yet,” Fatin said. “Okay now go.”

They pushed off in their rolling chairs, holding hands, and sped down the decline laughing as they barely managed to hold on and steer at the same time.

Toni went flying as she bumped into a patch of grass and for some reason, Shelby went flying with her, landing on top. Toni grunted, but she wasn’t in pain, not really.

They met eyes.

“Sorry,” Shelby said. She didn’t sound sorry.

“You okay?” Toni asked.

Shelby smiled, this real soft thing, Toni wondered what it’d taste like.

“Fuck yeah bitches! I’m so putting that on snapchat!” Fatin screamed and Shelby pulled away, turning white.

“God if this is you in in freshman year, I’m terrified of you as a senior,” Toni called back.

Shelby’s hand slipped out of her’s and Toni tried very very hard not to overthink it.

———

“So I’ve been thinking,” Leah said. Toni took her gym bag out of her locker, pretty much the only thing she kept in there.

“Oh no.”

“Rachel was right about that poem being written by a girl,” Leah continued. “Which meant Marcus lied. And Marcus would never do that unless someone gave him permission to take credit. And since Marcus lied so he could ask Martha out that means the person who wrote the poem wanted Martha to be happy.”

Toni swallowed hard and tried not to fumble with the lock, stumbling with it.

“Toni,” Leah walked over to her. “You need to face the facts: Shelby’s into you.”

Toni blinked, “What?”

“She wrote that whole poem for you, don’t tell me you don’t see it. It’s about you!”

“She—” Toni stopped and furrowed her brow, finally making eye contact with Leah, “You think she wrote that poem for me?”

Leah nodded, “And she let Marcus take the credit. Listen, I know I’m right. I’ve been thinking about it for ages. Whatever fight the two of you had—you need to get over it. She’s into you, Toni. She’s been into you.”

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” Toni told her. “Seriously, fuck you Leah and fuck off. This is none of your fucking business.”

“You aren’t denying it,” Leah crowed. “Shelby likes you.”

“No she fucking doesn’t!” Toni spat at her. “She fucking hates me! She didn’t write that poem Marcus did! For Martha!”

Leah’s brow furrowed, “But… but you wanted her to. Didn’t you?”

Toni looked away.

“Shelby’s actually straight, isn’t she?” Leah asked. “Fuck Toni.”

“I’m happy for Martha,” Toni said, and marched away.

———

7.) if you jump, she might catch you, and then youd have to watch as she tumbled through the dark

“What if we ran away?” Shelby asked, which was Toni’s third indication that the punch was spiked.

The first two were her arms wrapped around Toni’s waist, swaying in the soft breeze to the distant music of Junior prom.

“Oh yeah?” Toni asked. “Where’d we go?”

“Peru,” Shelby said. “Or LA, or New York or—” Shelby sort of trailed off, losing her thought halfway through it.

“Our parents,” Toni pointed out. She’d moved in with Martha a few months ago but her mom had taken it as a wakeup call, promising to get her shit back together as soon as she could. Toni couldn’t help but believe her, even if it put her in stasis.

“Right,” Shelby sounded cold, “Our parents.”

“Are things worse with them?” Toni asked.

“No,” Shelby said. “The same, really. They’ve lightened up since—since Becca. Have you heard from your mom?”

“Every week or so,” Toni said. “And if you ever need a break you know—“

“Martha is happy to have me,” Shelby finished.

Toni smiled and pulled away enough to meet Shelby’s eyes, her hands slid from behind Shelby’s neck to either side.

“Did I tell you you look beautiful tonight?” Toni asked.

“You did,” Shelby said.

“Can I say it again?”

“You can.”

“You look beautiful tonight.” Shelby closed her eyes and Toni tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re gonna get out, you know that right?”

Shelby nodded, leaning into Toni’s hand.

Later, Toni will learn that was one of two lies Shelby told that night.

———

Martha gets home at 11:30, exactly when Marcus promised, and Toni smiles as her sister collapses backwards into her bed.

“Toni,” she actually giggles, giggles like a little school girl. “It was amazing.”

“Where’d you go?” Toni asks.

“Olive Garden, I think he was trying to win points with you,” Martha says.

“As he should,” Toni nods.

“He was the perfect gentleman,” Martha swoons. She rolls onto her stomach and looks at Toni and oh god, Toni knows that look. “He did tell me something about you, though.”

“Oh yeah? How I’m better in quant lit than him?” Toni asks.

“He told me you wrote the poem,” she says.

Toni looks away, “Okay, and?”

“You told me you were over Regan,” Martha says.

“It’s complicated,” Toni decides. “And whatever. I wrote it awhile ago anyway.”

“Have you thought about submitting it to that contest Mr. Williams was talking about?” Martha asks.

“Can we go back to talking about your date with Prince Charming?” Toni says. Martha acquiesces, she’s too damn giddy to do anything else.

———

8.) her gaze is too gentle. you will not be the one to tell her that not everything can be fixed with a smile

“Toni,” Dot began, and Toni could tell she was looking at her. “Toni, is Shelby—is she gay?”

Toni snickered, “Dot, Shelby is possibly the biggest straight girl in our school. Maybe our state. She’d sooner give herself a buzzcut than she would ever even kiss a girl."

“Andrew said Shelby got a job as a counselor at this church camp—Guiding Light—in Plano,” Dot said. “I wanted to find the address so I could write to her and it’s a conversion camp.”

The breath left Toni’s body.

“What?”

“And I got to thinking,” Dot said. “About what a mess she was after Becca died this year. Ignoring us, going to all those parties, signing up for a crazy number of pageants. Hell, it was only once you two started talking that she talked to us again.”

“Stop it, Dot.”

“Toni is Shelby gay?”

“Dot,” Toni said.

“Because if she’s gay, if she’s not there as a camp counselor—Toni, did you know about this?”

“Of course not! Jesus!” Toni said. She jumped to her feet and started to pace, “Jesus Christ. Oh my god.”

“Toni is Shelby gay?”

Toni looked at Dot and Dot sighed, her entire body sagging.

“What do we do?” Toni asked.

Dot, her solid, steady, friend since fucking youth soccer was silent.

“Dot, what do we do?”

“Dot, what the fuck do we do?”

———

Shelby finds her before school, Toni smoking like she hasn’t since ninth grade when Bernice gave her a stern lecture about lung cancer. It made Toni cry, actually. Not because it was so stern but because Martha and Toni had been separated for three years and Bernice still cared enough to get angry with her. She promised then and there to stop, and each drag she took now makes her feel like she’s committing treason.

“Smokin’ kills,” Shelby tells her, like they didn’t all go to Dot’s dad’s funeral last year.

Toni takes another drag, just to watch Shelby roll her eyes.

“How’d Martha’s date go last night?” Shelby asks.

Toni glares, “Seriously? You avoid me all year and now you’re asking about Martha’s date?” Shelby looks away. “It went fine. Whatever.”

“I just—I was surprised Marcus wrote that poem is all.”

“You literally said multiple times you thought it was him,” Toni says.

“I know, I know but—”

“Still holding out hope for Andrew?” Toni sneers. “Marcus may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but he cares about Martha. Even a fucking idiot could write a half decent poem if they had someone worth writing about.”

Shelby meets her eyes and Toni’s breath catches.

“Know a lot about poetry, Toni?”

Fuck fuck fuck.

Toni flicks the only half used cigarette away. “I have to go to class,” She says, aware it’s just about the worst thing she can do.

Shelby doesn’t even need the last word, she’s aware she’s already won.

———

9.) she is so good. she is so good, and you cannot ruin one more good thing

It hadn’t been the first time Toni found her mom overdosed on the couch, but it’d been the most terrifying. Toni had waited in the school parking lot for a pick up for twenty minutes before Shelby had offered her a ride.

When they trooped inside, after having to use the key Tamera kept tucked away in a loose brick, her mom had been passed out on the couch. And the stupid thing had been that Toni had known her mom hadn’t been doing great. Like she’d known Tamera had lost her job, and was close to losing the car, that the pain in her back had been getting worse again from stress. Toni had known that.

But for some stupid, naive reason, Toni had never thought she’d pull this, go back to who she was.

Her tolerance was low, the doctors had told her, because she’d been clean for so long. She hadn’t realized it and had taken more than she could handle.

Shelby had taken the three of them to the hospital, helped carry Toni’s drooling mother into the ER, and held Toni’s hand until the other girls showed up, who she texted to come.

Shelby had been there when the police and social services came to talk to her about going back into foster care. Shelby had never left her side.

Toni couldn’t help but contrast that to the Shelby she saw now. The Shelby who showed up for senior year was barely christian, barely anything, just sort of blank and empty and waiting to grow up so she could have daughters that'd also wait to grow up so that they could have daughters that’d also wait to grow up so that they could have daughters that’d also

Shelby didn’t even look at her, for the first week of senior year she didn’t even look at Toni. She talked with Martha in that faux friendly way, she passed off on lunch invitations to do school work and Toni felt like she was going insane.

Sometimes she would just stare at the back of Shelby’s head in English class, writing whatever gibberish came to mind, and not listening to Mr. Williams at all. Just stare, for forty-five minutes, at a girl who wouldn’t even make eye contact, Toni’s pencil moving rapidly as she barely even glanced at the words her hands produced.

On the last day of the semester Toni finally looked away and came to two realizations:

a. Her mother was never getting better. Not really. b. Toni had written P E R U over forty times in her notebook.

As quietly as she could she tore the page out, and maybe about fifteen pages behind it, filled with similar drivel and recycled them at the end of class.

When the next semester started the seats were changed and something she’d written that she barely remembered was on the board.

Her mother was still in rehab.

———

Toni watches Marcus carry Martha’s backpack to class and watches as Martha giggles at him, argues with him. She is literally so happy it makes Toni’s heart burst.

“Shelby’s quite the matchmaker, huh?” Fatin asks.

Toni looks at her.

“Leah told me,” Fatin explains.

Toni rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what I said too,” Fatin says. “Leah’s good at noticing things but putting the pieces together is not her strong suit. So I called Dorothy.”

This makes Toni’s shoulders tense and Fatin wraps an arm around them.

“Dorothy didn’t want to talk but what she didn’t say was enough.” Fatin sighs, “I’m all for a little drama but this is cutting into my me time.”

“What going from twenty-four hours a day to twenty-three and a half?” Toni asks.

“God forbid,” Fatin nods sagely. “I didn’t know you could write.”

“I can’t.”

“Clearly not.”

Toni slips out from under her arm, and follows Martha into class. Mr. Williams glares as she comes in and Toni realizes if Marcus came clean to Martha he definitely came clean to Mr. Williams. At least the poem is off the board.

When he passes out papers from a recent essay her’s has a “see me after class” sticker that makes Toni slide down in her seat. Martha doesn’t even notice enough to give her an odd look because she and Shelby are yukking it up about the quarterback.

When everyone files out she hangs back and he looks at her, over his spectacles.

“I’m disappointed,” he says at last.

Toni scoffs.

“You write essays based off spark notes, you never participate, and half the time you don’t even do the homework. But you write this.” He slides the crumpled paper over his desk, her poem shining back at her. “So all I can conclude is that you’re lazy.”

Yeah, obviously.

“Why did you have Marcus tell everyone he wrote it?” Mr. Williams asks.

“So he could ask out Martha.”

“He didn’t need to have written the poem to do that,” Mr. Williams says.

“Can I go?” Toni asks.

“I want to submit this poem to a contest, I want you to start trying in this class, and this,” he hands her a slip of paper with about twenty sets of numbers on it, “is a list of Dickinson poems I want you to read by next week. Pick at least three to write me at least a page about. Single spaced.”

“What?” Toni asks, “You can’t make me do that.”

“I know half the kids in this class write off spark notes, I can easily have them all—including you—fail. So yes, yes I can actually.” He takes off his spectacles and Toni glares at him. “You’re a smart kid, Toni. You’ve got a talent for this.”

Toni shakes her head, “I’m a one hit wonder.”

“You know Britney Spears said the same thing after Baby One More Time.”

“That’s not true,” Toni says.

“Yeah,” Mr. Williams says. “Because she kept working at it.”

And Toni takes the slip of paper with the numbers on it, and marches to her next class and he watches her the whole way, not bothering to put on his stupid spectacles.

———

10.) you will not watch her crumble under the weight of your sins. she is too light, too breathless to be caught up in the dizziness of your heart

Dot didn’t invite them all to the funeral but they came anyway, even Shelby who Toni knew had been waffling back and forth.

Some of his army friends showed up, a doctor or two, and Mateo—the hot nurse Dot steadily ignored. It was a small and quiet service, and the seven of them sat towards the back, holding steady for her.

There was too much on Dot’s shoulders, there always had been, but she didn’t look any freer now that the burden was lifted. She just looked scared, small, and sad.

Toni couldn’t help but wonder if that was what she’d look like, if she got the call about her mom. It was a terribly selfish thought but who could blame her?

Shelby’s hands interlocked with hers, in broad daylight, and stayed there for the entire day. When Toni met her eyes she saw pure terror reflected back at her.

God, were they really only seventeen?

———

Rachel is complaining at lunch about owing Nora five bucks, how she was so sure some closet case wrote the poem but it’s no surprise Nora got it right.

Fatin and Leah don’t contribute and Martha probably wouldn’t have either except she was eating lunch with Marcus, they had found their own little table and were smiling at one another.

“They’re certainly cute together,” Shelby says, glancing back at Martha and Marcus.

“I say it’s weird they have the same name,” Rachel says.

“Says the girl who dated a guy named Raymond,” Nora says.

Rachel throws a straw wrapper at him, “That was a phase and you know it.”

“Marcus is sweet,” Shelby says. “If anyone deserves someone sweet it’s Martha.”

“Don’t you think he’s a little,” Leah trailed off and they all looked at her. “You know a little…”

“Spit it out, Leah,” Rachel says.

“Like the porch lights on but no one’s home?” Leah says.

“Martha is smart enough for the both of them,” Toni says. “And thank god because I was sick of doing his homework in quant lit.”

“That’s literally the easiest math class there is,” Fatin says and Toni shrugs.

“What’s that?” Shelby asks, pointing at the yellow slip sticking out of Toni’s binder.

“Some extra credit stuff, from Williams. Apparently I’m not doing so hot in that class,” Toni says.

Rachel leans way over from the other end of the table. “What is that, Dickinson?”

“It’s a list of numbers,” Shelby says. “Why would it be Dickinson?”

“All of Dickinson’s poems were numbered. It was only after she died that other people named them,” Nora says.

“And Nora said it so you know it’s true,” Rachel smirks.

“Join the fucking club,” Dot says to Toni. “I don’t know why y’all didn’t take non-honors English twelve with me. We just sit around and talk about whatever football game was on the most recently.”

“Well I’ve never liked football so.” Toni gets up, “I’ve gotta talk to my science teacher. I’ll see you guys after school.”

“I’ll go with you,” Shelby smiles and Toni clenches her jaw. “Ms. Roberts said I needed to rework my psych paper.”

“See you guys,” Rachel says and as they leave she’s arguing with Dot about why football is stupid and Toni can feel Fatin’s eyes on her all the way out.

———

reasons to kiss her

1.) she loves you, and her eyes are closed, and didnt your mother ever tell you not to leave a good thing waiting

Toni hated the magnet program kids at her middle school. Like everyone not in their cluster she found them annoying, rich, and privileged as fuck. They only hung out with each other and it was clear they’d never give—

———

“Toni?”

The stair well is empty, it’s the short cut through the language hallway and no one goes there during lunch.

Toni is working hard on ignoring Shelby but is forced to turn around when Shelby stops halfway up.

“Ms. Roberts doesn’t need me to rework my psych paper.”

Toni stares at her.

Shelby takes a step up, one step closer to Toni.

“I had hoped maybe you wrote it for Regan,” Shelby says.

“No such luck,” Toni croaks out.

“That’s a lot of reasons not to kiss someone,” Shelby says. “You’d think if you really shouldn’t kiss someone you’d only need the one.” She takes another step up, until they’re only separated by a few inches.

“I guess,” Toni says.

“Are you really gonna keep me waiting?” Shelby says.

Toni blinks, “You mean you still—”

“I have to do everything myself,” Shelby says.

She kisses her.

#did something different with time than i usually do #and with structure #lmk what you think #shoni #the wilds fanfic #the wilds #goodfoe fanfic #goodfoe #shelby goodkind #toni shalifoe #gus writes #ren don’t

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