#its actually kind of nice to have a deadline

[arsenicflame]

thinking about how all the rest of blackbeards crew had left by the time stede found the revenge

thinking about how ed was laid out in such a respectful way, like he was someone wanted to mourn

thinking about even after all he said, after mutinying on him, izzy could never really leave ed

thinking about how after all he did for them, all he lost, our crew couldn't leave him either

[saetoru]

#TOP OF THE CLASS! — GETO SUGURU.

「 SYNOPSIS 」 ⋮ geto + virgin killing - your TA is nice, and more importantly, handsome. accidentally sending him nudes makes you realise he's also inexperienced

♱ kinktober ⋮ find the masterlist here !!

♱ pairing ⋮ college TA! geto suguru x student! reader

♱ length ⋮ 5.5k words (she tried okay. she did)

♱ contents ⋮ nsfw and 18+ content, fem! reader, college! au, TA! geto, student! reader, med! student shoko, forging of legal documents (shoko forges you a doctor’s note lol), mentions of drinking + being under the influence, unprofessional relationships, explicit photography (taking + accidentally sending nudes), virgin! + inexperienced! geto, semi-public sex (in a campus office), teasing, humiliation, mentions of male masturbation, handjobs, blowjobs, nipple play, fingering, riding, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

♱ notes ⋮ here is the first kinktober post i hope you all enjoy and HAPPY OCTOBER ITS MY FAV SEASON

the first rule of being a college student is having good time management. that should’ve been something you remembered before saving this paper for the last minute—because now you’re beginning to regret overestimating your ability to finish all the research and the required components and hit the word count. and then you have to cite your sources—which is a pain, and the clock isn’t slowing even a little as it ticks away closer and closer to the deadline. 

you’re doomed, finished for the semester before you could’ve even fully begun. you’re counting your moments to failure for a class you absolutely need to graduate. this paper is thirty percent of your grade—how could you have been so careless as to leave it so last minute?

“it’s useless,” you moan woefully into your phone, making shoko snort as you hear her continue to type away on her keyboard. it hits you that if shoko of all people is further along her paper than you—the same shoko that cheats on everything—then you’ve really let yourself go. “i’m never going to finish this on time,” you mutter. 

“i told you to get started earlier,” she says matter of factly, almost with enough i told you so energy in her voice that you’re two seconds from storming over to her apartment and smashing her laptop to bits. but shoko has a point—even if you refuse to acknowledge it since…well, it’s shoko, after all. 

“i’m not on call with you to lecture me,” you grumble, “i’m on call with you to help me find a solution. you think if i offer the TA a blow job, he’ll give me an A?”

shoko snorts, pausing her typing as if she’s actually contemplating the idea. “maybe, honestly. you know he’s our age, and he’s like years ahead of us? probably too busy with school to get any bitches,” she laughs, making you roll your eyes as a smile tugs at your lips no matter how hard you try to fight it. 

“you know what, you might be right,” you chuckle. you almost feel bad for joking at his expense—your TA is nice, he’s young and kind and understanding, he takes time to slowly go over things when people have questions, he answers emails politely and quickly no matter how stupid the reason, he and has sensible rules that aren’t too strict. and, if you’re being honest, he’s rather handsome. “i wouldn’t mind giving him a blow job though,” you hum, “he’s cute.”

“gross,” shoko gags, “geto suguru is not cute.”

“he is too,” you argue, furrowing your brows as you huff, “he’s probably one of the few men i’ve seen who make a man bun work. and i know he’s ripped under that sweater, he has to be. i saw him leave the gym the other day, and his arms were huge.”

“he’s probably just trying to get bitches,” shoko snorts, “i bet he’s a virgin.”

“shut up,” you laugh, and for a moment, your mind wanders to your stupidly handsome TA. 

you shouldn’t be thinking about him this way—fantasizing about anyone who grades your papers is a line you shouldn't really cross, but you can’t help it. your thoughts turn into what hearing his smooth, deep voice would be like if he moaned into your ear, or what his bangs would look like stuck to his sweaty forehead, or what his abs would look like clenching as he cums, or how breathless he’d sound as he whispers your name—

“wait, i just had an idea,” shoko interrupts your thinking with a gasp, making you shake out of your (very dirty) thoughts as you blink.

you clear your throat, trying your best not to sound flustered as you speak. “i’m scared to ask what the idea is—you’re not really known for having good ones,” you say warily. you can practically see her eyes roll without her being there with you—you’ve been friends with shoko long enough to know her like the back of your hand. and if you know her like you think you do, her idea is about to cause you a lot of stress.

“well, looks like i’m never trying to help you again,” she scoffs, “i could’ve written you a doctor’s note with a few of the copies i managed to snatch—but since you don’t want my help—”

“no, wait! you’re a genius,” you gasp happily, grinning wide as shoko huffs through the phone and mutters something faintly similar to ungrateful under her breath, “i could kiss you on the lips right now.”

“no thank you. you suck,” she hisses. you only giggle, relief flooding through your bones that maybe your grade is saved—and all thanks to having a friend who works in a doctor’s office. you silently send the universe your gratitude for having your best friend pursue a career in the medical field—the perks prove to be quite beneficial, it seems. 

“just send me a picture of it and make it seem like i’m too sick to work on the paper, and i’ll tell him i won’t finish in time. a one day extension should be enough.”

“where would you be without me,” she grumbles quietly, “i’ll send it to you in a second. now please let me finish my paper in peace.”

“okay. love you, you’re the best.”

“i hate you.” the line clicks and you giggle, happily celebrating that you most likely have a saved grade and a free night to yourself now that shoko has so kindly offered you a solution. and of course, you’ll take this as a learning curve and appropriately plan to give yourself enough time for the next paper.

it’s not long before your phone dings and shoko’s contact pops up on your screen with, sure enough, a doctor’s note with today’s date and reason for the visit. shoko has even taken the liberty to make you seem contagious—just so you can skip class tomorrow for good measure. beaming, you text a quick thanks bestie <3 in response—too happy to even care that she sends you an emoji flipping you off. 

and it doesn’t take you long to craft the email either, making sure to properly address him with a greeting, adding apologies for the inconvenience—and as the icing on the cake, a promise that it won’t ever happen again in the future. you click the photo to upload the doctor’s note, and without even a second thought, you click send. 

and then within the split second that the email sends, and you realize just which photo you’ve accidentally clicked, your life flashes before your eyes. 

“no,” you mumble, “no no no,” you chant as you quickly open the email you’ve sent, eyes wide and throat dry. 

the photo is not the picture of the doctor’s note shoko sent—instead, it’s the picture right under it in your camera roll. the picture that’s not very suitable for sending your TA. the picture of your tits, just barely covering your nipples with your arm. the picture you took through giggles while changing after getting a little tipsy the night before (you’d felt just a tad bit sexy in your makeup.)

you sit in silent shock as you register that you just sent your TA your nudes—and just to make matters worse, he responds almost instantly, making your heart drop as you stare at his emailed reply with a shaky hand holding up your phone. 

please meet me in my office tomorrow before class so we can discuss the above email. 

suddenly, your worries are a lot more complicated than simply failing a class.

———————————————

you barely slept the night before, if at all, to be completely honest with yourself. the worst-case scenario runs through your head the entire time you toss and turn in bed. geto is probably going to report this, and then you’ll get expelled, and then you’ll never make it with a successful career, and then you’ll never be able to show your face to anyone you know again. 

your feet are as heavy as lead as they drag along the walk to his room, and you contemplate turning back and never showing up to his office, maybe simply even just refusing to ever return to campus at all. maybe you can move countries and start over somewhere else—maybe you can change your name and make a new life for yourself. 

but instead, you take a deep breath and knock on the door, waiting until you hear a soft come in before you enter. geto is seated at the desk, typing away at his laptop before meeting your eyes as you walk in.

“uh…hi,” you start, standing awkwardly by the door.

“hello,” he says, eyeing you slightly before looking back at his screen. if he has any ill feelings about last night, he does a good job of hiding it—you can’t read a single emotion on his face. somehow, that makes things worse. “have a seat,” he gestures at the chair across from him on the other side of the desk, waiting for you to seat yourself nervously in front of him. 

you sit down, watching as he opens his mouth to start—but you begin speaking before he can. “look, i know that email was really inappropriate, and i’m really sorry—it was an accident, i swear! i meant to click on the picture above it, and i didn’t realize—”

“i understand,” he cuts you off as he holds a hand up, offering you a kind smile that makes you tilt your head in confusion, “it’s fine.” fine. fine? he’s…just fine with it? he’s just willing to let you off the hook? “i’m not much older than you,” he chuckles, “i’m not foreign to these things. i’m sure you’re active in…that aspect of your life.”

oh god—why you? why of all people did this have to be you? why is the world so hellbent on making your life miserable in every aspect?

you eye the coiled wires of the phone on his desk, and you contemplate strangling yourself with them before he can say something anymore embarrassing. but, you have to admit—this is far better than being told you’ve been reported to the dean for misconduct.

“i’m really sorry if it made you uncomfortable,” you fiddle with your fingers as you avoid his gaze, “i really did mean to send you a doctor’s note. i just didn’t realize i hit the picture under it.”

“like i said, it’s okay,” he reassures. calm. he’s almost too calm about this. too okay with it. almost like…like he didn’t mind at all in the first place.“but i wanted to make sure you’re aware of how fragile photos like that are.”

“huh?” you raise a brow. now, this is not where you expected the conversation to steer. you expected a lecture on how sending an educator your explicit photos is highly unprofessional, that it’s unacceptable and suggests other things—things that are completely against the rules and completely out of question to even consider. 

“i mean, photos like those getting into the wrong hands can lead to really bad predicaments,” geto continues, clearing his throat as he closes his laptop and meets your gaze. he looks you dead in the eye as he speaks his next words, “and i wouldn’t want sensitive content of you circulating around campus.”

“right,” you nod slowly, “it’s not like i send them around, or anything. i was just a bit drunk that night, and i was in my room bored, and my makeup was cute so i was feeling good about myself…and…and…yeah…” you trail off. 

why are you even explaining this to him in such detail? you silently curse yourself in your head, beating yourself up for running your mouth so much. 

“oh, that’s good to know,” he nods, “i’m glad to hear that. no one else has possession of these photos?”

you eye him slowly, “nope,” you confirm. “just you—by accident, of course.”

you’re not sure if you imagine it, or if the situation as a whole is making you overinterpret everything that’s happening—but you’re almost certain you hear his breath hitch a little. he’s no longer looking at you, no longer burning you under his gaze like he was just a minute ago.

“right, by accident,” he repeats. it’s slow, like he’s reminding himself, like he has to speak slowly to process the information. “well, i hope this serves as a lesson for being more careful next time. you don’t want young men to save such pictures of yourself for ulterior motives.”

geto suguru, your teacher’s assistant for intro to literature 1301, seems to be rather invested in your well-being—more than a TA really should be. if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s almost disappointed that you sent him a significantly revealing photo of yourself by accident instead of intentionally. and, if you squint just a little, it almost seems like he doesn’t want anyone else to have the pictures. not because he’s concerned for you—but rather, because he wants to be the only one who’s seen them. 

your thoughts from last night come flooding back, how he’s probably well built under his shirt, how shoko thinks he’s still a virgin, and especially how he probably looks and sounds when he’s overwhelmed with pleasure. and geto suguru might think he has you cornered like a cat would a mouse, but what he doesn’t know is that you’ve been the serpent the whole time, fangs ready to sink into him and devour him whole. 

“you know, you seem like you speak from experience,” you can’t help but grin slightly. 

now, logically speaking, this is wrong—this is pushing the kindness he so graciously showed you. by now, you should be fighting back tears as you figure out a way to break the news to everyone you know that you’ve had to receive an expulsion for sending your TA nudes. by now, your life should’ve been at an all time low, so you really shouldn’t be testing your luck. 

but geto has practically seen your tits, so you’re not really sure there’s any point in acting like an angel around him—and he’s so incredibly hot in that button up shirt of his, sleeves rolled halfway up his arm. plus, the thought of him being your inexperienced TA, one who lets you strip him of his innocence as you slowly taint his purity—it excites you a little more than it really should.

he clears his throat, not meeting your eyes. this time, yours bore into him through a searing gaze that almost makes him shift uncomfortably. 

“well, like i said, i am around your age, so i know how men’s minds work when it comes to these things—”

“so then tell me,” you raise a brow, smirking slightly as his jaw clenches, “is it because your mind works the same way?”

“now—”

“did you save my tit pics to your phone?” you ask bluntly. he hides the choked cough through a clearing of his throat—bingo, you think. almost instantly, the room shifts to him being nervous under your gaze as you eye him smugly. 

something about sweet, kind, successful geto suguru, young and ambitious with a perfect gpa and a flawless resume, being hot and bothered by your breasts makes you swell with pride—and you think maybe…maybe giving him a blow job might not be such an outlandish thought after all. 

maybe he wants it to be a reality just as badly as you do. 

“w-what are you implying—”

“did they turn you on?” you interrupt, watching as his cheeks heat up a slight flush of pink, “did you wish i’d moved my arm down so you could get the full view?” he clears his throat, opening his mouth to speak, but you don’t give him the chance. “was that the first nude you’ve ever been sent?”

“i think that’s enough,” he says sternly, but his voice is slightly higher in pitch—which tells you everything you need to know. and you’re enthused. “keep in mind, i could have every intention to notify the dean of these—”

“but suguru,” you pout, rolling his first name off your tongue so sweetly, he can’t help but be hungry for another taste of something so decadent, “if you tattle on me, you’ll never get a chance to actually see my nipples this time,” you giggle, “isn’t that what you want?”

“i—”

“i wonder,” you grin wickedly, “did you act like every other guy our age and jack off to a random girl’s tits?” 

you must hit close to home because he lets out a shaky exhale, jaw tight and fists clenched as his knuckles turn pale. he swallows thickly before finally meeting your eyes, face a deep shade of crimson as you grin at him widely. 

“i…i’m not…immune to things of that nature,” he finally admits, voice strained as your grin widens. almost instantly, you’re standing up, locking the door behind you and making your way over to his side of the desk without hesitation. the cards have been dealt in your hand, all that’s left is to play them—and you’re pleased to say that the game is heavily leaning in your favor. 

“wanna show me?” you ask with a sultry voice, “wanna show me how you fucked your fist last night? i’ll even let you see my nipples this time around,” you murmur as you seat yourself on his lap. 

geto scoots his chair back and makes room for you, breathing heavily as his pants strain with the tent already forming in them. his breath hitches when your hand rubs over his erection—and he curses himself for being so pathetic as to let a few words from you let him get riled up like this. but you’re so pretty—always have been. 

you sit in class and chew on the top of your pen, making it hard to avert his attention from your mouth. you tilt your head and furrow your brows so cutely when you’re confused, making it hard for him to concentrate on what he’s teaching. you laugh so sweetly out of glee when you do something correctly, and your voice shoots right through his heart—and sometimes, as ashamed as he is to admit it, straight to his dick too. 

and he’s well aware of how bad of an idea this is, but this is everything he’s ever dreamt about—right here under the palm of his hands. literally. so he grips your hips tightly, bringing you to rub over him through your own pants. the friction makes him throw his head back, moaning quietly as your clothed cunt drags along his length. you chuckle, palms gliding over his chest through his shirt and feeling the firm muscle under your hands. 

“does that feel good?” you ask, making him stifle a whimper as you glide over his nipples through his shirt.

your hands move to unzip his pants—and the best part? he lets you. he sits back and lets you free his aching cock from its confinements, he lets you wrap your fingers around his thick girth and squeeze gently, and he lets you pull the soft, low moans you’ve fantasized of hearing from his lips as you smear his pre cum along his shaft and stroke him slowly. 

“f-fuck,” he grunts, hips bucking into your hand, lips tugging between his teeth as he pants harshly with every squeeze at the base of his cock. and because you really can’t help it, you lean down to kiss along his jaw, making your way to his neck and nibbling at his skin. he groans, whispering your name—it makes your thighs squeeze together as a dull ache forms between your own legs. “feels…feels so good,” he mumbles breathlessly, “so different when you do it.”

you giggle, watching him carefully so as not to miss a single reaction. “oh yeah? you know, shoko said you were probably a virgin,” you purr against his ear, making his hands clutch onto your hips tighter, “you seem to be proving that theory right.”

“d-don’t stop,” he pleads when your hand slows, making his hips thrust sloppily into your fist and try to keep your earlier pace going. but you’re mean—just a tad bit cruel, and you wanna see him ooze with shame. so you squeeze on his cock, stilling the movement and making him rasp as he buries his head into your neck with a whine. 

“are you a virgin, suguru?” you hum, stroking his hair soothingly—but it contradicts the teasing tone of your voice. 

his face burns in your neck, “yes,” he mumbles quietly, like the admission stings. 

“how cute,” you pout, “so no one’s ever sucked your dick before?” he shakes his head slowly into the crook of your neck—but it’s not nearly as satisfying when he’s hiding, so you pull his face away despite his initial protesting. “i want to hear it,�� you say firmly. 

“fuck—no,” he groans, his face an even deeper shade of red than you thought was possible, “no, no one has ever…you know…”

“sucked your dick?” you grin.

“stop,” he whines. you chuckle quietly before climbing off his lap and sinking down to your knees before him, looking up at his shocked face with a smirk. 

“wanna know something?” you hum, “i’ve thought about sucking your dick.” 

“thinking about you TA like that?” he huffs a chuckle—but whatever semblance of composure he had, he loses as soon as you press a gentle kiss to the tip of his flushed cock, reddened and swollen at the head as beads of pre cum leak from the slit. 

“just like you jack off to your student,” you shoot back, “you want it, suguru? do you want me to make you feel good?”

“god—yes,” he hisses, “get on with it,” he says as he’s throwing you a glare when you snicker up at him from in between his legs. you run your tongue along the tip, humming as you take in the taste of him before wrapping your lips around him and taking him down your throat. 

the reaction is instant—geto slumps back against his chair, gasping as you swallow around him, bobbing your head up and down his length. you loosen your jaw, fucking him with your mouth, letting your tongue drag along the thick vein running across the underside of his cock. his hand falls to the top of your head while the other grips the armrest of his chair, skin turning white over his knuckles as he tightens his hold with each time the warmth of your mouth swallows around him. 

“oh—g-god, shit that’s it,” he grunts, hips bucking into your throat as you pick up your pace. “feels fuckin’ amazing—oh, fuck.”

your hand wraps around the base of his member, pumping what won’t fit in your mouth so no part of him is left neglected. and when your other hand reaches for his balls, rolling the sensitive sacs in your hand and squeezing gently, he rewards you with a whine, voice lilting off to a high pitched moan as his hips thrust up instinctively. your nose brushes against his pelvis, and with a few more swallows, you feel him twitch in your mouth. 

“fuck, fuck, ‘m c-close,” he pants, chest falling and rising erratically. you look up, watching through teary eyes as spit and pre cum dribble down your chin, taking in the pretty sight of his face flushed and his skin damp, bangs clinging to his forehead just like you imagined them to. “don’t stop—’m gonna cum…gonna…gonna make me cum,” he rasps. 

you moan around him, and the vibrations send him over the edge, hips raising as he groans loudly. hot, thick ropes of his cum paint your mouth, seeping past your lips and dripping down your chin as you try your best to swallow what you can. geto sounds better than you expected—voice deep and raspy, but still the same smoothness it always holds even through the cracks as he brokenly calls your name. 

the sound of his voice as he moans your name makes your walls clench around nothing and your clit throb. you let him fuck himself into your mouth through his high, riding out the last waves of his orgasm as pleasure burns through every nerve and every inch of him. when he finally slumps back into his chair, breathing harshly, you pull off of his cock, wiping the mess from your chin on your sleeve. and before you can open your mouth to tease him some more, you’re pulled back onto his lap, his mouth on yours, kissing you deep. 

“this’ll have to be a secret,” he mumbles, “for both of us.” 

for someone who’s never done anything like this before, geto rids you of your clothes almost expertly, lifting your shirt over your arms and sliding your pants off in an instant. he groans when his fingers trace over your clit—which you’re happy to know he can find—and feels the wetness of your slick drooling over the fabric. 

“c’mon, suguru,” you hum, voice edging on a little impatient, “go ahead and touch a pussy for the first time.”

he huffs, yanking the fabric to the side before sinking his ring and middle fingers into you, knuckle deep as this thumb runs circles along your clit. you whine, grinding your hips down on his hand, impatiently waiting for him to move. 

“for someone who’s experienced,” he grins, “you’re awfully impatient.” 

you open your mouth to respond, but as soon as you try to retort, his fingers thrust into you, hitting the sensitive spot of your walls with ease and making you cut yourself off with a moan. he scissors his fingers, stretching you open as your head falls to his shoulder with soft whimpers, feeling him curl his digits deep into you. you whine as your clit hits over his palm, feeling the slow build up of the coil in your belly reach the snapping point.

“keep going,” you encourage, “‘m close, k-keep going—fuck, suguru!” 

“god, you’re so pretty,” he breathes, watching as your head tips back and your mouth parts with a silent sob, watching as you break—all because of him. your walls spasm around his fingers as they bully into you and ride you through your orgasm, and your lips are slightly swollen from biting on them, eyes crinkled as you screw them shut, skin damp and glistening as sweat coats your forehead. 

perfect—you look perfect, and suguru has fantasized about this image in his head for so long, he can hardly believe it’s a reality before him. 

your hands find his long hair, tugging and twisting at the strands that slip between your fingers as the last few waves of your high crash over you. 

the rest is a blur—somewhere through rough and sloppy kisses, through rolled hips and soft groans as you grind against each other, geto has managed to unclasp your bra, letting your tits bounce freely. his hands immediately cup around them, squeezing gently before his lips pull away and his eyes fall to your chest. 

“fuck, they look better in person,” he grunts, rolling his thumbs over your pebbled nipples before pinching them lightly and rolling them between his fingers. you squeal, and your cunt is dripping—smearing your slick along his bare thigh as he teases over the sensitive skin. “feels good?” he mumbles.

“so good—don’t stop,” you moan, making his breath hitch in his throat. grinning, you open your eyes, hazy with lust, meeting his own unfocused gaze, “doing so well, suguru. making me feel so good.”

geto likes praise. you can tell that much alone from his hefty list of accomplishments on his resume. he’s beaming with pride the first day your professor introduces him in class while explaining how capable he is at his young age. he does a good job of staying humble, but you never fail to notice the twinge of excitement in his eyes when he’s praised for his impressive work ethic. 

there’s no exception now either—his eyes search yours for every hint he can find that he’s doing a good job, that he’s doing well and giving you exactly what you want. you swear his cock twitches when you say the word good—and he seems to notice it too because there’s a shaky breath against your neck as he groans. 

“fuck,” he breathes, hands falling to your hips and gripping tightly, desperately, when your hand grabs his throbbing cock, still hard and leaking pre cum from the reddened tip. “want to feel you,” he groans, “please.”

it’s all it takes for you to sink down on him, forehead pressing to his as you both moan against each other’s mouths. he’s big—long and thick, curved at an angle that makes him sink against your sweet spot almost perfectly, almost like he was made for you. it’s a shame he’s your TA, a small part of you almost feels a twinge of disappointment he can’t fully be yours. 

“fuck, suguru,” you gasp, “so big, feels so good.”

he whines, helping lift your hips up and guide you down on his cock, your hips rolling against his, the sound of your moans and the slapping of skin filling up the small office. you’re sure anyone passing by could hear and figure out what’s going on—but it only thrills you more, making you slam down on him faster. 

“so tight,” he grunts, “g-god, so fucking tight, i can’t—” 

his hands are everywhere, they dig into your hips, glide up to cup your tits, and find the back of your neck to pull you close and meet your lips. he’s panting, sweat making strands of hair cling to his forehead as his skin flushes a deep shade of crimson. his hips buck up into you, meeting you halfway with desperate thrusts, trying to feel you deeper. 

your head is spinning—not just from the way his thick girth splits you open, or from the way his tip slams against your spot so perfectly, but from the way his touch seems to light your skin up with every drag of his fingertips. and then he brings one hand down between your bodies, rubbing his thumb against your clit in harsh circles. 

“are you gonna cum, suguru? cause i am,” you moan, “wanna be good and cum with me? fill me up nice and full?”

“sh-shit,” he lets out a shaky breath. he does want to fill you up—wants to cum deep into you so you’re dripping as you walk out of his office. so that when you sit in class and stare at him as he teaches class, you can’t help but think of the way he was buried to the hilt inside you just hours ago. “yeah…yeah, ‘m gonna cum. gonna fill you up, baby,” he groans, “stuff you full of my cum. want it?”

“wan’ it so bad, suguru,” you whine, “look so pretty when you cum, wanna see it again.” 

and with a few more rolls of your hips, the squelching sounds of his cock slipping in and out of you all but drowned out but your pants, you fall off the edge—geto not far behind. you can feel his cock twitch as he shoots rope after rope of his thick cum into you, angling his hips up to fuck it deep into your pussy. it’s a mess, your slick mixed with his seed dripping along your thighs and coating your skin, but you can’t find it in you to care. and you also can’t find it in you to care that you’ll have to leave after this and see him again as you sit through his class. and you certainly don’t have it in you to care that you could both get in serious trouble if anyone realized this was happening.

instead, you cup his cheeks with a gentleness that makes his breath hitch in his throat with a strangled whine, and you kiss him, hard and deep. 

“f-fuck, fuck—ngh, shit,” he gasps, against your mouth in labored pants. it’s never felt like this—cumming into his fist is one thing, but cumming into your tight walls, feeling them squeeze around him in sync with his high is something he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget. he thinks you’ve ruined touching himself for him, thinks he’ll never be able to go back to being fine with just his hand to keep him company when he’s aching between his legs.

after this, geto isn’t sure how he’s supposed to just forget this happened—or about you. his hands don’t stop guiding you onto his cock, hips not ceasing to fuck up into you until you’re both whimpering from sensitivity.

it’s too much—but somehow, it’ll never be enough.

you slump over him when he finally slows down to a stop, bodies a sweaty heap against each other on his chair as his arms wrap around you and his lips find your damp forehead for a soft kiss. you turn your head, pressing a kiss to his jaw in return.

“so,” you wriggle your brows, “can this count as extra credit?” you ask cheekily, feeling his chest rumble with a low chuckle as he pulls you tighter against his chest.

“sure. i’ll even give you enough extra credit opportunities to be top of the class,” he grins.

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

[cheollipop]

So maybe I am just emotional but I am in the soft girl hours of the sleepover.

You know I love big, kinda dumb men that are in touch with their feelings, Song Mingi... Just imagine having a bad day, a rough week, or an okay month. It kind of seems like it's dragging on, and for the sake of holding on, you try to keep pushing forward. Today is not a push-forward day. Water overflowed in your bathroom; you have to turn the water off bc there's no off value to that pipe. You are a little behind on work, and the sites that you need are down, and the deadline is closer than you would like it to be. All you want is a warm shower and to curl into the covers until you forget what day it is. Mingi notices you slowly folding into yourself. It's difficult to be present with so much to worry about. So today he called just to check in. Through blurry eyes, you answer. Unable to hold the dam back any longer, you let out a soft sob, and he's throwing on his coat and snatching his keys off the counter to come get you.

Mingi stays on the phone with you until he climbs the stairs to your apartment. Opening the door to him, there are dried tear marks on your cheeks that you have failed to wipe completely away, but he just wraps you in the biggest hug. His hands pull you close and tight, squeezing a few more tears from your eyes.

"Let's go shower at my house. Then I'll feed you while we watch TV on my couch. That sound good?" He mumbles before pulling you back to look at you. Pinching your lips tightly together, the worried look on your boyfriend's face just makes you want to cry more, but maybe a nice shower and some private time is what you need to clock out of life for a bit.

Shut up, I'm going to cry my eyes out lolol

Nora I am too soft for life rn

2𝙠 𝙎𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩

oh, my nabi. the warmth and comfort this made me feel—reading your ask and writing it out—drove me to tears, on multiple occasions. i was initially saving this drabble for a bad day, and ended up starting it after a particularly taxing one, but I actually wrote most of this while feeling quite...happy. so putting myself in mingi's shoes instead of reader's was the way to go, i guess. I really hope I did this justice, and that it floods you with lots and lots of comfort &lt;3

pairing: bf!song mingi x gender neutral!reader

w.c.: 0.8k

tags: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, mentioned symptoms of anxiety & depression, non-sexual nudity (they shower together)

note: you are not alone

The drive to his apartment was silent, save for the wind blowing through the cracked-open windows to send short, blonde strands flying in different directions. The sun had departed from its locus, descending the changing sky to kiss the horizon, a gradient of orange and pink painted before your eyes. Your gaze moved off the breathtaking scenery to focus on Mingi—a hand resting over the leather wheel while the other locked with yours, glancing over at you every few minutes, squeezing your fingers to remind you of his presence.

As if you could forget, you thought, as he guided you down the hall to his door, twisting the keys while your hands remained intertwined, his thumb drawing soothing circles over your skin as he ushered you inside with a swing of his arm.

Steam engulfed the small bathroom, the warmth of the shower brushing against your skin as delicate fingers helped you out of the hoodie you should’ve washed last week. Mingi didn’t complain, though; he didn’t even comment, wordlessly adding it to the pile of clothes building up in the corner. Your insecurity must have bled into your expression, strong arms pulling you ito his chest and plush lips pressing against your forehead.

“I’ve got you,” was all he said, but it was though you were already immersed underneath the balmy stream, a comfortable heat searing through your skin as he held you against him.

With your back to him, Mingi noted the way your muscles slackened under the steaming water, the soapy droplets rushing down the curve of your spine while he worked his fingers through your hair, hoping his shampoo was strong enough to cleanse away some of the burden you’d carried on your shoulders, the dread he’d helplessly watched eat away at you for weeks. Twisting your body to face him, his thumb and pointer closed around your chin, tilting your head back to rinse the scented suds out of your hair, leaning forward to press his lips to your cheekbone while the water warmed your scalp.

Washing away weeks-worth of grime and self-loathing with delicate palms and a lathered washcloth, Mingi silently spoke of his infatuation, his care, his unconditional, overwhelming devotion to you. Even when you were broken, anxious, blind to any and every possibility of a future worth looking forward to. Mingi was there, calloused hands picking up the brush you’d broken and painting tomorrow, then the day after, one stroke at a time—open fields of daisies and sunflowers, the hopeful orb of light splaying golden rays over the land while the man with the grown-out roots stood amidst the flora, pearly teeth reflecting the daylight as he watched you approach him, his warmth seeping into your very soul as you buried yourself within his embrace.

You felt light, your breathing steady while you rested your head on Mingi’s chest, his thighs on either side of you as you curled up in his lap. You’d heard the doorbell while you were dressing, walking into the living room to find takeout containers spread out over the coffee table, and a shoujo anime paused on his TV.

“It’ll pass,” he spoke, tapping the spoon against your bottom lip and watching you take the steaming food into your mouth. Your eyes remained downcast, and he noticed hints of guilt tainting your features as you processed his words with inexorable disbelief.

“Mingi-“

“I know it’s difficult to see it now, so I’ll believe it for the both of us,” he held his lips to your forehead, your eyes fluttering shut and heartbeat erratic. Not because of anxiety, or dysphoria, but because of the overwhelming sense of tranquillity Mingi flooded into your chest so easily, the animation in your peripheral and the cheesy sound effects now masked under the faint movement of his lips over your face, planting kisses over the trail of tears rushing down the skin. “I’m here, (y/n). You don’t need to go through this alone.”

And you didn’t. Episode after episode played on the big screen, takeout containers and popcorn bowls resting empty on the coffee table while you remained encompassed within Mingi’s arms. The moonlight, aided by the warm hue of his standing lamp carved shadows over the drowsing man’s face, and you took in the slight part of his lips, pretty eyes shut as he explored the dreamland, limp arms somehow still firm around your figure, as though he couldn’t bear to leave you alone again, even while dormant.

The overbearing weight of your thoughts had long since mitigated, your chest rising and falling to the same rhythm as Mingi’s, and now that it was no longer overcrowded with taxing angst and negativity, hints of credibility laced themselves into his words. You ran your pointer over his knuckles—his fingers draped over your hip—a silent ‘thank you’ stuck in your throat as you mooned over the tomorrow he’d drawn out for you. A tomorrow you wanted. A tomorrow you didn’t dread. A tomorrow illuminated by a gentle sun, and a contagious, toothy smile.

[dirtybitfic]

So wrong yet so right part 4

contains- smutt , Dom matt, sub y/n, rouuuuugh, hairpulling, chocking, spanking, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation , use of names like~ baby, slut, sweetheart , good girl. (not proofread )

Y/n pov-

I wake up early today and went to a water fall with some friends since it so nice outside and we all wanted to have some chill time .

We smoked a bit and just listened to some music .

after a couple hours I had to head home so I could be ready for class tonight. All my friends tried to convince me to skip and hang out longer but I told them that if I skip this class id have to retake it next semester which is the truth but just not all of it .

The full truth is i'm way to excited to see Matt , I haven't stopped thinking about the way he made me feel and how good he looked between my legs . Ive had wet dream about it every night and the build up to seeing him in class today has been eating me alive.

I showered once I got home and threw on a cute but comfortable outfit.

I hopped in my car and sped to class since I didn't realize I had taken such a long shower and am gonna be late for class.

i'm gonna be honest i'm still kind of high from the waterfall earlier. I smoke with friends but my tolerance isn't super high so my highs tend to last longer than my friends.

I grab my bag and speed walk into the building and into the lecture hall . Matt is sitting at his desk as all the students are typing away at their computers .

I sit down a couple rows down closer to the middle of the room and take out my computer .

my phone buzzes in my pocket startling me a bit since the room is so quiet other than keys clicking .

I take it out and check it seeing its a text from matt

I look up at him before I look back down at my phone and open the text

"late to my class thats a call for punishment" it reads my face heats up as I gulp and look at him his eyes study me as his brows furrow .

"are you high right now y/n" my eyes widen . I didn't think it would be noticeable but I guess I was wrong.

I decide to text back and tell the truth .

"just a little bit i'm sorry for being late I lost track of time "

I look back up at him as he stares coldly at me and sets his phone down and looks back at the work on his desk .

I sigh as I start to write my next story.

i'm so entranced by what i'm writing I don't realize Matt is talking .

ms y/l/n I hear a stern voice snap .

my eyes snap up from my computer and I see Matt looking at me I slump in my seat feeling awkward

sorry I say before he starts talking again

so as I was saying class next Tuesday is cancelled so have two stores ready and submitted on Friday the deadline for turn in will be 11:30 okay have a good weekend guys ill be checking my email over the weekend if you guys have question or need help .

he says as everyone packs up and heads out . I sit at my desk about to pack up when I get a text from matt.

"stay in here I want to talk too you"

I sigh as I set it back down and wait for everyone to leave before I get up and head down to where hes standing.

so y/n would you like to tell me why you came to my class not only late but also high he says stepping closer so I have to look up at him.

I- well I went to a waterfall with some friends earlier and we smoked and it lasted a lot longer than expected so I lost track of time in the shower I got here as fast as I could I try to explain but he has an unimpressed look on his face.

hmm well your coming home with me so grab your stuff he says as he goes to his desk packing up his things.

I gulp

w-what why I -

he cuts me off

don't talk back just do as your told he looks at me with a stern look on his face and I instantly make my way but up the steps to pack my things.

he walks up the stairs as I finish packing my stuff and walk over to him and follow him out of the lecture hall .

we make it outside and he leads me to his car . My jaw actually drops .

his car is actually a fucking motorcycle . I never thought he'd be the type to ride a motorcycle but it makes him even more attractive .

you ever ridden one before he ask turning back to me with a helmet in his hands .

I shake my head no as he steps closer slipping the helmet over my head and fastening it tightly .

well don't be nervous you'll be safe I promise he says as he smiles at me .

he throws his helmet on and puts his bag in a compartment he has attached to the back of the bike .

he gets on first and turns to me

okay step up on this part and hold onto my shoulders and swing your leg over so your sitting on this part he says patting the leather seat on the upper back part .

I nod my head and do exactly what he said as I situate myself on the seat.

okay when were actually riding wrap your arms around my waist tightly okay he says as he looks back at me and I nod slowly wrapping my arms around his waste and locking my hands together against his stomach.

he starts up the bike kicking up the stands and pulls out of the spot.

we hit a stop light as we sit waiting for it to turn green I move my hand to his chest gently rubbing up and down feeling his muscles under his black dress shirt.

he groans and leans his head back for a second before looking back at the light .

after a second it turns green and we're off again .

we reach the backroads after about 10 minutes and I hold on tighter as we take the dark windy roads.

I always thought riding a bike would be scary but its actually very calming . The warm breeze feels nice as I blows over us .

I rest my head on his back as I watch the trees blow by .

we reach the turn into his long driveway and we make our way up the hill and reach there front of the house.

He reaches into his pocket and clicks something that opens up his garage as he rides in and comes to a stop turning off the bike .

he puts the kick stand down then helps me off safely and then gets off himself then takes off his helmet then helps me with mine.

so how did you like that he asks smiling as he smooths out my hair

its was actually pretty nice I say smiling up at him

yeah! not so scary as it seems huh

no not at all

good now lets go inside he says as he takes my hand leading me into the door from the garage.

We make our way into the kitchen and he grabs us both a water before handing mine to me and opening his chugging it .

I take a couple sips of mine before setting it on the counter .

soo... why exactly am I here I ask a little confused because I wasn't prepared to be coming here tonight let alone leaving my car on campus.

well I thought it'd be nice to spend time together he says smiling at me

oh I say as a smile creeps onto my face

is that okay

yeah more thank okay I say as he steps closer

good he says before leaning down capturing my lips with his in a sweet slow kiss

he pulls away smiling down at me

so wanna watch a movie he asks with raised brows

yeah sure I beam with a smile on my face .

he takes my hand leading me into a theater room with nice recliner chairs . This house is so nice there is no way the university pays him enough to afford this .

if you don't mind me asking is teaching the only job you have or do you have others cause this house is reallyyyy nice

I teach but I also own a business with my 2 brothers he says smiling at me as he looks through movies trying to pick the right one.

oh cool what's the business I ask as I sit down in one of the chairs .

um well we own 5 hotels , 4 apartment building a couple restaurants and some office buildings.he says nonchalantly like its no big deal.

wow thats... impressive I say as I smile at him

yeah its nice I guess I mean I wouldn't be able to own this house if all I did was teach

I hum in response.

so do your bothers live around here I asks as I lean back in the chair

yeah they have houses close by but they travel around for work so they are back and forth a lot he says as he pops a movie into the player and it displays on the screen.

I gasp when I see he's put 50 shades of grey on . Ive watched it many times but never in the company of anyone else for obvious reasons.

do you have any siblings? he asks as he comes over to me standing in front of me

yeah I have a brother he's around your age

oh nice you guys close?

mmm somewhat we don't talk that much but were as close as brother sister pairs usually are I answer as I look up at him

stand up real quick he says as I borrow my brows but do what he says

he sits down on the chair and pats his lap

sit he demands and I do .

I get comfortable as I lean back into his chest and he reclines the chair back and the movie starts.

halfway through I start to wiggle around getting comfortable but also from slight arousal setting in when the first sex scene plays.

mat groans as he grabs my hips stifling my movements .

Stop moving so much he grumbles into my ear. His voice so low and gravely it has me clenching my thighs.

sorry I say apologetically as I settle back against him .

as the movie goes on the more turned on i'm getting and sitting in his lap is driving me crazy. I shift back as I spread my legs over his own getting comfortable.

his hand moves to my thigh rubbing up and down gently causing me to sigh and lean my head back on his shoulder.

he nuzzles his face in my hair as his hand slides up closer to where I want him most.

doing okay he asks in a tone that tells me he's smirking

mhm I hum as his hand slides up even higher as his fingers graze my clothed pussy.

his hand moves up to my waistband and slides underneath as his hand reaches my soaked pussy.

I whimper quietly and he chuckles a little at my reaction

so wet he says as his hand slides into my underwear and he starts rubbing small circles on my clit

I whine and squirm on his lap as he slides two fingers into me and I cant help the loud moan that escapes my mouth. His fingers speed up pace as i'm panting into his neck .

f-fuck feels so good

yeah am I making you feel good he says in a cocky tone as his other hands goes to pull off my pants and underwear.

mhhhmm I whine as I sick off my pants and spread my legs wider.

he curls his fingers hitting the perfect spot that drives me crazy

f-fuck m-matt oh god I whine as squelching sounds fill my ear signaling i'm close.

yeah that feel good baby he whisper in my ear as he places a kiss on my exposed neck .

s-so good mmm I moan as he keeps moving his fingers expertly

f-fuck im go-gonna cum I moan out as I feel the pressure close to breaking.

you got it baby come on he whispers to me in a husky voice that has the pressure instantly breaking and my juices to squirt out all over the chair , his lap and hand and my thighs.

fuck thats so hot he groans as he works me through my orgasm

je-jesus christ I whine as I come down and he stops his movements pulling his fingers out .

be a good girl and clean them off for me he says placing them on my lips I open my mouth and such my juices off of them with a moan.

stand up he orders and I do . He pulls my top off then his own shirt and pants.

he sits and pulls me onto his lap as his large hard on pulses under me

I pull him to me by his hair into a hot and needy make-out . His hands move to my ass making me grind onto him making us both groan into the kiss.

The pressure his dick is putting on my clit has me whining into the kiss since i'm sensitive from my last orgasm.

we both pull away panting .

think you can handle riding me sweetheart he asks in a sickly sweet voice .

I nod and pull myself up so he can slide his boxers down

he slides then down as his dick slides out slapping his lower stomach as mine drops from the size of him. He's thick and pretty lengthy a lot bigger than anyone i've had in the past which makes me a bit nervous.

what's the matter he ask as his hands move to his base

n-nothing your just really big I say as I look into his eyes

he smirks at me as his eyes glisten with lust

I know you can take it baby come on he says as he spits down onto his dick and spreads it around then lines the tip to my entrance .

I slowly slide down with a hiss as I stretch around him . He groans as his grip on my hips tightens.

fuck your so tight he says as I whimper when I slide down over the thickest part . Im still shocked he isn't fully in yet given I already feel so full but after a couple more second I reach his base and gasp.

f-fuck I whine as I try and move my hips but the stretching pain still hasn't settled yet

its okay baby take your time he says as he rubs softly on my hips soothing me a bit.

I stay still for about a minute before I start slowly bouncing and the pain is gone and all I feel is pure pleasure

fuck so deep I moan as I bounce harder and skin slapping together can be heard

fuck just like that doing so good for me he groans as his hands move to my ass slapping it adding more pleasure .

I continue bouncing on him as I feel my orgasm rushing in and the pressure builds in my stomach.

fu-fuck im so close I whine as my hips stutter and my breathing execrates the closer I get.

yeah feels good fucking yourself on my cock like a good little girl he asks in a gravely voice that has me getting even closer as my legs start to shake .

so good fuck so fucking good oh god I moan as I lift off and my juices squirt out of me all over his dick and down my thighs .

good girl fuck cumming already he teases in a low voice .

I whine as I sit back down on his soaked lap .

legs tired sweetheart he asks as he tilts his head and smiles .

I nod my head and he picks me up and walks to to the door opening it then making his way down the hall to stairs leading up .

he walks carefully up the stairs then reaches another hall leading to double doors . Opening them it enters into a master bedroom .

he walks over to the bed laying me down on my back and pulling me so my ass in right on the edge .

He slaps his dick on my pussy causing me to moan .

He slides back in slowly before slamming himself into me deep and rough causing me to scream.

J-JESUS CHRIST

he smiles down at me as he pounds into me hitting my spot every time .

such a little slut taking my cock so well he says as he leans down to suck on my tits.

I feel myself getting close to squirting again and try to warn him but no words come out just desperate whines and moans.

I grasp his arm tightly as I feel my juices pour out of me and he groans

such a slut squirting all over my dick like that he mewls as he lifts my legs over his shoulders hitting even deeper .

FUCK - I-C-CANT YOUR TOO DEEP I scream out as he continues slamming into me so hard you can see a bulge in my stomach . I try and push him way by his chest but he just grabs my arms and pins them down easily overpowering me .

nah uh your gonna fucking take it like a good girl until i'm filling up this pretty pussy he growls as I moan and whine under him and my legs begin to shake before I release all over him again.

good girl keep fucking cumming only makes me wanna fill you up more he groans as he drops my legs and pulls out flipping me over so im laying flat on the bed he comes behind me slamming back in as he grabs my hair pulling my head up.

im moaning and whining unable to speak as overstimulation settles over me and tears well in my eyes.

who's pussy is this he groans into my ear as his thrusts get harder.

y-yours FUCK MATT -all yours I moan / scream out as he hits deeper and my ass presses back into him.

mmm that fucking right your all mine he groans as his hips art to loose rhythm and he smalls into me a couple more times before filling me up.

he pulls out groaning at the sight off his cum spilling out of me

you did so good baby he says before kissing my head and walking to the bathroom and coming back with a rag to clean me up.

you okay he asks as he cleans my legs off

mhm im great I say with a smile . He chuckles before he stands back up and throws the rag In his laundry .

he comes back and lays down pulling me into his chest .

tired sweetheart he asks in a sweet and soft voice .

yeah exhausted I say as I nuzzle into his chest .

lets get some sleep well shower in the morning he says before he shuts off the lights by the bed and we drift off to sleep.

tags~

@sophia-77n @riasturns @milasturniolo @junnniiieee07 @blahbel668 @sturnsjtop @skyslondon

[vioranhyperfixation]

Disable!Damian Al Ghul au 2#

Relation and insights within the family 1#

[=] Damian > Family

• Ra's Al Ghul, for Damian Ra's is no more than an authority figure within the wall they live and raise in. He has seen upfront what Ra's capable and will do to get what he wants so Damian always follow his word and try to get what he wants in the between of the leasure time.

He doesn't condone Ra's action but he try to do best with what he got.

Damian always act as the polite, kind, and perfect in every way other than his disabilities in front of Ra's when he actually rather brash and blunt in the inside. But he must do what he does to get what he wants, and if he needs to act? So must be it.

•Talia Al Ghul. His one and only mother, the most complicated relationship he ever have within all his year on earth.

He's grateful that she have keep him within her stomach for 9 month and done her best to raise him within these complex and screw up place, yet, despite that, he also resent her to make him for her own screw up plan. To be absent in his suffering in the excuse of though love as the best love to make you grow up. No, he's a child, what he needs is care and affection, yet that's not something that we can really do anything now can we? He love and hate her, for her beings the reason for his existence of the wonder of life and suffering.

In front of Talia, he also keep up with the perfect and kind child facade to keep up with the consistent of it so that no one suspects it, his complex relationship with Talia also help with that mask.

• Kaasib, his first younger brother that also the heir to Al Ghul name. This one is more simpler than the last, their relationship is based on give and take.

If one desire something from the other than the other will do so in exchange for a favor of similar level. And they can crash the favor whenever they feel like so, of course the deadline should also be considered within the current situation of the other.

On personal level Damian like Kaasib, although it's not the level of closure like one of a sibling, it's pretty nice overall in this environment.

• #011 [ Rafi ], his youngest brother and a lab experiment that his grandfather keep. To say it's pretty simple yet not as simple as his relationship with kaasib, but it's not that bad.

Damian is well aware of the damage his grandfather had done to him and pity #011 quite a lot, but it's not like he can do much. It's only after years of further studies that he can see more benefits in getting close to #011 as he starts his effort on investing on #011.

It a challenging task to have Ra's permits on seeing his experiment, but this Damian is not someone who back down in a gamble as long as it have 0,05% of winning, and win does he do.

Once he managed to get the permit and sees the actual thing he knew that he made the right decision, it might be a slow investment but it show a subtle rise on his investment insurance value.

For the first few visits all he does is approach #011 within a few feet and give him Trinkets and desserts until its engraved into his insuranc- #011 everytime he visits to be tagged with trinkets and desserts. Once #011 already familiar with it Damian start adding talking about every useful information that he deemed #011 need and that's continue until this day.

Damian love, I mean love, #011. I mean, you gotta love your insurance aren't you? There's no doubt that #011 will strive the most in this harsh environment and he needs to make sure he got the priority seat in the winner mind.

• Jason Tood, his biological father second adopted son. One might think their relationship will be more complex but it's as simple as his relationship with kaasib.

Their relationship is also along the lines of give and take, but they also have the addition of a caretaker part. That's addition come up from Ra's who decided that it would be funny if Damian the one in charge of Jason recovery, so we got that.

Usually Damian would just sit in his wheelchair while watching Jason do his own thing while working on his own work. He also give trinkets and desserts that's brought from his habit with #011.

+ #011 is respawn for this who don't catch on

+ Btw you can see which relationship I'm more fond of, the favouritism is real. And we stand by that.

[toomuchracket]

pregnancy scare with matty

oh this is birthday-party!matty coded... i mean, i did have them fucking with no pull out or protection whatsoever in part 2 lol (this is a long blurb btw)

it's been 3 weeks since matty and you first got together. 3 weeks of you seeing him as much as you can between deadlines and meetings and his interviews and writing sessions, 3 weeks of being an official couple, 3 weeks of fucking like rabbits when you get the chance. some of those times you've used protection, others you've gotten too caught up in each other to take the time to consider it. but you're in love. you're happy. you're talking about holidays together and hard launches on social media and house-buying. it's serious.

and then your period, normally so regular you could set your watch by it, doesn't arrive. and then the potential reality of your situation sets in.

you call matty to tell him that afternoon. he's at your flat within 20 minutes, the rising pitch of your voice on the phone an indicator that you were on the verge of a panic attack. he steers you by the shoulders to your sofa, grabs the personalised love island water bottle your friends got you as a joke and makes you sip its contents, hugs you tight to his chest as your breathing regulates. "shh, sweetheart," he says into your hair. "it's alright. you're alright. we're alright."

you look at him, eyes wide in disbelief. "alright?" you squeak. "matthew, we are not alright! my period is-"

"late, and you're never late, you said on the phone," matty nods. "but come on, darlin', it's not even been a day yet. and you've been so stressed with the manuscript and the deadlines lately - that can throw your flow, right?"

despite yourself, you snort. "throw my flow? who am i, azealia banks?"

matty pinches your side lightly. "leave me alone, i was just trying to make you feel better."

"you did, baby, you did."

there's silence for a couple of minutes, save the sounds of london outside, until matty mutters something so quietly you almost miss it. "would it really be so bad if you were actually pregnant?"

you open your mouth to say yes, but your boyfriend places a finger over your lips before you can. "i know, i know, the timing isn't ideal," he continues. "and we're not prepared. but i'd quite like to have a kid or two with you in the future, if you'd want that."

"yeah, in the future, babe," you reply. "not now!"

"i know, but it's still a nice thought. you've got to admit it, sweetheart - we would make a really fucking cute kid. cool, too."

you smile at the mental image, a toddler with thick dark curls, curious eyes like yours, and the cheekiest little smile on the planet, running towards you in black converse, holding a picture book. "yeah, we would."

"and you said i'd be a dilf."

another mental image - matty, shirtless and messy-haired, holding a tiny baby to his chest and singing softly. you sigh. "you would."

"god, you'd be such a milf. hottest mum in the playground," matty says, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "and wouldn't our kid grow up in the perfect scenario, with two parents who love each other as much as we do?"

you kiss his hand. "indeed they would."

matty pulls you into his chest again. "i'm not saying that it wouldn't be difficult, not at all. if you are pregnant, we'll deal with it however you want to. i'm just saying that i wouldn't mind having a baby with you, even right now, not at all."

you kiss him. "ok."

matty stays over that night. the two of you hold each other close in bed, the atmosphere still thick with nerves, but not the heavy kind. more like... butterflies. he leaves for work in the morning with a long kiss and a "relax", and you make a point of intending to. unfortunately, however, your stomach muscles start to cramp as soon as you close the door. "oh, shit."

you run to the toilet, where you discover that you are absolutely definitely not pregnant. still sitting on the lav, you call your boyfriend to tell him the news. he laughs and says "good good", but you're strangely melancholy. "is it weird that i'm kind of upset i'm not having your baby?"

"no, i made it sound great," comes the eye-rolling-inducing reply from down the phone. "but it's not that you're not having my baby - you're just not having it yet."

"well, we'll need to move house before we do. my flat's too small, and your house is too... concrete. can you imagine a kid having to learn to walk in there? christ."

"alright, sweetheart, noted."

[erythriina]

i hereby ask u about your fic. tell me about cannibalism and its implications with these sad old men

@m-the-funky-chicken

Y’all are too nice to me 😭🥰🥰🥹

The basic conceit is that Irving survives Hickey’s attempt on his life, and during Tuunbaq attaq at the failed trial, he and Tozer end up witnessing Collins’ death together. I was thinking of doing this for the Big Bang coming up, but I’ve decided I can’t make myself write this much on a deadline lol, this is just for fun

This gives Irving a chance to actually react to his entire worldview being shaken by experiencing this moment of true human kindness followed by an attempted murder — and crucially, now the most religious character gets to see a man’s soul sucked out of his body, yipee!

I’m very intrigued by Irving/Tozer because Tozer strikes me as a character with a whole lot of guilt, and Irving, as someone who is having to rebuild his understanding of the world through the lens of his faith, is in the perfect position to give Tozer the forgiveness he needs. I’m also fascinated by how easily Tozer is led when he is really and truly scared, and I think putting Irving there instead of Hickey—especially if Irving is the only other person who saw what he saw—makes some really interesting emotional ties. On the other side of the coin, Tozer is in a position to have a really profound effect on Irving while he grapples with everything that he’s seen and experienced.

Also post the events of the fic they adopt a puppy named Penguin, because it’s MY fic and IM driving (see below the cut😭💖)

All I have are snippets but I love them so much

[woodchipp]

Hi there! I came across your post dissecting Omocat's Motivational Speech. I decided to read it with a friend of mine and holy crap-HOW did ANYONE read that and NOT see this person as a horrible jerkhole?! Seriously, we saw WAY more red flags in this writing BESIDES the ones you pointed out?! I usually don't say anything, but I couldn't keep quiet with what was put here:

"the stress will be there. you can overcome it but it will not go away"

Why are they making stress as something that can never leave after encountering something that causes it??? It CAN go away! One simply just TAKE A BREAK FROM IT, or STOP DOING WHAT'S STRESSING THEM OUT! There's no reason to make stress out as this force that permanently looms over a person after introduction. If that's the case, more human beings would be dying from that (it's one of the aiding factors to a lot of serious health problems and a lethal one on its own)!

"The next thing is to know you are not alone on this. We have a team of, I don't now, 10 ppl here everyday working. I can vouch that you are all, for the most part, nice people."

For the MOST part??? So Omocat doesn't truly believe that the people slaving away in making their game, and are considered as FRIENDS by them, are nice people??? Guess that makes sense considering how Omocat treated them behind the scenes. Why show kindness to people if one doesn't believe that they deserve it, right?

"There are some people who have more work than others, so I ask for those who have a bit less on their shoulders to remain courteous. It's distracting and feels really bad to hear laughter or people enjoying themselves when you have so much wor to do."

This MAY sound reasonable at first glance, but my friend immediately point out that this is manipulative language to shame and guilt trip employees into not complaining about mistreatment or taking much needed breaks from working. Coporate companies LOVE to use this kind of talk to keep employees in line by playing on their sympathy to help their fellow man, and the fear of being singled out and hated by everyone in the workforce.

"Thinking of all the choices I made down the line could have led to a different possible worse situation. This kind of thinking needs a certain level of humility"

Oh really? Cause Melonkid DID suffer the worse situation from not only not being paid royalties, was mistreated while working on this game, but is being ganged up by former coworkers AND most fans of the game! On top of being lied on to be painted as mentally unstable! So uh...way to make this line moot, Omocat.

"Another thing that helps is the way I view deadlines. Deadlines are deadlines. They are immovable. They are above me, like higher beings."

THIS shocked us. Not only is it unprofessional to say such a thing to employees, but...WHY??? I'm not joking when my friend asked if Omocat's studio is stationed outside of America, because to portray deadlines as a deity when this is a LITERAL talk to a literal dev team? Yeah, that's cult talk.

"Think of deadlines as a demon you have to continually give nourishment and sacrifice to or else it will destroy our game/ And everytime you work on the game, finish something. you're saying fuck you to that demon"

Okay, these are no longer red flags anymore, these lines are just Omocat conditioning employees with cultist mentality to have control over them as they work on the game. Moving the deadline is impossible because it's a being higher than our existence, so stop asking to have it moved so you can rest. Don't you dare take anymore breaks than the limited amount I am allowing YOU to have, or else the "demon" destroys all our hard work and you will be to blame for it. That's what these lines are actually saying. In what way is this suppose to be motivating? In what way is this NOT evoking an ominous sense of danger from this person?

"It actually means so much to me that I have to pull back on a lot of emothons since I have a natural tendency to take everything to do with this game really personally."

Yet that's exactly what Omocat did with the Melonkid situation. Instead of handling the whole thing professionally, like a person who owns a business is SUPPOSE to do, they instead acted like this employee had ruined their life with handling financial affairs over royalties. Goodness, out of the many speeches I had read online out of controversies, THIS one was the most blatant in the person's true colors. The fact that none of the fans see this is beyond disturbing, it just shows the growing trend of victim blaming that is putting actual victims in danger. Yet, allow horrible people to take advantage of the narrative as long as they play things right.

holy shit I absolutely did NOT catch that "for the most part" part. that's peak passive-aggressiveness

Given that she apparently also mistreated her ex-manager (who was a friend of hers as well), I'm not surprised that this is the way she seems to treat people she considers "friends". It's still immensely disgusting, sure, but it's not all that surprising.

Personally, I wouldn't go as far as to claim that her equating deadlines with a demon is "cult talk", but yeah, I can't possibly see how such rhetoric is supposed to be even remotely motivational. "nourishment and sacrifice" Jesse what the fuck are you talking about

Also... how is giving the "demon" nourishment saying "fuck you" to it?what a thoughtful metaphor

my joke theory that the devs exhausted the Kickstarter money on huge amounts of weed is seeming more and more plausible by the day huh

The fact that none of the fans see this is beyond disturbing

As I've mentioned before, this kind of controversy would've completely erased any other developer off the face of the Internet by now. But since Omocat is responsible for making a game specifically tailored to appeal to the sensibilities of Tumblr/Twitter users, she's pretty much inviolable :)

[kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay]

A different kind of Haunted

Summary: You and your friends visit a haunted house, but what you find is not what you expected.

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x fem!reader (plus-size)

Warnings: 18+content, self-esteem issues/body image issues, stalking, obsessive behaviour, non-consensual sexual acts, mentions of loss (close family members), breeding kink

Word count: 8.6k (I am incapable of writing short things, forgive me)

A/N: This is my submission for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor's Halloween writing challenge. Bless you for making this challenge open-ended, truly, because I cannot meet deadlines for the life of me. Especially since my inspiration has died in a corner behind my closet and I couldn’t get to its rotting corpse until a few weeks ago. I managed to revive that little shit. It’s... different now but we gotta work with what we got, lol 😂

Anyhow, my prompt was “Your friends dare you to sneak into the old house said to be haunted.” 

I interpreted it in a way that may not be what you expect, but I liked the idea so much and I hope y’all like it too! ☺️

...

You blow out a low sigh, eyes tracking the clowd of your warm breath as it hangs in the cold air around you. Your hands are frozen, cold fingers curling around the edges of the book you're holding.

The end of October came with a harsh drop in temperature and to you it feels like nature decided to skip autumn alltogether to dive headlong into the cold, dark winter months.

If it wasn't for the colourful leaves scattering about the cold ground and floating through the air, driven by freezing winds, you could have sworn it is winter already.

You close the book – a rather lenghty novel you couldn't quite get into – and set it down on the bench next to you. Stretching out your legs in front of you, you supress a ywan and glance at the neatly arranged plants decorating the rectangular grave a few feet away from where you sit.

It had taken a while for you to get the hang of maintaining your parents' grave. Your eyes wander over the small, grey headstone that has their names and the dates of their birth and death etched into it. The latter is the same.

The first couple of months you hadn't done much of anything but sit at the grave and cry your eyes out for hours on end, but as time passed, you slowly gathered the shattered pieces of your being and put them back together in a manner that has you functioning more or less.

You did research on how to maintain graves, took walks around the graveyard to get some inspiration from the numerous other graves and eventually settled into properly taking care of the one that was, and still is, your responsibility.

This is the first time you actually planted some things instead of just putting loose flowers or arrangements on the slightly overgrown grave. It was a tedious task, but you still remember the sense of accomplishment you felt when you looked at the neatly groomed grave, long lasting flowers and greens framing the simple headstone.

The nice lady at the flower shop was really helpful with choosing the correct plants. You got a pretty Christmas Rose, an extraordinary kind with pinkish petals instead of the usual white or green, a pink heather, a plant with little red berries on it – gaultheria, you recall the name the florist told you – and a pretty ivy that had nice white edges instead of being fully green like the normal kind.

It's not overly colourful, but the flowers would survive the winter and make sure the grave doesn't look too bleak during the cold months of the year.

You shake your head, pulling yourself out of the reverie you had fallen into and push to your feet with a grunt, stiff legs wobbly under you. The book is stowed away in your backpack and you walk up to the grave, two fingers sweeping along the headstone.

“See you tomorrow, guys. Love you,” you say quietly, the familiar prick of welling tears promting you to quickly turn away and gaze out at the bench before leaving for the day. You will return tomorrow, as you do every day.

You tredge along the same path you always take, tall trees and bushes lining it on both sides. There's a quiet crack in the underbrush to your left, but you know better than to turn around and check for the source.

The first months you were terrified of walking along the quiet paths alone, jerking at every crack or rustle, but with time you learned that there's many a critter living in the hedges or tall trees growing everywhere on the large graveyard.

Birds, squirrels, bunnies, one or the other stray cat and more than a few moles call the graveyard their home and none of them are very threatening.

You keep walking, feet dragging across the path, fallen leaves crunching under the soles of our thick boots. After about five minutes you near the gate and pass it swiftly, stepping out into the street and leaving the eerie quiet of the graveyard behind.

-

“Guys!” Georgie screeches, wild curls bouncing around her round face as she hops over to the small group of girls standing outside their lecture hall.

The girls turn around to watch their classmate approach. She's holding a piece of paper in one hand, the other is waving at them excitedly. When she stops before them, she's a little out of breath.

“Look what I found! Now we finally have plans for Halloween!” the tall girl exclaims triumphantly and waves the paper in front of their faces. Nika, a short blonde, lets out an irritated huff and snatches the fluttering piece of paper from her friend's hand.

“Gimme that,” she says gruffly, annoyed at Georgie's excitable demeanour. She straightens the slightly crumpled piece of paper out – a flyer – and scans the text printed on the colourful background, obviously Halloween themed.

“A haunted house, really?” Nika snorts and hands the flyer back to Georgie. The tall girl pouts at the other's unenthusiastic response and holds the paper to her chest.

“What? None of you have come up with any good suggestions yet and we're not spending Halloween on Hailee's couch watching horror movies again,” Georgie argues, handing the paper off to Jasmine who is standing next to her.

“Where did you find this, Gigi? I don't think I've heard anyone else talking about this event,” the brunette asks, passing the flyer on to Hailee as you watch on, brows raised and growing increasingly curious about what it says on the flyer.

“The flyer looks real enough, there's even a date on it... Is there a prize or something for doing this? Or is that just one of these haunted houses someone decorated that you can walk through to get spooked?” Hailee ponders, turning the paper over, but finding the back blank.

“I don't know, it doesn't say on the flyer. But whatever it is, I'm sure it beats staying at home and doing nothing. We should go out a little, have fun,” the curly-haired girl shrugs.

“It says to brings warm clothes, snacks and something to sit on,” you state, brows pinching in confusion at the instructions.

“Oh, yeah. Read at the bottom. You're only allowed to go in one at a time. The others have to wait outside. I doubt you guys wanna stand in the cold and freeze your but off. Hence the warm clothes, snacks and something to rest on,” Georgie explains.

You skip to the bottom and read the words confirming what Georgie said. You hum and scan the flyer for the address. When you see it, you make a sound at the back of your throat.

“What is it?” Nika asks, leaning forward to look at the flyer again.

“I know where this is. It's next to the graveyard. The property borders on one side of it, I can see it from where I usually sit. Well, the part of it that peeks over the old fence anyway. That place is old as hell though. I don't know if it's safe to walk around there,” you note.

“If it wasn't safe, then I doubt someone would offer a haunted house tour. For free, too! I guess that means it might not be the most high-quality experience, but we can still have fun,” Georgie says.

“Mh, I suppose so,” Jasmine agrees with a shrug. “I don't have anything better to do anyway. Not planning on going to any of the campus parties, they get out of hand way too quickly. I don't like the rowdy atmosphere.”

“True. We could bring food and drinks. I have an insulated picnic blanket and with a few pillows we could set up camp in front of the house,” Hailee pipes up.

“I have a portable space heater! Don't want to freeze my ass off waiting outside,” Nika adds, still a little reluctant. She doesn't seem too convinced, but if the rest of the group is going to join in on this little venture, she won't say no.

“I can bring my portable speaker. Some music can never hurt,” Georgie says, a wide grin spreading on her face as her friends come around to her idea.

You sigh, still not too sure about this endeavour. The porperty was old, falling apart. And now apparently also 'haunted'.

“Come ooon, don't leave us hanging,” Georgie whines you name. She must've seen undecided expression on your face.

With a roll of your eyes you hand the paper back to her and grumble your agreement.

“Yay! Okay, okay, we'll plan this out later in the group chat yeah? I can make a list of things we need and everyone throws in what they can bring,” the tall girls says, stuffing the flyer back into her bag, already fully entering her planning mode.

You agree together with the other girls, the idea slowly sinking in. You suppose hanging out with your friends is better than holing away in your room to study or binge-watch whatever series catches your attention.

Even if the haunted house turns out to be a fluke, you still have music, food, drinks and your friends. That alone is more than enough for a good time. You'd enjoy it. Getting out of the house will be good for you.

-

The sky is already dark when you arrive. The soft glow of the few interspersed street lights do little to brighten the dark, eerie street.

The graveyard is located in a quieter area of the city, most houses in the close vicinity run down and abadnoned. No one wants to live anywhere near where the dead are buried.

You walk along the asphalt of the sidewalk, the old path uneven with many cracks in it where the roots of old trees broke through or an especially persistent weed fought its way to the surface.

You can already see your friends, hear them too, when you near the property. They already set up camp, so to say, a few lanterns and the space heater placed around the big blanket that sits in the middle of the overgrown lawn that sprawls in front of the wooden porch at the front of the house.

Georgie calls out your name when she sees you entering through the iron-wrought gate, the old thing creaking in its hinges when you push it open with a huff.

“Hey! You're the last. We've already got everything set up. Come one,” the curly-haired girl says cheerily, patting the free space on the blanket next to her.

You walk over and greet the others before plopping down on the blanket with a groan. Your thick puffer jacket swishes and bunches out around your middle when you sit down, the collar moving higher with the shift. You tilt your chin up and adjust the jacket so it doesn't cover half your face.

“That jacket really isn't flattering,” Nika points out with a half smile, not necessarily mean-spirited, but rather honest in an unfiltered way.

You roll your eyes and try to smooth down the puffed out front with little success. You instinctively try to suck in your stomach and straighten your back, but it doesn't change your appearance much.

“Don't be mean, Nika,” Jasmine interjects, sending you an apologetic smile while elbowing the blonde next to her. “Everyone looks a little round in these things, not only...”

Jasmine trails off, but you still hear the unspoken words floating in the air.

'Not only fat people'

Well, she probably would've phrased it a little more flowery, saying something along the lines of solidly build, chunky, curvy, soft, chubby or plump. Basically anything to avoid the word 'fat'.

You don't mind much. People need to get over the stigma that is connected to the word and you know very well you have a few extra pounds to you.

Most of the time it doesn't bother you too much, having taken the time to try your best and grow comfortable with your body the way it is instead of trying to conform to the propaganda society throws at you every waking hour.

But in moments like this, when someone points out your extra bits so blatantly, the old self-consciousness and shame come crawling back out of the hole you buried them in.

“It keeps me warm and it's comfortable,” you say, shrugging non-commitedly and hoping to move on from the topic before more old demons are stirred up inside you.

“That's what matters, practicality over looks,” Hailee says and points up at her knitted cap. It's green and has two eyes attached to it so the hat resembles a frog. You recall her telling you her grandma had knitted it for her when she was a child. It may be quirky, but it it's warm and comfortable.

“True, true,” Georgie says dimissively and then continues talking. “Anyway, now that we're all here, I suggest one of us should take the lead and get that haunted house experience.” She giggles gleefully, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she eyes her friends.

“The first is always the most exciting! The rest of us can can get started on the drinks and plating up the snacks. I'm starving,” Hailee adds, her green eyes glancing over to the pile of both home-made and bought snacks.

“Well, I guess that means you're going first,” Nika teases and nods at Hailee.

“What? Why me? I wanna eat first,” the girl whines. Nika snorts.

“You're the one who just said the first is the most exciting,” she retorts and then chuckles when she sees Hailee stick out her tongue.

“I don't wanna go first, I'm a crybaby. I need someone to tell me what's happening first or I'll pee my pants and die from a heartattack,” Jasmine declares dramatically, causing the rest of the girls to let out a mix of groans and laughter.

“It's just an old house, I doubt whoever organised what's inside put a lot of effort in,” you say and look up at the house looming over your group.

The windows are boarded up, a few of the shutters hanging only off of one hinge. The light blue paint once covering the wooden fassade is flaking off and the porch is almost overrun by wild growing weeds.

It is intimidating in a way, the sheer size of the slowly rotting building and the desolate windows that look like black maws giving it the typical horror movie feel.

“I don't even know if we're really allowed to be here. Maybe this belongs to someone. We could get in trouble for tresspassing,” you add, the thought only now popping into your head, rousing a whole new collection of concerns that start swirling in your head.

“I doubt it belongs to anyone. There aren't any signs and there was no indicator that said to stay away. The gate wasn't looked either,” Georgie says. “I mean, look at this place. I'm sure no one is missing it or would mind a couple of girls having a good time.”

She gestures at their surroundings and the other girls look around, mumbling their agreement.

You look around, too, taking in the wooden fence to your right. You know the graveyard is behind it. The rest of the property is surrounded by an old wire fence that has more holes than one could count. There is an old wooden shed towards the back of the garden on the left side of the house. The door is boarded up and the roof has a hole in it.

You let your gaze drift farther. Beyond the wire fence is a beaten path that leads past the property you and your friends reside on. You can barely make out a crumbling brick building on the other side of the path, this neighbouring building not looking any better than the one you are supposed to set foot in.

“I guess,” you agree reluctantly and shrug. Georgie rolls her eyes.

“I think you should go first, spoilsport. You can see for yourself there's nothing bad going on. Just a haunted house,” Georgie says and wiggles her eyebrows at you. You cross your arms.

“Why don't you go first?” you challenge, but Georgie just cackles and wags her finger at you.

“No, no, my friend. You're not getting out of that one. Come up, get your ass up,” she orders, digging her elbow into your side. You hiss and pull away.

“Fine, whatever,” you huff and heave yourself to your feel. Smoothing down your jacket, you make sure your phone is still in the pocket and straighten up fully. “If I die because some rotten floorboards give away under me, you're paying for my funeral.”

The girls laugh and you feel your lips twitch against your will.

“Just step lightly, you klutz. You're not that heavy,” Jasmine jokes and the small smile you wear quickly turns tense.

“Yeah, I guess not.”

There's a short moment of silence before Hailee pipes up.

“Oh! We should all take a selfie when we're inside. An additional challenge of sorts. Whoever gets the best picture in the creepiest setting wins!”

“Great idea, Hailee,” Georgie agrees and then turns to you. “Go on, we'll be waiting for you. You better get a good picture, too. I wanna make a collage with them so we never forget today.”

She shoos you away and you turn on your heel, waving over your shoulder as you walk towards the house. You almost prefer the house over your friends at the moment. They are nice enough, but some remarks are just needlessly rude. They just never seem to see it the way you do, telling you it was a joke or that you're overreacting.

“Get your crap together, this night is supposed to be fun,” you scold yourself and ascend the rickety stairs of the porch. When you approach the door, you see the same flyer Georgie showed the group a couple of days ago pinned to the brittle wood.

Pushing away any further hesitancy, you push down the handle and open the door. You can hear the girls shouting behind you, wishing you good luck.

You don't turn around, just step forward and let the door slowly swing back into place with a disturbing creak that echoes in the old house.

You take a deep breath and slowly walk forward, looking for any kind of clue that might tell you in which direction to go first. But there's nothing, or at least you don't see anything, so you set off towards the closest room.

It turns out to be a living room. The furniture is old, upholstery rotting and wood hollow from time. The floorboards groan under your feet, scattered paper and debris crunching under your boots. A stiff breeze rattles the windows and the entire house groans eerily.

You swallow hardly. There's nothing actually scary going on yet, no jumpscares or mysterious silhouettes in corners. And still, your fear mounts with every passing minute.

You don't like this anymore and you find yourself longing for some company. Going in alone was stupid. You should've just ignored the rule and went in teams.

Because now you are all allone in an old, creepy house, the rotten smell of decaying wood in the air and your mind playing tricks on you by making every shadow or foreign form out to be a creature waiting to bring your demise.

Whirling around, you quickly walk back out of the living room and enter the hallway you came from. Maybe you should just go back outside and pretend to having finsihed the tour.

You shake your head. They wouldn't buy it, you've barely been in here for five minutes.

As you stand and ponder over your options, still wincing at every unexpected sound or moving shadow, a flicker at the edge of your vision catches your attention.

You pivot and face the set of stairs leading to the first floor. There it is. A weak flicker dances across the wall at the end of the stairs. It's warm and unsteady, reminding you of a candle.

Your gaze sweeps along the other doors that lead away from the hallway and into more unknown rooms, then back to the flicker upstairs.

“Let's just get this over with,” you whisper to yourself, the sound of your voice loud and at odds with the symphony of creaks, groans and clattering that echoes through the house.

You head towards the stairs and start climbing them, one hand firmly on the rail should you slip or the wood give away. If you go upstairs now you'll be done quicker. You'll just have a quick look around, try to find a location for the picture and then leave. Easy peasy.

The stairs grown under your weight and you reach up to wipe your damp forehead, the skin wet from fear and worry. This whole haunted house thing is putting you through the ringer in a way you couldn't have antcipated.

Grumbling at your own silliness, you finally reach the top of the stairs. The light is brighter now and you look down both sides of the hallway. The flickering is coming from your left so you head in that direction, your heart pounding in your chest and a cold sweat breaking out along your back and under your pits.

'Maybe it's just some homeless people,' you think, your sweaty hands clutching at the phone you retrieved from your pocket once you reached the top of the stairs.

'Or a trick from the person who arranged this... It's nothing scary, nothing real. Stay calm.'

Tiptoeing towards the source of the light – a slightly ajar door at the end of the corridor – you try to measure your breaths. Every loud creak your steps cause make you wince.

“This is so stupid,” you breathe out. “Get your shit together.”

The door is right in front of you now and you take a few breaths, hyping yourself up and gathering enough courage to push the door open.

The wooden door moves ever so slightly under the gentle push of your fingertips and to your relief this particular door doesn't screech noisily. In fact, it glides open rather smoothly.

You peek around the wood, hands holding your phone to hard you're almost afraid the screen is gonna crack.

What you see is not at all what you expected.

The room, unlike every other part of the house you saw, is clean. There's no debris or paper littering the floor and the furniture looks old, but well kept. Like someone made the effort to patch it up and keep it in shape so it doesn't rot away like the rest of the furniture in the house.

“What the hell,” you mutter, pushing the door all the way open and straightening up.

A bed comes into view. The metal frame is a little rusty, but the mattress and everything on it looks new. This room lookes like someone's been living in it and while the house's dilaptidation couldn't be hidden entirely, it still looks decent.

The next strange thing are the candles lit everwhere, the source of the flickering you saw from downstairs. They are scattered across the floor around the bed, one candle is placed on each bedside table and a few more are placed on the other surfaces in the room.

Your eyes wander over the bizarre scene and you briefly throw a glance over your shoulder before stepping inside the room.

A window comes into view, embedded into the wall to your left. In front of it stands a wooden chair, a thing cushion placed on the seat. It's placed in a way to makes it seem like whoever put it there sat down on it to look outside. On the window sill sits a pair of binoculars.

Curious, but no less scared, you appraoch the chair and stand behind it to see what view would warrant the binoculars. You bend down a little and peer through the window and out into the dark.

It's hard to see outside, what with the candles inside the room reflecting off the window and the darkness of the night. Fortunately, the moon decided to shine in all it's glory that night, chasing away some of the impenetrable darkness.

“What...” you mumble, eyes honing in on the view.

The window faces the graveyard. It takes you a moment to realise it and when you do, you glance away from the view to look at the binoculars sitting on the sill. What on earth would a person be watching on a graveyard?

You carefully reach for the binoculars, another glance over your shoulder ensuring your solitude before you pick them up. As soon as you lift them from their place, you freeze.

Underneath the pair of clunky binoculars sits a sketch pad. The drawing on the first page is dark, drawn with coal by the looks of it. But that isn't what makes you halt your actions. It's the motive that chills you to the bone.

It's you, sitting on the bench by your parents' grave with a book in hand, your backpack sitting by your feet.

Dropping the binoculars, you hastily scurry away from the window. Your heartbeat picks up again, the organ thundering inside your chest, beating against your ribs frantically.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” you whisper, your sweaty fingers losing their grip on your phone. It clatters to the floor.

“Do you like it?”

You choke on a scream and jump. You heave out a cough and clumsily whirl around, feet twisting beneath you and making you stumble.

“Careful, sweetheart. You're gonna hurt yourself.”

A man steps past the threshold, his frame filling out the doorway as he ducks through and comes closer.

You want to scream, but you're still coughing up your spit, one hand pressed to you heaving chest as you back away from the approaching man.

His features are lit by the flickering candles, his huge body throwing an even bigger shadow against the wall. He raises his hands towards you and you finally manage to choke out a croaky screech.

“Hey, hey! That's not the reaction I was expecting, sweetheart,” the man scolds.

You try to make a run for it, your shaky legs compelling you to run, hide, get away from whoever this man, this stalker is.

Your efforts are quickly put to an end. The hulking giant of a man flings a thick arm out and catches you around the middle, yanking you back and cutting off your escape route.

You start to thrash immediately, your mouth opening to let out another scream. But before the sound can leave your lips and alert your waiting friends, the man's big hand clamps over your lips, sucessfully muffling the sound behind his huge palm.

Using his grip on both your face and midsection, he hauls your wriggling body against his, your back pressed to his broad chest. He meanly digs fingers into your face and you whimper, whipping your head side to side to try and dislodge his painful grip.

“I suggest you calm down, sweetheart. This is supposed to be a happy occasion. Can't have you ruining it with your hysterics,” the growls lowly, the sound of his voice rumbling against your back.

You shake helplessly in his arms, tears of pure terror welling in your eyes as you keep thrashing in this stranger's hold. Your breath comes in choppy pants your panic threatens to swallow you hole and you kick your legs out uselessly.

In a short moment of clarity, you lift your legs and drop your entire weight down, hoping to dislodge the tight grip the stranger has on you, but he doesn't budge. Not as much as a grunt comes from him as you let your limp body hang from his arms.

He lets out a chuckle, dark and condescending, and squeezes your middle until you wheeze.

“You gotta try a little harder than that if you want to break my hold. Not that you could, but I suppose it is a valiant effort,” he says, a mocking tone to his voice. His hold loosens around you and you suck in a deep breath now that you ribs are no longer constricted by his iron grip.

“It's not a fair fight, you see,” he continues, shifting his grip from your middle to swiftly gather your wrists in one big hand, bending your arms and holding them still against your chest. “I could hold you down with two of my fingers and you wouldn't be able to get away.”

He twists your around, his hand still holding yours captive against your chest, but his other leaves your mouth in favour of framing your vulnerable neck.

You owlishly blink up at him, your muscles trembling with the adrenaline cursing through them, tears gathering along the rim of your eyes. Your jaw is clenched shut, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Such a scared little bunny,” the man coos, his thumb stroking along the soft skin of your throat. “This isn't quite how I imagined this to go, but we'll make the best of it, hm?”

“What do you want from me?” you burst out, your jaw unclenching long enough to let the question snap out. You tug at your hands and try to take a step back, but the hand at your throat tightens to keep you in place and you sputter, quick to stop your movement.

“It's not about what I want from you, but what I can give you, bunny girl,” he says, shifting his stance slightly. The flames of a few candles close to you light up his face for the first time since he stepped foot inside this room and you see the sick smile stretching his lips behind the thick beard covering the lower half of his face.

Your eyes jump over his features, taking in the beard, the shape of his jaw, his nose and his eyes... His eyes, dark with wide-blown pupils that only leave a sliver of his irises visible. You can't make out their colour in the dim light, but you still recognise him.

A whole new kind of terror sweeps through you and you unwittingly start to pull at your wrists, fighting to escape his grip, his surprisingly strong grip. Not so surprising anymore now.

“Oh, the penny has dropped,” the man snickers, flicking his head to the side briefly to shake a strand of his grown out hair away from his eyes. It used to be short. And his face was always shaven clean.

“You see, being on the run is quite the tiresome task, sweetheart. Moving from one location to the other, avoiding the authorities, hiding in the shadows. It gets lonely, you know.”

He yanks on your arms and tightens his grip on your throat. He walks you towards the bed, pushing until you sink down on it, legs dangling over the side.

“I've been hiding out here for a while now. Months, to be more specific. It's bleak, boring. But I found something to entertain me. A little bunny that hops by my window every day and sits pretty just for my eyes to see.”

He's been watching you. America's hero, fallen from grace and now off the deep end too, has been stalking you, eyes following you when you sat unsuspectingly, visiting your passed parents, seeking out their lost affection, their comforting presence.

You feel sick, the terror knotting in your stomach as you struggle to breathe through the tight grip Steve Rogers has on your throat.

It really isn't a fair faight. He could snap your neck without blinking and you can't even get him to let go of your hands. Hands that he is holding with only one of his.

“You're lonely, too. So alone, no family left now that mommy and daddy are gone. But you're a good daughter, still. Visiting them, taking care of their grave. So good with your hands, sweetheart. The grave looks beautiful with those plants you picked out,” the Soldier croons, looking down at you with an adoring expression that makes you heart drop somewhere in the vicinity of your knees. He really is mad.

“Don't- Don't talk about my parents you freak,” you manage to squeak, a wheezing sound what with your limited ability to breathe.

“Mind your manners, bunny. I don't appreciate being cursed at. I made all this for you, as a surprise. To make our first time special,” Steve grits out, giving you a shove that sends you bouncing against the mattress.

His hands are finally off your body and you use the opportunity to crawl away from him, huddling on the other side of the mattress while catching your breath. Your throat throbs from his harsh grip.

Steve walks over to the door and closes it, then he turns around to face the bed.

“You need me, sweetheart. You just don't know it yet. I can give you everything you need, everything you lost. I lost a lot of things too. We can be good for each other,” he explains, his face shockingly genuine.

You can't believe what you're hearing. This man is bonkers. He lost his mind. You don't even know him outside his famous Soldier persona. He's a wanted war criminal. And yet here he stands, claiming to know you, speaking about whatever delusion he's crafted in that sick head of his.

'A wanted war criminal that has set his sights on me. Just my luck.'

“Don't look at me like that. I'm not gonna hurt you,” Steve declares and then strides over towards the bed. As he moves closer, he smoothly strips off the thick sweater he's wearing, then the black tank top underneath.

You just stare, frozen in shock. Your mind is reeling, muscles locked in a cowering position.

His thick, muscular chest comes into view, a layer of dark hair covering the taut muscle. Imaptiently toeing off his boots, Steve leans on the bed. Once they're off, he fully climbs onto the mattress, the soft material dipping beneath his weight and jostling you from your stupor.

“No!” you shout and launch off the bed, but not fast enough. A strong hand latches around your ankle, dragging your upper body back up on the back and towards him.

“No, no, no! Let me go, HE-”

A harsh slap whips your head to the side. Your ears ring with the force of it, the ceiling swimming before your eyes for a solid thirty seconds before you can focus enough to work through what just happened.

Steve is straddling your thighs, his teeth bared when he reaches the collar of your puffer jacket and rents the fabric down the middle, busting the zipper and tearing the dark material.

You cry out again. The side of your face throbs and Steve's rough handling hurts your arms, but you can't do much to deter him as he rips the jacket down your arms and then pulls it out from under you to discard it on the floor. Your pullover suffers the same fate, your bra swiftly following suit.

You start to cry, the severity of the situation finally dawning on you. Shaky arms try to cover your exposed chest, but the blonde man above you growls, slapping the weak limbs to the side and reaching out to cup the soft flesh in his calloused hands.

“So pretty, bunny,” he groans, kneading your chest and stroking your nipples. The sensitive peaks pebble in the cold air and from his incessant ministrations.

“Stop, stop, please,” you exclaim tearily, hands hitting at his arms and shoulders, your legs kicking aimlessly behind him.

“You'll be crying for me to touch you soon enough,” Steve says gruffly and rises from his perch on your thighs to flip you onto your stomach. He turns around, settling his weight on your lower back until you squeal in pain.

His hands reach for your jeans and he begins to roughly pull them down, taking your panties with them as he shoves them over the curve of your ass, the fabric scratching you roughly in the process. He wrestles your shoes off and in a matter of seconds you're left completely bare beneath his strong body.

Steve's hands crawl across the backs of your thighs, easily dodging you swinging calves, and then moves up to slap your ass, a delighted grunt coming from him when he watches your flesh jiggle.

“What a nice piece of ass. Love me a girl with some extra on her,” he says, greedily squeezing you bum and thighs.

You grimace at his words, a sob lodging in your throat. Your tears overflow as you're groped and prodded like a piece of meat.

“Please, please, let me go,” you quaver, but your pleas fall on deaf ears. Steve is intent on getting from you what he wants and there's no stopping him.

You let out a weak shout when he finally lifts himself off you back and turns you back around to face him. He's swift to push you further onto the bed and away from the edge of the mattress.

Your limbs start to flail, but he wrestles his way between your legs before you have a real chance to get away.

“Not going anywhere, sweet girl. You're mine,” the former hero rasps. He rests a hand next to your head, partially leaning his weight on you as his other reaches down to pull off his own pants and underwear. He kicks both off the bed, all the while pinning you down with just his torso.

You can feel the hot length of him touching your chilled skin. Every inch of his bare body touching yours sends a wretched shiver through you. You want to throw up, scream, cry. And most of all do you want him off of you. You don't want any part of him touching you, you don't want him looking at you, breathing in your face and cooing false promises. You want none of it.

In a last valaint effort you gather all your strength and start to thrash underneath him. You pull your legs up to your chest and kick out, hitting him on the shoulder before he can duck out of the way.

He raises one arm to shield his face and you take the opening, rolling to the side where his arm is no longer caging you in.

A feral growl rips through the burly man's chest as you slip off the bed. He lifts himself to his knees and lauches forward, just catching you elbow in his grip and yanking harshly.

You exclaim and stumble backwards, thrown off-kilter by the sudden pull. Steve doesn't hesitate to use your unsteady stance and brings you back towards the bed, his long arms wrapping securely around your body and dragging you onto the mattress.

“You'll learn to love it, you'll see. This is what you need!” the blond man barks, frustration bleeding into his features at your ongoing struggle.

Discarding any caution or gentleness, Steve wrestles you onto your side and spoons you from behind. His hard body molds against you back, one of his strong legs shoving between yours. He claps one hand over your mouth, muffling your protests. His other arm wraps around your middle, leaving you completely immobilised.

The only sounds audible in the candle-lit room are your heavy breaths and muffled whimpers. Tears still leak out of your eyes, drawing wet paths over your hot face.

“Hush, bunny. You'll enjoy this just as much as I will,” Steve promises gravelly. The arm around your middle shifts, calloused fingers finding your breasts. He pinches and strokes, giving the flesh the occasional squeeze as he explores you to his hearts content.

“You're perfect,” he grumbles, his lips seeking out your bared throat and pressing a chain of wet, prickly kisses to the sensitive skin.

You can do nothing but endure his touch, muscles still trembling but not fighting. You know it's no use. He's too strong, too big and fast. You'll never get away. If you let him, maybe he won't hurt you.

A tingle stirs deep in your belly when Steve gropes down your body, appreciatively squeezing every soft roll and dip along your side before slipping close to your core.

You tense, a loud whimper vibrating against the palm across you mouth. Steve just shushes you and shifts the leg he has lodged between yours, lifting it to open you up to him. Your soft thigh tenses against his firm, sinewy one, trying to force it back down to hide your most intimate parts from him, but it is no use. He's stronger than you.

“No hiding, bunny,” the Soldier grumbles, nipping your throat and making you squeak at the pain.

His hand reaches the curls on your mound, fingers continuing to dip lower until he reaches the petals of your sex. His middle finger seeks out your bundle of nerves with expert precision, lightly pressing on it and chuckling when you twitch against him.

He toys with the botton for a few moments before sliding lower, using his fingers to part your sticky lips and circle your entrance.

You're ashamed at the wetness gathered between your legs. It's not much, but it's there and you cringe at the feeling of the man's fingers dipping into it teasingly. A sad croak fights its way past your lips and Steve pats your pussy playfully, telling you not to be embarassed. It only heightens your shame.

“Your body knows what it needs, sweetheart. Getting slick for me, what a sweet pussy,” he sighs, the earlier tension gone from his voice.

You groan when Steve plunges a finger past your entrance without a warning, wriggling the thick digit around and pulling it out just to add a second one. He fucks you with his fingers, his thumb teasing your clit as he draws out your unwanted pleasure.

The tingle in your belly sparks into a flame and you helplessly wriggle in Steve's arms as the pleasure forced upon you mounts with every stroke of his fingers against you walls.

Small, unwanted sounds spill from you, little pants and whines sounding past the barrier of Steve's hand.

When the man crooks his fingers, shifting your legs further apart before plunging the digits back into your increasingly wet cunt, your back arches with a  squeal. Steve laughs gravelly and does it again, keeping up the motion of his hand.

You moan, tears squeezing past your tightly shut eyes as the wicked man massages your g-spot with unrelenting fingers. The action has you senseless. No one but you has ever managed to find this little place, much less work it with such precision.

Your body tenses, legs thrashing and arms aimlessly waving around while the pleasure mounts dangerously fast, winding your muscles tighter and tighter until you're ready to snap.

Steve rescinds the hand from your mouth, damp palm touching your hand when he gathers the flapping limb in his and intertwines your fingers in a sick gesture of intimacy. But the mounting pleasure inside you has you too distracted to fight it, so you let him hold your hand, your other one clinging to the duvet that is crumpled beneath your bodies.

“Come on, cum for me. I know you want to, your little pussy is squeezing my fingers,” Steve husks, chuckling at your senseless whines and gasps.

His thumb presses against your throbbing clit and with a few more strokes of his fingers, you fall apart.

“Yes! That's it, good girl, keep going,” Steve praises throatily, his hips bucking slightly against you lower back as you tremble in his arms, overcome by the most intense orgasm of your life.

It washes over you in waves and you're left boneless by the time the last of them passes over you. Your chest heaves, sweat dotting your brow.

Your mind is still reeling from the sensations you just experienced at the hands of this madman and you can do nothing but lie there limply when Steve shuffles away from you. You flop onto your back, your trembling thighs pressing together.

They don't stay like that for long, the blond's big hands prying them apart effortlessly. Not that you put up much of a fight.

He kneels between your legs and his hand reaches down to stroke his flushed and angry looking length, a few drops of precum bubbling from the tip.

He groans needily and adjusts his position, lining himself up to your glistening, puffy pussy.

You mewl pathetically, legs kicking weakly at either side of his hips when you feel the head of his cock nudging your folds apart.

“No...” you beg quietly, hands coming up to push at him. Steve wordlessly gathers your wrists in one hand and holds them against his chest. Your palm rests flat against his firm muscle and he leans over you just a bit, his free hand grabbing your thigh just above your knee and opening you up to his view.

He looks at your face when he tilts his hips and slides inside just a bit, marvelling at the scrunched up expression you wear.

He's big and the stretch burns despite his slow pace.

You whine low in your throat, the fingers resting against Steve's chest pushing at him, nails digging into his skin. He hisses at the sting but keeps pressing on.

“It hurts, please. You won't fit,” you cry out at last, hips twisting from side to side to dislodge him. Steve only tsks at your squirming and pulls back a little just to press forward again, inserting another inch into your spasming pussy.

“I'll fit, bunny. Don't you worry,” he grunts, letting go of your thigh to wipe away the tears rolling down your temples.

You grimace when he slides in even deeper, carving out a space for himself in your body, molding you to his shape. When Steve turns his hand to cup your face, you find yourself leaning into it, seeking comfort from the pain, the fear. Too bad that he's the source of it.

With a last jerk of his hips, Steve's entire length disappears into your straining pussy and you exclaim when you feel his hips resting against yours. He lets go of your hands and moves to grab both your legs, pressing them apart and up.

You feel horribly exposed to his hungry gaze, cringing at the way he stares between your legs when he pulls back and pushes back into you.

Every move of his hips forces a strangled sound from you, your chest bouncing with his still rather tame thrusts. He's savouring it, every push and pull through your quivering flesh.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Steve grunts, his groans and pants mingling with your squeaks and wheezes. His face is flushed, plump bottom lip caught between his white teeth.

He lets go of your legs after a few minutes of measured thrusting, dropping his upper body over yours. His cock slides out of you when he shifts and you whimper, your thighs immediately moving to close. But Steve's thick waist is in the way, so you endure the throbbing that pulses between your legs.

Steve settles above you, his hips cradled between your legs, strong arms to either side of your head. He briefly shifts his weight to reach down and line himself up again before pushing back inside with a throaty groan.

“Yes... what a good bunny you are, taking me so well,” he moans, his hot breath washing over your face. His hips move, finding a new rhythm and a new angle, one that has you seeing starts.

“Oh, oh... hngh,” you squeal out, hands reaching up to clutch at Steve's shoulders. “Fuck, oh.”

The man above you grunts his approval, keeping up his motion to hit your spot again and again, the tip of his erection sliding across with with every retreat and advance.

“There you go, doesn't that feel good? I told you I would make you feel good,” he growls, speeding up his thrusts and giving you no respite.

You babble, hands slipping along the Soldier's arms, unable to hold on to anything for long while he fucks you senseless with his sharp, angled thrusts. The fire in your belly ignites again, burning brighter with every stroke.

“Mh, fuck you're gonna make me cum,” Steve pants. His face is scrunched up, mouth hanging open as he revels in the feel of your wet, hot pussy clenching around him.

He leans to the side and reaches down, pressing his fingers along your slipper cunt, seeking out your clit and rubbing it earnestly.

You keen, back arching off the bed. It doesn't take more than a few rubs to make you come, your clit pulsing under his fingerpads as he keeps hammering away at your g-spot.

You let out a loud, gravelly moan, the sound quickly breaking off into a high-pitched whine when your pleasure peaks, a pressure unlike any you've felt before building in your belly and releasing with one last well-placed thrust.

You squirt all over Steve's cock, his pelvis and yours drenched in your cum as you shake pathetically underneath him, you hands slapping the mattress.

“Good fucking girl,” Steve growls, his eyes rolling back in his head when he feels you squirt over him, your walls bearing down on him as you tremble through your orgasm. “Fuck, you're perfect.”

He rescinds his hand from your overstimulated clit and drops down to his underarms above you, his hips bucking desperately against you.

You vaguely feel Steve's cock throb and twitch inside, followed by a primal groan above you.

The big man shakes with the force of his orgasm, unfiltered sounds rumbling from him as he paints your insides with his seed, pulse after pulse of it surging into you.

You moan weakly at the warm sensation of his spend, too tired and fucked out to listen to the alarm bells going off in the back your head at his actions.

Once Steve stops shaking, he lifts his sweaty face and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“You may have lost your family, but we can make a new one together. You will never be alone again, sweetheart. Neither of us will be.”

Your eyes snap open, your sluggish thoughts clearing in seconds as you stare up at the former hero, pinned beneath his thick body after he took you against your will and came inside you without any form of protection.

“You'll make a good mother.”

His eyes meet your wide ones, a wicked smirk curling his mouth.

“No,” you breathe out, hands lifting and pushing at his chest, body squirming desperately to dislodge his cock still nestled inside you.

“Yes,” Steve hisses, snapping his hips against yours and wriggling them from left to right, letting you feel every inch of his rapidly hardening length. He does it again, cutting off the sob rattling in your chest and replacing it with a choked moan.

His hands wipe at your tears and he coos at you, shushing your sad, terrified sobs as he keeps working his hips against yours.

“You'll love it, trust me. I will take such good care of you.”

...

Ooooop, that was quite the wild ride 😆 I wrote this monster in one sitting and I did not proofread a single sentence. I cannot bring myself to care. Y’all are supposed to enjoy the story, not my immaculate spelling, lol 😳 (it’s not immaculate, it really isnt. And don’t get me started on punctuation...)

Anyhow, let me know what you think! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated! 🖤

[askbensolo]

Do you still talk to Fannie and Amalia? If so, how are they doing?

I still talk to Amalia, yeah! We don’t talk that often, but we send each other memes and stuff. She lives on Coruscant now, which is where she came from before Luke found her. This is gonna sound weird, but she like, switched religions, kind of. Apparently there’s a religion of non-Force sensitives and semi-Force sensitives who revere the Force, despite not being able to feel it or use it to make things float and all that.

I don’t really get it. I asked her what the difference was, between that and being a Jedi. Or why you’d devote your life to the Force if you weren’t gonna get a lightsaber and mind powers out of it. Or why she’d join a community of non-Force sensitives, when she used to be such a powerful Jedi-in-training.

Amalia said that as a Jedi, she was always focused on how to use the Force, but now, she thinks more about how the Force uses her. The Force, to her, is less of an energy and more of a divine being with its own will, whose will we ought to discern and follow. And then there was some other stuff about how she thinks the light side/dark side balance thing isn’t actually true, that what we call the light side of the Force is really just the Force itself, and…well, it’s way over my head, so don’t ask me.

I don’t know, I guess it’s kinda interesting. But I’m a little more interested in paying my bills and hitting work deadlines right now.

One thing’s clear to me, though. Amalia is way happier than she used to be. More chill. And nicer. Doesn’t stop her from roasting me all the time though—which is good, because I’d hate to lose such an integral part of our friendship.

As for Fannie…well, she and I aren’t really in contact anymore. She went to Ryloth to work with a Twi’lek anti-trafficking organization around the time that I left for college, and things haven’t really been the same between us after that.

Fannie and I used to be real buds. She always saw the best in me (even when I was being a jerk), and showed a lot of care for me that I hadn’t really experienced before. We became even closer after she broke up with her boyfriend Deirak because of their differing plans for the future (she was set on returning to Ryloth, and he wanted to stay with Luke and be a Jedi teacher).

Even though Fannie was the one who ended things with him, it still made her really sad, so after the breakup I spent a lot of time with her and listened to her cry and invited her to hang out with my family and took her on walks a lot. (Looking back, I can see why Deirak stopped being nice to me around then. Whoops. Sorry bro.)

Anyway…after I went to Naboo and she went to Ryloth, being in such different worlds—I mean our lifestyles, not the planets—put kind of a strain on our friendship. I was complaining about writing essays, and cramming for finals, and enduring my stupid stupid stupid Nonhuman Studies courses where everyone was like “Ben is a human so his opinion on Hutt crime lords is invalid”—and Fannie was like, “Oh yeah, I helped deliver a baby today. I went on an undercover mission to help a woman escape her slaver.”

Awkward.

It’s not like we fought over it or anything. But…there was just this…disconnect, and we both were really busy, and eventually we kind of just…stopped talking.

Well…okay, maybe I was the one who stopped replying as much. And then I got anxiety whenever I opened our messages and remembered I hadn’t replied in over a month.

She did reach out to me last summer to ask if I graduated. I was like, “Haha, yeah!” and she was like “Congratulations!” and I was like, “Thanks!” and that was that.

I do think about her a lot though. I think I could have been a better friend to her. I wish that I had supported her more, instead of focusing on myself and feeling self-conscious. Sometimes I think about reaching out again, but…I don’t know. It’s been a long time. I’m still busy, and I’m sure she is too. Maybe that friendship just ran its course…

[sodabranch]

That one Anon back at it again with more thoughts about the handsome fella who deserves the world and a kiss on the cheek. Hope to give you some motivation for your lovely work :)

1. An employee taking off their headgear and Justice getting all giddy from finally seeing a proper human face, after so long! It slowly reaching in to feel their head, because of how soft they always are.

2. Justice daydreaming about a nice future with its buddies, as it watches them sleep. Wouldn't it be nice to return to that life within a proper home for all of them, no more tacky suits, plenty of space, and an actual kitchen?

3. A scenario where Justice comes to realise the gravity of the situation, overhearing the employees talk of the consequences of not meeting quota and the fear for their lives. Already troubled by the loneliness of Dine, it causes a snowballing desperation. It can't go back to that!

There has to be more scrap, than what the employees typically collect, right? If it takes out those turrets, that's extra. If even tattered sheet metal is worth something, how about Justice tears some more off the moon bunkers' interiors? Perhaps, even those enemy nutcracker parts are worth a pretty penny.

But what if they come just short, after already selling all they had? Then, it can... rip out an arm of its own? Whatever keeps them alive for just a few more days...

Justice considering the possibility of if one could override the ship's systems, removing it from Company control, and escaping this hellish job.

And what if an employee dies? Would Justice be in denial, trying to wake them up, retrieve them, or tend to the fatal injuries, or would it understand right away?

4. Ending it sweetly: Justice may or may not understand human relationships, but knows an engagement ring is a great sign of love and trust. It finds one and presents it to its master. And they're keeping it! Never giving it to the Company!

At this rate, I may as well ask you permission to have Justice's hand in marriage.

Anon I'm going to have to give you a name you're like an acquaintance now First off: Justice love is for everyone !!!

OMG yes I literally cannot imagine its excitement after seeing a human face for the first time in many years. Ofc, you can kinda make out what pepople look through their visor, but with the darker tint,, it's just not the same,, It would examine all your factions, trying to remember every little detail it can: the colour of your eyes, how your hair looks, any distinctive marks;; then cherish that image for as long as it can

AHWHHAHSDHSDHDHS AND THE DOMESTIC SCENARIOS <3<3<3 no more worrying about reaching the goal at the end of the deadline,, finally realizing it is no longer serving, but rather being part of the group,, like a found family kind of deal ;;_; Spending time indulging in everyone's hobbies, taking interest for their routines and the things they all have to say and do,,,, OUGHH psychic damage,,

3. AND um this um this ¿¿???? like, first, I still believe Justice doesn't understand human emotions 100%,, but it can sense the tension and dread setting in as time progresses, this is kind of an unlucky week,, so it will do whatever to aliviate the crew's load. From risking it staying just a bit overtime (Careful with the hounds D:) to taking extreme measures and trying to sell its precious rifle,,

And ofc the arm thing :o like, being semi-biological it could theoretically replace it with another one... but this also means it will hurt.. a bit too much;; anything for the well-being of the team

bonus:

and well, death is a pretty complicated topic. It does understand the concept of death, it has witnessed it and has even been the cause of it,, but the difference is in lacking the proper knowledge as to what death really means... If it were to happen to one of its teammates it will first try to do whatever in its power to try to remmediate the situation,, in a state of pure panic like, trying to resusitate them, carrying them to safety or looking for help;;, once it realizes nothing can be made you can only imagine the unbridled rage it will feel. This being one of the only times it has been seen showing this emotion aaaaaaaa

(I can speak more but I don't want to make this too long hhsfhhfhfh)

4. YESS YESS i mean, human relationships have kinda always been present in its life, to taking care of a family to seeing its crewmates interact. This doesn't mean it is that well-versed in the subject, But just finding this shiny object on one of their excursions and thinkign it is really beautiful,, it has already seen something like this before, people gift it to each other as a sign of loyalty and total devotion so someone special in their lives! This made it immediately drop whatever it was doing at the time and go out looking for its master, finally finding them on one of the many corridors of the structure,, dropping on one knee (it guesses this is the proper way to do it??) and giving them the ring AHJSHHSD omg brainrot

[balladoffairytales]

I really like how the pjo tv show built up Poseidon's character. From the very first episode to he actually shows up on screen in episodes 7 and 8, we hear a lot of conflicting information about him. The show does a good job balancing between validating Percy's deadbeat dad feelings and setting Poseidon up to be an actually good person, so that when he surrenders to save Percy's life it doesn't surprise anyone.

We first hear about Poseidon from Sally. In her whole telling Percy his dad is a god speech she describes him as wise, brave, kind and noble. all good things. We then get Medusa who at first seem to be corroborating, she says "he told me he loved me, I felt as though he saw me in a way i had never felt seen before". Before she switches it up and calls him a monster. A thing to note here is that Percy defends Poseidon here he says "my mom never talked about my dad that way".

Then we have the arch and the Nereid, which is the first time Poseidon directly intervenes to save Percy's life and at the same time sends someone to talk to him. While we do not get the whole conversation we do hear that Poseidon does care about Percy and is proud of him. And next episode we learn that Poseidon does want to meet Percy and help him. Its also here Percy's feelings toward Poseidon change from bad to good.

But its also the episode where Ares says Poseidon loses interest in his kids and stop caring about them. Then we get Hermes and his parenting speech and them missing the deadline. and we meet the Nereid again (or another one?) who again talking on behalf of Poseidon says he is proud and it isn't Percy's fault he failed and tries to get him to get back to camp where its safe.

At the end of this its leaning pretty heavily toward Poseidon being a good person now, but because of all the negativity thats been thrown around. it isn't until he shows up in the flashback scene that that gets firmly established. I really thought before then that the first we would see of Poseidon would be on Olympus but im really happy to be wrong because this set things up in a really nice way for it all to culminate on Olympus in the finale.

[partylikemajima]

I'm reading Wool and I'm starting to see points the book has done way better than the show. And vice versa. Mind you I'm not half way yet but at the part where Jules is sheriff.

❗️Spoilers for the show and Wool Book 1:

Like the depths of Marnes's and Jahns's relationship is shown more in the book and means more.

The way Lukas is shown in the book is so much more intimidating and interesting than in the show.

Also the generator repair was a different kind of intense in the books than the show. In the book its a silent, people holding their breathe, a few days deadline type of intense. The show was hold your hair hoping nobody gets their head chopped off intense. I like both.

I like they played up the mystery of Benard for the show, also him being a tall person added to his sense of a helpful nice guy but actually he isnt. In the books from the get go you can tell he knows so much shit you cant fathom and every character feels it.

Shirley has a husband?? I really like her in the show, not read much of her in the book.

The book really makes you feel how difficult it can be to travel up and down the silo, how tedious and labor intensive it is.

Theres more 'outside' screens.

Holston's death in the book is so heart-wrenching. Like in the show its very sad, but in the book? We get to read exactly what he went through and what happened and I felt like crying omg.

Hardly anyone watches the cleanings unlike the show. Though theres a party afterwards as a relief they weren't chosen to go outside (so odd never occured to me that they end up choosing someone to go out, like i think the sheriff chooses out of people with a really bad record? Holston mentions something like finding someone to clean cause of the sensors blurring.)

Also Allison talks to Holston calmly about her suspicions before the whole scene in the cafeteria.

There's no birth control scene of her taking it out, its just she runs from the computer to the cafeteria begging to go out.

George isn't a main character, just a past Jules finds hard to talk about to herself, a lover she lost. (Idk if theres actual conspiracy in the book like the show, but so far its just case closed thing she doesn't suspect any foul play).

Marnes WANTED Jules to be sheriff. Benard did not.

I will say I've been finding it hard to get into new stories lately but since I watched Silo, imagining it in my head helped a lot with reading the book so far cause I already have the scenery. I always imagine the scenes in my head for reading but sometimes its hard to grasp with stories new to me. This was almost seamless for me. Great writing.

[mauesartetc]

Hi, hope you're doing well. I'm creating planet ocs, and I kinda have a problem with one of them : venus.

So a theme I wanted for all of them is for them all to have some changes in their body (body patterns, wings, etc) because it's important to their story. but I haven't really gotten good ideas for what to give venus. And I'm also worried if whatever I give her will just make her design look more complicated. For help, she has love based powers ( hence the hearts) and she can create poisonous gas (hence the clouds on her skirt)

Also bonus question: is her design animation friendly?

Nice! You might try researching how the planet Venus has changed over the eons to give yourself some hints for how the character might change. Also, it would probably help to figure out what her arc in the story looks like. What's the lie she's telling herself, and how will she see past that lie? What does she need to learn, and how will learning it help her grow and change as a person? Once you know the inner change, you can reflect it in the outer change. And yeah, if you add things to a design, it's only natural it will grow more complicated (though not necessarily in an unmanageable way). But what if her transformation subtracted from her form instead? What if, in casting off the trappings of who she thought she was, Venus becomes who she was always destined to be?

(Just spitballing, obviously; it might not be right for the tone of the story, but it's something to think about.)

To be honest, because the color of the hearts is vibrating so much against that orange, I couldn't read them as hearts at first. I thought they were just circular spots. And because the hearts are so saturated, if we look at the image in grayscale, they disappear completely.

If the hearts had more value contrast against the orange, they'd stand out more clearly. When one color is indiscernible from another in grayscale, that's how you know one of them needs to change.

It's also worth considering if the heart shape that's so ubiquitous with earthlings would mean the same thing to someone whose theme is based on another planet. Are hearts a common symbol of love in her culture? Might she represent love with something else? If she'd keep the hearts, though, you might make them more present in the actual form of her skirt rather than just markings on it, so they have some sort of impact on the silhouette.

It might also help if her eyes were spaced farther apart for visual clarity. They kind of blend together when viewed from a distance.

Went ahead and tightened up the overall anatomy a bit as well (especially in the shoulders), just for a touch more naturalism and believability. (Also note that knowing a character's basic forms will help immensely in animating them.)

In terms of animation, I'm realizing that when people ask me if a character design is animation-friendly, the most direct yet all-encompassing way to answer that is with another question.

"Would you animate it?"

If the answer is no, the design needs to be streamlined, because it wouldn't be fair to give yourself (or others, if it comes to that) an unnecessarily laborious task. Animation's already a ton of work on its own without overly-complex designs making it more difficult, though of course the level of detail will also depend on the budget, deadlines, and the story's tone. I mentioned in another post that the Castlevania series had some pretty detailed characters, BUT the team cleverly compensated for that by using limited animation the majority of the time, only pulling out the big guns during the action scenes. So there are a lot of variables involved, but ultimately I think the first question to ask yourself is if you would be okay animating this character.

Hope that helps!

[rhine-gold-archive]

I know you don’t usually write this kind of thing, so feel free to ignore if it’s not something you’re interested in

What would Diluc, Thoma, Xiao, and Kaeya’s love languages be?

I can write you some analyses, if you don’t mind that it’s quick and rough haha. also, tumblr doesn’t let me insert read more for some reason, i’m sorry for length??

Diluc

Diluc’s love language is Doing Things For You, which ranges from just generally being useful to dealing with problems and being protective, sometimes overbearingly, but what he himself recognizes as love language are specifically Grand Gestures. 

Caveat: Grand Gestures do not mean “expensive”, Diluc has so much money that he doesn’t see spending it as something special, no matter how much. 

Grand Gestures are also not something done publicly, Diluc likes to keep his most important things secret. 

No, Grand Gesture has to be a) done for the specific person only b) by Diluc himself c) require considerable effort from him. 

Examples: creating a cocktail for someone and asking them to name it (high friendship teapot), climbing mountains on his own birthday to collect rare berries and then cook a special dish with them for dinner (birthday letter).

The problem is that with these conditions it might sometimes be difficult to realize that the Grand Gesture is happening, bc Diluc himself is not gonna tell you. Sometimes you can deduce from context that he spent a lot of effort on it, but the context won’t always be obvious. 

He’s constantly giving himself mental grades for everything he does, and especially for Grand Gestures, and unless the person he’s doing it for explicitly compliments him on a good job, he’s gonna decide he failed by default and forever remember how he disappointed his loved one. 

(I will never get over the coffeeshop event where he was like “when I mixed my first drink as a small child, my father didn’t tell me that I succeeded, which means I failed a test of creativity.” MB YOUR DAD JUST WANTED U TO PLAY WITH SYRUPS FOR FUCKS SAKE)

So yeah, its better to err on the side of more “good jobs”. The man has a praise kink the size of Mond’s cathedral anyway, so can’t go wrong with that.

Thoma

Thoma’s love language is also doing things for you, but specifically small everyday things. 

He’s very perceptive and great at reading ppl, so he notices what you like and dislike, and accordingly surrounds you with your favorite things and removes annoyances.

It might sometimes require a lot of effort on his part, but he’ll never say it

Like you can mention that you love some rare jam at the cafe and next week it’s at your home and Thoma’s like “haha yeah, I found a place that sells it:)”, but actually he had to make three different deals and blackmail a merchant bc its not normally sold in shops 

Your biggest cheerleader, incredibly supportive in all of your endeavors, if you have a deadline or big project coming up will try to do everything so you can focus on your thing with most comfort

Source: have you met him?

He also can find positives in any situation and will try to improve your mood if you’re feeling down

Like, what are you gonna do, NOT smile and feel better when he gives you a kitten in a knitted sweater?

Each separate thing might be small, but together they all create a protective golden bubble of warmth and positivity, that significantly improves your quality of life, even at the moments when he’s not around himself

Bc like you go to make tea and there’s your favorite tea, and your favorite jam, and the leaking water pipe was fixed without you even noticing, and there are fresh-baked cookies shaped like hearts and puppies

An off-field pyro shield, you might say adfhjkdfg

He also likes showing you his favorite places and just generally sharing nice moments together, esp if he thinks you need a break (hangout, high friendship teapot)  

Xiao

Xiao is a weird case, because he sees himself only valuable as a weapon, so he doesn’t think that trying to do something nice for other people would lead to anything good. 

“You believe a Yaksha who knows nothing more than how to massacre countless souls and emerge unscathed is a suitable mentor for such an individual?” and so on and so forth.

So like the closest he gets to love language is actually this:

“If you awake to a knife at your throat, if monsters dig their claws into you, if death comes knocking at your door, call out my name. Adeptus Xiao. I will be here when you call.” “If you encounter a difficult situation, don't be stubborn. Call my name. I will make it right.” “I deal in death. If you cannot bring yourself to kill — speak my name.”  “I'm willing to protect you. But don't think about getting close, and stay out of my way, or all that awaits you is regret.”

Which is not just protectiveness, but like his specific brand of willingness to blacken his soul even more so you don’t have to, while getting nothing in return. So yeah, even Xiao’s love language is basically angst lmao.

Though to be fair, once he gets over the fact that someone likes his company, he becomes curious and goes out of his way trying to understand them. He doesn’t see this as an expression of affection, more as a research, because it’s easier for him to rationalize it like that.

“It's too late. The connection between us is too strong. Even if you wanted to, it's too late to sever it. Hm? You've never thought to sever it? *sigh* This eternal dance of demon subjugation... My fight goes on. But I would like to know more about you.“

And the high friendship teapot dialogue, where he asks to go to Liyue together “The stories of these times, or their joys... If I don't experience such things myself, it'll be hard to understand your thoughts. So... you're doing this for me?  Xiao: Yes, to understand you.”

So he starts going out of his comfort zone to do things together (tho probably grumbling the whole way)

Kaeya

Like in most aspects, Kaeya contains multitudes. On the one hand, he is a hedonist. 

 Kaeya:  I have to say, though, that chatting with you is quite intoxicating...  Kaeya: Actually, in much the same way that drinking is.  Kaeya: So, I suppose... I'm just greedy and want to enjoy both of these pleasures at the same time. 

So all in all, I'm just another layer in your cocktail of pleasure? Kaeya: Hahaha... What an interesting metaphor! I hadn't looked at it from that angle... Kaeya: Let me think... Kaeya: Hmm... Your analogy seems largely correct.

He will want to create moments combining as many pleasurable things as possible, but he will want to know that he is the most enjoyable thing for you in a situation. 

In a boring\shitty situation, unlike Thoma who will try to find positives in it, Kaeya will try to become a positive thing that offsets bad parts himself 

He’s naturally charming and talkative, likes making compliments and teasing, finding out things about other people, hearing you talk about your day and share problems (“Nothing would make me feel prouder than knowing that my words of advice are of some help to you. That would imply that you trust me and proves that I am capable of helping you solve your problems.” - it might sound exaggerated, but it actually isn’t, I’ll get to that) 

He also loves storytelling and has a knack for it (second birthday letter where he offers to entertain with stories, ghost anecdotes, loves telling stories to kids, obv to Klee, but apparentely just likes telling fucked up scary stories to Mond’s children, Kaeya, just become a horror writer and stop giving kids nightmares ffs)

So he likes telling stories, from horror stories to life anecdotes he’s got from the tavern to retelling the books he’s read, and he’s funny and imaginative enough to make anything sound entertaining.

In sum, Kaeya’s love language is literally enjoying each other’s company, settling in a nice place with a bottle of wine and talking hours away about everything and anything, and knowing he can keep you happy and entertained

On the other hand, as i’ve said, he is a book nerd and he loves sharing knowledge. He has to hide his origins, and he obv hates it, and as an off-set he likes sharing his experience. 

Like, Kaeya prioritizes giving advice and teaching what he knows to someone to help them learn how to deal with a thing instead of just doing it himself, so they can handle it even if they leave him later. The “give man one fish, teach man to fish” philosophy. 

Sources: wrote “rules for survival” for Klee, “In fact... would you like me to compile a guide for you...?  It would contain all kinds of practical knowledge for at home and on the road, including the techniques I have developed for communicating with people from all walks of life. I'd like to share it all with you.”

idk how ppl think he’s just a shallow flirt, he literally offers to write a dedicated book for you unprompted, can you imagine how much effort, like??

But also imagine getting personalized “Manipulating People 101” in a beautiful handwriting asdfghjk what a nerd

No shit, if Klee was growing up at a normal rate, in her teens she’d have like 20 lovingly written textbooks like “How to use your innocent appearance to get away with anything”, “Calculating possible property damage from bombing,” “How to pin pyro damage on Darknight hero so Jean doesn’t get mad at you”.

He also likes doing nice things for ppl, but when he does nice things he likes to give credit to others or make it seem like he wasn't intending to do a nice thing and it just *happened* to end up like that, for like variety of reasons that i'm not getting into rn bc it's already too long lmao

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Bruce Wayne talking with Teddy!verse reader?

"Listen," you sigh and shift the phone to your other ear, "I'll write the script for it but- Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungeon is too recent for Oubliette." You pause and wave Bruce in through the back door with an apologetic smile as you over your phone with your hand for a second. "There's tea in the fridge, help yourself. I'm almost done."

He nods, taking a second to look around as he rifles through cupboards for a glass. It's a nice house. New. Built to your specifications, according to Jason. Not as modern s he might have assumed but- cozier. Warm. Plainly built to be a family home. A comfortable place. And that set his mind at ease somewhat.

"Ok," you hum, "But what kind of portentous? Like creepy portentous or just- big and bombastic?"

Bruce half-listened to the conversation and watched you pace. He didn't know exactly what "hiatus" meant when it came to your schedule, but he'd assumed it meant not being at work at all. Evidently, it meant you just had more free time and didn't have to physically be in the building. He glanced at your laptop and the papers and notebooks over the scrubbed kitchen table- Horrific handwriting but. Orderly, painstakingly put-together notes. Post its. Things to double-check. Things to edit. Notations about deadlines.

"Again," you sigh, "I do have the bulk of the Sid Vicious research done. And a chunk of a script but- I'm not sure I can actually DO that." You pause and scrub your face with your hands, "I was going through it about then. Yes. That was right before the breakdown... shit got dark. Even by Oubliette standards." You nod, "That works. Let's table Sid and Nancy for now... I've got a couple things I'm playing with right now, I'll have it scanned to Irina sometime tomorrow when stuff solidifies a little. Kay. Perfect. Send me the notes and I'll go from there. Bye."

You make a noise that might be a yell but the volume of your voice never changes, not even when it trails into a dramatic whine. "Sorry," you hum, smiling apologetically, "Status meetings."

"Not a problem," he said smiling, setting his tea and the pitcher on the table, well out of your way. "Running a company is stressful. I can only imagine that having to be creative on top of it doesn't make it less so."

"Not really," you laugh, taking a sip from your water bottle and gathering up all your papers. "But, things are easier now that I'm not doing EVERYTHING mostly on my own. Kinda sucks that I had to have a whole mental breakdown to get the workload evened out again but- eh. It's better."

Bruce frowned slightly, "Mental Breakdown?"

You shrug and shut your laptop, "My fiance had an affair with my best friend while everyone else was busy getting married and having kids and I was trying to keep us going- I just kinda- After everything was over I just kinda broke for a while. About a year and a half ago. It took months for me to even be able to walk into the studio. We had to reschedule a tour like- it was a mess. But. Now I have an assistant and scheduled vacation time. So that's rad."

He nodded, watching you. It had been easy, when Jason first told him about you, about wanting to move in with you, to assume bad things. Even after he'd done the background check and learned some of the things he'd learned. But now? Having been in your house, seen the effort you made to make space for Jason and Teddy, The fact that the fridge was covered in drawings and A+ school assignments- Toys on the living room floor and new plastic dishes for little hands to use and not break. You tried. So hard. And he'd be lying if he said it didn't make his chest ache. "And your biggest fans live in your house," he chuckled.

"That too," you answer, smiling a little. "That helps... speaking of-" you break off and check your watch, "They were supposed to be back anytime."

"I don't mind waiting," Bruce said, smiling his thanks when you put down a plate of muffins for him. "I always wondered if you actually worked in your office. I guess now I know."

You gesture to the pile of books and papers, "The light is better down here- My office used to be in Teddy's room but he liked the stained glass in the window and all the colors. So we shifted it over one."

"We?" Bruce chuckled, unwrapping a muffin.

"Well. Jason," you snort, "I made him do the heavy lifting. I just did the painting and redecorating."

"Work smarter not harder," Bruce agreed, raising his glass in toast. Teddy, as far as Bruce was concerned, couldn't have picked a better mom if he tried.