#looking at materials to make this RIGHT now

[atsuwumus]

𝐖𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 !!

๋࣭⭑ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : fem! reader, teasing, oral (f. receiving), messy eaters, a lil clit spank & begging if you squint

๋࣭⭑ 𝐌𝐀𝐈 𝐌𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 : first time giving all the wuthering waves boys a try with writing so pls be nice (⸝⸝⸝>﹏<⸝⸝⸝) more to come for scar / the others in the future!! not proofread I wrote this with my clit

𝐉 𝐈 𝐘 𝐀 𝐍 — "Is this alright?"

A hot breath spills over the sensitive skin between your thighs, drawing goosebumps as the heat of Jiyan's stare only amplifies the sensation. He watches you draw in a breath through a heavy lidded gaze before he shifts closer. Debauchery is the best way to the describe the scene playing out in front of you, a well respected General with his hair tousled and his cheeks flushed, ready to devour you at a moment's command.

You nod. Faintly. Weakly.

This came of cat and mouse has drawn on for what felt like hours, being putty in his hands, letting him toy with you however he pleases. Because, at the end of the day, who were you to say no to him? Especially when he knows how to spread you good and eat you out till you don't know your name.

The pad of his thumb is rough as he presses it against the hood of your clit, drawing it back before humming softly when you twitch, biting down a low moan when he looks at you again, a predatory glint to his irises, clouded by lust. "Look how pretty she is," he murmurs. "Mhm... Such a pretty thing."

Your slick paints your folds, shimmering under the low light, a delicacy reserved for him only. His hair brushes against your skin as he dips his head down to lick a long, nasty stripe up your pussy. His hands catch your thighs before they can close around his head and he pins them back down against the bed with ease, a showcase of his strength. You whimper, a sound that only seems to spur him on, watching your cunt twitch and tighten around nothing.

"Shhh," he tuts, licking his lips till he's sure there's none of your sweetness left. "Let me play with you a little more."

𝐒 𝐂 𝐀 𝐑 — "Arch a bit more f'me."

You whine, burying your face into the pillow as Scar tugs your hips back, forcing a mean arch over your back, angling you just right for him. The position he's maneuvered you in is downright shameless, nasty. But that's how he liked it — rough, fast, as messy as possible.

There's a soft tremor running through your thighs, muscles straining to keep you arched and perked for him, but he rewards you with a long lick between your folds, humming at your taste before he opens his jaw wider to devour you. Spit drips in a thin string down his chin and you feel his hands trailing up the back of your thighs, teasing, ghostly, gone as quick as they came — before they're spreading your cheeks to make room for his mouth.

"Fuck," you hear him groan and you feel every syllable vibrating right through you. Hands and knees, you can feel everything he does, the warmth of his tongue as it slides through your folds, how he suckles at your clit till you're tightening up. "You taste even better when you're spread like this for me."

Your answer goes unheard, disappearing into the thick material of the pillow as your cunt twitches, fluttering around nothing. He doesn't seem satisfied with this, pulling his head up before sliding a hand between your thighs.

"Uh oh..." he tuts, faux disappointment laced around his words as he pats your pussy, rolling your clit between his thumb and forefinger till he hears a whine tumble from your lips, hoarse and needy. "Seems like someone forgot their manners."

"P-Please!" you whimper, pushing your hips back against nothing, feeling him splay a thick hand across your shoulders, pushing you back down against the sheets. Your body quivers, strung high on nothing but a very teasing touches.

A low chuckle spills across the small of your back as Scar places a chaste kiss there, murmuring, "Mhm... That's what I like to hear. Now lay still, I'm not done with this pretty pussy yet."

[sunnitheapollokid]

🦕💒 ┊ ༉‧₊˚✧ 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃!

↳ hoo boys x reader ; married life headcanons!

characters in this thread : percy jackson, leo valdez, jason grace, frank zhang. ೃ࿔₊•

☀️ sunni’s notes : HEEEEYYY!! GUUUUYSS!! okay, so with my literal requests piling on top w/ one another i dunno why i’m doing this BUT IVE BEEN HAVING THIS HEADCANONS IDEA FOR FAR TOO LONG i need it neow. and i shall be providing <3 so! how would it be to be married to one of the hoo boys? (can yall tell who my actual hubby is) happy reading!! luv ya!! 💝💝

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 ੈ♡˳

୨୧ percy jackson bf material? WHAT ABOUT HUSBAND MATERIAL?

୨୧ actually the clingiest hubby ever.

୨୧ it’s probably because of the quests he’s had to endure and go through his whole teenage life..

୨୧ but whenever he’s around, he can’t keep his hands to himself.

୨୧ his hands are either on your waist, interwined with yours, on your arm.

୨୧ “baby, i need to turn the blender on.”

୨୧ “you can still hold my hand while you do that.”

୨୧ probably scared he’ll lose you, now that he has you.

୨୧ the way percy proposed was very intimate and so sweet.

୨୧ you two were babysitting estelle, percy watching you play with her hair and style it.

୨୧ and when you two left the jackson apartment,

୨୧ “i wanna marry you, (name).”

୨୧ ALSO THE WEDDING WAS AMAZING AND SOOO BEAUTIFUL??

୨୧ of course he was crying.

୨୧ this man was bawling.

୨୧ HE WAS CRYING OCEANS.

୨୧ (har har get it!!)

୨୧ he kept telling you how beautiful you looked <3

୨୧ AND HOW LUCKY HE WAS?!? JSBSHBSBS maybe i’ll go insane.

୨୧ will be pretty busy with work / school, but he’ll manage to give you his time through beach trips and dinner dates.

୨୧ you two were actually the first to get married in the friend group.

୨୧ or actually— all of camp.

୨୧ “give it up for mr. and mrs. jackson!”

୨୧ he’ll make you something special in the morning and pack you something in your lunch bag for work.

୨୧ it’s a very much, lovely dovey married life!

୨୧ like this man,, CANTTT get enough of you.

୨୧ MORNINGS ARE THE BEEEST!!

୨୧ besides the baked goods, he always likes to pepper you with kisses and tight hugs.

୨୧ “percy! tight!”

୨୧ “just one more second.”

୨୧ “okay i lied. five more seconds.”

୨୧ loves head rubs,

୨୧ PLEASE GIVE THIS MAN HEAD RUBS.

୨୧ will not waste a second to go and take care of you on shark week or if you’re sick.

୨୧ long drives are the best with him!

୨୧ he’ll never make you drive, and he definitely does that lil stunt over the hood just to open your door.

୨୧ there were moments where a thought of—

୨୧ “he’d be an amazing dad.”

୨୧ would cross your mind.

୨୧ but for now, all that mattered, was your clingy son of poseidon husband and his need for head rubs.

𝐥𝐞𝐨 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐳 ੈ♡˳

୨୧ IF THERE IS HUSBAND MATERIAL,, there is LEO VALDEZ!!

୨୧ a kissing machine.

୨୧ he was already a crazy pda guy before the marriage,

୨୧ but HE WAS WHIPPED FOR YOU??

୨୧ stealing kisses left ‘nd right like a hermes kid.

୨୧ “okay, gotta go—“

୨୧ smooch!

୨୧ “okay bye le—“

୨୧ smooch!

୨୧ “LEO!—“

୨୧ smooch!

୨୧ makes you so many cute gifts,,

୨୧ mechanical flowers, even just fixing your car for you!!

୨୧ love languages words of affirmation and acts of service go crazy?!?

୨୧ the way leo proposed was very him.

୨୧ but it was so sudden and funny, it was hard not to talk about it and just laugh.

୨୧ you guys went out to the amusement park for leo’s birthday,

୨୧ and he insisted, on going on the rollercoaster.

୨୧ and before the big drop, your hand gripping his,

୨୧ “(NAME) WILL YOU MARRY ME?!?”

୨୧ “WHA— AHHHH!”

୨୧ the day of your wedding, i’m just gonna put this here…

୨୧ THIS!! READ ZURI’S FIC!! THIS IS EXACTLY HOW IT WENT!!

୨୧ he still gasped during the ceremony as if he hadn’t seen you already.

୨୧ ALSO. this man is actually ‘dancing infront of the refrigerator light’ but instead of the refrigerator light—

୨୧ it’s his work space’s light lamp.

୨୧ he’s seen you naked multiple times right?

୨୧ it’s just the married life way!

୨୧ BUT.

୨୧ whenever you walk out of the bathroom to hurry and grab something, he’s on the bed,

୨୧ he darts his eyes towards you from the tv screen and he whistles and goes,

୨୧ “HOT MAMA IS THAT MY WIFE?”

୨୧ you throw sock piles at him.

୨୧ your house that the two of you share is always echoing with music.

୨୧ it could be the spanish music he grew up with, the music you might’ve grown up with, maybe new songs you both truly love.

୨୧ dates among the two of you are usually at home.

୨୧ sometimes just like game nights of movie nights, and you guys cuddle together like any normal night.

୨୧ you two are very competitive in uno.

୨୧ oh! and smash bros <3

୨୧ but sometimes, something chill like stardew valley or animal crossing keeps you both awake late on a saturday night.

୨୧ “hi mrs. valdez, chicken picotta tonight or pep pizza?”

୨୧ amazing fucking chef.

୨୧ I WILL NEVER SHUT UP HOW MUCH OF A COOK THIS GUY IS!!

୨୧ he cooks, and cleans, only for you, obviously.

୨୧ “hey! kiss the chef, (nickname)! look at the apron!”

୨୧ just two married demi-gods, one son of hephaestus that adores his smoking hot wife.

𝐣𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 ੈ♡˳

୨୧ the calmest lil hubby ever.

୨୧ he will always find a way to cheer you up, or make you feel better if you ever feel really bad.

୨୧ when you’re prone to anxiety / panic attacks, he is the perfect person to call for.

୨୧ ALSO AN AMAZING SLEEPING BUDDY??

୨୧ he loves to wrap his arms around your waist and nuzzle his nose in your shoulder while you two nap.

୨୧ but! he’s a sleeping-in kinda guy.

୨୧ a GREAT baker.

୨୧ he’ll make you anything you want,

୨୧ cinnamon rolls? done.

୨୧ chocolate muffins? already making ‘em.

୨୧ macarons? you got it.

୨୧ “honey, i’m really craving cupcakes right now.”

୨୧ “got it. i need payment though.”

୨୧ he’d never asked for payment, so you raise a brow.

୨୧ he then leans over his cheek to you, and you giggle.

୨୧ the way he proposed was very creative, and very romantic.

୨୧ it was during a library date,

୨୧ BECAUSE I KNOW FOR A FACT THAT ALL JASON GRACE GIRLIES ARE READERS!!

୨୧ he peeked at the book you were reading, a giggle escaping his lips.

୨୧ it was a wedding scene, and you were bawling.

୨୧ “hey, hey,” he wiped your tears.

୨୧ “what will make you feel better? maybe we should recreate it?” and he pulled the ring out of his pocket.

୨୧ it was a beautiful night for the two of you.

୨୧ the wedding was more private, with only your friends and a few family.

୨୧ his wardrobe consists of lots of button ups.

୨୧ he likes to style you too, you can’t deny, he’s got really nice style.

୨୧ when he works at home, he likes to put you on his lap while he does.

୨୧ “(name), love, try this top with that white skirt i got you.”

୨୧ KRAAAHHH IM KICKING MY FEET

୨୧ there was also this tiktok i saw, of a woman cutting her husband’s hair.

୨୧ AND THE HAND PLACEMENT?!? ITS SO JASON GRACE I AM DECEASED.

୨୧ I CANT FIND IT BUT—

୨୧ when you cut his hair, since, the barber is very expensy!

୨୧ he’ll pull you closer with his hands laced around your hips.

୨୧ if you’re a reader, (which you probably are dont play with me)

୨୧ he will heavily support that hobby of yours.

୨୧ he’ll spoil you like crazy with books.

୨୧ he’ll read to you before bed sometimes, and it’s the most comforting thing ever.

୨୧ or sometimes he’ll just lay his head on your chest and read along with you.

୨୧ well you know! just a son of jupiter and his book-reading, sweet of a wife.

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐳𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠 ੈ♡˳

୨୧ SUUUCH HUSBAND MATERIAL.

୨୧ frank zhang is the type to have your photo in his wallet.

୨୧ he will spoil you ROTTEN with your food cravings.

୨୧ and he’s the best person to have on shark week.

୨୧ he will not hesitate to buy his wife her cravings, her needs, and give her all the bear hugs she wants.

୨୧ likes to watch the sunset on your apartment’s balcony with you,

୨୧ his coffee in his hand (with tons of cream), and his other hand on yours.

୨୧ he really couldn’t ask for anything better.

୨୧ the way frank proposed was pretty extravagant, but so romantic and sweet.

୨୧ he asked you to a candlelight dinner date.

୨୧ it was very beautiful, and after finishing up, he popped the question.

୨୧ only to find out everyone in that resturant were your friends disguised.

୨୧ likes to go on your salon days with you!!

୨୧ he’ll get a pedicure with you, and he’ll admire the new nails you got.

୨୧ of course he’ll pay.

୨୧ frank was mostly quiet and collected at home, so stay at home dates were a major part of the relationship.

୨୧ he’d let the world burn for you?

୨୧ 100%.

୨୧ your guys’ apartment is so cozy, all your friends like to crash and just chill out there.

୨୧ (IM SORRY I DONT KNOW WHAT ELSE TO WRITE FOR MY BOY I HAVENT GOTTEN TO HIM YET)

୨୧ and there they are!! the son of mars, and his beautiful collected wife.

‧₊˚✩彡. tags! @lavisenri @love-xoxojules @starrynightmovietheatre @canonfeminine @maybxlle @oceanlover3 @lara20aral @chocolatemilkfan @urmomabby @kozumesphone @puffoz @taytaylvr

[2kiran]

゛ KEEGAN P RUSS ⸝⸝ “damn, kid, who taught you that?”

synopsis. a man who's too starved of attention and a man who's low on patience. you two make a great pair, in spite of the prominent presence of your denial. | word count. 0,9k // 978 ◞

caution. bratty keegan. top male reader. mentioned spanking. gun play. degradation kink. dumbification. rough anal sex. no use of protection (wrap it before you tap it). namecalling (whore, slut).

3KVENT NAVI ﹑ MAIN MASTERLIST

keegan russ who's the epitome of need. he'll shamelessly yearn for your presence, grabby hands clinging onto your shoulder to feign friendliness with the gesture. he grips harsher than necessary, stepping a little bit too close. it's normal; unordinary out of sight, until his clothed cock purposely brushes against your thigh and you decide that act alone is your final straw.

his face nuzzling the pillow within his arms, muffling the high-pitched whimpers that fleed his quivering lips. “please- haah.. don' be a tease.” keegan russ who lazily pushes himself back into your face when your harsh hand relents it's assault on his ass, now replaced with your mellow and wet tongue tracing the red prints.

spittle dribbles down your chin, gathering on his lower cheek. it stung, tears prickling keegan russ' lashes. the angry head of his cock spat out pre, weeping at the feeling of the pink muscle lapping at him. you were right there, his muscles contracting around nothing as he felt your breath hit his hole. if only he knew how to make you move closer.

“or what?” cold and deadly. something so familiar trailing down and down until it heavily rested against the base of his dick.

he's internally panicking, heart skipping beats until his hips gently rock, pursuing that sensation. keegan russ' mouth is lost and locked on his face. “you're fuckin' pathetic. are you not ashamed? a man like you gets so wet from a gun.”

he loves when you use that tone on him. he tilts his head enough, eyes peeking above his shoulder and he nearly cums on polished wood when his stare lands on your kneeling form. your teeth grazes him, tickles his flesh, injecting into his skin and you're suddenly a drug that's inscribed into his being. engraved into that distant heart of his, pounding with life solely for you.

“that's your doin'.” keegan russ states, matter-of-factly. he lets out a drawled whine when you pull away, saliva sticking to him and it's concerning how he doesn't feel an ounce of disgust. the sight has you itching to snap an image of his ass matching the crimson on his flushed face. “did i say you could speak, whore?”

you rise to your feet, fingers wrapping themselves in his strands and tugging him closer to you. he's like an obedient dog, well trained to know the signal, locking his lips onto yours. an intimate tangle, shoving your tongue into his awaiting mouth and swallowing down his surprised moan.

pressing your straining cock against his sensitive backside, it's as if you're sucking the air out of his lungs. he's the first to free himself from the kiss, panting harshly to recover.

“you - hnnn - asked me a question, and 'm not ashamed. i want it, want you.” he's murmuring through dreamy breaths, hips gently rolling to wordlessly convince you to finally fuck him.

the muzzle of your gun coaxes out a bone-chilling pattern up his length, rubbing along the underside of his tip. your jaw tenses, clenches, attempting not to lose your temper and give in immediately. his teasing undeniably worked on you, the memory of that daring look he passed you too tempting for you to rid of.

the hard structures built in his mouth dug into the silk case of the pillow, drool seeping and smearing across the material. his groans barely dulled, sobbing freely to eradicate the blur in his vision. keegan russ reduced to a stupefied slut, bent to your will as he's teetering both on the edge and your last nerve.

“is that th - the best you can do?” he gasps, clenching around you.

you grind inside of him, cock caressing his prostate with slow, smooth motions. drawing out, rim taut around the thickness. “shut it.” your hips slam forward, jolting the man and it has pain striking his abdomen when the edge of the desk jabs him.

the pistol sits neatly within your hold, pointed to the back of his head. it sends an abrupt shiver to his spine, the sense of death overwhelming him. “shit, you're so tight. what, you don't want me to pull out that badly?” he doesn't get to answer. you don't let him.

keegan russ who almost shrieks when your other hand grabs his hip, the bruising grip failing to genuinely hurt as you force him to fuck himself on your dick. “hnnngh! it's—” he interrupts himself with a loud gasping-moan, muzzle pressing on him harder.

“not your fault? just look at yourself.” you guide him, hole clinging onto you desperately, as if he's keeping you in - begging you to stay inside of him. he's never felt so full, unable to form rational sentences that would defend his current state. “all dumb 'cause of my cock. can't believe it took a few touches to get you like this.”

the pace quickens, body numbing from the force. you wrap an arm around his middle, yanking him upwards. the weapon against his temple, reminding him of it's presence, a weak whimper falling in between the pleasure-blinding moments. “what a slut you are.”

your leaky tip repeatedly rammed his sweet spot, his walls carrying the shape of your size. keegan russ cries out, hands reaching your forearm to ground himself to reality. a zip of ecstasy runs through him and up to cut his train of thoughts. brain idly sensing how your finger was centimeters away from the trigger.

his dick twitches, pearly, thick ropes spurting from his neglected slit. he would've doubled over if it wasn't for your strong hold keeping him in place, lowering the gun and kissing his cheek whilst he comes down from his high.

keegan russ groans out, the sound mixing with a half-whine. he was needy, and you lacked the copious amount required of patience to tolerate it. he had to have more. “why'd you stop?”

[kellysue]

The Suit-Making Metaphor

[Written in January, 2024] The cold eventually got bad enough that the Grandma, the kids and I fled to a hotel while Matt stayed at the house with the dogs. We were fortunate to be able to that of course, and sharing a room in a nice warm hotel was not suffering by any stretch of the imagination. Even so, it was stressful. We brought ipads, paints, books and needlework to keep the kids entertained and alleviate some anxiety, but time also had to be made for school work—especially as they would be going back to class just in time for finals. We made lists of their classes, what they had to study, what we could help with and what questions would need to be put to their teachers.

Henry’s 16 now (!!) and instead of an exam, his Humanities final was a personal essay. We chatted a bit about his writing process, what he liked about what he had done so far and what was frustrating for him. Though he had a terrific topic, he’d written and rewritten his opening paragraph several times and wasn’t making any real progress.

Been there, buddy.

As we talked, I stumbled on a metaphor that I found helpful, and so I’m going to try and share with you roughly what I said to him, and perhaps some of you will find it helpful too.

I get it, I do. It’s exactly my inclination as well. But writing like this-- where you try to perfect everything as you go, effectively writing the third draft before you finish the first--it’s like trying to make a suit from the top to the bottom. You can’t make a suit like that. You can’t start with the collar and get that perfected and then move to the shoulder. You can’t topstitch the upper part of the button placket before the bottom even exists. And even if you could figure how to do it that way, your suit isn't going to fit. Because that’s just not the best way to make a suit. Finishing the thing from top to bottom is not the best way to write, either. You start by choosing your fabric—your topic. What material are you going to craft the suit from? What’s the subject of the essay? You want to write about your relationship to various monsters. That’s terrific! That’s like a nice wool; there’s heft there—memories and feelings and personal details that resonate as truths; it should make a rich and interesting suit. Now, instead of cutting out the collar immediately, let’s choose a pattern. We need a pattern to help us cut the wool into the proper shapes. The pattern is the very basic structure of your essay. How might you organize your thoughts and feelings about monsters? The order isn’t as important as the categories. For the suit jacket, we’ll need right front, left front, sleeves, collar, lining etc. For the essay, what monsters do you want to write about? King Kong, the Rancor, the Minotaur and Bernard the Bull. Perfect. Cutting the pattern pieces out is equivalent to gathering your thoughts on each monster. Write freely about each one, taking the time to remember in as much detail as possible where you first encountered each monster, how old you were, etc. Go through each of your senses to help you recall the moment. What did you see? Smell? Taste? Feel? Who was with you? How did you feel in your body? How did you feel in your heart? Include everything that jumps out at you, you can always edit it down later. In our metaphor, this step is not just cutting out the pieces but also taking the time to transfer the pattern marks. You might not need them all, but you're sure to make a finer suit if you have them all available. Once you have the pieces, the next step is to see how they fit together. Read through each monster and look for connections. Is there an order that suggests itself? Rearrange and then edit and expand to highlight those connections. The first pass of this is basting stitches—loose connections just to test the fit—once you’re happy with the shape you can go ahead and lay in seams. Here is where our parallels start to fall apart: For the suit, you’ll want to do all the finishing touches—the handstitching, buttons, pressing, etc.—and then try it on and style it. But in writing your essay, these steps are reversed—styling is crafting the last paragraph, bringing the piece to a close. Your essay doesn’t have to wrap up neatly, in fact, you don’t want it to be too matchy-matchy. Just as an outfit’s style is improved by personal idiosyncrasies, a piece of writing is enriched by the author's capacity to engage with complexity and ambiguity. With the styling done--when you really know what it is you're trying to say--now you can go back with needle and thread and do that hand-stitching: tighten the prose where you can, polish rhythms, word choice, grammar and voice. With the whole of the thing in front of you, you now have what you need to do the kind of “third draft” finishing work that was impossible to begin with.

This might be the very definition of beating a metaphor to death, but I surprised myself with it. It was as revelatory for me as it was for Henry--probably more so.

And with that, I need to get back to those now-422 emails.

Cheers,

Kelly Sue

PS New creator-owned book coming out late fall this year--first launch in a decade or so, I think? I do need to figure out this whole newsletter/blog conundrum sooner rather than later. Advice and opinions welcome.

[likedovesinthewindd]

ooo saw you asked for more patrick requests. I need something like romeo and juliet vibes. maybe him and like reader is the coach’s daughter.

I am literally obsessed w this concept 😵‍💫

✰ ⊹ ˚.

The ploof ploof sounds of the tennis ball hitting the rough clay over and over could be heard as you made your way along the stone walkway to the court, on your way to watch you father coach his hourly session of tennis.

Unlike your father, you had never shown any interest in the sport, even though it had been displayed and half forced into every corner of your life. You suppose that's why he turned to coaching when he realized he wasn't going to get anything out of you.

You opened the squeeky gate, quietly making your way into the private court hidden deep within the plot of the estate. You sat down on one of the benches as you watched your dad play. The boy he was working with's eyes met yours, and you raised your hand in a wave. He had stopped in the middle of playing to greet you in return, effectively missing his hit and causing the ball to fly right past him and hit one of the shrubs with a force that left a small hole in it.

Your father had been ready to scold him, turning around to find you watching with rapt attention. He swallowed his words, a scowl still present on his face. "I'm gonna go get some water from the kitchen," he said, making his way back to the house and patting your shoulder softly when he passed you.

Patrick took this as his chance to take a small break, making his way to you and plopping down next to you as he hung his head over the backrest with a tired exhale. His head rose once he catched his breath, turning to you with an almost devious smirk. "We have to stop meeting like this," he joked as you scoffed in return. "It's basically the only time we see each other," you reasoned. He made an understanding sound, resting his head against your shoulder which you tried shrugging off with a shimmy.

"You're sweaty," you whined, thinking about the pretty blouse your mother had just bought you. He lifted his head begrudgingly but moved to kiss into the crook of your neck, his nose and hair tickling you. You tried pushing him off, but he only doubled his efforts, his arms wrapping around you to trap you as he left stray kisses against your neck, underside of your jaw, chin and up to your cheek.

You managed to push him off through giggles, trying to catch your breath, but not before he managed to get a few more kisses in. "If my dad had seen us now, he would've killed you," you said, and he shrugged. "He can't kill me, I'm his best student," he said.

"You're his only student."

"Exactly," he smiled, watching the way you rolled your eyes. He shimmied closer on the wooden bench, his arm resting against the backrest as his fingers played with the delicate material of your blouse.

"This's pretty," he said softly feeling the material of the frilly sleeve against his fingertips. "Thank you," you answered sweetly, watching the way his eyes dipped down to your cleavage, the soft pink material of your bralette visible if you looked hard enough. His eyes shifted up to yours once again, smiling coyly knowing he had been caught judging by the matching smile on your face.

"Patrick."

Your father's voice nearly made you jump in your seat, the two of as quickly and subtly as possibly moving to create some chaste distance. "Your parents are here," your father said. You quietly watched as Patrick gathered his things, bidding a soft goodbye to you and your father before he made his way along the walkway back inside.

Your father filled Patrick's old spot, sitting down next to you with a grunt. You spared him a smile which he returned before he sighed rather loudly.

"What were you two talking about just now?" he asked, trying and failing to sound nonchalant about it. You only shrugged, your hands nervously smoothing over the material of your pants. "Nothing special," you said before looking up at him. He nodded, hand rubbing over his face in thought. "I don't want you getting too friendly with that boy. Too close, if you understand what I mean," he said plainly.

You scoffed, immediately swallowing the sound when you saw the way his eyebrows raised. "You don't have to worry about that, Dad," you lied. "But even if it was the case," you continued, "what's the problem with that? I mean he comes from a good family."

Your father frowned. "His family's entitled, he looks like the type to carry the same mindset. I don't want you with someone like that." You wanted to correct your father, but you knew that would just be digging a deeper hole for yourself and confirm his suspicions. So you only nodded, knowing you were counting down the days until you got to see him again.

[rottiens]

Right now I'm imagining Wriothesley and us sneaking into Neuvillette's library, and he may or may have not had us pinned against rolling ladder and nearly devours us with his kisses and hands, and we try our best to keep quiet to not get caught smooching the Duke.

⊹ ˚. WRIOTHESLEY ┊18+ , established relationship, almost getting caught, he puts his hand on your neck insinuating, praising (good girl), fem bodied reader. . divider creds: cafekitsune.

The Duke holds your hand tightly, he sticks you to his body almost as if he's afraid you're going to disappear as the two of you trot off hiding in the corridors from the person guarding the big library.

You shouldn't be here, so this is exactly why it makes it more exciting, it has your heart galloping against your ribs, your sweaty hand slipping between his. The Duke so fearsome to many, to you only Wriothesley; your boyfriend, the one who ends up getting himself into trouble and predicaments that he then doesn't know how to get out of- brings his index finger to his lips followed by a hiss, his eyes narrowing as you listen intently to the silence of the great library, so quiet you could hear the dust fluffs sticking to the books and finally, a door opening and closing in a sharp creak of the wood.

“That was close,” you whisper, not wanting to risk being caught even though your senses assure you it's just the two of you.

“I was hoping he'd catch us.” Immediately your hand gently taps his shoulder, Wriothesley groans, crumpling his face in seemingly unbearable pain.

“I can't stand you. We'll get in trouble with Neuvillette.”

He rolls his eyes inevitably, his arms snaking around your waist and grounding on your ass, you gasp, opening your eyes wide, feigning innocence.

“It's annoying that you admire him so much.” His voice drips with desire bordering on a tease as he maintains eye contact the entire time his hands wander down your dress, and through your panties. The sensation of skin on skin makes you take a deep breath, his hands, by his vision, are always cold so it's impossible for you not to gasp at the sensation as his fingers push a little more of the cotton material.

“I just think he's really cool…” you gasp.

“Please, no more chatter about him. I brought you to see the biggest library in all of Fontaine and that's all you have to say?”

Your flirtatious giggle is interrupted by the intrusion of a finger pushing and searching for something inside you, massaging gently. You drop your eyelids, your fingers reaching for his uniform and crinkling it as your hips rub against his hand.

“I like that face,” Wriothesley says, taking you by the chin to make you look at him. Then he leans in and gives you a soft kiss, the action making you squeeze around him which makes him brush a chuckle against your mouth. “So needy already?”

You say his name, hungry, desperate. You push into his mouth but he denies you by rolling his neck back.

“Talk to me.”

Eyes intent on every little detail of his face and with your pussy spread open by his fingers, dripping down your thighs, you breathe as best you can, raggedly.

“I love it. Thank you for bringing me to see the- ah!, Fontaine's greatest library.”

“And?”

“I love you…more than I would love to meet him in person.”

“Thank you.” He comes closer, killer smile seizing his mouth. His fingers push and go deep, free hand curling around your throat. “Now, who's making you feel good?”

“You… Wrio-”

“Good girl,” he breathes against your half-open lips. “And who owns this pussy?”

“You,” you sob again, your knees failing you and he must hold you steady by squeezing around your throat gently.

“Don't give up now, baby. You're almost there I can feel it…”

The door creaks open… your eyes are alert and you find that caramel look in him that warns you he won't stop: quite the contrary, you feel him going faster, sticky clicks reach your ears and you fear that the person at the entrance might hear them too.

The guard exchanges a brief dialogue with someone - Neuvillette. Guilty and aware you look at Wriothesley who kisses you to shut you up, it's messy and sloppy, you feel against your thighs the way you know this situation turns him on too.

“Give it to me now. I want your cum to be dripping down your thighs when you squeeze his hand and finally meet him in person…”

[jellymish-art]

IT IS HAPPENING LADS!! SAM VIMES COSPLAY!!

I've dreamed of doing this for years and now that I've finally gained the Secret Knowledge of Foam Armour, I can finally go for it!

Jokes aside, I asked a couple of cosplay pros for advice at the last con and they were all super nice & answered every single one of my questions, in detail!

So far the breastplate, backplate and badge are done and I'm super happy. Detailed process under the cut!

How it went:

First, the pattern! Shoutout to the guys at cosplay-atelier for the recommendation. They pointed me to kamuicosplay, because they sell downloadable patterns for all sorts of things, including armour. Which is how I got to this:

Downloaded two of their breastplate patterns, smooshed them together and altered them to fit my body and the look I wanted. I did all of that with thick paper. Then I took it apart again and traced the bits onto 5mm EVA foam that I ordered from a cosplay store.

Then I numbered and cut all the pieces and glued them together! I used hot glue, cause it's more accessible and less intimidating for me than other types of glue. It isn't as strong as other recommended glues, but works fine for me. (used many pointers from this tutorial.)

However, safety point: I've seen it recommended to wear breathing protection when heating up foam in any way whatsoever, and that includes hot glue, heat shaping and heat sealing. Use a respirator or other breathing protection that is made specifically for chemical fumes & work outside or in a well ventilated area (i.e. open ALL the windows)! Ask at your local hardware store if you're unsure.

PSA over. Now to the painting stage!

The scratches I made with my fingernails and the tip of a pair of scissors. XD Then I covered everything in 2 layers of black flexipaint (which is a water-based flexible paint/primer that works really well on foam). After that, I worked with regular artist's acrylic paint. Above you can see the first layer being applied with dry-brushing.

Then I went over it with a dark brown wash to make it look dirty (mix black & brown acrylic paint with water & apply liberally)

Then I went over it again with bronze by applying the paint with my fingers, wearing a plastic glove. (Same tutorial as before.) making sure I don't get any paint in the scratches. And then finally, another dark brown wash to make it all look nicely weathered. I did accidentally remove some paint by going over it too often with the wash, but it wasn't too hard to fix.

And this is the costume test, after adding velcro! It's really easy to put on and take off. I'm a bit worried about the velcro on the sides, but I can always add straps on the outside if it doesn't hold up.

Next was the badge:

I referenced a pin badge that came out as a collectible a few years ago (sadly out of stock), cause I love the design! Carved in the letters and lines by drawing on it with a ballpoint pen and applying a lot of pressure. Then painted it with the same process as the breastplate, just with copper instead of bronze.

And just for funsies: here's the back of the breastplate in all its glorious mess XD

On the right side you can see how I attached the badge: By cutting a slit through the breastplate and making a velcro attachment. That way I can remove the badge and add, say, a sprig of lilac, should my fancy take me there. Reason being that our biggest con is in May.

If you know, you know.

Annnnd here it is; the finished breastplate with badge:

I'm honestly having the time of my life. It's a super fun project and I am very excited to see how it turns out! I'm already working on the cape with a good friend of mine (I despise sewing, she loves it XD) and have materials on the way to make some bits of chainmail.

[codenamesazanka]

I'm thinking. I'm thinking. it would be cool if all of my dislike and criticism of Deku's actions in this final war arc (and maybe before) was actually supposed to be the intended feeling. That he was supposed to be read as an arrogant little shit with no plan and failed at saving Shigaraki all along. Saving Shigaraki was his ego talking - him wanting to save that Crying Child, because it makes him feel good to be a Hero... in the easiest way possible. He pried open Shigaraki's lid with no regard for how questionable such an act is. He never understood Shigaraki at all.

Deku has the potential to be a great hero. When Yoichi and Kudou talked about his great qualities, it was because they can sense the seed of it at his heart. But it hadn't been cultivated. He does have a drive to save, but it was too early to call it that. He does believe everyone has the same heart, but he hasn't actually come to that conclusion himself. That's why they needed to speak about his own feelings for him. He's 16 years old and thrown into a war. How can anyone have proper development and meta-cognition in such a scenario?

I'm thinking. It was Stain who spared Shigaraki and told him he sensed the seed of a warped conviction inside of him, when all readers saw at the time was an erratic manchild. But Stain was right. Shigaraki's conviction grew and developed and became such a noble desire, but 'twisted' - A Hero, but for the Villains.

Deku just had the high of his life. What if he's about to enter the lowest? He failed to save someone. Society is getting rebuilt and where it goes from now on is absolutely crucial. He's "quirkless" again - that personality is gone so who is he now?

I'm thinking. There's a reason why his agreement with Overhaul hasn't been resolved yet. I'm thinking Compress and his vigilante ancestor's dream of reform can't be just ditched like that. I'm thinking how Deku can fail so incredibly at not realizing why Shigaraki stayed the leader of the League all through the end, and how Shigaraki tells him 'ganbare'.

I'm thinking about Shigaraki, and how he's a fair guy. But he's a Villain. He sensed Deku's intention, understood just how sincere it was, and can respect that. And the guy did just helped heal his childhood trauma. And thus, he's holding Deku responsible for making sure his destruction is permanent, and leaves with a semi-sardonic 'do your best'. I think that's actually just like him.

I'm thinking about Uraraka and Shouto getting two sad looking panels in this semi-celebratory chapter where All Might calls Bakugou and Deku the greatest Heroes. They were the two who actually considered the suffering their Villain went through. They acknowledged the whole of their Villain, their agency and desires, and they supposedly saved them. But there's no celebration for them. Maybe it's because they've seen the truth and can't be unaffected.

I'm thinking about Spinner, who saved Deku from a teammate at the camp raid because he believed in Stain who believed in Deku to be a true Hero. And then Spinner became Shigaraki's most devoted friend and Shigaraki left a message to him, via Deku.

I'm thinking maybe Horikoshi got out all the battle shonen stuff they wanted out of him and now he can do his own thing. He sucks at fight scenes and great at character writing and darker material.

The issue to this thinking is that this hope is sooooo dangerous. I had a similar thought that Endeavor, after the Touya reveal, was going to get some brutal atonement. I thought post-Jaku would be a really cool chance to examine the issues of Hero Society, and that Tartarus being recognized as a human-rights violations would end up somewhere. I loved what I felt was the subtly realistic built-up of the Heteromorph arc, and I still love it, but then it ended up the way it did. I thought AFO's tragic backstory getting revealed could be awesome. I've clowned myself again and again. I guess this is the latest clowning.

And none of this actually saves Shigaraki or brings him back. Rather, his death and last words is pretty much required for this brutal realization and haunting on Deku and the story.

Worse, this all has the potential to make me think Deku is interesting. What am I doing to myself. 🤡

[rahuratna]

Nanami Kento: Relationship Headcanons (now a fic), Part 3

Contents: pre-relationship headcanons, slow burn, pining, humor

For a few days after that, things continue as normal. Nanami meets you at work on some days, on others he's exceptionally busy with missions and paperwork. The dynamic from that day has receded, but not vanished. It feels a little like reaching a wonderful part of a book and shelving it temporarily, because you cannot bear for it to end. When you return to it, the pages will fall open naturally, close to the place where you left off.

You've stopped pretending, at this point, that your meetings with him were chance ones. You know full well when he is likely to take his breaks and that they always coincide with when you take a later shift. It is one of the many small things that seem to be spiralling out of your ability to maintain control over in recent days.

Even with all of this, the actual progression of your ... interaction (you don't feel brave enough to call it anything else) is a very slight one. You chide yourself for behaving like an immature love-struck idiot. You've always prided yourself on your ability to remain calm and objective about things, which is why this change is so ... terrifying. How can a man so composed himself be the harbinger and creator of such feelings in another person? It defies logic.

Then, one day, he sends you a message. It comes while you're at work, busy handling requisitions for new materials for sorcerers. You've been expecting an email from a contact in the supply and distribution department, and so casually slide your finger over the message before freezing. His name. Exactly as you'd saved it on your contact list.

Nanami Kento.

The message is simple:

"Hello. Please send a clean-up crew. I've attached the location."

A map co-ordinate has been attached, along with a picture. Puzzled, you open up the photo. It shows a warehouse, stacked with boxes and crates. Something had obviously occurred in that warehouse. The crates are shattered, as if a huge force had been applied to them, and dark stains are splattered all over the floors and ceiling. If Nanami had asked for a clean-up crew ...

As if in a daze, you call the relevant department and send the request through. You'd dealt with the aftermath of many exorcisms for other sorcerers, but Nanami never usually left such a mess. His efficiency also ensured that he would normally put the request through himself. That left you slightly worried. If the warehouse looked like that, what about him?

Tentatively, you pick up your phone and type a message.

"Request for clean-up team sent. Are you all right? Any injuries?"

The reply comes shortly after.

"Thank you. I'm fine. No serious injuries."

If the circumstances had been different, you might have found it amusing how robotically dry his messages were. The word 'serious', however, is circling in your mind like a vulture. What if he's downplaying his injuries? You'd never dealt with him directly before, so you wouldn't know for sure. Fingers hovering above the keys, thinking of a subtle way to find out, you give a small start as a message comes through, as if Nanami has been reading your mind.

It's another picture. This one is of his hand, large, wiry fingers wrapped around a Styrofoam coffee cup, reassuringly free of blood. You can see part of his suit jacket, draped over his arm.

"I'm not hurt. But I am thirsty."

Good Lord.

In the quiet of your office, you place your forehead in your palm and laugh silently.

__________________________________________________

Nanami had never been one for making idle conversation. His rigid countenance and stern demeanour often made him intimidating and unapproachable, except to those who knew him well. He had always struck you as someone who was supremely and calmly confident in every action he took. Whenever he spoke to you about missions in the break room, there had never been awkward silences or times when he'd seemed at a loss for words. Whatever he's said carried weight and added meaning to the conversation.

Which was why these new developments were such a puzzle to you. Over the past few weeks, there had been incidents where you couldn't make head or tail of his behaviour. It had started with the warehouse clean-up. The next time, it was the mysterious case of the missing homework.

Everyone who worked closely with the sorcerers knew, at this point, that Nanami has somewhat taken Itadori Yuuji under his wing. Unlike Gojo, who was loud, effusive and energetic when he interacted with the students, Nanami gave the impression of tolerating Yuuji's antics. Anyone who knew Nanami a little better could tell that he had a great deal of fondness for the boy.

So, when Nanami came into your office with Yuuji in tow and stopped at your desk, you couldn't help looking curiously between them. Yuuji greeted you with friendly grin and then looked at Nanami expectantly. The latter cleared his throat.

"Good day. I apologize for disturbing you, but I was wondering if you could help us?"

"Of course. What do you need?"

"Itadori has informed me that he's lost his assignment for class this afternoon."

Yuuji shamefacedly produced a battered USB drive and held it out to you.

"Ah, so sorry! But Nanamin told me that since we're passing by here, you'd help me print out another copy?"

"Oh, that's no problem at all."

You smile at Yuuji, who claps his hands together in sincere thanks. You're still wondering why they hadn't made use of the many printers in the student lab on the way here, but soon forget about that when you see the assignment open up in your word processor.

The spelling and grammar ... leave a lot to be desired, to put it kindly. You understand that English is Yuuji's second language, but this assignment wouldn't pass the minimum standards at Jujutsu Tech, where communication with foreign sorcerers was a necessity. You glance up at Nanami, who is eyeing you inscrutably through his tinted glasses. Your gaze tracks across to Yuuji.

"Hmm ... is it fine if I make a few changes? I know that the work should reflect your own ability, but if I explain the errors to you, then it would be the same as you learning and correcting those errors, yes?"

Yuuji's face lights up in a way that leaves you taken aback.

"Oh, yeah! That would be a huge help. Thanks!"

He hops up onto your table, which is thankfully free of the usual clutter, and swings his legs with disarming cheeriness. You take some time to explain his errors, his pink hair fluffing up under the air conditioning in the office as he nods his head earnestly. Within twenty minutes, you've finally made the assignment look far more presentable and Yuuji seems to understand everything you've explained. Nanami watches in silence.

Holding the newly printed copy like a precious treasure, Yuuji waves to you as they exit the office. You laugh and wave back. Nanami pauses in the doorway and looks back at you. He seems about to say something, then changes his mind, bows in thanks and follows Yuuji. You raise an eyebrow.

Curiouser and curiouser.

__________________________________________________

A few days later, you have some time off. You've stepped out of the shower, the scent of your herb-filled window boxes pleasantly filtering into the apartment with the afternoon breeze. You make yourself some tea and check your phone, coming to an abrupt halt when you see a message from Nanami waiting. You feel a rising frustration with yourself. As much as you can acknowledge the hold this man has over you, you wish your reactions to him were less embarrassing.

You close your eyes briefly, allowing the bittersweet pang of desire to well in your chest when you remember how tall and reassuringly solid he had looked, standing next to Yuuji in your office. Gojo couldn't have chosen a better or more trusted chaperone for his student. Having held off for long enough, you open the message.

It's another picture, this time of Yuuji proudly holding up his assignment, a seventy-two percent grade written in the upper corner in red ink. A significant improvement on what he could have scored. A soft smile appearing on your face, you scroll further down to see what Nanami had written.

"Apologies for not thanking you properly that day. I've seen you do crosswords, so I knew that your skill with words might help Itadori."

Ha. Sneaky. So that's why he'd brought Yuuji to you. Your smile grows and then turns perplexed. You've read the tail end of Nanami's message.

"Itadori's assignment was on the common honeybee. If you'd allow me, I'd like to use that information to thank you."

What on earth did that mean?

_______________________________________________________

The next day, you go in to work and find something on your table. A small paper bag of freshly baked honey cakes, the kind you like to buy once in a while to have with tea in your office. You very rarely get the fresh ones, though, as these get sold out very early. There's no note, but you know who they're from.

For some reason, the thought of Nanami going to the bakery so early in the morning and standing patiently in the long queue to buy these for you creates a burning feeling in your chest and a rush of blood in your ears. You look around the office hurriedly, mortified that you've once again shown your reaction so clearly. Nobody is there to see it, thankfully.

Sitting down heavily, drawing the package to you, you stroke a finger down the brown paper, struggling to contain the flood of emotion the small gesture has unlocked.

And then, you remember something. Other things begin to fall into place.

You've never mentioned to him that you liked these cakes. You've never even eaten them in front of him before. Yet, somehow, he knew. Just like how he knew that you're good with words, but more importantly, that you had a soft spot for the students and always assisted them where you could. Just like how he knew that you've been curious about the exact nature of the missions he handles and their aftermath. Just like he knew how worried you were that he could have been injured at the warehouse.

You wonder if a honeybee's sting has ever felt as dangerously sweet as this.

@tsukimefuku @g-kleran @actuallysaiyan @kentocalls

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hear me out iii is a big boy you know what I mean I can’t be the only one who thought about him showing in the tummy while fucking. Please ignore this if you’re not comfortable with it just had to say it.

I am a child of God until I am not… I have nothing else to say. And I thought I was a iv girl, got a feeling that I’ve been lying to myself.

Warning: this is smut people. Kids go away.

Nighttime is for freaks

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You could feel the amped-up emotions pouring out of III when you saw him backstage. He preferred to keep the relationship between you two wrapped up and tucked away. Yet it was III who had laced his fingers through your hair, pulling you closer to him, pealing the bottom of his mask up before smashing his lips against yours. Slightly taken back by his actions you stay frozen for a moment before returning the kiss with just enough force, hands slipping to tug at his hair.

You both barely made it to the hotel and only because the whole time you were the one pushing III’s hand sway from between your thighs. Hissing at him to just hold on for a moment. It was bad enough that the rest of his team had been whistling ever since they walked in on your make-out session. But the moment the hotel door was closed, it’s like all of the self-control was out of the window. Clothes were being tossed across the room, as a hungry kiss after a hungry kiss consumed you both. III’s teeth graze your shoulders. Biting down onto the strap of your bra before pulling it down your shoulders with ease, sending a shiver down your spine.

You watched him sink to his knees in front of you. Lips following every curve of your body. Sloppy kisses painting your skin until he stopped right at the waistband of your red thong. His dark eyes looking up right as his fingers, pushed the damp material of your panties to the side, coating his fingers in your arousal. “You will be a good girl tonight, take it all, won't you?”, III asks, slipping a finger between your folds. A light moan slips past your lips as you splay your hands over his shoulders for support, nodding eagerly. “Good, cause I have plans for you”, he musses against your inner thigh and the next thing you know your legs are over his shoulders, back pressed against the wall as he eats you out like a man starved, fingers pressing into your thighs, keeping you from clapping over his head.

“Jesus, fuck, Christ”, you moan as the second orgasm begins to take shape in the depths of your belly. “No, Jesus, just me”, III grunts, pulling one of your legs over his shoulder and making your vision go hazy as he thrusts into you mercilessly. The sound of the headboard hitting the wall and your wetness filling the dim room. “Fuck, fuck, I can’t”, you mulled, trying to push at his chest but moving a man like him was impossible. Plus, you two had agreed on safe words at the start of your sexual life, and you sure as fuck weren’t using them now. “Give me one more”, III grunts leaning in, “You got one more for me, I know that you do”, he muses, biting the swell of your breast before, wrapping his mouth around your nipple, swirling his tongue over the sensitive peaks.

Gasping you threw your head back, the feeling of him all over you, hitting all the right places made your head spin. His lips crash onto yours right as his fingers move to circle your clit and that’s all you need to slip over the edge. Fingers curling, you arch off the mattress, the kiss being the only thing keeping you semi-quiet.

You stay like that panting. Ears ringing. Vision still hazy. Yet you can’t help but bite your lip as III pulls up, his toned chest glistening with sweat. He thrusts into you a couple more times, savoring the feeling of the warmth surrounding his dick. You whine lazily at the movement. And then he stops. “Wait”, he mutters, pushing into you once more. “III, no that’s enough…”, you rasp out, feeling your legs trembling from that lazy thrust alone. “Fucking look at this”, he grunts and you can feel him growing hard inside you. “How the fuck did I never see this… fuck”, his hands push at your legs, spreading them further apart. You trail your gaze to where his eyes are narrowed. A whimper slips past your lips as you see what exactly got your boyfriend worked up all over again. Every time III bottomed out you could see him within you. Faint yet noticeable enough view of his dick penetrating you from within in.

“Shit, baby, I need to go again”, he grunts, nostrils flaring. Leaning in he cups your face, “Let me fuck you one more time”, he pleads, “I can’t… I need to watch it… fuck”, you feel him twitching inside you making you clamp up around him. “Okay”, you mutter, watching a sort of relief wash over him, “Okay?”, he asks once more and all you can do is nod. His hand wraps around your neck as he crashes his lips against yours, your puffy lips kissed raw by the time he pulls back, “You’re so good to me”, he praises, withdrawing his hips back, “Such a good, fucking girl”. You knew that you were gonna lose this round. When his eyes practically went black as he watched himself filling you up and the slow and steady rhythm soon picked up. “III, fuck”, your breath hitches as he fully let himself go. Groaning like you had never heard him before. You truly thought the trust couldn’t get any more viscous but it’s as if something snapped within III at the sight of that bump in your lower belly. His fingers move from your hips, pressing down on it. And pleasure like no other shoots through you. “Ahh, too much, baby… I”, a broken moan rolls off your tongue, nails clawing in his arm as he pounds into you. Eyes rolling to the back of your head as he hit just the right spot deep within over and over again. “You take me so well”, he grunts, but his voice is muffled by the ringing in your ears as pleasure fully consumed you. “You stay with me”, III orders hand slapping your cheek carefully as he turns your face so you would look at him, “I can’t”, you cried out, tears falling down your cheeks. “You can and you will”, he grunts, thrusts growing more erratic. And this is the exact moment that you both know, can feel how close you both are. All you can do is moan. Breathy. Short pants of pleasure fill the place as you feel him devour you into the oblivious. “Fuck”, III practically shouts, body going ridged as warm waves of his release fill your body. You can’t even remember if you scream as your vision blanks, and for the first time you understand what people mean by saying that they see stars. Your body is drumming with pleasure. Seizing as you ride the overwhelming sensation.

You feel soft lips kissing your cheeks, fingers slowly brushing hair away from your face but your brain is not ready to make sense of any of it. “Hey”, a familiar voice fills your ears, “You with me, gorgeous?” You lazily open your eyes only managing to blink a couple of times. “I need words”, III urges, “Cause as sexy as you look fucked out of your senses, I need to know that my girl is okay”, brushing his fingers across your lips, III looks at you expectedly. “I think I’m high”, you mutter, voice raspy. III chuckles, “High on what?”, the bastard dares to smirk. “Your dick, asshole”, you grunt, scrunching your nose when he moves inside you once more. Sensing your discomfort III quickly reaches between you both, “I’m going to pull out but I have a feeling it will hurt”, the eyes that had looked at you with nothing but lust now were laced with concern. And he wasn’t wrong, you hissed more than once but III was there to kiss the tears away.

“I think you broke the lower part of my body”, you muttered after a heartbeat of silence between you two. “I would say that I am sorry but we both know that would be a lie”, he chuckles, reaching for a water bottle on his bedside table before handing it to you. “I love you”, he mutters watching your disheveled body, one that looked like a million bucks to him, especially now. “I love you too, you sex demon”, you grunt, making your boyfriend full belly laugh, before attempting to turn to your side but failing miserably. “Come on, I’ll carry you to the shower”, III leans in kissing your shoulder tenderly before scooping your tired frame into his arms with ease. “Do you think others heard us?”, you mutter against his chest with a yawn, “You share a wall with IV”. III simply shrugs, “Nighttime is for freaks anyway”.

[wannabelife]

[9:01pm] — bsk

pairing: seungkwan x afab reader

genre: smut, timestamp

warnings: breast play, sucking, marking, slapping

masterlist

your vacation mornings often look like this, and it is one of the best things of having all the time for yourselves. you can wake up with no compromise on having to be wherelse or work to do, you're only worried and occupied with each others bodies. and that's the only thing seungkwan has in mind now, with your legs on each side of his, your center perfectly aligned on his member. you have just his shirt and your panties on, him with nothing but his boxers too, baring the hot temperature of the summer air.

as your mouths are pressed together in a heated kiss, his hands sneaking down your (his) shirt, carressing the bare, warm skin of your back. your tongue pressing against his bottom lip, asking for attention. he immediately responds as he sucks on it before his tongue meets yours as you almost whimper because of the contact. the kiss getting sloppier and needier.

his hands caressing your lower back, and you caging his locks on your fingers, you have to unattach for a moment to catch your breaths. his nose pressing against your cheek, his hot breath spreading goosebumps on your neck, having him smirking, noticing it as he bites softly on your skin, earning a needy whine from you.

his face goes up to take a good look at you, your brows slightly shut, and mouth agape in pleasure. he thinks you're the hottest like this, seated on his lap. slowly, he slides his hand up your sides as well as your shirt, eventually taking it off of you and throwing somewhere to the side. his eyes almost immediately meet your perked nipples and seungkwan can't help but wet his lips in temptation. his mind only thinking about marking every single spot of your breast to claim his.

he pushes you closer by the waist, his mouth finding place at your neck, where he gives wet and open mouth kisses, as your breath gets heavier each time. seungkwan keeps going down, kissing and biting just above your boobs. but before he can get there, he stops, looking and just admiring their form as you whine with the lack of attention and the hunger on his eyes. he smirks, looking up at you again.

"more" you're able to say.

and to make your point, you run your clothed core on the line of his member, a groan leaving his mouth as your pussy clench around nothing, the wet spot already settled on the material.

his grip on your hip tightens "you're just so needy, aren't you?" he says as one of his palms leaves a slap on your right nipple. your head thrown back as you moan, feeling it tingle on it. the slap isn't intense, was almost harmless, but able to make yourself hiss at the motion. he cups it, caressing his thumb on it, easying the tension on your nipple. he does the same on the other side, massaging it on his hands.

finally, his mouth gets around your nipple, sucking the flesh first before running his tongue around it. your aurela getting all wet and red as you instinctively pull his locks, having him moaning on your skin. he goes for the other side, letting his tongue flat, licking the flesh as his teeth slightly grease on it, making your eyes roll back. you moan, as your pussy keeps asking for attention, pulsating nonstop. you slide your hips again, the same as before, to get some friction, feeling his bulge in a hard state underneath you as he hums with the feeling.

his hands making contact with your ass, gripping it in his palms, encouraging you to keep moving as he leaves marks all over your breast. before looking back at it, glistening with his saliva and with red spots on it "fuck, so gorgeous, can't believe you're all mine" he says.

he loves your boobs so much, he always likes to have it on his hands and to play with it. and its a given having to do this every morning, often leading to oral or you bouncing on his cock, or when you're taking the salt water from the beach on the shower outside and he gets to kiss and lick your, firstly, clothed with the bikini breast, having him to beg to undress you right there outside to suck on it, he loves all of it. just the thought making him twitches beneath you.

[respectthepetty]

Pride Petty Watch - LiTA (Sky/Prapai) 1/3

The crowd picked Love in the Air as the first show to ever move off of my Petty List, so I'm watching it and recapping my experience, and oh boy, is it an *experience*. I wrote about the first seven episodes in two parts [here and here], so it's time to dive into the next six episodes!

Woot woot!

I had to make sure I didn't click on episode one again because it's the same scenes showing again. This is the third time they have been shown? Fourth? I'm here for one thing and one thing only. Quit bullshitting LiTA and GIVE ME WHAT I CAME FOR!

Oh my God, my heart just jumped into my throat with this music and this lighting behind this devil.

I know how their story starts. I already knew. I will be not be upset at him. I will not get into my feelings about this even though this music and lighting are hellbent on making Prapai seem like The Worst™

I would love to claim "pink = 💕love💕" but not today, Satan.

Sky saying "Where's the condom?" as more of a demand rather than a question and the arch of his back are an appreciation post in themselves. This is transactional and he is not here to make friends.

WHY AM I BEING SHOWN RAIN AND PAYU AGAIN?! If you don't have enough material for thirteen episodes, just say it! Because my boy disassociated, went on autopilot, and is now tucking this nightmare away in a dark corner of his mind in true Trauma Compartmentalizing 101 fashion, yet I gotta see Payu and Rain's Daddy x Baby nonsense another round?! I only respect one person in this house and the rest of these men can choke. I wrote what I wrote.

Hold up, Prapai was AWAKE when Sky left looking like that? And now he is reminiscing about it in all black with that black rose of death lapel pin? *Arthur Fist*

I support queer rights AND queer wrongs, but this show is testing me like I'm fucking Frodo having to deliver a ring to the depths of hell in the month of Pride. Sky just went home and cried on his bed, while this woman is talking about getting over heartbreak because Prapai can't stop thinking about this one-night stand. I cannot be queer and *here* in these conditions with el diablo smirking every two seconds.

KinnPorsche, my old enemy, we meet again. Didn't think I'd see you here, but it tracks because where there is a rich bastard incapable of getting over the poorer man he wrongfully exerted power over, there will be a robe, wine, and a sex worker. (That boy looks like the Memory in the Letter lead)

"I feel sorry for your prey" - Everyone is too busy looking at the metaphorical weather that represents the characters to notice the red alert standing right there.

On God, if a man called me like that without telling me his name and proceeded to just . . . be creepy, it'd be on like Donkey Kong. I was raised by Sidney Prescott from Scream and if a man wants to play games over the phone, then he needs to be prepared to die. And what is it with this show trying to distract me with with these problematic men working out? I know they are attractive, but as Michelle Visage stated "stop relying on that body!" AND NOW CREEPY TEXTS, and the only thing Sky thinks is a "man like that wouldn't be into [him]" . . . BL boys would greatly benefit from feminism.

Prapai, you have to get less creepy. You just have to because this is not it, my man. You are throwing out the beginning-of-a-psycho-killer vibes and I cannot. I simply. Can. Fucking. Not.

Sky is pissed at Rain, threw the flowers, and has Prapai listed as "Psycho" so it's clear who has the brain cell of these weather boys, and it's the one whose back is hurting FROM CARRYING THE WEIGHT OF THE DAMN WORLD ON HIS SHOULDERS!

I will not be swayed by the sunflowers, the fact that Prapai is aware Sky is a Sad Boy, or the blue. As far as I'm concerned, by the end of this episode, Prapai is still the devil. NEXT EPISODE!

The energy between these two is giving me GMMTV "brothers," and that is not a compliment.

I'm not going to fault Sky for not throwing away the flowers because reuse, recycle, re-

WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?!

*took a six hour break and contemplated the meaning of life, made an avocado smoothie then poured rum in it, started doing yoga then ended up in savasana, which means I just laid there and looked at the ceiling, and finally I remembered the gorgeous Zani is in this show, so I returned*

This boy is me and I am him. I'm so chill that if I got any cooler, I'd be an ice cube. Just chilling. So chill. The chill is immaculate. I am meditating. I am praying. I am one with the storm. I'm the chillest. Climate change no longer exists because I'm just, so, fucking, chill. ~Let's continue~

I don't want to give Prapai any credit because I already told my mom I hate him which means we are sworn enemies in this life and future ones as well, but him noticing that Sky spaced out even though he immediately jumped back into flirting mode, and him reinforcing that he thinks Sky is attractive in any state including this one should be an issue because he is still focusing on Sky's body, but he doesn't know Sky well enough to have anything else, so . . . one whole point for Slytherin, I guess.

Rain is not a real one and if Sky was a rapper, this in when he would have dropped the ultimate diss track cementing his place in academic rhetoric for all eternity. Even if I didn't know about his ex, I could have read that expression, but Rain? Once again, one brain cell, and Sky has it.

I want to give Prapai the points for the food, but he doesn't even know what Sky likes, so this is White Man Ambition at its finest. Thank goodness that Sky is throwing it awa-

NOT THE FUCKING RED AGAIN!

Dear Reader, I'm going to level with you here one and a half episodes into this arc: I now fully understand The Fuckery. I greatly appreciate the 126 people who picked this show because this is the perfect example of what I keep reading about a MAME series. The abrupt shifts between aggressive flirting, dick jokes, and trauma is jarring. I knew the kidnapping was coming for Rain, but hearing Stop say that Rain would be sexually assaulted by his gang of men if Payu didn't stop fighting back was the most violent moment of an already physically violent event that, strangely, did not affect me until that very moment. I know what is coming for Sky, yet having these intercuts of Sky's abuse, although effective, are humbling in a way I was not expecting. Because what I had thought I was walking into was a trashy watch with gratuitous sex talk and some drama, but what I'm experiencing is a lot of emotional discord as the story swings between extremes while refusing to balance itself out. There is no middle ground in this show. I will continue to be petty about this watch, but I get it now in a way I was never going to grasp without watching one of her series and I'm graciously realizing I would not have survived TharnType because even as Prapai connects the dots that something *very bad* has happened to Sky based on his interactions with Sky, he smiles because . . . well, because.

So even though Sky and Prapai's arc is smaller than the first, my watch is going to be in three parts instead of just two because . . . well, because.

~Let's continue~

I'm going to try really hard to give Slytherin points here, *grinds teeth* so even though this man is stalking Sky, he gets credit for showing up, which according to the great philosophers, is half the battle. Also, I know his lapel pins are important, so the sunflower and the bee after he gave Sky meaningful sunflowers is a nice sentimental touch, but he gets no points because HE COULD'VE OFFERED THE BOY A RIDE! The perfect pitch was right there, yet he swings and misses.

I don't listen to true crime podcasts, but I feel confident that most cases start with a stalker using several devices to contact their victim after his primary mean is blocked. Basically, I need Prapai to do as Sky's shirt says and "CHILL THE FUCK OUT!" I'm trying to give him points but he refuses to exhibit any level of chill. None. No chill. Not ice cube. Just sad hot puddle of zero chills.

I felt *something* between Sig and Som when they were arguing across the tables in episode seven, but now I know Sig is trying to instigate a fight with Som just so he can have that boy's hands around his neck. I respect it.

Sky is having a breakdown because of the onslaught of texts Prapai keeps sending him from multiple devices and as he huddles in the fetal position begging to be left alone having bursts of anger, the phone begins to vibrate signaling more texts are coming through. The director, Ne, also served as an editor on Only Friends, and if he whispered in Jojo's ears to make Ray's bathtub scene just as gut-wrenching as this, I just wanna eat some soup with Ne and know like "You good, boo?"

I am fighting for my life in these trenches!

Rain picked up Sky's phone and told Prapai to come to the hospital. Rain? Rain who was on his knees begging for Sky's forgiveness after he gave Sky's number to Prapai? As in the Rain who was told to stay out of Sky's business? Like the same Rain who Sky looked in his face and told him he would never be with Prapai? THE RAIN WHO IS NOW GIVING PRAPAI THE KEY TO SKY'S APARTMENT?! That Rain?!

"I made a promise to Rain" - Pero like . . . why do you have to make promises to not fuck with unconscious and sick people? Cause shouldn't that be a given? No? Mmm. Interesting development.

I have only watched two episodes. TWO! I'm not even halfway through this AND I know how this ends. No amount of knowledge or spoilers has properly prepared me for this journey, and now I'm scared and I want my mom to come pick me up.

But here I am. Clicking on the next episode.

pinche cabrón

[prettyprettypaci2]

I would love to get to meet my imaginary friend

And your imaginary friend would love to meet you!

Say hi to Claire! Sorry, she always zones out a bit when she has a warm bottle 😏🍼

In her college sorority, she goes by "Double Dare Claire" — she'll take any dare for $20 and a Toblerone. First she got dared into the diapers, then the outfits, then the crib...just looking at this picture, I think she's keeping up with about 12 dares right now. But hey, that's a lot of Toblerones! 😃

Claire has enjoyed the outcomes of some dares more than others. She hates having to eat baby food for breakfast every morning. 🤢 But she loves that she only gets to watch Cartoon Network! 😇 Any excuse to keep up with Scooby and the gang!

Outside all the tricks and games, Claire is a fun friend who likes to make people laugh. She still goes to Open Mic nights at comedy clubs, but her material has taken on some new inspiration lately 😅 ("Didn't make it to the toilet again, guys! Now I know why they don't call them Pull-Downs.")

I think she's almost done with her bottle! Why don't you go help her with her act? 😆

[barbatusart]

how do you make your art so expressive and fluid-looking? do you have a technique or is it just how you've trained your hand? I try to get my figures more fluid but they always look so stiff! even practicing figure drawings...maybe because you draw so fast that helps? idk man...any advice? thank you!

thank you first off for such a compliment!!! fluidity & shape are the things i prize most in visual art to the point where ive given up gunning for "correctness" in favor of chasing the preservation of motion lol. gonna put my response and my Full Visual Art Journey to where i am now under the cut as it's an image-heavy one and a bit long winded (shocking for me to be long winded i know LOL)

so i absolutely used to have the exact same problem many years ago of my stuff being too stiff, ie my sketch would be loose and fun but my inks would be nervous & tight & not as fun to look at as the sketch

this is a super old thing from 2011 when i was still on my anatomy journey (you can tell cus the sternum and nose are, uh, interesting LOL) but you can kinda see what i mean - the sketch underneath is fun & has movement as sketches do, but these little fineliner inks are so visually Nervous. the issue for me at the time was that i was subconsciously exactly that: nervous of messing the picture up, and that fear of making a mistake telegraphed loud & clear to my inks. using fineliner tools 100% did not help me either, as microns & the like have little to no "give" to them; you put the pen to paper and you get what you get, and you have to sit there & meticulously build the line up to get any kind of lineweight.

i was ultra dissatisfied with my output so i made 2 changes a few years after this: i stopped doing pencil sketches and started just doing straight inks, and i swapped to a brushpen

these are from 2012 or so & some of the first things i did in straight brushpen inks with no pencil, and theyre a total mess but they are LOOSE AND FUN! i had 100% no idea what i was doing with the brushpen and had no control over it because i was so used to the thin lines pencil & microns gave me, so everything i made was sloppy & out of control as i was struggling to keep control of the tool, but honestly it was absolutely freeing for me. now i had the looseness of the sketch right there at the forefront. the issue was though, how could i get enough control of the brushpen to make something that wasnt so messy? even if i had freedom, if i got too wacky with it, itd just turn into a black ink mess. i was completely done with pencils at this point and didn't want to go back & risk losing this looseness & freedom, and then i realized like - what if i just do my straight ink sketch like this & then figure out a way to go back in & "carve" into it to clean it?

enter the next tool in the arsenal, the white gel pen. this was my first experiment with it & it was legitimately a complete game changer, because now i could slop on my inks as much as i wanted & go right back in with the gel pen & literally carve out the black lines to as crisp as i pleased while still preserving the motion & energy of the ink sketch. i noticed even with tons of layers of gel too there was no way to fully get rid of the ghost outline of my corrections, so at this stage i leaned into that quality even harder & changed from white paper to exclusively brown

at this point i wanted to showcase loud & clear to myself exactly what i was cleaning up, i LOVED how this looked. i even went a step further & got some really translucent red ink for a second brush pen (had to fill the cartridges with the red ink manually in the sink lol) so i could do an even sloppier red sketch underneath, half precise slop on black ink on top of it, clean it up with the gel, go back in with the black, forever and ever and ever

and like this was an absolute physical mess of material but it was beyond fun. id completely given up on anything being clean or correct, because i could always clean it & correct it & have a blast showcasing the journey of start to finish as preserved in the materials. i basically gave myself permission to like, be imperfect, treat inks like clay, & draw with complete abandon like a kid again

eventually utrecht stopped making the kind of brown paper i loved (these brown paper books were HEAVY DUTY & could take so much punishment, when i was done with a book id legit flip it over & start drawing on the backs of the pages) & then all the available material physically couldnt handle the amount of medium i was putting on my pages, like legit the paper itself was just ripping & dissolving lmao. so at this stage i got an ipad (i could never wrap my head around a tablet & not looking at my hand and the tool touching the artwork) & pivoted from trad to digital in like uhhhh 2018ish & just did the exact same techniques of slopping inks down, carving with the eraser, going back in with the inks, carving more with the eraser, and so on. and now since it was digital & i never had to worry about my paper literally melting underneath my brushes LOL i could just go forever on one thing

early attempts while learning the new medium in my fury road era

tail end of the SAD SACK roughs in like 2019ish (SAD SACK really was what got me locked in with my digital technique & how i wanted to attack it)

tail end of the SORTIE roughs from like 2021, at this stage i think my style got so fuckin crazy because i wasnt worried about my pages getting destroyed anymore so im like Violent with the ipad lmao, that & it got Really fast bcus since i wasnt bothering with correct anymore & had no medium-being-destroyed barrier i could just gunshot-speed get these down

and then most recently DE RERUM NATURA from like january of this year which i think showcases what im currently doing pretty accurately

this got long whoops lol POINT IS: i dont worry about being correct (because i can fix it later), i dont worry about being neat (because i can clean it later), and i skip the sketch stage entirely by slop-inking & eraser-carving interchangeably, which lets me fix and clean all i want while preserving the energy & action of the first marks. plus, going straight inks all the time i think trained my hand & eye to A. put down the marks i want correctly in the General Space of where i want them, and B. do it faster & faster lol

after all this my advice to you is this: swap to a new tool! try a brush, try paint, try a medium you have no control over but something that forces you to improvise and remember whats so fun in the first place about making a mess on your canvas of choice. remember that any mark you make, you can tweak, fix, carve, shove around, whatever. i think a lot of people get stuck in the rules they have set for themselves with art (i know i did!) and we tend to forget that there are no rules. try & remember that feeling of being little & just going wild on paper without any care whatsoever about being Right. go for it, because you can always tweak it - even inks arent permanent 🤓

[starfxkr]

have been thinking a lot about loser rafe lately.. i think its so interesting that in fics he’s consistently written as mister popular everyone knows him all the girls want him but like. if you look at canon theres not actually a lot of evidence until season 3 but i have thoughts on that this is a long one lets get #meta

season one the only people he hangs out with/talks to are topper kelce and barry and barry didnt even fuck w him like that he was still just the plug 😭 hes selling coke at that party but who do we see him talking to besides the drunk/high girls that are all over him because he has well. coke! i feel like season one is the best representation of his social status on the island because its really the only window we have into what their normal lives looked like before everything snowballed with the gold and tbh nothing about him was giving king of kildare

season two bro is going through a lot the only person who fucks with him is barry and he like kind of talks to topper even though they clearly dont like each other because who else does he have to talk to? hes clearly been ostracized to some degree by his peers because yeah he was cleared and released but he was ARRESTED. IN RELATION TO A MURDER. and all the mess with his dad like its a small island everybody knows everybodys business and tbh i dont even think just that would be enough to justify him being so entirely alone. rich white kids do not have morals. we’ve seen rich white men that have done worse and actually been convicted/held accountable assimilate back into their respective communities with ease and i think the same would have happened to rafe if he already had the clout for it but he clearly doesn’t but you know who does? SARAH. she comes back from everything in s3 and all her old kook peers are quick to welcome her back in hungry for details about everything she’s experienced. now rafe.. we see him getting drunk alone at the country club in the middle of the day like oh thats not

now season three yeah he comes back to kildare he wants to be a real man like his daddy blah blah blah he takes over tannyhill and throws that big party but he has. no friends. i dont even mean close friends bc duh but he comes back and theres not even a oh shit rafe’s back like his revival actually made no noise thats soooooakslskjskdld you cannot tell me that all the people at that party were not 90% tourons 10% nosy locals 100% people just looking for free liq and a sick party these are not rafes peers from season one

tldr i think on the surface its really easy to see the boxes rafe checks off (rich young hot popular sister etc) and assume that everybody wanted him or to be him and everybody writes him like that but im gonna touch your hand when i say this . he is a loser. if rose thought he was weird as fuck from when he was 10 years old i’m sure everyone else on the island could smell it too. i need more people to write rafe as sarah’s weird mean friendless bitchless Not Quite Right older brother LOOK AT THE MATERIAL

THANK YOU THANK YOU I CONSISTENTLY SAY BARRY IS RAFES ONLY REAL FRIEND

like i say this all the time but rafe is really fuckin weird and off-putting. there's this sense that he's kinda...wearing human skin. like he's moving around barely able to contain his worst impulses and everyone can like sense that? rafe has always been not quite right and he's not very good at hiding that either.

like everything rafe does seems off, and you make such a good point about him not being able go back into the fold properly makes sense if you peel back the layers and see he wasn't really well liked to begin with? topper was way more popular than rafe and in many was rafe and topper are only friends because of sarah and even then rafe is weird about using topper as a means of control over her.

but yeah you summed it up perfectly rafe doesnt give kook king forreal hes a weird, friendless loser who can barely hide his true self in public.

[kingtinaa]

𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀❥𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍

pg.1

𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾❥ college!au, romance , fluff, fake-dating!trope, friends to lovers!au

𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒❥𝖺s you struggle to maintain your sanity over the looming end-of-year dentistry exam, Jake’s sudden toothache only adds to the chaos.

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A thud jolted me awake, as my eyes adjusted, I realized a book had fallen off the shelf. Forty precious minutes wasted. I let out a frustrated sigh and checked my phone, hoping for some notifications. Nothing. "Right, I'm not that forgettable," I muttered to myself, starting to pack up my things. My body was crying out for a good night's rest.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and made my way out of the library, the silence of the empty halls amplifying my footsteps. The campus was eerily quiet, with only the faint hum of distant traffic breaking the stillness. I pulled my jacket tighter around me as I stepped outside, the cool night air a stark contrast to the stuffy warmth of the library.

The path to my dorms was dimly lit by old-fashioned street lamps, their yellow glow casting long shadows on the cobblestone walkway. Each step seemed to echo my mounting anxiety about the looming exams. Every lecture, every lab session, and every textbook page seemed to swirl in my mind, an overwhelming jumble of information that I had yet to fully grasp.

As I walked, I couldn't help but think about the end-of-year exam . It felt like a looming shadow, constantly reminding me of how much I still needed to study. The pressure was immense. I could almost feel the weight of the expectations on my shoulders, both my own and those of my professors and family. The thought of failing, of letting everyone down, gnawed at me.

The dormitory building finally came into view, its familiar façade a small comfort amid my spiraling thoughts. I climbed the steps, each one a reminder of the hours of sleep I had sacrificed and the social events I had skipped to prepare for these exams. As I turned the corner on the second-floor landing, I bumped into Minjee.

"Hey!" she said, her face lighting up with a smile. "Didn't expect to see you here so late. You look exhausted."

"Tell me about it," I replied, managing a tired smile. "What's up?"

"There's a party next week," she said, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "And guess what? Jake's hosting it."

Great, I thought, another distraction. Jake was a mutual friend, and while I appreciated his company, the timing couldn't be worse. "Sounds fun," I said, trying to muster some enthusiasm. "I'll see if I can make it."

Minjee gave me a sympathetic look. "Don't stress too much, okay? You need a break too."

"Yeah, I know," I sighed. "Thanks, Minjee. I'll think about it."

As she continued down the stairs, I pushed open the door to my floor, her words lingering in my mind. I dropped my bag on the floor and sank onto my bed, the stress of the day weighing heavily on me. As I stared at the ceiling, I knew that tomorrow would bring another long day of studying, another round of battling my own doubts and fears. But for now, I allowed myself a moment of respite, hoping that a few hours of sleep would help clear my mind and renew my determination to face the challenges ahead.

…

The next day dawned earlier than I would have liked. My alarm blared, pulling me from a fitful sleep filled with restless dreams about dental exams. I groggily got out of bed, stretching my stiff muscles and trying to shake off the lingering fatigue. The stress was already gnawing at the edges of my mind, a constant reminder of the looming tests.

After a quick shower and a hastily eaten breakfast, I packed my bag with study materials and headed out to the internet café. It was one of my favorite places to study, with its quiet corners and steady Wi-Fi—a perfect environment to focus.

As I stepped out of my dorm, I nearly collided with someone in the hallway. It was Jake, his usual easygoing smile plastered on his face.

“Hey,” he said, his tone casual but polite. “I didn’t expect to see you here so early. You must be really hitting the books.”

“Yeah,” I replied, forcing a smile. “Just trying to get as much done as possible.”

“Listen,” he said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, “I’m having a party next week. Minjee might have mentioned it. You should come.”

I felt a pang of irritation. I appreciated the invite, but it felt like another distraction I couldn't afford. "Thanks, Jake," I said, trying to keep my tone neutral. "I'll see if I can make it."

He nodded, giving me a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Don't stress too much. You deserve a break."

I forced another smile and watched as he walked down the hall. The interaction left me feeling unsettled, a mix of gratitude and frustration swirling inside me. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Jake—I did. But right now, my focus was on passing my exams, not on social gatherings.

Pushing the thoughts aside, I made my way to the internet café. The morning air was crisp, and the campus was slowly coming to life with students heading to their classes. The café was a short walk from my dorm, and as I entered, the familiar scent of coffee and the soft hum of conversation greeted me.

I found a quiet corner, set up my laptop, and spread out my notes. As I settled in, I couldn’t help but think about how much I had to catch up on. The party invite lingered at the back of my mind, a reminder of how disconnected I felt from my social life. But I knew I had to prioritize my studies. There would be time for parties later—right now, I needed to focus.

With a deep breath, I opened my textbooks and started reviewing my notes, determined to make the most of the day. The café's atmosphere helped soothe my anxiety, and slowly, I began to lose myself in the world of dental anatomy and procedures, blocking out all distractions.

…

After a contentious three hours of intense studying at the internet café, I decided to take a much-needed break. My head was buzzing with dental terminology, and I could feel my concentration slipping. Leaning back in my chair, I pulled out my phone and saw a new message from Minjee.

"Hey! Can you come over tonight? I need help picking out outfits. Pretty please?"

I smiled at the thought of Minjee's fashion dilemmas. I replied with a quick "Sure, give me 30," and put my phone away, stretching my arms and rolling my neck to ease the tension.

As I started to pack up my things, my mind wandered. I thought about how long it had been since I’d been in a relationship. Balancing the demands of my dentistry course had left little room for dating, and I often felt like an outsider looking in on the social lives of my friends.

Then there was Jake. He was popular among the girls on campus, always the center of attention at parties and social gatherings. I wondered if I’d ever have a chance with him. We got along well enough, but I couldn’t help but feel that he saw me as just a friend—or worse, an acquaintance. Still, the thought of him lingered, an unspoken what-if that had been hovering in the back of my mind for a while.

Before I could get too deep in my thoughts, I realized I had arrived at Minjee's doorstep. Time had slipped by in a haze of introspection, and now I was here, standing outside her door. I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering doubts, and knocked.

The door swung open almost immediately. "You're here!" Minjee exclaimed, pulling me into a hug. "Come on in, I've got a ton of outfits to try on, and I need your honest opinion."

I laughed, grateful for the distraction. "Alright, lead the way. Let's see what you’ve got."

As I followed her into the cozy warmth of her room, I pushed thoughts of exams and unrequited crushes to the back of my mind. For now, it was just me and Minjee, and a closet full of clothes.

…

It all began with that red two-piece. The moment Minjee tried it on, all her other options were forgotten. She couldn’t seem to physically let go of it, twirling in front of the mirror with a look of pure delight. She was in love.

Watching her, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy. Her excitement was infectious, and as she experimented with different makeup looks, I started to feel a tug of temptation. Maybe I should go to this party. I’d missed out on so many events—surely it wouldn’t hurt to attend just this one.

Minjee caught my eye in the mirror and grinned. “You know, you should come too. It’ll be fun, and you need a break from all that studying.”

I sighed, considering her words. Maybe she was right. Maybe I needed a night to unwind and remember what it felt like to be a part of something other than my textbooks and lecture notes. “Alright,” I said finally, a small smile creeping onto my face. “I’ll go.”

Minjee squealed in delight, rushing over to give me a hug. “You won’t regret it! Trust me, it’s going to be amazing.”

As I watched her glow with happiness, I began to believe her. Perhaps this party was exactly what I needed to shake off the stress and rediscover a bit of joy.

Minjee began rifling through her wardrobe, offering me piece after piece of clothing. “How about this dress? Or maybe this top and skirt combo?”

I shook my head, laughing. “Thanks, Minjee, but I think I’ll check my own closet first. If I don’t find anything, I’ll make a quick trip to the city center and see what the shops have to offer.”

She pouted playfully. “Fine, but don’t hesitate to borrow something if you change your mind. I have way too many clothes as it is.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied with a smile. “But seriously, thank you for the offer. I’m sure I’ll find something.”

Minjee beamed and continued to twirl in her red two-piece, clearly imagining herself at the party. Watching her, I felt a flicker of excitement. Maybe this party would be a chance to break free from my routine and have a little fun.

…

As Minjee changed out of the red two-piece, she started tidying up the mess of clothes scattered across the floor, carefully hanging them back in her closet. She then slipped into her Lilo and Stitch pajamas, her comfort clothes that always made me smile.

I sat on her bed, watching her as she moved about. She left the bathroom door open while she did her skincare routine, meticulously applying each product. The scent of her lotions and creams wafted through the room, creating a calming atmosphere.

“So,” she began, her voice echoing slightly from the bathroom, “I’ve been meaning to tell you about Jay.

I perked up, curious. “What about him?”

She leaned against the bathroom doorframe, massaging a serum into her face. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together lately. I think it’s getting serious.”

“Really?” I asked, genuinely interested. “That’s great, Minjee. How do you feel about it?”

She smiled softly, a hint of vulnerability in her eyes. “I’m happy, but also a little scared. It’s been a while since I’ve felt this way about someone. I don’t want to mess it up.”

I nodded, understanding her apprehension. “You won’t. Just be yourself. Jay obviously likes you for who you are.”

“Thanks,” she said, her smile growing. “It’s just... nice to talk about it with someone. I’ve been keeping it to myself, trying to figure out how I feel.”

“Well, I’m always here to listen,” I reassured her. “And for what it’s worth, I think you and Jay are great together.”

As Minjee finished her skincare routine and came to sit beside me on the bed, her face glowing from the products, she turned to me with a thoughtful expression. "Enough about me," she said, her tone shifting. "What about you? Any romantic interests or love life updates you’ve been keeping under wraps?"

I felt a blush creep up my cheeks and laughed nervously. "No, nothing like that. I’ve been so focused on my studies that I haven’t really thought about dating."

Minjee raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Come on, there must be someone. You can’t stay buried in your textbooks forever. Do you have any plans to change your relationship status?”

I hesitated, thinking about how to put my feelings into words. “Well, there’s Jake. But I don’t really think I’ve got a chance. He literally has so many options. I’m not too bothered, but he is hot.”

Minjee’s eyes widened with interest. “Jake, huh? I knew it! You two would be so cute together. Why don’t you make a move?”

I sighed, shaking my head. “I don’t know, Minjee. I’m not sure if he’s interested, and besides, I don’t even know if I’m ready for that kind of distraction with exams coming up.”

Minjee suddenly groaned, rolling her eyes. “Fucking hell, Y/N, you’ve mentioned exams about 30 times in the last hour. Chill out! It’ll work out and you’ll be fine. Don’t let it stop you from living your life.”

I blinked, taken aback by her outburst. Then I laughed, realizing how right she was. “Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll try to relax a bit.”

She nudged me playfully. “You might be surprised. Sometimes taking a chance on love is exactly what you need to balance out the stress. And who knows, maybe Jake is waiting for you to make the first move.”

I smiled, appreciating her encouragement. “Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” Minjee said, giving me a reassuring pat on the back. “Life’s too short to not take chances, especially when it comes to love.”

We continued to chat late into the night, discussing everything from our studies to our dreams for the future. By the time I left Minjee’s room, I felt a renewed sense of hope and excitement. Perhaps this party would be the perfect opportunity to explore new possibilities, both academically and romantically.

As the night crawled in, I realized how late it had gotten. The clock on Minjee’s nightstand showed it was nearly 11 PM. I started to gather my things, preparing to head back to my dorm.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a sleepover?” Minjee asked, her eyes hopeful.

“If I come more prepared next time, we definitely can, but not tonight,” I replied, giving her a reassuring smile.

She sighed but nodded in understanding. “Alright, but next time you’re staying, no excuses.”

I laughed and gave her a quick hug before stepping out into the cool night air. It was only a ten-minute walk back to my dormitory, but the late hour and the quiet campus gave me a slight shiver. I wrapped my jacket tighter around myself and set off.

As I neared my dormitory, I noticed a figure illuminated by a lamppost in the distance. The closer I got, the more I could hear their voice, raised in an angry argument over the phone.

“—fuck off, you cunt,” they spat, ending the call with a frustrated sigh.

I tried to creep quietly towards the entrance of the stairwell, hoping to avoid any interaction. But just as I was about to slip inside, the figure called out to me.

“Y/N? Why are you creeping about so late at night?”

I froze and turned around, realizing with a start that it was Jake. His usually easygoing demeanor was replaced with a look of frustration and weariness.

“Jake?” I asked, surprised. “I was just heading back to my dorm after studying with a friend.”

He ran a hand through his hair, the tension in his posture easing slightly. “Just girl problems, am I right?” He forced a laugh, but it sounded hollow.

I stared at him blankly, unsure how to respond. “Right... well, um, I’m going to go to bed.”

As I turned to slip away, I suddenly remembered something and quickly spun back around. “Oh, and Jake, I’ll be seeing you next week.”

Before he could say anything, I slipped inside the building and made my way straight to my room. As I closed the door behind me, I leaned against it, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The encounter with Jake was odd, but it solidified my decision to attend the party. Maybe it was time to step out of my comfort zone and see what possibilities awaited.

🝮🝮🝮

it’s literally 4:32am I feel like this is so shit. lmk if I should continue it.

I appreciate constructive criticism!!! but be nice it’s my first time writing.