#so when i googled it i just avoided looking at the stuff for did or osdd bc i didnt think i fit the bill

[orbitfalls]

thank you @lilysrosier and @sugarsnappeases for the tags<33 catch me rambling in the tags as ever<3

i’m over 5'5 / i wear glasses or contacts / i have blonde hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i don’t often smile / resting bitch face / i play sports / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / i’ve never dated anyone / i have a best friend i’ve known for over five years / i am an only child

no pressure tags for @scrxpz @sophyayayayaya @theicarusconstellation @svphart @stillagoodwitch and @spaceandotheroddities as well as anyone else who wants to!!!!!<33

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 5: What I Want

Summary: You begin your training with Ghost, but not everything goes as smoothly as you'd hoped. At least you're learning how to want things, and that it won't kill you if you ask for them.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader, some Ghost x Soap

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, oral sex, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, suggestive content, language, brief violence, reader has a breakdown

A/N: I know I was supposed to rest, but I couldn't help myself. I just had to get this one done. I was feeling it. We're finally getting into the good stuff here. Things will kind of pick up after this part, so I'm really looking forward for that.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

(Gif pulled from google)

You tug nervously at your sleeve, feeling exactly as you did when you had to sit in the director’s office at The Institute. Only, you never got in trouble there. You had never been summoned because you misbehaved. You made it a point not to get into trouble, avoiding it at all costs. 

You’ve been here just over a week and you’ve already messed up. 

Price is staring at you across his desk, leaning on his elbows as his blue eyes bore into you. You’re not staring at Price, you think. No, you’ve come face to face with The Captain. He’s angry, though you can’t be entirely sure. You’ve never seen him truly angry. You’re waiting on the reprimanding, the punishment, for him to tell you they’re sending you back because you’re too much trouble. 

“I want you to tell me exactly what happened.”

You flinch at his voice, half expecting him to start shouting but he sounds almost calm. There’s a strain to his voice, like he’s restraining himself. He’s doing it for your sake, you think. 

“Ghost and I were walking back from the mess when one of the alphas called out to me. He...he asked if I was going to go spread my legs for ‘that freak’ and he said he could offer me a better time.” You swallow thickly, Price’s shoulders tensing just slightly. “I don’t know what happened...I just suddenly felt so angry and it’s like I lost control of myself and I went up to him and he asked if I was gonna take him up on his offer and that he’d like to bend me over and stare at my sweet ass all night...and then I hit him, sir.” 

“Good.” 

You look up at Price in surprise at his answer, your eyes widening a bit. “S-sorry, sir?” 

“I have little tolerance for alphas that think it’s alright to speak crudely to omegas, especially those they were explicitly told to let be. You saved me a lot of paperwork today. Simon would have done a lot worse had you not gotten to him first.” He moves the papers on his desk aside, holding out his hand. “Let me see.” 

You stare at his hand for a moment before you realize he’s talking about your hand. You push your sleeve up, putting your hand in his. Your knuckles have swollen a bit and bruised, tender to the touch as he runs his thumb over them. 

“Simon told me you asked him to teach you to fight.” He says, closing his fingers around your hand. 

“Well, not so much fight, sir.” You say, staring at your hands. “Maybe just how to throw a decent punch.” 

“I’d say the one you threw today was at least half-decent. Corporal Allen is sporting quite the bruise on his face.” The corner of his lips lift in a smile. “You won’t have to worry about him anymore. He’ll be properly dealt with and they’ll all be receiving a lecture on proper base etiquette.” 

“So...am I in trouble, sir?” You ask, pulling your hand back slowly as he releases it. 

“No, you were simply defending yourself after Corporal Allen made a pass at you. Just don’t make it a habit of going around punching alphas.” He smiles. 

“I’ll try not to, sir.” You say, relieved that you weren’t about to get punished for your mistake. 

“Go on.” He nods towards the door. “I’m sure the boys are waiting for you.” 

“Thank you, sir.” You say, standing up from your chair, heading towards the door. 

Price leans back in his chair as the door closes, the sweet scent of caramel and strawberries still permeating his office. He breathes it in for a moment before pulling out his phone, scrolling through the contacts. 

“You’ll be delighted to hear our girl punched an alpha in the face today.” He says once the other line picks up. 

“She did what?” Laswell asks, genuine surprise in her tone. 

“One of the Corporals made a pass at her, and she left quite the bruise on his cheek. She’s turning into quite the spitfire.” 

“I told you she would fit right in. Underneath all that institute-taught BS there’s quite the personality. How is she settling in?” 

“She’s softening up to the betas already. Still a bit fidgety, but she’s found a way to get Simon to warm up to her.” 

“Oh? How so?” 

“She asked him to teach her to fight.” Price grins. 

Laswell chuckles. “I told you she’s smart. Just make sure he’s gentle with her.” 

“Don't worry, I reminded him to go easy on her. I think it will be good for both of them. Some forced proximity will be good for Simon and she’ll get to learn a few things that could be helpful.” 

“So long as she doesn’t go around trying to fight more alphas.” 

“She’s already promised not to. The Corporal got off easy. I can only imagine what Simon might have done to him.” 

“I’m glad to hear things are going well, John. I worry about her sometimes, but I know you boys will take good care of her.” 

“We’re doing our best.” 

“If you ever need anything, you know you can call.” 

“I know. I’ll keep you updated as her heat gets closer.” 

“Good. I’d hate to have to file that paperwork.” 

Price grimaces. “I know. I hope you don’t have to.” 

You’re tying your shoes as the knock sounds on the door. You’re not sure how they manage to do it, always seeming to catch you at the perfect moment. You’re glad Kate thought to get you some more active-wear type clothing, though perhaps she expected you’d be getting involved in their training or at least start a bit of your own once you arrived, just as she had thought to get you outdoorsy clothes too. 

You open the door, staring up at the hulking form of Ghost. 

“Come on.” He grunts, turning on his heel to walk down the hallway. 

You quickly close your door, hurrying after him. Not much has changed since your request for him to train you, though you didn’t really expect it to. Not at first, at least. You still have to prove yourself to him. Simply existing and getting involved in their lives would not be enough. 

He escorts you to the gym, a building you haven’t been in yet. There’s a few soldiers milling around, most of them in the weight room. There’s a pool across from the weight room, for more than just swimming, you think. Your father had talked about his own water survival training. You can only imagine the kind of water training they go through. 

Ghost leads you towards the back of the gym, unlocking a door near the exit. It’s set up not unlike a dojo, mats on the floor and punching bags and other training equipment along the walls. Ghost empties his pockets, setting his things on a bench before removing his sweatshirt. 

You can’t help but stare, only ever having seen him in long sleeves. His muscles bulge beneath his t-shirt, the first bit of skin revealed to you besides his neck, chin, and hands. Your eyes are drawn to his arms, taking in the sheer size of them. 

Tattoos. 

He has a sleeve of tattoos on his left arm. You have a desire to look at them closer, to trace each one but you wouldn’t dare. Not right now. You pull off your own sweatshirt, folding it and setting it on the bench, leaving you in just a t-shirt and your leggings. 

You fail in your attempt not to stare as he walks towards the center of the mat in his t-shirt and sweatpants, swallowing nervously. He turns to face you, motioning for you to approach with two of his fingers. Your face warms as you hurry onto the mat, coming to stand in front of him. 

“Let me see.” He says, holding out his hand. 

You stare at it for a moment before your brain catches up, and you put your right hand into his. You ignore the feeling of his fingers wrapping around your hand, lifting it so he can inspect your still bruised knuckles. 

“We’ll start with dodging.” He says, releasing your hand, taking a step back. “Let me see your stance.” 

You part your feet a little, bringing your fists up to your face. His shoulders shake in a quiet huff of a laugh as he stares at you. 

“You need to stagger your stance more.” He says, circling you. “Otherwise,” Hands push you from behind, and you nearly avoid face planting into the floor. “You’re too easy to knock over. The last thing you want is the fight to end up on the floor. You won’t be getting back up if you let your opponent overpower you that much. Again.” He motions to you. 

You set up your stance again, widening your feet just a bit. 

“Good.” He says, moving to stand in front of you. “These protect your face.” He says, hands wrapping around your wrists, raising your hands just a bit. “You get hit in the face...” 

“I won’t be getting back up.” You finish for him. 

You know most fights end up with both opponents on the ground. You’d watched your brothers wrestle and play fight enough to know that. You’re not here to learn how to win a fight, only how to protect yourself enough until you can find space to run. 

You barely have time to stumble back as his fist swings at you, nearly losing your footing. “Hey! You could warn me first.” 

“You think someone attacking you is going to warn you?” He asks. 

He has a point. 

“Use your legs.” He says as you set yourself up again. “Move side to side if you can instead of ducking under the punch, but if you have to, don’t let your eyes leave your opponent.” 

You see this punch coming, ducking to your right to avoid getting hit. 

“Good.” He says, repeating the motion with his left hand. “Stay focused.” 

You continue with the same motion a few times, already starting to feel a bit fatigued. Running is one thing, but strength is another. Most omegas aren’t naturally strong, nor are they inclined to increase their strength. That’s what alphas and their packs are for. It’s not unheard of, though, for omegas to increase their physical strength. Perhaps you’ll need to consider looking into doing that as well. 

Ghost takes a step back, letting you rest for a moment. You’re breathing heavily, though he’s hardly looking fatigued at all. He’s used to this, you remind yourself. He probably throws more punches in a day in the field than he’s thrown at you so far in 30 minutes. 

“Now, let’s make it a bit more realistic.” He says, a low rumble at the edge of his voice. 

A wave of scent hits you, your brain nearly short-circuiting. Fear pulses through you, ozone burning your nostrils. You stumble backwards, landing on your back on the mat. You’re breathing heavily, every cell in your body screaming at you to run or submit. 

“That’s...that’s n-not fair!” You say, your hands trembling from the adrenaline coursing through you. 

“Any alpha you fight is going to use every natural advantage they have over you.” Ghost says, stalking towards you. You can practically see it, the purebred alpha within him coming through. “You need to learn to protect yourself against them.” 

“That's...that’s not possible.” You say, the edge of a whine detectable in your tone. 

He kneels down over you, crowding into your space despite the souring of your scent. It doesn’t even seem to phase him as he forces you flat on your back, his hands coming to rest on either side of your head. You stare up at him, every fiber of your being screaming at you to bare your throat, submit, give in. 

Don’t back down. 

Don’t back down. 

You push past the fear, the instincts screaming at you as you drive your knee up into his stomach. He lets out a grunt but it doesn’t phase him, his hand wrapping around your leg, using his sheer strength to flip you onto your stomach under him. He presses against you, body folding over yours. You resist the urge, the instinct to press back into him, to be a good omega. 

“If an alpha gets you onto the floor...” He says, warm breath fanning your ear through his mask. “You won’t want to get back up.” 

His face presses against your neck as he inhales deeply before he pushes himself up, grabbing the back of your shirt and hauling you to your feet as well. You’re shaking, your heart thumping in your chest. Your head feels fuzzy, your brain buzzing a bit. Your omega is confused, poised to strike but she’s not sure against who. Ghost isn’t a threat, and you know that, but he had just proved how easily he could be. Any of them could be, with a simple scent change and their sheer strength. 

“Again.” He says, getting into a fighting stance. 

“You can’t expect me to fight after that.” You say, your voice breathless. 

“If you’re in a real fight, you won’t have much of a choice.” He says, the rumble still audible around his own voice. 

He’s right. If someone is attacking you, it’s likely going to be to kill, or to try and take you from them. Your omega shifts uncomfortably as you raise your shaking hands to guard your face. You continue to dodge punches, hitting the ground more and more as you continue to get tired. You’re going to be sore, still feeling your hike through the woods a bit. 

The door opens, giving you a moment to breathe. Soap enters, a grin on his face. 

“Ah, the wee lass is still breathin’.” He says, leaning against the wall. “Came tae make sure ye hadnae killed ‘er.” 

You can practically hear Ghost roll his eyes, his back turned to you as he says something to Soap. You can’t hear what it is, the ringing in your ears too loud. Your omega is still worked up, still poised to strike, more so now in your exhausted state. You push yourself off the floor, not having a moment to think things through before you’re throwing yourself at Ghost’s back. 

He turns before you hit him, catching you and flipping you onto your back on the mat. You hit hard, the breath forced from your lungs at the impact.

“Christ, Simon!” Soap shouts, hurrying to your side. “Ye tryin’ tae break her, ye numpty?” 

“Don’t do that again.” Ghost growls at you, stomping over to grab his things before leaving the room. 

“Easy, hen.” Soap soothes you as you gasp for air, his hand gently rubbing your shoulder. “Be over before ye know it.” 

Slowly the paralysis of your diaphragm begins to lessen, your stomach still aching but the air comes easier now. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to fight the tears. You’ve messed it up. One day and you’ve already done more damage than you would have had you not asked him to teach you to fight. 

“Don’ worry, hen. He’s just worked up, that's all.” Soap says, brushing a damp strand of hair from your forehead. 

“It’s his fault.” You murmur. 

“Maybe, but yer scent...surprised you didn’t notice, hen.” Soap wiggles his brows. 

Your face warms. You hadn’t noticed the uptick of muskiness in the room, the heady scent of arousal before now.

It’s not yours. 

“Me?” You ask, letting Soap help you into a seated position. 

Soap smirks. “It wasnae me that tented his breeks this time.” 

Your face warms even more, your body feeling like it might explode. 

“Come on, hen.” He says, slipping his hands under your arms to lift you to your feet. “There’s still time tae shower before breakfast.” 

“I can assume you know why you were called in here sooner than our normal weekly meeting time.” Dr. Keller says as you sit in her office. 

“Because I punched Corporal Allen.” You say with a wince. 

Dr. Keller nods. “Indeed. I just want to make sure you’re feeling alright, after that. Getting into an altercation with an alpha can be tough.” 

“I don’t think I’d call it an altercation.” You say quietly. 

“Maybe not,” She says, shuffling her papers. “But standing up to an alpha can be daunting.” 

“I wasn’t alone.” You shrug. “Ghost was there.” 

“I saw both yours and Lieutenant Riley’s account of what happened. I’m wondering, would you have confronted him if you were alone?” 

Her question makes you think for a moment. Would you have stopped? Would you have confronted him, much less punched him if you were alone, or even with one of the others? No, you likely would have ignored him and kept walking like you did with Gaz. You’d likely have gone straight to your room and cried a little out of embarrassment and disgust. 

“No, ma’am.” You say quietly. “I don’t think so.” 

Dr. Keller nods. “You’re aware of Lieutenant Riley’s status.” 

You nod, a frown pulling at your brows. How did she figure it out? “Yes, ma’am.” 

“I know because I have access to their medical records.” Dr. Keller says. “It’s required for statuses to be present in medical records since purebreds have to be treated differently, just as alphas, betas, and omegas have to be treated differently.” 

You do know that. You know that an injured alpha can get defensive if they feel cornered. You know omegas can die from stress if they’re not taken care of correctly. You know betas can get overwhelmed by large groups of injured people all in the same place without proper training to filter out the scents of agony and suffering. 

“I think you reacted to his scent.” Dr. Keller continues. “You mentioned feeling a sudden rush of uncontrollable anger. Do you remember smelling anything at that moment?” 

You nod. “Ozone.” 

She nods, the pieces beginning to come together in your own head. “I’m sure you’ve figured out how different purebred alpha’s are and how much more potent their scents are. Your own status makes you more susceptible to their scents and the changes in them. You were reacting to the change in his scent. Your omega sensed a threat, and took over for a moment to defend you. It’s a natural response in omegas towards those they see as protectors, or even packmates.” 

Your eyes widen a bit at her words. Ghost is technically your packmate. He’s an alpha in your pack, but you’ve never considered that you see him as anything but. He has defended you, and he had defended you not long before your altercation with Corporal Allen. Had your omega begun to cling to him out of a sheer need for protection after something like what happened in the mess? 

You would like Ghost to see you as more than just an omega in his pack, more than just Price’s omega. You know he’d never claim you, but you’d at least like to get onto friendly terms with him. Soap said it had taken proving himself before Ghost started to accept him. You’re hoping your time spent learning how to fight helps you prove yourself, that you’re not a threat or even a risk. That maybe you can be an acceptable omega for his pack. 

“Aside from this incident, how are you settling in? How are things going with your new pack?” 

“Fine, I guess.” You shrug, starting to pick at your sleeve again. “Ghost is teaching me to defend myself.”

“Oh? Does this have something to do with what happened with Corporal Allen? Or is there a different reason?” Dr. Keller asks. 

“I mean, partially that but also, Ghost, he’s...hard to get along with.” You grimace. “I know that in relationships, a good way to bond with people is to get into their hobbies so you have something in common. Ghost...ghost speaks in violence and I think it would help ease some of my fears if I can at least defend myself.” 

“I think this is a great idea. It allows for some bonding time between the two of you, and it can also be beneficial to ease your anxiety a bit. As long as you’re being careful and you don’t get hurt.” She says, giving you a pointed look. 

You think back to Ghost flipping you onto your back on the mat, narrowly missing getting hit, how he’d pinned you down using his own scent against you. “He’s being careful.” You say, clearing your throat. “Price would put him through the ringer if something happened. Even just as an accident.” 

“How are things going with Price?” She asks, writing something down. 

You shrug. “Fine. He involved me in some training this past weekend. We hiked out to a watchtower and the others tried to follow my scent. We got to spend some time together while we waited.” 

“Have you done much of that? Spending time together?” She asks. 

You shake your head. “Not really. He’s...busy. A lot.” 

“You should start making an effort to get to know him more.” Dr. Keller says. “It’ll make it easier once your heat hits if you’re familiar with him. Have you knelt for him yet?” 

You shake your head again, not wanting to answer out loud. 

“Why not?” She asks. 

“He still hasn’t asked me to.” You murmur. 

“Do you know why omegas kneel for their alphas?” She asks. 

You nod. “It’s good for our brains and bodies. It helps relax us and soothes our omega, makes it easier to process stressful events and can prevent stress related diseases later in life.” 

Dr. Keller nods. “Correct. It’s an important first step in building that bond between an alpha and an omega, when it’s done correctly.” 

Bad alphas can use kneeling to control omegas, put them in certain mindsets, make them more subservient. You know this, you’d heard stories from your fellow omegas after watching their parents. That’s not kneeling. You never had the heart to tell them it was so much worse. 

“Do you want to kneel for him?” She asks you. 

That word again. 

You do want to kneel for him. You’ve wanted to since this past Saturday in the watchtower. You’ve felt that urge, that drive to drop to your knees beside him and let yourself go, let him carry everything you’ve been feeling over the last week. 

You nod slowly, ripping one of the strings off your sleeve. You’re fighting the tears, fighting the emotions welling up inside you. You can feel them building, pushing against your stomach and your chest, threatening to burst right out of your skin and leave you nothing but an empty carcass. You’re breathing has picked up, shaking a bit as you inhale deeply. 

“Why haven’t you asked?” Dr. Keller asks, her brows furrowing as she stares at you. 

“I don’t know how!” The words tear from your lips, almost echoing as they bounce off the walls like projectiles. You haven’t so much as raised your voice in years, much less to a person of authority, but you can’t stop. The dam has been breached. “Everyone keeps asking me what I want, but I don’t know how to want!” Tears cascade down your cheeks, your breaths coming in sharp gasps. You cover your face with your hands, muffling your sobs. “I’m not supposed to want.” 

“Hey,” Dr. Keller’s voice is soft as she kneels in front of you, her hands trying to gently pry yours away from your face. “Who told you that?” 

“That’s what we’re taught!” You hiccup, letting her pull your hands from your face. The tears are still falling, lips trembling as you sob. “We’re supposed to be good omegas. Obedient and serve our alphas. We don’t want anything, we’re only supposed to give.” 

“Well that’s a load of bullshit if I’ve ever heard it.” 

Dr. Keller’s words shock you into reality, your sobs halting with a sharp inhale. You stare at her, the tears still spilling from your eyes. Your hands are closed into fists, your sore knuckles aching from the strain. 

“You’re an omega. It’s in your nature to want, to need. You can’t help your alpha if your own needs aren’t being met first. It’s okay to need things, to want things. Are there things you want?” 

“Softer blankets. Fluffier pillows. A nightlight. Something to put on my walls. Strawberry scented body wash. Some goddamn authentic Mexican food.” 

Dr. Keller chuckles lightly. “I can agree with you on that last one.” She squeezes your arms gently. “You’re allowed to ask for things. You’re not a soldier, and even they are allowed to have things of their own, comfort items, with them. It doesn’t have to be material things either that you ask for. I’m sure your pack would find a way to bend over backwards if you asked them.” 

She’s right. The book says omegas can hold great power over the members of their packs if they try. A mix of playing their instincts and the right behavior and temperament can have betas and alphas wrapped around your finger. The idea of having such control over four powerful men makes your head spin. 

“I want Soap to kiss me.” You blurt out, your face warming as you hastily wipe at your tears to hide. 

“Oh?” Dr. Keller’s eyebrows raise as she looks at you. “This is a new development.” 

“We...we almost did...a couple days ago.” You say, burying your face in your hands. “But I stopped it because I thought maybe Price...but then he said he didn’t care...” 

Dr. Keller gently wraps her hands around your wrists, lowering your hands. “It’s okay to want that, and it’s okay to want to kneel for Price. I bet he’d be delighted if you asked him. I bet he was waiting because he didn't think you were ready for it yet.”  

The calming beta scent washes over you, Dr. Keller projecting it to try and help you calm down. Your tears have stopped, your breathing starting to slow as the gentle almond scent goes straight to your brain. 

“I’d like us to still meet for our regularly scheduled appointment this week, but I’m giving you an assignment to complete between then and now.” Dr. Keller says. “I want you to ask one of the members of your pack for one thing that you want. You can pick what it is, and who you ask, but I want to hear about it when I see you later this week, understood?” 

You push back the nerves twisting in your stomach. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good.” She pushes herself up to stand. “You can stay here as long as you want. Just let me know when you’re ready to go back to the barracks. Take your time. You are my only patient.” 

She grabs the paperwork off the couch before moving to her desk. You watch her for a moment before letting your eyes wander. You wipe at your face, your cheeks feeling puffy from your tears. You’re glad she’s giving you time to relax. The last thing you needed was to run into a member of your pack like this. 

That’s not a conversation you want to have right now. 

You take deep breaths, letting the beta scent permeating the air calm you down. You sink down further into the chair, letting it surround you. It’s soft, the cushions pressing around you like a hug. You wonder how she managed to get it in the hard, “function-above-all” world of the military. You wonder how she got most things in her office, or maybe if she’d brought them with her. 

It was likely Kate’s doing, you think. The office space was made for an omega, set up to be as comforting as possible. Though, you don't doubt Dr. Keller would have argued her case for having these things fearlessly if she had to. 

You stay in her office for a while, listening to the clacking of her keyboard as the soothing beta scent washes over you. Your eyes are still burning a bit as you force yourself out of the chair, out of the soft comfort you could spend days wrapped in. 

“I’m ready to go now.” You say quietly. 

“Okay.” Dr. Keller says, finishing what she was typing before she stands, grabbing her keys. 

She locks the office behind you before you leave the medical center, pulling up your hood to protect you from the drizzling rain. You’re growing used to the perpetually grey skies and sudden rainstorms. 

Dr. Keller squeezes your arm gently as you stop at the door to the barracks. “Remember what I told you. I’ll see you in a few days, alright?” 

You nod. “Thank you.” 

She smiles softly. “You did good today. I am proud of you.” 

You slip into the door of the barracks as she makes her way back to the medical center, your shoes squeaking on the tile floors. You head back to your room, the silence in the barracks telling you they’re not back yet. 

You kick off your shoes, pulling your damp sweatshirt off as you sit on the edge of your bed. You stare at your ruined sleeve, the seam split to the edge of the cuff now. You got the sweatshirt from one of your fellow omegas at the institute, and you’ve worn it almost every day since. It’s turned a bit raggedy, and your picking at it hasn’t helped any. 

Ask for one thing that you want. 

It would be easy to ask for a new sweatshirt. You’re sure if you asked Gaz, he’d give you the one right off his back. Everything you can think to ask for, they’d have to buy. If you asked Soap, he’d likely commandeer the closest vehicle and drive straight to town and buy you one in every color, even if he didn’t have permission to. 

You could ask for something that’s not material. 

Warmth floods your face as you think about it. How would you even ask? You can’t just ask directly. You could, but you might die of embarrassment if anyone heard you. There’s nothing to really be embarrassed about, but you can’t help it. It’s a bold thing to ask for, and you’re not sure you’re feeling quite so bold today. 

You chew on your lip as the barrack door opens, their voices echoing down the hallway as they return from their morning training. They pass by your door, their own doors opening and closing. You get up, moving to stand in front of your own door, holding your breath. You could just step out, knock on his door and ask. He’s probably changing, though. You’d never get the words out if he thought it was one of the others and opened it half dressed. 

You have to do it, though, before you lose your nerve. If you don’t do it now, you’ll never do it and you’ll have to tell Dr. Keller that you failed. You’re allowed to want things. It’s your nature to want things. It’s human nature to want things. There’s nothing wrong with having needs and wants. 

You can want this. 

You repeat it over and over as you slowly open your door, letting it close behind you. You smell the air, finding the trail of his scent. It disappears down the hall and around the corner towards the rec room. Your legs feel shaky as you follow it, your stomach twisting anxiously. You can want this. It’s okay to want this. 

You turn the corner, finding him coming out of the rec room. He grins at you, eyes sparkling. 

You want this. 

“Hey, lass, was just lookin’ for ye. Are ye ready for lunch-” 

His words cut off as you grab his face, standing on your toes to press your lips against his. He makes a surprised sound against your lips, his body tensing. It’s quick, only a couple seconds before you’re releasing him, taking a big step back. Your eyes are wide with shock, almost as wide as his. His lips are parted in surprise still, his shoulders tensed. 

“Sorry.” You blurt out, your nerves only heightened. What if he hadn’t wanted it? “Sorry, I just...I wanted to do it and I wanted you to do it that day, but I’ve never had a real kiss before and I thought maybe Price would want to...but then he said he didn’t care-” 

Your words cut off as he grips your chin, lifting your face so you’re looking at him. The tension has melted from his shoulders, the surprise gone from his face. His eyes are soft as they stare down at you, his thumb brushing your lower lip. 

“I didnae know it was yer first kiss.” He says softly. “I wouldnae pushed it so far if I did.” 

“It wasn’t technically my first kiss, I kissed another omega at the institute but I don’t really count it cause I did it for her.” You shrug. “I’ve regretted pulling away since that day and Dr. Keller said I should start learning to want things and she gave me the assignment of asking for one thing that I want before I see her again at the end of the week and I could have just asked for something simple but-” 

Your words are cut off as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours again. It’s soft and sweet, his hand sliding from your chin to the back of your head, holding you against him. Your fingers grip his shirt, and you lift yourself onto your toes to press back against him as his lips move against yours. 

His forehead presses against yours as he pulls away, your breaths mingling as you continue to hold each other. “Gaz will be upset he missed out.” He says quietly, lips tugging up in a smile as he squeezes your waist. 

“He can kiss me later.” You say, pressing a quick kiss to his lips once more before pulling away. “After lunch.” 

Soap chuckles quietly, slipping his hand into yours. “After lunch.” 

You hesitate outside the door, shifting nervously on your feet. You could turn around and go back to bed, pretend like you hadn’t spent an hour convincing yourself to walk down here, like you haven’t been thinking about this all afternoon. You had already completed your assignment for the week. You’d kissed Soap, done something you wanted. You’ve fulfilled that desire, and it didn’t kill you. You hadn’t dropped dead afterward. If the others noticed, they didn’t say anything. 

This isn’t a want. 

You knock softly on the door, half tempted to turn and run and hide under your covers until you inevitably have to get up tomorrow. 

“Come in.” 

Your hand hesitates on the door handle for just a moment before you’re turning it, stepping into the office. He doesn’t look surprised to see you, though you suppose if nothing else, he had smelled you standing outside. The thought makes your cheeks warm in embarrassment. How long has he known you were standing out there? 

“What can I do for you, sweetheart?” He asks, setting down his pen. 

You shuffle nervously, clasping your hands in front of you. “I-I was wondering...I..um...” You take a deep breath. “I was wondering if I could kneel for you.” 

You bite your lip as he stares at you, the words having come out fast, almost meshing into one long string of nonsense. His eyes darken just a bit, his scent thickening in the air. 

“You want to kneel for me, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice low and rough. 

You nod, shifting your weight again. “Yes, sir.” 

“Grab a pillow.” He nods to the couch. “I won’t have you hurting yourself.” 

You grab one of the pillows from the couch, wondering how often he’s slept in his office. How many nights he’s spent awake, pouring over files, his mind working too hard for him to find any rest. You set the pillow on the floor before kneeling down next to him, facing his desk. You shift until you’re comfortable, sitting back on your feet. You let out a long breath as your eyes slipped closed, your fingers twitching anxiously in your lap. 

Price’s hand is gentle as it comes to rest on the top of your head. You relax into his touch as he strokes your hair, working his way down towards your neck. You force your mind to relax, easing away the desire to tense your shoulders, to draw them up around your ears. It’s pure natural instinct, one that will fade the more you practice, the more you bond with him. The more you trust him. 

“Ready?” He asks, his voice sounding far away despite the fact you’re right next to him. 

“Yes, sir.” You murmur, pressing your head into his hand. 

His hand slips lower, curling around the back of your neck. You inhale sharply as he finally makes contact with the sensitive area. His hand is warm, the tension slowly easing from your body as he presses his thumb lightly into the side of your neck. The back of your brain begins to buzz, your mind slowly filling with static. You relax even further, your head bowing just slightly as you feel the weight of the last three months lifting off your shoulders. 

All the emotions, all the fear, all the unknowns suddenly feel far away. All the apprehension and the anxiety are soothed to nothing as he holds you, the hand on your neck a firm reminder that you’re not alone in this anymore. You have an alpha now, a strong alpha that you can trust in, that will carry it all for you. 

You don’t need to be stressed or afraid anymore. A warmth begins blossoming within you, spreading from your core out to your fingers and toes. You feel a bit dazed, but not in a bad way. You’re not afraid of the feeling, not with your alpha’s hand around the back of your neck keeping you safe. 

You’re not sure how much time passes, how long you kneel there. It could be five minutes, it could be two hours. Price continues to go over his paperwork, his other hand steady on the back of your neck. It’s not until he’s done that he carefully pushes his seat back, kneeling on the floor next to you. He releases your neck, catching your body as it slumps over, drawing you against his chest. 

“Easy, sweet girl.” He murmurs, pressing your face into his neck. 

You’re shaking a bit, brain still dazed and flying as you breathe in his scent. Earthy, trees, petrichor. The warm muskiness of a content alpha. You made him smell like that. You invoked that scent. 

“Feeling alright?” He murmurs into your hair, gently stroking your side as you begin to come back into your body. 

You hum in affirmation, wrapping your arms around his neck. You haven’t been this close to him yet, not since the scenting and that was more of a formal closeness, a required closeness. This is because you want it. 

“Don’t let me go.” You murmur into his neck, clinging to him tightly. 

His arms tighten around you for a moment before he slips them under you, lifting you into his arms easily. He pushes himself from the floor, moving to sit on the couch with you on his lap. You let yourself go lax in his hold again, feeling calmer and more relaxed than you have in months. You feel safe in his arms, not that he would have let anything happen to you before. 

You’ve always been safe, you think as you let your eyes drift closed again. 

The water is hot as it runs down his back, contrasting the cool tile against his forehead. His eyes are closed, breaths slow and steady through his nose. He can’t get that damn scent of vanilla and sweet, sweet omega arousal out of his head. He drives his fist into the wall with a growl, cursing the blood rushing south. 

He can’t forget the way you felt under him, pinned so easily and helpless beneath him. He hates the way his cock twitches at the thought of the pout on your lips as he’d swung at you, narrowly missing you too many times. The way you tried to jump him. 

He lets out another frustrated growl, slamming his forehead into the tile. A hand presses against his bare back and he turns on his heel, hand wrapping around Johnny’s throat, slamming him back against the shower wall. 

Jesus Christ, he’s going to kill the mutt one of these days. 

“Easy, Lt.” Johnny rasps, not fazed at all by the alpha’s actions. His eyes flicker lower, to the hard cock standing at attention. “Bit worked up, eh?” 

He lets Johnny go with a growl, stepping back under the water, turning it all the way to the right until it’s nearly freezing. He almost groans in frustration as the water shuts off completely, his eyes cracking open as Johnny’s hand trails up his chest. 

“Easy, big guy. Let me help ye.” 

Simon moves until his back is pressed against the tiles, eyes not leaving Johnny’s sapphire ones as the beta slowly kneels in front of him. Johnny’s hands trace over his hips, outlining scars both old and new. Johnny’s fingers finally reach his cock, wrapping around the thick length. Simon sighs in quiet relief as Johnny slowly pumps his length, their gazes still locked. 

Simon stares down at Johnny through his blonde lashes as Johnny leans forward, dragging his tongue along his head. A low growl rumbles through his chest as the beta circles his tongue around his head, smearing precum on his chin. He’s painfully hard now, breaking his gaze as his head tilts back, eyes fluttering closed. 

His fingers sink into Johnny’s mohawk as the beta takes his cock in his mouth. He breathes through his nose, relaxing his throat as Simon’s cock sinks deeper and deeper, Johnny’s hands closing around his hips to hold himself steady. Simon grips his hair tightly as he begins to move, bobbing his head along his length, his tongue pressing against the bottom of his cock. 

Simon squeezes his eyes closed as an image comes to mind, a smaller hand fondling his balls. His hand wraps around the base of his cock as he imagines soft lips on his tip, Johnny’s tongue tracing the parts of him that you can’t fit yet as you take him in your mouth. The sweet whines that would be pulled from you as he choked you on his thick length, Johnny whispering sweet encouragements to you. 

He can picture the two of you, you and Johnny with your tongues entwined, his cum stringing between your lips. 

He growls, yanking Johnny off his cock and pinning him to the tile wall. Johnny’s lips are parted as he breathes heavily, eyes blown with lust as he stares up at his alpha. Simon’s hand tugs at his hair, tilting his head back to bear his throat. Johnny lets out a quiet moan as he sinks his teeth into the delicate skin, leaving a mark he’ll wear proudly for a few days. 

“Turn around and bend over.” He growls to the beta, his cock still hard and throbbing. 

“Sir, yes sir.” Johnny says, smirking wickedly as he slowly turns to face the wall. 

Fucking christ, Simon groans. They’re going to be the death of him. 

You’re going to be the death of him. 

NEXT ->

Taglist, part 1:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @hanellokey @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @ghostlythots @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @thychuvaluswife @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @bisky-business @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @cadotoast @linaangel @rancid-wasp @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @puppyel @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006

[sycamoretower]

(since this blog is just for my thoughts and i pretty much don’t expect anyone to follow it: i think it would have been very easy for me to ignore any signs of being a system that i had (which i did not notice as signs until i was 19) considering both a spiritual background and my general habit of dismissing things that i experience in my brain as “just things that happen” . like yeah just would not have questioned the fact there was a 2,000+ year old .... being talking to me while i prepared dilly bars or something?? (or was it just putting cones away... idk i was at work)

[writingouthere]

neighbor!Sukuna x singlemom!reader. In the aftermath of your apartment flooding, Sukuna makes you a deal that is too good to pass up. You don't fully know what you're agreeing to, but if you did would it have really changed anything? Reader POV

cw: Sukuna may seem like just a nice guy stepping up but really he's a red flag you're just too tired to see. It's hinted reader has not been treated well in the past but no specifics.

You hadn't known what to do when you woke up to the sound of rushing water. You had acted on instinct and grabbed your daughter from the room next to yours and stood in the kitchen, calling your landlord from the number on your lease to no avail. Your daughter was starting to get fussy and after the fourth attempt with no answer, you felt lost.

Your ex hadn't exactly been the reliable type and he probably would have just contributed by cursing and complaining about shitty landlords and even shittier affordable housing but that wouldn't have helped then and thinking about it wasn't helping you now. Single, alone with your daughter who was growing more disgruntled by the minute.

You hated to even consider but, there was someone who you kept coming back to that you thought could help.

Sukuna.

The tattooed man across the hallway hadn't struck you as the friendly type, but he had proved you wrong in the few months since you moved in. He looked like the type of guy you would cross the street to avoid, but he always had time to stop and talk to you when he saw you. He also always made it a point to say hello to your daughter and listen to her rambles, even when they didn't make sense to you.

Your other neighbors had warned you about him. Stories that included threats and assaults you just couldn't connect to the man who had taken you and your daughter to the aquarium when your piece of shit ex bailed on you both, again.

You had googled him afterwards and what you saw was pages and pages that included things like attempted, suspected and scarier words like murder, hospitalized and other things that just didn't fit with the man you were still getting to know.

The water was still falling and once your daughter started waking up, you called it and went over to the maybe scary man across the hall, who never scared you.

Within ten minutes, you found yourself in Sukuna's guest room while he stayed behind at your apartment to figure everything out. When was the last time someone told you, "I got it." You were always the responsible one. You were the mom friend, the girlfriend people liked to introduce to their parents. You had basically parented yourself!

But now, there was someone who told you that, "I got it."

So who could blame you for going along with what came next. When the next morning came and Sukuna told you that your super had come too late and the apartment was damage and you couldn't stop yourself from putting your head in your hands as your daughter happily munched on the pancakes he had made you both.

"What am I going to do," you groaned and you couldn't help but lean in when Sukuna placed his hand on your cheek.

"He said he would put you up in a hotel until it can be fixed," he said gently and you sighed. You envisioned the next several months in some shitty motel with no kitchen, sharing a lumpy bed with your two year-old, disrupting the routines you had been trying so hard to build as a single mom. No more afternoon trips to the park that was less than a block away. No more feeding the ducks with your leftover veggies or sharing pick up duties with the other moms at the daycare by your work.

"This sucks, I don't want to have to build my life all over again." And you really didn't. This was so frustrating and over what, a little water damage?

"Well," Sukuna started and he tilted your head so you were looking at him. "I do have the guest room. You could move some of your stuff over here and camp out until it's fixed. Pocket the hotel money, use it for something for the kid."

"Oh, I couldn't impose on you like that-"

"I wouldn't offer if it was an imposition," he said, his eyes glinting and for just a second you could see a little of the danger your neighbors had told you about, but then it was gone and he was leaning over you to take another pancake from the serving tray and putting it on your daughter's empty plate.

"It's not just for you, I would-I would feel a lot better knowing the both of you were taken care of. I doubt the hotel that-" he cut off looking over at your daughter, "you know is putting you up in is going to be the safest place for the two of you."

You couldn't believe you were considering it but you were so tired. You felt like life had just become a series of less than ideal circumstances you were forced to deal with just because you didn't want to settle for the wrong guy or give your daughter less than she deserved.

"I would pay rent," you said and he looked ready to argue but you held up your hand. He smiled, amused and gestured go on. "Just until they can fix the apartment and if we get to be too much tell me. We can tough it out in a hotel. We've dealt with worse," you added and he frowned before nodding.

"Deal." He turned to look at your daughter and smiled. "You hear that bug, you and mommy are moving in." Your daughter giggled and clapped her syrup covered hands.

"Temporarily," you reminded him and he smiled at you.

"Right, let's go grab the stuff you'll need while you're here temporarily." He went grabbed a towel and wiped your daughters hands while she kept laughing and chanting "move in, move in!"

Is it your fault that you didn't know that your circumstances were anything but temporary?

[artfromsaturn]

Collection of Free Art Tutorials

I don't usually make text post on this blog, but a nice artist I know was asking for tutorials a while back and I forgot to send some to them while in school. So here's a post on it since it's easiest to grab and go this way. :)

This list focuses on the basics. I'm focusing on the foundations of art, so medium is generally irrelevant and you can use physical or digital with these. You'll have to google more specific tutorials on things like character design and such.

One of the biggest pieces of advice I can give to you is strangely, introduce things to yourself one at a time. In art class, we took whole topics week by week. For high school, we did a few exercises then spent a week drawing/painting and doing your piece(s). For basic art 1 & 2 in college, we did 1-2 exercises and then did 1-2 drawings, followed by HW (which we turned in next week) and sketchbook practice (which she'd check at midpoints). For basic art lessons with a tutor, we did practice then our own art. You can see the pattern here - the point is don't be distressed if you don't get everything at once, or the lesson in 2 weeks, or the lesson in 3 years - we practice and do a lot over time, and you'll pick up on things you need to improve naturally and through help with others. Take time to be proud of your art in mini steps too, even if it's not the best! You tried and attempting to climb an obstacle over and over again before finally leapfrogging it is still progress to it.

Overall tutorials:

DrawABox.com is a site that's dedicated to art exercises and practicing when you can. They talk about the basics of art as well as how practice is important. It can get tough at times and it's ok to stop and do a balance of say those practices and doodles if you choose to try and do all of it's stuff - but you don't have to either. It's just a nice basic education done by some art nerds who like going hard.

Ethering Brothers - these guys are famous for their 40billion tutorials. If you need help on a specific idea, search their gallery and you'll likely find something.

Thundercluck's Art Fundamentals - She did a good huge ass tutorials on how things work, and it's the least overwhelming of the 3 I got in this section, so I suggest it as one of the first to look at for digital stuff.

Art Instructions Blog - Another good & simpler website that goes great into fundamentals. They focus more on traditional art but if you're digital, you can replicate most of the techniques - art fundamentals and subjects cover all mediums. Very important

Drawsh - Particularly notes on Construction: construction is the basics of building an illusion of a 3D image on a page. Figuring out how to build shape gives depth to your work, and learning how to see in 3D lets you be able to draw an item then move it around in your head (sometimes, when you're good enough, don't be afraid to pull out a reference or use live subjects). Construction is how to figure out the foundation of your drawing, and good planning = better picture! This link starts at the back, hit newer post to go forward.

There's a lot on anatomy and other nitty gritty details for when you want to practice those as well.

Griz and Norm's Assorted tips - Long time artist talk about various tips and tricks they use in art and how to avoid certain pitfalls. It's eclectic but great to look through.

James Gurney's Blog - He's got a lot of thoughts, a lot of tips, and a lot of adventures he catalogues. It's the least organized out of these but fortunately he has plenty of tags and most post have something neat going on. He's fantastic!🥰

BEFORE ALL OTHER BASICS….

How to Make Your Art Look Nice: Mindset

There's a lot of artist with different perspectives on how to approach art and your mindset while doing it, but the general consensus is that it's a process and sometimes you have to remind yourself to enjoy art!

Line

How to draw straight lines without a ruler. …but for the love of all that's good do NOT feel bad about using one! This talks about how to hold your pencil and how to do some good freehand stuff, some good practice.

5 grips for holding a Pencil for Drawing - This goes for pencil, pen, tablet, etc.. Get comfortable and figure out what's right for you and your pictures. I'd like to note that paintbrush holding will overlap, but some will differ.

A few line drawing exercises that help with line confidence.

Types of line drawings & what they are.

Contour Line & exercises with Mrs. Cook - Contour lines are one of the first art exercises I do in all the drawing classes I've taken. The good news is that they're surprisingly fun & look neat, even the blind contours!

Good deep thoughts on lines and how to use them.

Line Weight Tutorial

Lineart Weight Tips!

How to show variation in your line art: part 1 & part 2.

Some teacher's Drawing 1 & 2 lessons put online.

Light, Shadow, & Value

An introduction to tonal values.

Why values are important. The main reasons are that they give depth to a piece, and values literally shape our world.

Tonal Values: Everything you need to know

How does light work & the basics on Light

Light & Shadow in Art - much more in depth of the above! Highly recommended if you have time to spare.

Understanding grayscale/monochrome art. Great for shading & planning.

A guide to Cross Hatching (and hatching in general) - As a side note, crosshatching is one of the early things taught as it marries Line + Value into a nice neat package and helps add form with just a pen.

Crosshatching for Comics

Learn more about coloring by working in grayscale

How to Make Your Art Look Nice - Contrast!

Using lighting to make your art look nice.

Some light & shadow classifications.

Edges - notes on how they work in shading.

Color

A side note - color theory doesn't differ much, but color MIXING will change between mediums. If you're doing traditional colored pencil, you're overlapping 2 or more pigments on top of each other. If you're doing traditional paint, you're mixing & creating a solution/emulsion (depends on the pigment and binding) of pigments with the particles reflecting light in different ways. In digital, overlapping colors & blending colors depend on how the program you use calculates it if you're not just putting 2 color side by side. This just means you have to adjust your mixing when you switch between them. :)

Slawek Fedorczuk's Light & Color Tips - also shows how to guide through a scene.

The Color Tutorial Part 1 & 2 by Sashas - A personal favorite.

Color Studies 1-6 by Sheri Doty Amazingly nice breakdown on how color works in simple terms.

Sarah Culture's Tips on Color

The value of underpainting

A few notes on reflective light.

Experimental color techniques with Alai Ganuza: first post, second, & third.

Color zones of the face charts

Composition

Good Tips on Composition

Here's an example of how you can search the Etherington Brothers' stuff and get like 10 tutorials and tips on one subject. Composition & Cover Design, Shadow Composition, Two Line Composition - plus more.

How to make your art look nice: Thumbnailing!

And don't be afraid to make silly thumbnails or sketches.

Composition Examples - charts like these are great when you can't think of something yourself. There's no shame in using them.

Flow and Rhythm

Formulas for landscape composition.

Perspective

Perspective Drawing Tutorial by Julie Duell

Linear & Atmospheric Perspective Guide

One Point Perspective City Tut by Swingerzetta

Niso Explains Perspective - these are great for drawing figures in perspective!

Putting characters into scenes and drawing backgrounds

Backgrounds that make your character stand out!

Using background detail to guide the eye.

Odds and Ends

I shit you not, probably 1/3rd of my color, value, & structure knowledge comes from pixel art since I've done so much of it and it is all about challenging yourself to do the most you can with limitations. Check out lospec's tutorial database for fun and see how it compares to art techniques you're doing - even if you never try a medium, it's always interesting to see how it works. :D

How to Make Your Art Look Nice: Reference Images & Style, Pushing Proportions, and developing style.

Foervraengd talks about how he expanded his comfort zone with concept art & landscape drawing.

Luna Art talks about what they're thinking when doing concept art.

Repeating visual motifs in character design looks cool.

Eric's Thoughts on Drawing Backgrounds and Props.

Show vs. Tell: Why Visual is Not Optional in comics.

The Lost Vocabulary of Visual Story Telling Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, & Day 4.

Traditional Animation's 2 Digital Library books, The Know-How of Cartooning by Ken Hultgren & Advanced Animation by Preston Blair are two books from the golden age of animation they have up on their site for free viewing!

Animation resources dot org has a lot of cool stuff. Here's Nat Falk's How to Make Animated Cartoons (part 1). Their pages on Instruction & Theory are a good start.

Books

Good news: the internet archive has a TON of resources. Make sure to check around and toggle filters, it's a bit weird with organization. For example, a book can be under art or drawing - techniques, depending on who catalogues it.

Andrew Loomis is someone artist tend to die-hard reccomend. His work is collected here & here on the internet archive (one is Andrew Loomis, the other is Loomis, Andrew - thanks). I own Figure Drawing for All It's Worth and I recommend checking all of his stuff out, especially if you're having trouble with bodies and hands.

The Animator's Survival Guide by Richard Williams is mandatory in animation classes for good reason - it's fantastic!

Perspective for Comic Book Artist by David Chelsea is great for any type of artist. So is Extreme Perspective & Perspective in Action.

Scott McCloud's Understanding Comics, Reinventing Comics, & Making Comics. The first one is on the internet archive, the second two are likely avaliable at your library or at a bookstore as they're pretty popular.

Speaking of comics, Drawing Comics the Marvel Way has been a favorite of comic artist for years no matter what comic book companies and artist you like, it's a good introduction.

Anything by or endorsed by James Gurney, Color and Light: A Guide for the Realistic Painter is one of my favorites (this is his official page but you can get them elsewhere for cheaper too).

Art resource blogs with good tagging systems: @artist-refs , @help-me-draw , @helpfulharrie , @art-res , @drawingden , & @how-to-art

Lastly, I suggest if you find something you like online for free, SAVE IT! Whether it is through the Wayback Machine, screenshotting a whole webpage, reblogging/retweeting something, or putting it on pinterest, digital media is fickle and tends to go up in smoke when you least expect it. I have a partially organized Pinterest board that helped me find most of the stuff I wanted to keep. Figure out what works for you and save what you can.

[monimccoythings]

Mending each other's hearts II

Jesus, this took forever. I'm having so much fun writing this, for real. However I think I'll have to do a third part because GOSH do I love angstiness and suffering. One thing I also love is Jean being a wingman and such a cool friend I want to work more with that.

tw: logan is a caveman and a brute, and possibly emotionally constipated, really; a bit angsty.

I have no idea about clubs, I just googled New York clubs and picked the coolest looking.

tags: @kathieycarrerarosshley (I'm not sure if there's anybody else, sorry, I don't usually check the notes :()

Part I │ Part II (You're here!!)

He basically jumped down the stairs, nearly crashing into several innocent students. Like Hell he was going to allow you to do that to yourself. You were not some cheap whore who did one-night-stands. You were so sweet, so innocent, that the thought of having anyone touch you inappropriately, rubbing themselves against your body, tainting you with their dirty hands made his stomach churn and his claws start to come out.

Despite running as if the literal Devil was chasing him, all his efforts were for nothing, because when he barged through the front doors of the mansion he could already hear the gears of your car speeding up, miles away. Fuck, he was too late; but maybe, if he traced your scent, if he went now to his motorbike he may be able to catch you and stop this madness. As he turned around, he narrowly avoided his keys being psychically thrown towards him. Jean looked at him with a determined look on her face.

“Lavo, go. NOW.” Her voice commanded no objection, and for once, he would happily obey orders.

He usually was very careful with his motorbike, an old lady deserved to be treated with respect, but not tonight, there was not a second to lose. Muttering a quiet apology to his dear ride, he sped off towards the city, silently praying to a god he didn’t believe in that you hadn’t done anything you would regret later.

────────────────────────────────────────────

You felt a sense of excitement settle in your lower belly. Look at you, a grown adult, dressing up all cute and going on your own adventures in the Big Apple, you felt like you were going to squeal like a little girl, either that or you needed to stop the car and puke.

You knew exactly where to go, where the good stuff would be; under normal conditions you wouldn’t be allowed in, so that’s why you were planning to use your powers to sneak in. Maybe you were just some plain teacher at a private school for mutants but that didn’t mean you didn’t have tricks up your sleeve.

A sudden memory of the real reason this was all about, made your heart twist with ache and longing. The memory of Logan and Jean in that empty classroom would be forever engraved inside your mind, a confirmation that no matter what you did, you would never be enough. No. You mentally slapped yourself. You couldn’t keep torturing yourself like that. The only thing invisible about you were your powers. Tonight, you were going to feel beautiful, appreciated, and most importantly, desired. A pang of anxiety hitted you, what if nobody notices? The real possibility of being made into a fool once again was scary and nearly made you turn away and return home with your tail between your legs. They will. Maybe it was that part of you that had been kicked long enough talking, you would never know, but it gave you enough confidence to keep going.

You made sure to park your car as far as you could, you didn’t want anything to associate you with that little stunt you were about to pull. You casually walked into a nearby alleyway to turn yourself invisible, the last thing this night needed was a public scandal. 

There was truly something magical about walking down the street while you were invisible, it made you feel confident and powerful. Nobody could harm you if they didn’t know you were there. You watched couples pass by pampering each other, a group of drunk college freshmans trying their best to walk in a straight line, you could observe every single detail on them without feeling like a creep. Sometimes you wondered why you didn't have your mutation on at all times. It certainly would make your life easier.

Before you knew it, you had already arrived at your destination. Taking advantage of some rich boy skipping line, you glued yourself to his back and entered, making a little squeal that startled the poor security guard.

The place took your breath away.

Lavo was one of the most exclusive clubs in all of Manhattan. One night there (paying the entrance and restaurant, of course) would probably cost you half your salary. You knew Charles could afford it, but you weren’t going to ask him to bill the start of your party girl era.

A sudden realization left you filled with embarrassment; you had entered, now what. In a desperate way to fit in, you decided that the most suitable course of action would be to look for a place to turn visible again and go for a drink.

────────────────────────────────────────────

Logan lost count of how many traffic laws he broke that night, he didn’t really care. All he wanted was to reach you. Each time he imagined a worse scenario that somehow always ended with you in the arms of another man, enjoying his caresses and kisses. He panicked, making his grip on the handlebar painfully tighten. He didn’t know why he was feeling like that, and he also didn’t know what he would do if he found you with a suitor.

He wasn’t impressed at all by the imposing building, and he was less impressed by the regulars. Bunch of spoiled rich brats, if someone asks him.

The security guard wasn’t in the mood to let him in and less while looking like that, but since he didn’t have time nor the patience to deal with any form of bullshit, he opted to launch him across the street with a single punch instead of pulling out his claws, leaving the crowd completely silent.

The inside was as bad as the outside, or even worse. He didn’t like that place at all, too many people, too much noise and too many smells. It overwhelmed him. How the fuck was he supposed to find you there. He showed his way among the crowd, ignoring the grunts and complaints from the people surrounding him, fuck them all. His heightened senses were practically screaming at him to go wild and ravage the place until he got you.

His hunting instincts told him to look for some dark corner where he could keep a close watch on the entire club, it’d be easier, and quieter for him. He could do without all that modern music drilling his ears. Some goddamned peace and tranquility would help him focus.

He didn’t need to wait for long until his eyes settled on you. On the dancefloor, with a glass in your hand, and a man glued to your back with his lips dangerously close to your neck.

Logan saw red.

────────────────────────────────────────────

As you took a sip of your grasshopper, you wondered why you had been worried in the first place. Just one look at how that dress hugged your ass and you had several men eating from your palm. You had to confess that even if it flattered you, it was a bit suffocating having that much attention all of a sudden.

The man you had picked for the night, Kelsey? Kevin?, you hadn't heard it well with the lous music, was actually kinda nice. Out of all of the men that surrounded you he had been the only one to actually try to start some friendly conversation before hitting on you. That sweet attempt just earned him some brownie points. That and that body which seemed to have been sculpted by the gods. Damn, what did they feed him?. His hands moved closely to your hips, and you couldn’t help but wish those arms that held you were bigger, and hairier. You shook your head. Focus on the Adonis right behind you. The one who was going to make you feel so good tonight. You could already imagine it.

But fantasies were just that. Fantasies.

An altercation snapped you out of your daydream. Someone was pushing his way quite violently towards the dancefloor, and by the sound of those screams of protest he wasn’t being very gentle.

The blood froze in your veins when you saw who was approaching. No. How. Why. Millions of questions ran through your mind, your body screaming at you to run, but you were paralyzed with fear.

You had never seen that look on Logan.

Feral.

Wild.

Monster.

You had heard people describe him with those words since the very first day you had met him. Coming from both humans and mutants. You had never paid them any attention, being so confident in knowing that despite his gruff exterior, inside there was hidden a golden heart just as big as his muscles. But now you were considering that despite knowing that, maybe the others had some point in their arguments.

You would be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on a little.

He was getting closer. Unconsciously, you put yourself in front of your dancing partner, despite knowing that whatever little mutant trick you had was useless against The Wolverine’s blind fury. Yet, you weren’t going to let some innocent civilian get hurt because your friend was pissed at you for whatever stupid reason.

His eyes were unfocused, darting from one person to the other like a wild animal. You weren’t sure if he was able to see you at all.

“Logan. What are you doing here?” You tried to keep your voice steady, knowing that when he got like this, anything could really set him off and then all Hell would break loose. He grunted and finally looked at you. Pupils dilating when he got a better look of you in that dress.

“Home. Now.” Among all the noise it was hard to understand him, but whatever he’d said you were sure it wouldn’t benefit you in the slightest. It didn't help that those words resembled more growls than actual speech.

Your new friend, supposedly Kevin, tried to step forward, foolishly thinking he had a chance against one of the most vicious mutants to ever exist. Logan looked at him with barely restrained rage, breathing heavily. His stance, along with the strength the air came out of his nostrils reminded you of a bull ready to attack. You started fearing the worst.

Within a blink, Logan had grabbed your arm and was forcefully dragging you towards the emergency exit. You slammed your heels against the floor, trying to keep you grounded in your spot, but that only seemed to make him angrier. Quickly reaching down, he scooped you up and carried you over his broad shoulder, making you drop your drink and leaving you mortified to the point of nearly accidentally outing yourself as a mutant in a room full of people.

After what felt like the longest time of your lfe, you two made it outside that place and after several kicks and threats, he finally put you down in an alleyway where all the shame that filled you, all the embarrassment, turned into rage.

Why.

Why couldn't he let you have this?

Why wouldn’t he allow you to move on?

Why did he have to keep breaking your heart over and over again? Hadn’t you suffered enough?

You screamed at him, you pushed him and insulted him until your voice became hoarse. The force of your screams were drowned by the sound of an incoming storm. And he just stood there, taking it all in stride, just looking at you, like a marble statue. A less wise person would have thought he was bored, just waiting for you to scream your heart out and finish your tantrum. But his eyes, oh his gorgeous eyes that always made you melt, were filled with emotion. Could be guilt, could be pain, could be grief, they were passing far too quickly for you to notice.

Yet he still didn’t say anything which only fueled your anger. The nerve of him, the fucking audacity. You felt mocked, humiliated, the laughingstock of Xavier’s School; a silly woman in her early thirties with a pathetic little girl crush on a man who wouldn’t give her the time of the day.

You slapped him as hard as you could.

Probably not the smartest thing given his bones were made of the toughest metal to ever exist which you instantly felt when your hand made contact with his cheek. You bit your lip, trying to swallow down the agonizing scream of pain that was crawling up your throat to get out.

That made him react, his expression changing into one of concern. He tried to say something, move closer to you and check your hand, but you stepped back, your back pressed against the brick wall.

Holding your injured hand with your other, you lowered your head. Rain started pouring on you both, drenching your carefully groomed hair and wiping all that expensive makeup away. But at least it would hide the tears that fell freely though your cheeks. 

What a mess you were, drenched like a wet cat, with your makeup ruined and sobbing while the man of your dreams just watched you with pity. You should leave and lock yourself in your room. Turning invisible again, you tried to make your exit towards your car, knowing it would be a long walk full of cries and sobs, but his arm blocked you, damn that sharp sense of smell. you turned around and his other arm blocked you again, effectively trapping you between himself and the wall.

Suddenly you found yourself very tired, of his games, of being screwed over and over again, of your emotional burst. You just wanted to go home, take a bath, and sleep. You couldn’t do this anymore.

“Please. I want to go home.” There must have been something in your voice so broken that caused him to immediately take action. Logan suddenly had the decency to look a bit ashamed of himself, after that stunt he pulled off at the club, however you couldn’t care less right now. Muttering a quick ‘yeah’ he slowly pulled away from you, and awkwardly stepped back.

Not being used to walking on heels, you would have fell face first against the ground, putting the icing on the cake of that terrible night, had not a pair of strong arms caught you and lifted you into a bridal carry.

Not so long ago, you would have been all over the moon at this gesture. Logan Howlett, the hunk of the X-Mansion, carrying you like a princess. Yeah, the old you would have loved that.

Right now you were feeling too emotionally numb to care. Even when his arms pulled you closer to his chest, even when he softly pressed his lips against the crown of your head.

You just couldn’t feel anything.

[icyminghao]

(pretty) hungry

pairing: minghao x gn!reader genre: fluff, drabble, established relationship word count: 0.6k warning(s): mentions of food

summary: minghao attempts to flirt with you in chinese, but ends up getting extremely shy when you confront him to translate whatever he said for you.

from the universe of i don’t understand (but i love you), you nailed it! and a little sweet, but can be read as a standalone.

inspired by jem carstairs from the infernal devices by cassandra clare!

“Baobei*, ni hao piao liang**,” Minghao randomly pipes up, breaking the silence that loomed over the both of you in your weekly reading session.

You look up from your book, ears perking up at the sound of Minghao speaking in his native tongue. “What does that mean?”

There’s a pause. Minghao seems taken aback. You quirk a curious brow at him.

“It means I’m hungry. Let’s go get some food,” Minghao places the book he was reading down on the coffee table before getting up and walking towards you.

You would have believed his translation, if not for the fact that his ears were tinged with the deepest shade of red you’ve ever seen.

Minghao extends his hands for you to grab onto to get up, and you withhold a giggle at how hard he’s trying to hide the blush slowly creeping up his cheeks. You willingly grab onto his hands and lift yourself up, a teasing smile appearing on your endeared expression.

“It means ‘I’m hungry’? I could use it on Junhui the next time we meet, show him how good of a teacher you are,” you smile, eyes focused on his reaction. “Baobei, ni hao piao liang.”

“You can’t tell Junhui that.” Minghao replies immediately. You don’t know how it’s possible, but Minghao only gets redder as he practically squirms under your gaze, looking down at his feet to avoid your eyes. You simply grin wider at how cute he’s being, all because of a few simple words from his native language that he’s refusing to translate for you.

“Why not?” you feign innocence, lowering yourself a little so you could make eye contact with his lowered head. “It’s a pretty useful phrase, isn’t it?”

Minghao sighs, lifting his head up. His face is completely red now. “Well, yes, but it can only be used in specific contexts.”

“Specific contexts?” you raise a brow at Minghao, leaning closer to him. “Do enlighten me, Hao.”

“You can just Google it, y/n,” Minghao presses his lips into a thin line, obviously trying to avoid the topic, “what do you feel like eating?”

Unfortunately for him, you do not give in easily.

“But Hao,” you whine, removing your hands from his to shake his shoulders for dramatic effect, “why would I need to ask Google when I’ve got you?”

You stop shaking his shoulders after a while, moving to cup his face in your hands instead. “What does it really mean? I promise I won’t laugh.”

Minghao’s eyes widen. “How did you know it doesn’t mean ‘I’m hungry’?”

“That’s because you taught me that phrase before, silly. Your excuse sucked from the beginning,” you giggle, booping his nose with your finger before going back to rest your hand on his cheek.

Minghao sighs, reaching up to rest one hand over yours, resigning himself to his fate. “It means you’re really pretty, love.”

Now it was your turn to be flustered. Your hands on his cheek stiffened just a little bit, clearly not expecting the words that came out of Minghao’s mouth so easily. Your gaze fell on everything else but Minghao, and he chuckles in amusement.

“What’s wrong, Baobei?” Minghao teases, leaning closer towards you.

You lightly punch his chest in mock frustration. “You can’t just say stuff like that out of the blue!”

“Well, you were the one who pushed for me to tell you what it meant,” Minghao retorts playfully, smile growing impossibly wider. You huff, and Minghao reaches to take your hand in his.

“Okay, let’s finally go eat, hm?” Minghao smiles softly, turning to lead you towards the front door.

“Wait!” you call after Minghao, and he stops in his tracks before turning to you with a confused expression.

“Ni hao piao liang.”

Oh, if only you took a picture of his stunned, absolutely flustered expression to keep forever (and maybe use as blackmail). You guess you’d just have to keep the image in your memory.

*: Baobei (宝贝) — Chinese term of endearment for “baby” or “love”.

**: Ni hao piao liang (你好漂亮) — “you’re really beautiful/pretty”.

a/n: i love hao sm can u tell (also i may or may not have written this bc of that weibo live earlier omg minghao needs to stop like rn.)

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @slytherinshua @xomingyu @pepperonidk @belladaises @tastymintchocolate @dahliatopia

masterlist

[cupidscrule]

BUNNY TRAP

Stepdad!Leon X Fem!Reader

Cw - p in v, daughter chasing after dad, stepcest, noncon(?) Unprotected

WRD- 1.5k

You always knew your dad was hot, total babe back in the 2000's ever since you were a kid your friends always gushed over him, and it was fair, always thought it was gross though. Like he's YOUR dad, stepdad yeah but he still raised you, sure he had a cute face, big arms, his pornstar tits were an add on. But he was Dad, nothin' more, But fuck the way he cups your cheek when your sad, hugs you, gives you that awkward Dad kiss. Just makes you yearn for him, which is wrong you know it's wrong but it's like that itch.

Your friends are always tellin' you how lucky you are, not only is Dad hot, he's nice y'know? Real good dad, picks you up everyday, gets you real nice things. Best guy honestly can see why Mom picked him!

"Hi kiddo, you wanted to check out that new place-?" Dad said opening your bedroom door, stupid fucken smile on his dumb hot face

'bury your face in my tits'

"Oh no -! It's okay- really I'm real tired"

'fuck me till I can't breathe'

"Huh- alright, come down soon dinners gonna be ready, and sorry Moms not home yet she said she'd be here in a few weeks 'k?"

'i wanna scream your name'

"Oh it's alright, and of course dad!"

With that he left, shutting the door halfway, dick move but it probably wasn't on purpose, the smell of his colone in the room, only imagining Dad stuff you up. God your disgusting, this is dad. Fourth something year old DAD, since when did you have these thoughts about him, as a kid sure you always thought he was cute 'ohhb I would totally date someone as big and strong as my Daddy!'

But it was LIKE, not actually him. But you can't stop thinkin' about him, wanting Dad to shove your face in the mattress pull on your hair, do the shit they do in pornos. Nasty thoughts, feeling gross and hot imagining all the shit you wanna do with the poor guy, as he just stood there not knowin' thinking your his innocent little daughter who could do no wrong! Oh no she would never have sex before marriage! Oh no my little girl doesn't even cuss!

Yeah right Dad, mhm. Actin' like in middle school my friends weren't blushing over you, whenever you walked in.

Fucken idiot, your little girls not pure, she's not good. She ain't innocent, hell she fantasizes about fucken you every day. It doesn't matter, nothings ever gonna come of this right? Just walk downstairs, eat dinner with dad and go back in your room and sleep it off.

"Sweetiee you finnaly came, how was your day?" Dad says sitting across from you, he didn't even cook. Fucken liar this was clearly some bullshit from a 4 star restaurant he just put on a plate. "Oh it's fine, nothin' much." You say staring at the table, trying to distract yourself from him, how he smells, how he sits, how he opens his mouth, the way he moves his bangs out of his dumb face, his breath. The intoxicating feeling of just bein' near him now.

"Are you okay?"

"Why'd you ask that? You know I'm always fine-" you say in response, playing with your fingers, avoiding his gaze. God feels like a crush in primary school, messin' up words and giggling to your friends about the fastest guy. "You just don't seem like yourselfer Hun, you can always talk to me you know that?" He says, feeling his eyes on you, not in a creepy way more an endearing way which somehow made your entire situation worse. "yeah- I know, don't worry it's fine!" You mumble, lookin' up at him, god he really was dreamy, just wanting him to- NO no more fantasy's.

You finish up, so does he. He just gives you that concerned Dad look before you get up and run back up the stairs like a bitch and lock yourself in your room, typing into Google

'how to stop liking your dad'

'is it normal to have a crush on your dad'

'is it illegal to fuck your step dad'

Jesus Christ your search history, just laying on your side in your bed. Thighs squeezed together tryna' stop thinking about dad, you've seen him shirtless before. Yeah you felt a little hot in your core before, anytime he hugged you you felt so- just so warm. Not the lovey Awee dad and daughter warm, more like if your boyfriend hugged you nice and tight! Feels good, feels warm and fuzzy, pit in your stomach that can only be filled by one thing.

Tossin' and turnin' it's only 6:00pm shit, Dad's still downstairs probobly watching some old movie, he really likes thoughs for some reason, and westerns it's kinda creepy but your the one who wants to fuck him so you really can't be judging. your thoughts are too much to bare, a girl can only last so long on the edge, panties soaked thinking about shit, and hell when you can actually recreate what you want, Nothing's stopping you. Other then ethics but who even cares anymore, walking downstairs to Dear ol' Daddy, bingo.

"Mm- Dad-? Can I talk to you?" You mutter walking up behind the sofa he's laying in, playing with your fingers, how do even address this like,

'Oh yeah dad! Can you just bend your daughter over and fuck her till she's blubbering nonsense, you raised her since she was seven but y'know !!'

No.

"Hm, yeah of course, what's the problem bunny?" He says sitting up, glancing behind him to your miserable face, little frown on your lips. He raises a brow seeing your face, you felt all fuzzy feeling your throat get dry, the hell were you supposed to do?

"Uh Dad, can- can you come upstairs" you mutter looking at him, feeling your chest get heavy. Of course dear Daddy doesn't wanna disappoint you so he gets up and walks over to ya

"What's wrong, Hun?" He says, so sweetly fuck. Looken' all concerned for you, just fall into his chest, even though Dad was in shape he had fatass boobs, real nice to put your face in whenever he hugged ya. Just like always as a concerted Daddy does he puts an arm around you, pulling you nice and tight, "Baby?" He says in that same voice, pullin' your face away from his body, looking down at you.

"Can- can we just sit down" you say grabbing his hand forcefully and leading him to the nice leather sofa, you didn't know much about Mom but she really liked expensive shit and this was the only thing at home she bought..

You push him onto his back, his head resting on the arm, he looked kinda confused, like a puppy! You crawl over on top on him, ass rested on his lower pelvis. "Hey Bunny this is a little- whats wrong?" Dad says trying to carefully lift you off of him, awe stupid Daddy actin' like you're just gonna listen to him

"Dad just let me do this- please, you love me right?" You say looking at him in the eyes, pout on your stupid lips, he just nods slowly as a response. Unzippin' his jeans, wow this really is a shitty porno plot.

'Cute stepdaughter seduces and fucks her Dad while Mom isn't home!'

Jesus Christ you fucking creep.

With his pants open pulling out is fat cock, he wasn't hard which kinda hurt, you were being all cute and all dad did was just sit and stare in shock. Like sure you were gropen him and stuff but he could put some effort in it? Whatever doesn't matter-? You sit on his thighs pulling off your night pants, your panties were already wet from earlier, sadly it seemed Dad didn't really wanna reinact your fantasy so you gotta do all the work, flicking your garments to the side, crawling back onto him. Placing your hips over his Dick, and taking it in, feeling his tip touch your cervix "Mm- fuck-" you murmer, taking a second before getting used to it, slowly moving your hips back and forth, feeling ever little movement. It was euphoric, hands on his chest, looking at his face he looked like he was trying to not enjoy it, but you could tell he was. You felt his breath get heavier anytime you went faster, such a good boy.

His fat dick bruising your womb, your walls squeezing against him, you could hear Dad muttering curse words under his breath, made you feel kinda better about this whole thing. Going to your high and getting that numbing feeling, stomach felt warm, brain all fuzzy and messy collapsing onto him, feeling that warm stuff leaking out of you, pulling yourself off Dad, laying on his chest, glancing up at him, seeing his flushed and disturbed face, awe it was so cute!

He probably felt horrible but you felt amazing, fuck best experience. Putting your arms aside his

"I love you Dad.." you spout into his shirt

"Your Mother can't hear about this B-bunny.." he replies, putting one of arms on your back, you could feel his chest go up and down so cute.

[spdrvyn]

a Miguel x f!reader "who did this to you?" Angst fic?

bewitched by bandages — MIGUEL O'HARA

SUMMARY: as per usual, you were spending your late-nights fighting crime and trying to protect the city to the best of your ability. as you are in the midst of a strenuous battle, you're sucked into a portal which brings you to what you assume to be another dimension.

THIS FIC CONTAINS: violence. harassment. somewhat detailed descriptions of wounds. angst. hurt/comfort. translated spanish (i didn't use google translate). f!reader

NOTES: GOD I LOVE THIS TROPE SO MUCH HOLY SHIT thank you anon for sending me this ask i was gonna do this kind of thing w miguel eventually but like still mwah, sorry for being ia too btw... i'm trying to avoid getting burnt out n shit so that i keep writing stuff for you guys 🫶 anyway, ENJOOOY

"You will never be apart of this."

Those were the last words uttered to you before proclaimed protector of the multiverse, Miguel O'Hara, disappeared into the portal possibly never to be seen again.

He thought so too. At least, until he came back a week later due to yet another anomaly showing up in your dimension. Then another, then another, then another.

Humiliating was an understatement. What kind of Spider-Woman were you if you couldn't even take down one anomaly? Every time trouble came, Miguel was there to fix it. For once, you wanted to be the one to catch the beast. Hold it's severed head up to him with a big, fat smile on your face.

But that was a distant dream, only to be seen after you collapse onto your bed after an exhausting day.

You felt even more hurt when you found out that he was the leader of some kind of Spider Society. Yet, as he said when he first met you, you just weren't capable enough to join it.

Granted, he explained that it was an elite strike force but still. You were proud of yourself for making it this far into the whole Spider-woman gig, turns out that the bar was higher than you thought it was. It saddened you, deeply.

Though with time comes change. You've honed your skills and now confident enough to laugh in the face of who you were months ago, if an anomaly ever showed up again you'd show Miguel who's boss (not literally) and finally be able to join that god forsaken society.

You were much more confident in battle, actually much more confident in general. It was like you were an entirely different person to the criminals that you cowered before at night and the other more important people in your life at day.

However, there were moments where that confidence faltered.

Moments where you felt like that terrified, shameful, and naive little spider that you were mere months ago. A moment like now as you were being absolutely destroyed by one of your regular enemies.

You didn't know his name, you didn't want to bother trying to know anyway. He was the type of villain to give those excruciatingly long monologues that only dragged more and more time out of your excruciatingly long nights. So you just called him tech guy.

He is exactly what he sounds like. Covered from almost head-to-toe with different kinds of technologically advanced weaponry that made you wonder if he'd work as an appliance in a smart home.

Even when you enjoyed poking fun at the multiple devices stuck to his body, he didn't. Continuing to upgrade himself more and more each time the both of you fought. You had a feeling in your gut that your devilishly charming personality would come back to bite you in the ass someday.

He had you under the heel of his boot, quite literally this time. You bite back a grunt as his shoe continues to press into you, barely being able to look back up, you can see the absolutely smug grin on his face.

"I warned you, Spider-Woman. If only you listened to me, you would've seen this coming from miles away!"

"I'm here to—" You want to bury your face into the pavement as you can feel something sharp pierce the small of your back. "Fight bad guys not listen to lectures!"

"And look at where not listening has gotten you, little spider." Tech guy chuckled, uncomfortably close to your ear. You try to pull away but he has you pinned and he's close, too close. You swore from the corner of your eye that he had his hand raised. About to strike.

This was it, he was going to knock you out. Take you back to who knows where. Or maybe even kill you right here and right now. Leaving your corpse on the street for the citizens of New York, the citizens that you swore you'd protect to be mortified by.

You were finished, your end had come. It terrified you, if people saw your fate, who would do this job? Who would be able to gain the courage to step up? Even after knowing the dangers that lurk and entail it?

Dangers such as a portal opening up on the floor beneath you, it was blinding as you squint and your senses are immediately flooded by what feels like everything.

It's like a strong gust of wind swoops you away, the distant yells of tech guy growing quieter and quieter.

This relieved you but pained you.

As you were being blissfully carried away from whatever force was helping you right now, it put a lot of pressure on the injuries that have sustained from that scuffle.

You tried to scream, yell, shout for anyone in this space but nothing. You curl up into a ball, in attempts for it stop and hope that your next destination is the sensation of nothingness.

It was like you were being torn apart then put back together. Shifting from each form. Solid, liquid, gas, solid, liquid, gas, solid liquid, gas, solid rooftop.

What?

You groaned, looking up at the night sky of whatever hell you just landed in. You tried to sit up and you were able to! But with a now bleeding lip in attempts to muffle the absolutely bloodcurdling scream that you were about to let out.

Wherever you were, it wasn't hell (thankfully) but it definitely wasn't New York. At least not your New York.

Everything was strangely futuristic. Flying cars, sleek architecture, a lot of grass to your surprise, and beautiful lights that finished the beautiful view off.

The rooftop that you had landed on was no different either, whoever owned this place had a spectacular taste in furniture and it showed here. As you looked to your side, it seemed that it also connected to a bedroom. An empty bedroom.

God, you were going to feel so guilty about this later.

Fighting back yet another pained noise from coming out of your mouth, you manage to build the strength to get up on your two feet and stumble towards the entrance.

You take your slow strides and get to observe the room in the process, it was very spacious. A huge monitor hanging on one wall, a huge closet on the other side, not to mention that it has a bathroom attached, what would it be without a huge bed in the middle of it all?

To your dismay, you're only able to make it a few steps in before needing to grip the bedsheets for dear life.

The dear life that you might lose when you hear the muted sounds of someone talking from outside.

You're not really able to make any words out but it sounded like whoever they were, they yelled out to someone. Suddenly, she appeared in front of you.

A lady, dressed in a somewhat lengthy but quite fashionable fur coat, she adorned a pair of heart shaped sunglasses as she looked at the TV in the room with a puzzled look on her face.

It's not long before she catches sight of you, eyes widening and both of you exchange glances. You bring your index finger to your mouth in a placating gesture but it only gets worse as she calls out:

"... Miguuueeeeel!"

Miguel? Miguel?

Frantically, you wave your hands around in an attempts to shush her but your heart rate spikes as her body practically phases through you. Hologram. You were throwing hands with a hologram.

And it's like the whole world stops when the bedroom door slides open, your worst fears had come true.

There he stood. Miguel O'Hara. Although something felt different, and you realized that his mask was off. The first thing that came to mind was the unamused pout that he wore, eyes that stared down at you disappointedly, and a broad frame that took up nearly the entire doorway.

The silence was deafening, you could hear it ringing in your ears. So deafening that you could hear your heart drumming in your chest, your shallow breaths, his footfalls as he walked over to you. Before turning his head to his hologram lady.

"Lyla, scan this." Lyla nodded before looking you up and down, wherever her eyes followed it scanned. She turns back to Miguel with the prognosis on your injuries. "Fifteen scratches, ten bruises, and a slightly fractured rib."

The noise that Miguel let out irked you a little, you could feel how heavy it was as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I have a lot of articles that could help with fixing this mess, big guy."

"No, it's fine. I can deal with this myself,"

"If you say so."

Lyla seemingly poofs into thin air, leaving you alone with him and a whole lot of questions that you have to ask. Even then, even if you were the one technically intruding in his home, you couldn't break the silence. Where to even start?

"Who did this to you?" Well, okay. That was a start. You tried to open your mouth to even get a small explanation out but as you attempted to piece your thoughts together, the more it felt like your brain fogged up.

Miguel had unfortunately noticed this too, what a way to make an impression after weeks of not seeing each other. "Just sit down." You obviously complied, careful not to let any blood drip down onto his sheets, you hoped that you wouldn't embarrass yourself further.

Those months of training, those months of self-improvement, those months of trying to be better all shattered within an instant as you saw Miguel rummage through his closet, cursing under his breath until he emerged with a first aid kit.

It felt so hard to think about anything and everything. Well, not really. There were a million thoughts racing through your head right now, most of them being what exactly was going through Miguel's head.

Was he disappointed? It would be a lot more unlikely if he wasn't if you were completely honest. Was he upset? If you saw someone you didn't hold in a high regard just magically appear on the roof of your home all beat up, you wouldn't be the happiest in the world.

There wasn't even a single peep out of him as he opened the small kit, equipping himself with what looked to be a medical cream and rolls of bandages. You spared him just a small glance, you were expecting him to look you dead in the eye with nothing but pure unbridled rage for ruining his night but instead?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

He was laser focused on treating you right now or what you had thought to be a more plausible situation: he was just too disheartened to even look at you.

And you completely understood why, therefore ripping your gaze away from his eyes and moving down to his hands instead. You watched intently as the part around his hands dissolved into mere pixels before he swiped up a good amount of the cream onto his fingers, then gestured for you to hold your arm out.

Once the medicine came into contact with your wounds, tears dared to prick at your eyes. Fuck, it hurt a lot but you didn't really need to ruin his impression of you any further. You resorted to biting down hard on your lip and turning your head away.

Miguel, being the ever observant one, noticed this as well.

"You owe me an explanation." He was right. You did. You were quite confident that if you stayed radio silent for the rest of the night, you would be sleeping on the cold, cold streets of this world. "I've surmised that you got sucked into a portal then ended up here but most don't end up with injuries this bad."

There goes a good chunk of your explanation, which played well on your end. You didn't even want to begin describing what being transported from dimension to dimension felt like. Still, you wanted to play this cool.

"I was just in a fight, it was nothing serious."

"Nothing serious? Did you hear the results of that scan?"

You can't help how your cheeks flush at his quip, perhaps you were playing it too cool. If you tried too hard, he'd probably be able to see right through you but before you could even attempt defending yourself, he butts in.

"Qué dolor de cabeza." You heard him mutter. "I need more details about this, how many people were in the fight? What were they like? I'm not a mind reader."

His tone was harsh, it felt like he was cutting your scars open rather than healing them. You semi-understood why he was a leader, he had a way of making demands that was for sure.

"It was just one guy, but he had a lot of mechanical attachments. Saws, tentacles, other blades." As you explained, Miguel finished up bandaging your arm and gestured for your other one. You shifted slightly in position and held that up as well, sucking in a sharp breath as he goes through the routine of applying the disinfectant.

He seemed to just hum at your answer like he wasn't relentlessly asking you questions moments ago, you assumed that he wanted to hear more information so you kept talking. Like an idiot.

"I'm not the biggest tech person, you know? I was just swinging through and then he ambushed me, every time I've encountered him, he just continued to get stronger and stronger."

"Every time? How many times exactly?"

He emphasized 'exactly' as if you were actually supposed to count but even if you presented those kinds of details with a whole ass statistic chart, the answer would still disappoint him.

"Probably more than five. Like I said, he upgrades and–"

"Yes, yes. You said that already." He interrupts you again, hurriedly finishing up your arm before he rolls up the bandages; throwing them back into the aid kit with a very audible thud.

If there was another talent of his, it would be how very quickly he's able to shatter your pride.

"What are you trying to do here?" He asks you. You know you shouldn't be asking questions at risk of making yourself look even more stupid but with how vague that was, it felt like you had the right to. "What are you talking about?"

"You're trying to impress me. I'm asking you this stuff to know more about the nature of your injuries and you're trying to goddamn impress me. Why?"

Oh.

Clearly, since it felt like he knew so much more about you, you just looked at him. How could this possibly get any worse after all? No matter what you said, no matter how hard you tried, it would all be for naught in the end.

"If this is about what I said when we first met, these antics of yours seriously aren't helping your case." Your body went numb. "Then, after I clear all the anomalies in your dimension, you come flying back to me. Seriously?"

Your mind went numb.

This felt like more than just a reality check to you, no. Every single criticism that shot back at you continued to break you down into smaller, smaller pieces.

You dreamt about meeting him again someday, and it did not look like this in the slightest. Only now, if you thought about what that scenario would be like, you'd conk yourself in the head for being so fucking delusional.

The distant dream of him entering your dimension, to see an anomaly in your capable hands, to hear that gravelly voice that has only continued to criticize you praise you for your deeds, then you'd get recruited into the Spider Society and save the multiverse to your heart's content.

Oh, how dumb and naïve you were. Clearly, you still are both of those things. His words spoke enough about that. You didn't want to be here as much as he did.

"I didn't want this," You finally said, the most coherent thought throughout this whole mess. "Any of this to happen. I just– I don't get it at all."

"Don't get what?"

"What I'm doing wrong," You sigh, lip quivering as tears dared to fall. This time, it wasn't because of medicine. You hoped it was. "I've trained for so long, I've tried my hardest. You might not think so but I have, I really have. But it seems like I'm making a mess of it all."

With each second that passed, the dam dared to break.

An uncomfortable silence blanketed the room, but this one scared you even more. A while ago, even if he didn't say a word, you knew how he felt about you. About your predicament.

But now? You had no clue. He could embrace you, comfort you, tell you that it's okay and he understood how you felt. You could've pushed his temper to his limits, he would scream, shout, yell, and kick you out of his penthouse.

"This doesn't have anything to do with your training," Like that, Miguel took a sharp pin to the atmosphere and popped it. "It has something to do with your mindset."

Now, you were the one to give him a confused glare. He sighs, eyes scanning over your sorry state once more,

"You did this, all this, to get into my strike force and to woo me whatnot." Before looking back up at you. Don't be mistaken, the harshness in his face is still there but from what he was saying, it didn't seem to be what you had originally thought.

"The reason why you're so stuck is because I shouldn't be the first goal in your mind, you should. Are you following?" You nod.

"Good. You need to understand, this job isn't about trying to meet a standard or getting someone to notice you. Self-improvement. It's all in the title. Self-improvement."

You shiver as his warm hand rests on your shoulder. "If you're already this hung up on trying to win me over, take a step back and think about who's approval matters more. Yours or mine?"

Yours.

It clicked. Everything fit into place and the dam broke, though that should have been more obvious to you when Miguel's face had started to look a little foggier.

At first, you had expected him to hand you a tissue or something but he didn't move from his place. Instead, resorting to rubbing his hand up and down your shoulder in a weird, seemingly unfitting gesture.

You swiftly wiped your tears away with your palm, stifling a sniffle as you ask yet another question.

"So, do you think I'll have a chance of getting in someday?"

A snarkly reply or scoff was what you had anticipated but what he just did was probably the most shocking turn of events looking back at the whole night.

He chuckled.

"I'll keep you in touch."

request rules here, masterlist here

[wraithdance]

Stray Dogs | GHOAP x Reader

Synopsis: You never had a problem with strays, but you should have been wary of the rabid dogs begging to be leashed.

Pairing: Johnny x Avoidant!reader | eventual Ghoap x Avoidant!reader Note: AFAB!Reader, No physical description but reader has background story, no y/n use or gender terms for reader, Reader is LGBT (Bisexual) Content warning: Mature | brief mentions of childhood trauma, avoidant personality, therapy and allusions to mental health issues, passive thoughts of death

Prologue: Foxy Leaves

You told your new therapist that you like putting things into categories because it was fun.

It was half a lie, minuscule really and not enough to be of consequence. You suppose you could have been honest and said the process of grouping things made the endless dread you lived in just a little bit easier.

But you didn’t really like the pitying look Dr. Sanchez gave you when she went over your intake questionnaire. She’d looked down her glasses while you numbly repeated the same spiel about ‘what brings you to cognitive therapy’ that you’d been giving for the last decade. 

You’d google her practice on your lunch break scrolling through the reviews and stuffing the last of your sandwich in your cheeks. In your car before the first session you silently prayed to the empty space that this time you could stick with her long enough to fix you.

You doubt it though because her bob bounces as she nods to your explanation of ‘The Chasm’ and how it came to be. The way that it bounces as she hums, being sure to signify her active listening. It really pisses you off. 

The familiar sense of despair boils hot when you realize that even though this is an unfamiliar office half way across from town, she’s giving you the look. The one of interest, like she wants to crack open your skull and observe your chaotic wiring in hopes to understand what your fucking problem is.

It’s the same one every other therapist has given you since you were old enough to inevitably stop showing up to mandatory sessions without consequence. 

It’s so habitually intolerable that you have a 'Therapist breakup’ text in your notes draft on your phone. It's simple, clinical, contains something vague about not thinking you were compatible as a client. It’s usually enough to keep them from doing a wellness check (or worse a call to your emergency contact.) 

When you’re done talking, Dr. Sanchez reaches for your hand in some gratuitous act of extending comfort. Her cold fingers and the sensation of her half rubbed in hand cream, makes you want to vomit. It must not show on your face because she keeps talking and squeezing your hand.

“I think that it’s brave of you to come in and I think we can work on some of your goals.” She pauses accessing you before she says the thing that signs the death of your therapeutic relationship.

“Do you also want to work on mending the relationship with your parents?”

You ignore the receptionist when she asks if you want to make a follow up appointment. You’re combing through your drafts to find the breakup text when you think that you’re glad you lied about the category thing. Your control issues are yours, precious and responsible for your ability to focus on anything but the heavy weight of being. So fuck her and her stupid fucking bob.

Her contact gets blocked as soon as the message reads delivered.

When you were anxious the familiarity of nature documentaries, specifically the ones about apex predators, were a comfort. Duckie, your best friend of nine years, had been squeamish the first time she watched one of your favorites with you.

It was about big cats in the wilds. The man with the Aussie accent narrated with excitement that belied the violence of seeing a lioness take down a gazelle. From behind the safety of your throw pillow Duckie asked why you like watching stuff like that. You shrugged like you didn’t have an answer.

You did though.

It’s because predators in the wild didn’t hide what they were. They didn’t need to pretend to be anything but carnivorous and survival driven. Would never think to explain to the gazelle that they were sorry for hurting you, but they couldn’t help themself.

It would be even more insulting than being eaten alive. 

You’re relieved when the lioness finishes the gazelle off, letting out a small sigh of 'finally' that earns you a wide eyed look from Duckie. The death was quick and even if the gazelle didn’t realize it, she was lucky. You’ve been on the end of an explanation for harm and wished you’d have the mercy of death instead.

But you couldn’t tell Duckie that. So instead you tease her about being a big baby.

For a few years now you’ve gotten into the habit of assigning everyone you meet an animal that reminds you of them. It satisfied both of your interests and it was fun. It’s how Duckie got her nickname. She’d crowed over the cuteness and tried to hug you before you threatened to bite her if she touched you.

It didn't matter the amount of time you'd known a person you grouped them. The scrawny teenager at the local Tesco was Giraffe kid, The high pitched woman next door with the ugly dog, Chihuahua.

You’re looking at your girlfriend of 3 months, Foxy, thinking how the name works for her better than Taylor does. 

She’s beautiful even while spitting vitriol as she packs her Telfar bag to the brim with stray items she left behind at your apartment. 

When she flicks her hair over a tanned shoulder you’re distracted, remembering how it felt when you gripped the long strands that morning, holding her still and demanding to be kissed. Instead of the soft look she wore then, she’s openly glaring at you now. You know your face is doing the blank thing she hates because she searches it for something. You suppose she doesn’t find whatever that something is because she’s yelling again.

“You make it so FUCKING hard to love you and I can’t do this anymore.”

You're frozen, caught off guard with the remote to the television still in hand as the nature documentary drones on. The ‘what?’ you blurt out is one of genuine confusion, you'd both been cuddled on the couch talking before whatever this was came to be. You wrack your mind trying to remember what the last thing you said was and come up blank. To your embarrassment, you'd been on autopilot the whole morning, so there is a gap in your memories.

Taylor, upon your continued silence makes a sound that can only be described as a screech.

“You always have an excuse why I can’t meet your parents!” She cries exasperatedly, “If you’re ashamed of me I’d rather you just say that over leading me on for God’s sake!”

Your body flinches only slightly when she throws her hands up. You’re still defensive when you bite out a sharp rebuttal that makes her frown and drop your spare key on the coffee table. You don't admit to yourself that you can't remember exactly what you say over the cotton in your ears and the dark corners that sink into your neck at the first display of conflict.

It still stings when she leaves though. You spend the next day crying under your blankets, the pillow she slept on still smells like her perfume. The scent clean and floral, one you'd gotten used to seeking out when you did the laundry.

Fuck, you really did like Foxy. But you suppose you’re going to have to call her Taylor now that she's your ex-girlfriend.  

Duckie laughs at Taylor’s comment when you tell her over brunch. Your effervescent friend’s giggle tumbles out of her uncontrollably, whilst her mimosa in hand, threatens to spill in her lap. She slaps a hand over her mouth when a loud snort escapes against her will. She shoots an apologetic smile to the couple at the table adjacent to yours when they ask her to keep it down. 

You glare until they turn back to their lunch.

Duckie straightens when she takes in your stiff form, having finally realized she’d stepped on a landmine and right into your ire.

“Darling, you certainly don't make it easy to be close to you, you're a bit…” 

She pauses in thought, shifting her glasses on her nose and placing the glass flute down on the table. Today her spectacles are fire engine red with rhinestones on the brim. You’d asked her if she was nearsighted or farsighted once and she’d told you the lenses weren’t prescription. She only wore them to seem a bit older and worldlier when out and about.

 You don't like how long it takes for her to search for an adjective and say so when she still doesn’t finish her sentence after several moments. 

“I just mean that you're purposely closed off,” She makes a panic flapping movement with her hands when your eyes narrow even more “Oh come on! You like it that way!”

“Duckie, what are you talking about?” You grit between your teeth. 

You're pushing your half eaten club sandwich out of the way to lean across the table, waiting to hear her explanation. You’d lost your appetite.

Duckie shirks from your unblinking leer and sniffs indignantly. 

“It took me nearly a year to get you to call me your friend and I swear I still feel like I don’t know you.” she gives you a pointed look, “If it weren't for the fact that you’re like that to everyone, I’d think you hated me sometimes, so I really do have to empathize with Taylor in this one.” 

She’s waiting for you to say something, you can tell by the way she brings her shoulders up to her ears as if gearing for some great big reaction.

But, that wasn’t your style, never had been. So you still don’t know what’s expected of you. To negate her statement? 

You suppose you could tell her that's absurd, she was your best friend in every way. Had been since the day she’d laughed at one of your more tasteless jokes during an intro to Psychology class in undergrad. You were softer for Duckie, more than you were- well really anyone. 

Your own mother only knew enough about you to identify you on a morgue table if it ever came down to it. But you don’t tell her that.

Instead you do what you do best. You leave.

You’re pushing up from the table gathering your purse and throwing back the last of your mimosa like a tequila shot, before you can think twice about it.

Duckie tries to reach out to you but you flinch from her touch. 

“Wait Darling, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, please don't go!”

“I’m just going to the ladies.” you mumble flatly over your shoulder. At least that's what you hope comes out because your throat is closing up with the effort to hold back the stupid tears in your eyes. 

You slam into the restroom startling the barista applying lipstick in the mirror. Her owlish eyes take one look at your dark expression and she pops the top back on her lipstick, skirting past you. You check to make sure the bathroom was truly empty before locking yourself in the biggest stall.

As soon as the lock clicks the dam breaks and it makes you so angry it hurts. The level of intensity of your crying is absolutely repulsive. Your jaw aches with the efforts to muffle the sobs that thrum through your body like a struck chord.

You’re pacing the small enclosure with tears running down your face, feeling like the lioness in the nature documentary after it’d been captured. You feel the gut punch of self loathing as soon as the thought comes up. It's insulting to compare yourself to the deadly beast when you’re trying not to get snot on your dress sleeves. 

Duckie comes to the restroom after a while tapping on the stall door, begging you to open up.

You feel only half guilty when you tell her to fuck off. She’s quiet for a while and you know she stands with only the thin door between you, you can see her colorful converses from beneath the gap in the door. 

You want to let her in. Figuratively. Literally. 

What a relief it would be to just let her crawl into the hole you’ve made at rock bottom and let her be there with you. 

You want to laugh imagining her taking the time to do that rocking thing she does when she's trying to get comfortable in the decorative chair in your office. You always remind her it was meant for aesthetics, not comfort when she huffs out the same grouchy complaint about the hardness. She scoffs in mock offense anyways. 

“Really Darling, you make enough money to get rid of this thing. Ooh let me send you the link to the bean bag I saw on Wayfair, one sec!”

You’re still crying when you consider that she's really the only person who makes the effort to visit you at the office.

Or anywhere really. 

You'd gotten accustomed to only hearing from your family when there was a crisis or need for quick cash to keep them afloat. 

If you weren’t stuffing tissues into your running nose you’d scoff at the thought of your parents caring, much less visiting. They were still content to be fuck ups well into their retirement age. You’d long stopped bothering to call to make sure they were still alive after the first year of college. 

Maybe if you told Taylor that she would have stayed.

The emotional despair rot you call ‘The Chasm’ deepens and you question if you’d ever really gotten used to the loneliness of having no parent to turn to. The years of casual disdain and dismissal. The resentment for being half a child and reluctant third parent to children that weren’t yours. Their desire for all of you and none of you and back again in an endless loop. 

Ceaseless demands of a gluttonous beast you could never please, even when you’ve flayed yourself bare. 

It stings, the reminder that you’d been living on scraps and toughness disguised as love long before you met Duckie. Long before Foxy- Taylor- or even the parade of friends and disappointed exes, who’d simply had enough of whatever caustic matter made you, you. 

Yet, Duckie is the only one who keeps coming back. Time again she comes back to your side with a smile, like she likes to be with you. Like watching nature shows with you on the couch, eating whatever snacks she brings because she knows you forget to eat, acting like it’s the highlight of her day. Never an inconvenience to care for you the way others had said it was. It makes you cry harder until you can’t breathe because you’re trying not to let her hear you.

Duckie in all her color and too big glasses, has always acted as if she can see that weak part of you peeking out from behind the thorns and quick rebuttals bordering on mean. She still stands waiting for you even now, even when you told her to fuck off in public restroom at your favorite brunch cafe. 

It’s staring at the graffiti-ed dick on the stall door when you think you can honestly say you love her and it hurts your feelings that she doesn't know that. 

You think you can be honest and tell her that it’s not about Foxy or even Duckie’s laugh at your expense. It’s about the revolving door of disappointment that still keeps you up at night. That landed you under the microscope on a a faceless therapist's couch for emergency sessions and the mementos of non-slip socks in your dresser drawers.

The half guilt turns into full fledged self loathing just thinking about how you really needed to get a cushion for your office and let her in. After a beat you think you’re in control of your crying enough to reach for the lock inside the stall. Of course, as always the universe is having a laugh at your expense. 

“Darling, I'm going to go back to the table now okay?” 

You know she's making that nervous face scrunch she does when she’s anxious, waiting for you to reply. You can’t, you’re frozen in place as always. 

“Don't want them to think we skipped the tab, so just come back when you feel a bit better, yeah?”  

She says something about her getting the bill and you can talk when you come back. You don’t hear her really because ‘The Chasm’ calls to you first. You keep it together long enough until the scuffling sounds of her shoes quiet before allowing the tide to take you under again. 

Eventually, when you’ve stuffed the feelings back into the pit, you’re able to leave the stall. You never go back to the table. Texting Duckie a simple ‘sorry’ along with a money transfer for your portion of brunch. You leave the restaurant for the safety of your home, wondering if this will be enough for her to leave you too. 

You half hope it is because it was exhausting loving someone else.

An hour later there's a timid knock on your apartment door. It’s opening to peer down at a shuffling Duckie on your steps, with flowers and the expensive bottle of wine you like, that you know that it’s not. Enough to keep her from coming back that is. 

She follows you inside like a chick behind its mother and toes off her sneakers in the hall next to your rows of shoes. She takes your general wave her way as a sign of ‘go ahead’ when she asks if she can put the flowers in water. 

You’re sitting on the couch with your knees to your chest, staring listlessly at the nature channel. You know Duckie is taking in your bare face and faux casualness. You know you look pathetic in your too big hoodie and headscarf. You at least hope you've gotten enough of your makeup off to not look like a drowned raccoon.

'Pathetic', The Chasm says.

Duckie carefully tiptoes over your outstretched legs to scrunch herself small on the other end of the couch. After a few episodes of the documentary, this one about penguins, she slowly makes her way to your side and cautiously gives you a half hug and a tearful apology.

“I’m sorry for being a bitch, I shouldn’t have laughed.” She doesn’t turn from the t.v's glow. You’re secretly thankful she doesn’t look at you because you’re embarrassed for crying again. 

With gentle prodding she asks you to tell her how you really feel about Taylor leaving. You tell her. You also tell her about your parents and why it was such a big deal introducing Taylor to them. It’s more than you’ve admitted to any therapist and she has the foresight to not make it a thing.

Duckie just hums quietly, listening. As she sleeps on your shoulder, drool wetting your sleeve, you think you can carve her a spot beside you in rock bottom. Maybe another inside the space where your heart should be, just big enough for one. It’ll just be you and Duckie for as long as she wants it that way. You’re satisfied with the thought, drinking the last of the wine.

As always nothing you ever want matters for very long.

Because Soap doesn’t give you a choice when he barrages into your life and demands you make additional space for him and his stray dog.

Masterlist | Next >>

[letomills]

TS2 CC downloaders & creators discussion recap

Under the cut is a recap of the feedback gathered from the comments, community replies and reblogs on this thread. Thank you for taking the time to give your input! I tried to organize everything clearly in categories, with what was most often brought up at the top of each. I hope I didn’t forget anything. If I did, or you feel I didn't do your point justice, or you didn’t get a chance to say your piece, feel free to comment (I can always make edits). The text in brackets [] is my own remarks that I'm adding to the report.

About CC in general:

The people clamored for clear swatches/pictures that show which file corresponds to which recolor, so we can pick and choose what to keep.

Many people would like creators to put their usernames in their file names (or object descriptions) so they are easier to trace back to later. Two creators had counterpoints to this. One who has a long username said: “as a creator, I don't like to be told how I should name my files (besides identifying the thing clearly, which I think we really should do). If I've made the effort to make a thing, take previews, upload it, write the post etc. Just spend 5 seconds of your life renaming the file to whatever is convinient to you, I'm not going to add 16 characters to each of my files to include my username (I still think that longer names = longer loading time).” The other creator said: “As a creator, I don't want to put my full username in tooltips (just SB) because some hair names are quite long and I do not have the time to re tooltip the names.”

On the topic of file names, many people agreed that creators should not put special characters and spaces in their file names, to optimize loading times. One creator clarified: “the filenames should always have _ instead of spaces, as apparently this allows the game to load them easier/faster [...] underscores should be the only kind of special character in them” [use the Bulk Rename Utility - see tutorial by @ilovethesims2cc].

Still on file names, a Mac user said they dislike when file names are too long because apparently long file names are enough for Macs to shit themselves [sorry if I misunderstood, never had a Mac].

Several people mentioned disliking poorly optimized CC (one person listed: “bulky for no reason, unused bump maps, comically large or duplicated textures, things that could easily be repo'd but are not”), one person pointed out: “There is no reason a TS2 object needs a texture bigger than 1024x1024 unless it’s a special case like a skybox.”

One person said they dislike when a CC post lacks basic text info about what the download is. On this note, another person said they dislike when a creator isn’t clearly stating what mesh their recolors are for.

Two people asked that creators state their stuff’s polycounts.

Two people said they dislike when the recolors for a piece of CC are only available merged together, as they want to be able to easily choose which they want to keep. On the other hand, someone who “takes all recolors anyway” said they would like creators to offer a merged version of their recolors [you can merge CC to reduce loading times using LazyDuchess’s CC Merger].

One person recommended avoiding just using “here” as hyperlink text, but instead describing what you are linking to, so that if the link gets broken we still have a chance to find the thing. In the same vein, they and another person advised against reliance on an image alone to give info about the download. As we know, images can disappear, and a Google search won’t lead to the item if your post has no text that Google can detect.

About the images that creators do show, one person mentioned a download not having a proper preview as their pet peeve. On previews, two people recommended that the piece of CC be clearly visible and the main focus. Two people said they like when a preview of the item is included in the archive (“helpful when looking through old CC”).

One person said they appreciate when creators give two download links to two different hosting platforms, in case one of them ever breaks.

One person asked for creators to always test their stuff before uploading [it should go without saying but we do see egregious things to this day]. Their pet peeve is “CC with obvious issues that can’t have been tested properly in game! Don’t just look at it in build mode or bodyshop, actually use the item in live mode. Have a Sim wear the clothing or use the object!” They pointed out as an example that some CC lights don’t light up. Someone else said: “if there are minor imperfections, that's ok! But let your downloaders know what to expect.”

One person said that they enjoy reading detailed descriptions of CC: “Share your inspos, what went wrong, tag the pieces you used if you are Frankenmeshing because I might want those items too! Creating and sharing is deeply personal, don't be afraid to share a part of who you are in your downloads if you feel comfortable doing so.” [If I may offer a slight counterpoint, I think detailed technical info + proper crediting should always be frontloaded. And then, in a separate paragraph, you can write about how you made this because your grandma used to wear something similar on those cool autumn days back when you were 6. But please, don’t expect your audience to have to parse through your life story to get the basic info they need to even understand what the download is.]

On subfolders: one person mentioned that they dislike when individual files are placed in subfolders; someone else said they don’t like many subfolders within an archive; a third person said that when downloading a ‘bulk’ CC pack, they dislike when each item has its individual subfolder (unless the object has dozens of recolors).

One person said they dislike downloads that include a large number of things that aren’t all part of a single coherent set.

One person said they dislike gift/mega packages that don’t give the possibility to pick and choose what you’re downloading.

One person asked that creators compressorize their CC, unless there is a good reason for not doing so, reason that should be stated [yes please! Use jfade’s Compressorizer, found on this page].

One person said they like when creators who make recolors give a link to the mesh they are recoloring whenever possible, even if the mesh is included.

One person mentioned appreciating when creators include base PSDs in their downloads [they were talking about hair specifically but I suppose it can be done for other things too].

About Bodyshop CC specifically:

Many people mentioned disliking when a piece of clothing lacks a fat morph (as one person put it: ✨“its literally bigotry”✨ [iconic]), or has a fat morph that's blatantly a quickly WSO’d afterthought. Someone said: “Absurdly shaped/clipping fat morphs that were most probably never tested in game before uploading are pretty annoying”; someone else said: “I make male content and am constantly flabbergasted by some of the UM Top fat morphs that make no attempt to align with Bottom items, or look completely ridiculous. [...] WSOs are a great starting point, but that's just it: a starting point" [I couldn’t agree more]. One person added that clothes should also have preg morphs.

One person really wants tooltips. Someone else further asked that creators give actually helpful tooltips to their recolors to make it easier to identify which recolor corresponds to which file [you can use CatOfEvilGenius’s Tooltip utility to give your recolors tooltips that correspond to their file names].

One person mentioned gaps in meshes being their #1 pet peeve [putting this in this section because I’m assuming they’re referring to Bodyshop CC].

One person asks that creators give their accessories unique BIN numbers to make them layerable with other accessories.

The same person would like creators to remember to delete the inapplicable ages in their accessories [this also goes for hairs].

The same person also appreciates when creators make custom thumbnails for their accessories, “especially for accessories that are not on the face”.

The same person said: “Accessories that are 'part of the sim' (like ears, tails, etc.) should be showerproof”. Another person had the same request: “Body part accessories (such as animal ears, tails, horns, wings) should be available for all types of clothing.”

One person appreciates when hair meshers specify if their hair is animated or not.

One person would like to see more hairs for toddlers and children.

For geneticized skintones, one person said they find it helpful when the genetic number is indicated in the file name.

About Build & Buy CC specifically: 

Several people said they dislike when CC objects are set to an absurd price (like a couch for 1 simoleon) [this can be fixed with Pick’N’Mix’s Object Relocator], and two people added that they dislike when an object’s price isn’t congruent with their stats (like when an expensive bed has a low energy score). A creator further said: “whats worse is sometimes items are cloned from a very expensive item, and then the creator has reduced the stats shown in the description, but the bhav still has very high ratings, or sometimes it can be the other way around, an item might have been cloned from a cheap one, then their displayed stats are set to 10 but the bhavs still have low ratings”.

Three people said that they really appreciate when creators state which category their object is in and what the price is. One person said they appreciate when creators give info about how their object functions (“Is it just deco? Does it have hobby enthusiasm?” etc.). For complex objects, they like when there’s a video to show how it works. 

One person said they dislike when creators place objects in categories that don’t make sense. Someone said more specifically that they like when objects are put in categories other than deco/sculptures or deco/misc.

One person said they dislike blank object descriptions or object descriptions that were left the same as that of the Maxis object that the piece of CC was cloned from.

One person said they don’t like when objects aren’t enabled for quarter-tile placement [can be fixed in simPe or with the Object Relocator].

One person said they dislike non-functional objects (like a sofa that’s a sculpture).

One person brought up two experiences they and their friend had with CC beds that didn’t have unique GUIDs and therefore would override other beds. In the same vein, someone else said they dislike when a creator forgets to mention that their CC is not custom but default and will override something in the game.

One person encourages creators to learn about the TXMT settings of objects (e.g. should an object be reflective?) and praised @pforestsims and @shastakiss for their CC in that regard. Another person said they dislike when an object is too shiny, which is also a TXMT setting.

One person said they dislike “transparent cut out textures”. [I quote because I’m clueless about this:] “I’ve seen this a lot on TS3 or other game conversions, where the texture has been imported without enabling transparency, and you get ugly squares around draw handles and such. Import the texture as DXT 5 and enable AlphaTest in the TXMT.”

One person said they like when 4t2 conversions have several subsets.

The Mac user among us would like creators to resize their walls and floors for Macs, otherwise they show up grey in game.

About lots specifically:

Two people said they like when creators show the floor plans of their lots.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

I Need You To

Casey Novak x autistic!fem!reader Warnings: pure fluffy fluff, established relationship, injury, hospital, coming to terms with a disability, insinuations of sex Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: After a serious injury, you're diagnosed with a disability that inhibits your day-to-day life. There are accessibility tools you can use, but you're self-conscious about using them out and about. Your girlfriend, Casey, is there for you every step of the way.

"Hey, Case, can you grab my glove?" you called, double-knotting the laces of your cleats. You were jittery with excitement. It was your first softball game since last October, when you'd broken your ankle running to first. And then played through it. And then fallen again and slammed your head into the ground and passed out. You'd woken up in an ambulance with a teary and terrified Casey grasping your hand so hard she almost cut off circulation. She was livid when she found out later that you'd been hurt and kept playing.

But you were better now. Well... mostly better. At the emergency room after the game, the doctor had examined your x-ray, MRI, and EEG results.

"It looks like you've broken this bone in your ankle before?" he said, frowning.

"I have."

Casey whipped her head around to look at you, her eyebrows a question mark. The doctor stared at you pointedly.

"How many times exactly?" he asked.

You felt yourself shrinking under Casey's hard gaze. "Uh... this ankle? Three times."

"In how long?"

"The, uh... the last five years."

Casey's jaw dropped and you winced. You were gonna get an earful on the way home.

"What about the other ankle?"

You felt like you were digging yourself a deeper and deeper grave.

"Twice."

"Any other broken bones? In the last five years?"

You listed them off, trying to avoid Casey's eyes.

"My thumb, my wrist, a toe or two."

"Any falls with seemingly no cause?"

"Yeah."

"How many?"

You glanced furtively at Casey. "More than I can count."

The doctor nodded and asked you a few more questions. Casey sat beside you, fuming, as you answered.

At the end of the visit, you had two crutches, a boot cast, some heavy-duty pain meds for your concussion, and a referral to a genetics clinic.

"I think you might have Ehlers-Danlos syndrome," the doctor had said.

Casey googled the condition all the way home.

"Y/N, this is serious," she said earnestly, supporting you as you hobbled through the door of your apartment.

"I don't know. None of that stuff you said about it sounded too bad. I'm just super flexible, basically."

Casey rolled her eyes at you. "Yeah, and apparently break every bone in your goddamn body on a regular basis."

When you were scared, you froze. You always froze. Casey did not. Casey made sure you scheduled your genetics appointment. She made sure you went. And when the geneticist confirmed the Ehlers-Danlos diagnosis, she was the one who asked what things you could do to help the condition, while you stayed silent, anxious and overwhelmed.

You just wanted everything to go back to normal. So what if you broke a bone more frequently than everyone else? It was no big deal.

"It is a big deal if it keeps you from doing things you love," Casey argued on the way home. "And if there are things you can to do to get better, you should do them."

"I guess so," you conceded, staring out the window of the cab.

"Y/N," she said, gently grabbing your face and turning it towards her when you didn't answer.

"Why can't you just let it be, Casey?" you whispered.

"Because you deserve to live the best life." She looked at you so intensely you had to look away. "You deserve to live without fucking breaking a bone every year. You deserve to play softball if you want to and run if you want to and not look at the fucking ground the whole time when we're on a hike because you're so scared you're gonna fall and break something."

You glanced at her, surprised and a little ashamed. "I didn't know you noticed that..."

"You love being outside. I'm gonna notice if you're looking at tree roots instead of a mountain vista. I just didn't know why."

You looked away, anxious about the Ehlers-Danlos. Anxious about what you'd have to do to make it better. Anxious that all those things wouldn't make it better in the end, would all be for nothing.

"Hey," she said wrapping an around you and planting a kiss on the side of your head. "We're gonna figure this out, okay?"

You nodded and exhaled quietly. "Okay."

Now, after months of healing and then more months of physical therapy, you were finally cleared to get back out on the field. You couldn't play catcher anymore—unnecessary strain on your ankle and knee joints, the physical therapist said. But you'd been practicing playing third base with Casey, and you'd grown to enjoy it almost as much as playing catcher.

"Casey, come on!" you yelled, tapping your foot on the floor. "We're gonna be late!"

Casey sauntered in, team uniform on, softball bag slung over her shoulder.

"I put your glove in the bag," she said, then dropped a pair of AFOs in front of you. "Put 'em on."

You hated them. You hated the way they looked, like some kind of plastic, kiddie Forrest Gump contraption. You hated that they altered the way you walked, the ease with which you could run and twist and reach.

You shook your head. "You know, I don't think I need them. I've been doing the exercises and stuff. My joints are stronger now."

"Y/N." Her voice was forceful as she squatted down in front of you. "Put. On. The AFOs."

"No," you said, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. "I'm telling you, I don't need them." You stood, making a move toward the door.

The pure, physical fact of the matter was that Casey was bigger and stronger than you. She didn't manhandle you often, but she did now. She grabbed your shoulders and shoved you back down onto the chair, huffing as she pulled off one cleat and then the other.

Now you were both mad.

"Casey, it's my fucking decision," you argued, trying to wrench your foot from her grip as she slipped the AFO over your softball sock. "I don't want to wear them! I hate wearing them!"

"I need you to!" she yelled, her face flushed, looking at the ground.

You watched her, your anger dissipating as you saw the worry in her eyes.

"I need you to," she repeated, softer this time. "I don't want to carry your body off the fucking field again."

You were both silent and still for a moment, Casey's hand resting on your leg, yours running gently through her hair.

Casey resumed her work on the AFOs, gently pulling on one and then the other, tightening the Velcro straps, forcing your cleats over them. You let her.

"There," she said, looking up at you. "Was that so bad?"

You hadn't worn the AFOs out yet, not where people could see them. You always had on sweatpants or joggers or jeans, something that covered them up. But with your softball shorts on, everyone would be able to see.

You avoided Casey's eyes, your hands shaking at your sides.

"Y/N," she sang, taking your hands gently in hers and flattening them, massaging the stress out.

"I look stupid," you whispered, trying not to cry. "Everyone's gonna make fun of me."

She cupped your face in her hands, looking earnestly into your eyes. "No one's gonna make fun of you, sweetheart." She brushed her thumb along your cheekbone. "And if they do, I'll kick their asses."

You nodded, still slumped in the chair.

"I think you look hot," Casey added, grinning slightly.

You rolled your eyes at her. "Yeah. Sure you do."

"I do," she nodded, moving her hands to your hips and planting kisses from your collarbone up to your neck. "In like a... cyborg, Inspector Gadget kind of way."

"What?!" you said, laughing. "That's so dumb."

She finally made her way to your lips, and the warmth of them took your breath away, made your stomach flutter.

"You know what's really hot about them, though?"

"What?" you replied, following her out the door.

She kissed you one more time for good measure. "It's one more thing I get to take off of you afterward."

You smiled, blushing. Maybe the AFOs weren't so bad after all.

[jade-jini]

please make a virgin loser chaeyoung (twice) WITHOUT G!P 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 beg you

(I love the pics where she looks high af bdjdnfj sorry for taking forever.)

Warning: long as fuck. Fluffy smut.

To me chaengie is the type of loser who might get mistaken by a popular person just because she looks so chill sometimes. Like she be on her car hitting a blunt listening to music or something and people see it and are like “wait that’s cool!”.

In reality tho you’re her first girlfriend and one of the few people she talks to on campus. Girlie can’t look at people in the eye😭 when you’re not looking tho (or when she thinks you’re not looking) her eyes are stuck to your face, memorizing every feature, lovingly appreciating them.

She’s a movies typa nerd too like she will ask you to watch a marathon of Tim burton stuff with her and explain the whole lore and how they’re all connected (i need this actually).

“So in this movie he’s the kid, then he becomes adult and that’s when the Corpse Bride story takes place, and then in The Nightmare Before Christmas we see him in his dead form, and it’s all the same dude! isn’t it cool?!” She’d explain while holding her plushie of Sparky (which was a gift from you btw).

“Of course babe.” You’d answer, not fully understanding everything but just happy to be there ‘cause she was adorable.

Museum dates happen often, where she’d quietly take her time to contemplate any piece that caught her attention. She will even Google about it online to know the story behind it.

“Chaeyoung no-” you tell her while holding her arm so she doesn’t try to take the painting 😭

“But it doesn’t belong here! It was stolen!” Yeah fvck them bitches chaengie 🫵🏼 (idk what I’m saying).

As I said she can’t look at people in the eye. Of course after you started dating she got better at it with you, but before? Girlie’s eyes were everywhere but on you. And when I say everywhere I mean everywhere. She tried to avoid it, she really did, but god aren’t you hot? How was she supposed to not look at your chest? Or when your shoulders were exposed, the only thing she wanted was to kiss them so bad :( she would get so lost in her thoughts that wouldn’t even realize she had been staring for so long, and the moment you catch her doing it she’d get so flustered, her eyes escaping your figure completely quietly groaning and mentally slapping herself but she never learns, she does it again lol.

After you started dating, you had this thing where whenever you noticed her eyes on you like that (because of course she was still obsessed with you and 0 slick about it) you’d tease her, and she’d deny the sht out of it. You know that little voice and pout combo she has sometimes? Like that while looking at the floor- ahhhh cutie patootie. One day tho, you whispered in her ear that instead of looking so much, she should touch and take what’s supposed to be hers. And bro?! How do you say this to a literal virgin 😭 girlie went completely quiet like COMPLETELY for the rest of the class.

You guys had been dating for a little while, so she knew that time would come sooner or later. It’s not that she didn’t want it, of course she did like c’mon, the amount of times she’d touch herself thinking about you were countless even before you guys started dating (oh ok perv). But she was a little nervous which it’s normal! She knew it was normal to be nervous, still tho… she just didn’t want to disappoint you or something ‘cause she knew you had a lot more experience :( . While waiting for you to finish your last class in her car, she tried to calm herself and repeat that you having experience was actually a good thing! that way she could learn with you, right? But god she felt kinda pathetic.

On your side tho, you were nervous yourself. Being somebody’s first time was a big thing. You didn’t wanna mess it up for chaeyoung, she was your sweet girlfriend and you wanted it to be good for both of you, specially for her. You met your girlie at her spot in the parking lot as always and made your way to her house for another movie marathon date. Over-planning stuff wasn’t your style nor chaeng’s, so even tho you wanted things to go well, and it felt like the moment was close after more than constant teasing, you tried not to overthink about it. It was gonna happen when it was meant to be.

But Chaeyoung didn’t expect it to be this soon ah-

You were feeling extra clingy, using one of her oversized shirts and playing with her hands while resting your head on her shoulder as you watched the movie and made little conversation about it. Things were going chill as usual, until you rested one of your hands on her thigh, a little too close to more delicate zones. You didn’t notice it as you caressed the exposed skin of her inner thigh, oh but chaeyoung did. She gulped and started throwing facts about the people involved in the movie. You thought it was cute, until you could feel the warmth of her face against your forehead. You sat straight to look at her and softly asked “is everything ok babe?” As you moved your hand from her leg to her forehead to check her temperature “are you getting sick?”

“I- I’m ok, y/n.” She said, clearing her throat. Chaeng grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers. You smiled and kissed her cheek, finding comfort against her shoulder again. But Ofc you couldn’t stay still, and you went from leaving kisses on her face from time to time to softly kissing her neck. At first it was just a few short ones, those that tickle a little bit and felt nice and cute. But eventually it developed to more sensual ones, slow and wet ones. You didn’t even realize what you were doing, but your girlfriend’s skin tasted so nice. And she was so cute, how to resist it? She was looking even cuter than normal for some reason today:(( You only noticed what was going on once you heard her letting out a quiet soft moan as she asked “y/n, w-what are you doing?”

“Oh chaengie I’m so sorry!” You apologized as you tried to give your girlfriend some space “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything I just-”

“N-no! It’s ok, it felt nice it’s just” she started while making sure you stayed as close as you were next to her “well you’ve never done that and it was unexpected. But it felt nice, could you.. maybe keep doing it?” She asked surprising you, her face still with some light blush.

“Are you sure baby? I really didn’t mean to suddenly do it.” You clarified. It was just kisses but you knew yourself and you knew how much you wanted your girl, and you knew that kisses like those were almost always just the beginning of more, so you needed to make sure things were ok before continuing. Of course if she didn’t want anything more, or ever wanted to stop, you would. You weren’t expecting anything.

Doesn’t mean you didn’t want it.

“Please do it again…” she asked again ever so cutely. You could only obey and made yourself more comfortable, holding her by the waist and slightly feeling some of her skin making direct contact with your hands thanks to her shirt moving a lot. You couldn’t wait to take it off.

Your mouth went back to her neck after leaving a soft kiss on her lips. The soft sighs escaping chaeyoung’s mouth making you eager to feel her, to taste her.

“You’re so beautiful, baby.” You told her as you continued your kisses. “So so beautiful.”

“Hmmmm no I’m not..” she let out in a little groan. You stopped to look at her, checking how even though she seemed to be enjoying your touch, she was still slightly awkward and shy about it. She tended to answer like that sometimes whenever you complimented her. You always needed to ease her mind whenever you noticed her confidence getting low but in this moment, this moment of yours both, you needed it more than anything else. To make her understand how perfect she was to you. Because in the whole world there wasn’t one single thing more beautiful than the woman in front of you. Not one single thing more special or important.

You caressed her face with one of your hands for a moment before grabbing her hands.

“Chaengie, my love. Look at me.” You asked her in a soft voice. However, your calm tone scared chaeyoung, making her think that maybe she ruined the moment by being so insecure. She looked at you almost pouting with her shiny eyes looking extra big as you started talking. “I love you.” You said firmly, still in a soft voice.

“I know you do, y/n…”

“No, listen. Because I know what you’re thinking and I don’t like when you think that.” She sighed and rolled her eyes at your comment, but both of you knew it was true. You left a soft kiss on the tip of her nose, which brought the blush back to her face. “I love you so much, you are so very beautiful and I’m in love with you. I want you in every way you can imagine, ok? To me, every part of you is perfect. Your eyes, your lips, your cute little nose” you said as you left another kiss there, making her giggle in a way that melted your heart “Your hands too” as you put them closer to your lips to leave multiple kisses on them “Every tattoo on your skin, your back, your-”

“Wait.” She interrupted, the blush in her face getting brighter as you paid attention to her next words, which she seemed a little unsure to say but opted to do it anyways as she bit her lip. “Aren’t you.. gonna kiss those too?” She asked and again, she caught you by surprise ‘cause how does she go from insecure and shy to saying those things?? But c’mon who where you to even think about denying that.

“That is an amazing idea yes you’re right I should do that.” You said all eager as you started leaving kisses all over her arms and hands. Both of you were giggling while also hugging each other and honestly it felt like your first time ever as well. Nothing you’ve felt before could ever compare to the feelings Chaeyoung caused in you.

“Can I take this off, baby? So I can reach your other tattoos” You gently asked her, tugging on the edges of her shirt. Chaeyoung gulped before nodding, knowing she didn’t have anything under it and that you were gonna see her naked body for the first time.

“Could I take yours off first before you do that, though?” She asked carefully, and you smiled at her before kissing her cheek.

“Of course you can.” You answered and you felt her trembling hands travel to your waist, and slowly removing her own shirt from your body. Chaeng gulped again, hypnotized by the image in front of her. She knew your body was perfect, but having you this exposed for her, for the first time. Her brain was almost malfunctioning.

“So beautiful…” you heard her say, and you felt your own face getting warmer. “Can I touch you, y/n?”

“Finally taking what’s yours, right?” She teased her about your earlier comment.

“Mine, all mine, yes” she said, her blush never leaving, but still kissing you while massaging your breast slowly, causing your breathing to become irregular. You moaned against her lips, but remembered what you guys said a minute ago. You slowly separated, and looked at her with teasing eyes.

“Hey, I took mine off, your turn now right?” You asked, just wanting to confirm she was still ok with it but also eager to finally see your girl like that. She left a kiss on your lips, before nodding.

“You are so beautiful.” You said, feeling a tingling sensation in your mouth as your eyes were fixed on her naked torso. You softly started to caress her breast, not without making sure she was ok with it first. As you started leaving kisses on her chest, you heard her voice.

“Keep kissing my tattoos, y/n…” she told you. It sounded more like demanding rather than asking even with her trembling voice, she wanted to play a little bit. How could she be such a tease while also being so nervous? Even she didn’t know. But if she wanted to play, you could play along a little bit too. You grabbed your girlfriend and turned her around, not too aggressive but not too gentle, which made her gasp. You sat on her low back, and started kissing her shoulders and back, from the beginning of her big tattoo.

As your lips made their way down her back, in the position that she was, you seriously just wanted to take her shorts off and start enjoying your girlfriend’s sweet taste. So slowly you took your hands to the front of her body, close to the button of her pants before asking “can I take these off, baby? They’re kinda in my way…”

“Yes, please…” you heard chaengie answered as you feel her pushing her ass up a bit, impatiently. With a giggle you started undressing her, so excited about finally having the girl who has been driving you insane in love naked in front of (or well, actually under) you.

“God you really are perfect, you know?” You whispered thinking out loud as your hands traveled over her legs and ass, making sure every inch of skin felt loved.

“You really think so?” She cutely asked, and you considered it an advance. From denying it right away, to at least just wanting to confirm it. It made you smile bigger.

“Of course, my love. I know so.” You answered, grabbing her hair gently and pulling it up, careful of not actually hurting her. You just wanted to fix her position so she was on her knees and hands and you could kiss her. You deepened the kiss, feeling her moan against your lips as you started playing with her tits again. Feeling brave, she bit and pulled your lip with her teeth, and god you loved it, a groan escaping your mouth. Oh she liked that reaction. Chaeyoung decided the best next thing after that would be to pass her tongue over your lips. Your girl was just so naturally sexy.

“Chaeng you are so fucking hot.” You said before slapping her ass. It wasn’t that hard, but it did get a whimper out of her “and you’re such a good girl aren’t you?”

“We’ll see about that…” she teased, again, with that trembling voice. You knew she’d be a little bit of a brat, but deep inside she was so good. It’s ok, you could always teach her how to be your perfect good girl.

You kissed your way down her body, until you had her pussy in front of you. She was so wet, your mouth drooling at the sight. Without wasting more time, you started eating her out. Moaning at the taste, which was 10 times better than you had imagined, you could feel yourself getting completely wet as well. But all your attention was on pleasuring your girlfriend, giving her the best first experience she could have.

“Oh my god, y/n!” She moaned slowly and loud, backing up against your mouth as much as possible. The sensation of your warm tongue basically all over her pussy had her delirious since the first second. Her body barely able to process what was feeling. “Oh my god oh my god…” she kept saying in between whimpers, her lip in between her teeth as she grabbed the pillow under her so tightly.

Talking about tightly. Her pussy was so. Fucking. Tight. You slowly put a finger inside her and you could barely move it, even when she was soaking wet. You were in no rush tho, you wanted to enjoy every second and every detail of it. Of her. Of making her yours and showing her you’re hers.

“You sound so good, chaengie” you told her as you moved your finger a bit faster, feeling her relax a little more and allowing you to add a second finger “and your pussy feels so so good baby. So good on my fingers.”

“Y/n! Shut up don’t~” she complained, her face getting red with your dirty talk. But you knew she liked it. Her body told you so, shivers going down her spine, and her cunt clenching your fingers inside her.

“But it’s the truth! Your pussy is so perfect, it tastes so good in my tongue. Hmm~” you said as you added your mouth again with your fingers, making figures on her clit and swallowing her juices.

“Hmmm… keep going please… feels too good..” she begged, rolling her hips, reaching for her orgasm. “Please…”

“Yes, keep moving like that on my fingers, baby. Just like that. I promise I’ll make you feel so good.” You encouraged her, enjoying the view from behind of your precious girlfriend basically fucking herself on your hand, without looking like she wasn’t even aware of what she was doing. “Good girl…” You complimented her and she started going faster, now keeping herself up with her arms straight, so so close to it, until..

“W-what? Whyy~” she complained when you suddenly stopped and put your fingers out of her pussy, but you didn’t even give her time to continue as you turned her around and pushed her on her back. She didn’t think you were gonna miss her face as you made her come for the first time, right? (Nu-uh)

“Sorry love, but I need to see your pretty face.” You said before shoving your fingers inside her hole again,continuing with your fast pace knowing damn right she was on the edge already. Chaeyoung let a loud moan out, trying to grab the head of the bed as she started moving her hips again. “You look so beautiful like this, my love. So pretty and perfect, my beautiful beautiful girl.”

“Y/n..! I’m close, I’m so close…” she sobbed while looking at you with the cutest eyes and a pout. You cooed her, your other hand now playing with her clit to help her reach her desired climax “oh my god! Yes, baby, please~”

“Come for me, babygirl. Let me see your pretty face as you come.” You whispered next to her ear before leaving wet kisses on her neck, and you could feel your girlfriend holding you as close as possible as she came on your fingers. You couldn’t stop yourself from kissing her deeply, which she corresponded eagerly.

“Oh my god I love you…” she said against your lips as she rode her orgasm “I love you so much… so so much”

“I love you more my love, you’re the most precious part of my life.” You told her before leaving a kiss on her forehead. Chaeyoung could see the sincerity in your eyes, and there in your arms, she swore she had never felt safer or happier than now.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗟 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗦 - part five charles leclerc  x  fem! driver! reader (fluff) “… forgetting is troublesome especially when you used to be enemies.”

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"What's been taking you so long?" You heard Charles whine as you stepped out of the washroom. "My eye hurts." You explained, moving over to him while rubbing your eyes.

"No- don't touch it." He pulled you to sit on his lap, praying your hand from your eye gently. "Let me see." He held your chin, leaning closer to take a look.

After a few good minutes of investigation, Charles was able to brush out the eyelash that made you uncomfortable. "No 'thank you' for the best husband in the world?" He chuckled, watching you lean on his chest and snuggle into him.

"My ego is too big for that." You joked laying your head on his shoulder. Charles shook his head, returning to the crossword puzzle he was doing.

"Thank you." You whispered as if you didn't want him to hear. You gave a soft kiss on his cheek before falling asleep in his arms.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You kept a baseball cap on as you traveled through the airport. Your disguise was good enough now that your hair was in a common style. As for Charles, who decided not to hide, has been stopped multiple times for pictures and autographs.

You tried to avoid people for the most part, but you photo bombed the pictures from time to time. Charles would crack a laugh after feeling you come up from behind him and lean an elbow on his shoulder.

You couldn't help but giggle deeply to yourself upon watching Charles pull out a pair of glasses to read some papers and documents. "Never knew I was married to spectacles." You teased him.

"You didn't even know you were married." Charles replied amused with his eyebrows raised, holding out the box to show you where your own pair of rimless glasses waited. "Touché." You chest vibrated with giggles as you held his hand to continue your walk out of the port.

Instead, Charles wrapped his arm around your waist pressing a kiss to your temple. "We could see what's to love about that Tim Hortons guy before we go to the circuit." He offered.

You nodded quickly, walking faster and pulling him along. "Can you get me that coffee I liked?" He liked the way you smiled up at him. It felt like the old times.

You ran into a few more of your fans. Charles had to stand by, watching you closely while you took pictures or shared hugs. "Psst, Charles." He hummed, leaning down so you could whisper in his ear. "What does my autograph look like?"

He could help but laugh quietly, shrugging. "I'm going to have to make a new one on the spot, if you don't mind." You told a fan shyly who just urged you to go on.

You actually liked the signature. You took a photo so you could practice later. When you were finally able to get a cab, you went to the hotel where you dropped off your stuff before opening Google maps for the closest red Café.

"What do you think that is?" You pointed the distant green field aside. "Might be a golf course. You want to check it out later?" "Later." You nodded.

You held open the door when you did eventually get to Tim's. Charles wiggled his eyebrows as he entered first, choosing a table somewhere at the back.

You sat next to Charles, both of you snuggled into each other as you scrolled through tiktok. "Wait, do I have my own account?" You pressed on his icon to see his following. And yes, you did. The content you posted was more centered about your personal life outside of F1.

"Is that you?" You pressed on the video. You were secretly filming Charles and your brother while they tried to play “just dance”. You found yourself cracking up, closing the app and opening instagram instead.

Charles opened the discover tab, pulling out your .jpg account. Your jaw dropped at the husband centered account. "Am I your personal photographer? And what is this username?" You chuckled while scrolling through some of the pictures. "I like him. He's very cute don't you think?"

"Haha." Charles laughed pushing the phone away. You chuckled watching him get up to order your drinks.

You found a few pictures of your friends like Lando or Alex, Carlos and Max at times as well. But the account was mostly centered around you and Charles. You felt jealous. The two of you looked happy and close, like true soulmates.

You never thought about having such a life, nevertheless with Charles. "What are you thinking about?" You leaned your hand on your palm looking up at the brunette. "Can you tell me more about us?"

Charles smiled like a puppy, sitting back down and wrapping his arm around your waist. You listened intently as he shared a few stories from your adventures of living together.

"What about our wedding?" You held his hand as you sipped the chocolate latte, swinging your hand as you balanced on the sidewalk, walking back to the hotel. "Or wedding hmmm . . ." Charles pretended to think, raising an eyebrow in thought.

"You don't remember our wedding?" You gasped in offense, putting a hand on your heart. "I do, I do. You know I'm joking." You laughed with him as he pulled you in a side hug, kissing the top of your head.

"Our wedding was . . . Peaceful. Just us. It was quite a rash decision to get married, but the best one we've ever made. It was January in Tuscany 2019." You listened closely as you entered the hotel, making a B-line to the elevator.

"You wore a cute little white dress and we had a little cake just for us. It was the winter break so we could eat all we wanted and mess around as we liked."

Charles nuzzles his nose in your neck with a faint giggle, tickling you. He pressed the button to the lift. "We had a little dance just me and you, in the backyard." "I remember that." You murmured quietly.

"- ---- ---." He sang quietly, one hand on your back the other in your hand as you swayed together. His smile was wide as he twirled and spined you.

You could still vaguely feel your bare feet on the grass and his cold hands in yours. You don't remember the words to the song, but bits and pieces from the melody.

You hummed what you could salvage from your memory. Charles felt his back relax. And just like in the memory, he held your back and hand.

"It's our favorite song," he reminded you before beginning to sway with you. Just two idiots, dangerously in love, dancing in an elevator.

"I love you." He began to sing, clearing his voice once he heard you giggle at him. "For sentimental reasons. I've given you my my my my heart. Given you my heart because mmm love you. And you alone were meant for me. Please give your loving heart to me, and say we'll never part."

You giggled silently as he twirled you before pulling you close and leaning down for a passionate kiss.

"I think about you every-"

Ding!

You both froze looking at the elevator doors which opened slowly revealing an awkward Bottas who pursed his lips at the sight of you and Charles waltzing in a 8x8 elevator. No one moved a muscle for a few minutes until the doors closed.

You and Charles looked at each other before bursting out in laughter. He held your hand as he pulled you back to the hotel room. You hugged Charles' back as he unlocked the door.

You saw Gorge Russell pull his door open to see the source of noise, only to wave and flip you off. You could feel yourself fall over and wheeze on the floor as Charles pulled you in the room from your ankles ( the same way criminals drag around a dead body ).

Charles fell on the floor beside you, laughing with you.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You walked out the kitchenette, listening to Lando scold Charles over the phone about how your laughter woke him up from across the hall.

"We're sorry, Lando." You sat beside your husband as Charles apologized for the millionth time.

"You guys were so loud! And I needed my sleep before today! How am I going to deal with all these annoying reporters?!" "How about you get over it and actually catch sleep before we have to go." You butted in before saying a quick bye and pressing the red button.

"You are free of Landito." You patted Charles lap before laying your head on. He brushed your hair gently, smiling down at you. "I wanna shower." You got up walking to the washroom, pulling your shirt off.

"Join me?" His smile widened as he followed you, hopping out of his pants and pulling off his shirt, eventually pinning you on the shower wall.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"How are we feeling for Sunday?" "Absolutely Exhausted." You chuckled, leaning back into the couch. "Charles dragged me through an hour of hair care routine, I'm not letting him touch my hair again."

"But it's fluffy and shiny." Charles from across the couch leaned forward to look at you. "I could've taken a nap in that amount of time." You countered. "If you did take a nap, you'd be all tired and lazy. Plus we needed to shower that long flight off."

"I could've had a short shower in the motorhome." You went back and forth with the audience of reporters laughing amused and entertained.

"I'm not losing this round." You chuckled getting up and sitting on Charles lap instead. Lando who had been sitting beside him looked unamused and traumatized.

The press conference continued with you holding the mic for Charles because he had his arms wrapped around your stomach. "Two questions to Y/N. How comfortable is your seat and how do you-" the room broke out in laughter upon hearing the question.

"My seat is very fluffy and comfortable." You answered wiggling around Charles' lap happily. "You'd think it'll all be hard muscle but it's really fluffy and soft."

"Way to make a man feel single, Y/N." Lando tsked, making you stick your tongue out at him.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You sat in your car, snuggling into the seat you've come to love for about thirty minutes now. "This always feels so heavenly." You hummed in satisfaction, watching Charles talk with a few engineers and mechanics before he came over.

"You ready for the media pen?" You held your hands upwards, gesturing for him to carry you. Charles chuckled, reaching down and lifting you up. God dang he was strong, holding you up from your thighs and walking around with you.

"You're so cute." You whispered in his ear. "Too cute. I wanna squeeze you." You and him shared a quiet laugh. You listened to him chat with his PR on the walk, laying your shoulder on his head bored.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ylerc.jpg

liked by pieregasly charles_leclerc and 89M others ylerc i think he was trying to impress me . . . should i be impressed?

landonorris no, he was very bad. dont be impressed. ↳ charles_leclerc im pretty sure hes talking about himself.

user THE JPG IS BACK THE QUEEN IS SERVING DINNER

user what do we do? we get down on our knees and say thank you y/n ↳ user thank you y/n 🧎‍♀️ ↳ user thank you your majesty 🧎‍♀️ ↳ user all hail the queen 🧎‍♀️ ↳ user long live the mother🧎‍♀️ ↳ user thank you y/n 🧎‍♀️ ↳ user thank you, goddess 🧎‍♀️ ↳ ylerc.jpg your welcome 👍 ↳ user WAIT SHE ACTUALLY REPLIED?

charles_leclerc i'd call myself impressive ↳ ylerc.jpg impressive when it comes to burning our dinner, thank you charles. i love eating black pasta. ↳ charles_leclerc like you could do any better ↳ carlossainz55 she can. ↳ ylerc.jpg thank you, carlos. I'll let you pass on turn 4. ↳ alex_albon dibs on passing in turn 6 ↳ landonorris WHAT ABOUT ME?! Y/N!! ↳ ylerc.jpg nah, you didn't let me join in, so . . . i'll be lapping you on turn 7? 11? ↳ landonorris NO FAIR!

voice notes 🔊 . . . ( just a nice short one, more fluff. next one is going to be rough )

[icycoldninja]

Hello, I hope you are having a good day! I stumbled upon your blog today and since I read through it and consumed as much od your writing as I could, I want to request a Sparda boys + V x reader where the reader got a bad sunburn and they take care of the reader.

Sure, these might be a bit short, but enjoy!

Sparda boys + V x Sunburnt!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-The first thing Dante did was laugh his ass off at you. He doesn't care that it's mean, he thinks you look ridiculous with half your body bright red.

-Once you start pouting/growling at him, he quickly pulls himself together and goes to find some ointment to alleviate your irritatation.

-He then examined your burns, wraps the more serious ones, and puts extra lotion on the minor ones.

-After that, he tells you to avoid the outdoors for a while, to drink plenty of water, and to get some rest.

-He'll keep you company all day, don't worry, the only drawback is that he's afraid to touch you because he doesn't want to aggravate your burns.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil clicks into mom mode the minute he sees your skin all red.

-Immediately forces you into the nearest seat (unless the burns are on your legs, then he'll make you stand) and orders you to wait there while he looks for something to help you.

-Returns from wherever he went with his arms full of lotions and creams and begins smothering you in the stuff.

-Bandages you so tightly after that, you look and feel like a mummy.

-Even though he's already done so much, Vergil still refuses to let you out of his sight. Don't blame him, he's just worried about you and a tad bit overprotective.

□ Nero □

-Freaks the fuck out.

-Nero has spent a lot of time either indoors or hanging out at night, and when he's outside, he's usually battling something or someone. He's never personally had a sunburn, even though he knows what they are, and doesn't know what to do when you get one.

-After a bit of internal panicking, Nero remembered Google exists and searched up "cure for sunburn". Thankfully what you had wasn't very serious.

-Nero then cared for your burns to the best of his abilities before offering some advice he literally pulled off the first few results on Google.

-You'll be fine and are probably able to return to normal life by now, but you're grateful for his help all the same.

● V ●

-V doesn't really know what a sunburn is. He's only been alive for a few months, you know.

-He first thought you were trying out some new makeup trend when he saw your bright red skin. Once you revealed what it really was, he and Griffon set out to do research.

-Instead of going online like a normal person, V heads for the library and is gone for a day. He returns, eventually, with a bag full of herbal creams you're not sure where he got.

-While going on and on about the stuff he read in an old tome possibly more ancient than the library itself, he applies the stuff to your skin.

-Holy shit, it actually works. Your burns are gone the next morning.

[mikefaistslut]

anything for you

chapter 3

“So, I googled you.” It was the first thing I could think to say. I wish I’d gone with “you look nice,” or maybe “good to see you again,” but I went with, “So, I googled you.”

“Did you find anything good?” He was perfectly relaxed, and he really did look nice. Suit and tie, hair perfectly fluffy.

“Broadway isn’t exactly a small stage.” I said, easing into it. He could see where I was going with this.

“I liked that you didn’t know who I was. Also, I would’ve seemed like a dick if I’d read off my entire professional resume. ‘Did you want my extra bag of peanuts? Also, I wanted to let you know I was nominated for a Tony.’ I’d only bring it up in casual conversation if i’d won.”

"West Side Story isn't exactly a 'short film' either. There's pictures of you standing next to Steven. Spielberg." I talked about it like this was news to him, like it wasn't literally his life and his memories. He seemed amused.

"Are you angry I didn't tell you?"

"Not angry so much as just shocked. I assumed I was flirting with a super low-key struggle-for-your-art kinda guy. Not a guy who knows what Steven Spielberg smells like."

"Kind of citrus-y. Maybe a little earthy tone to it." I hated myself for all the questions I had to ask. But I couldn't not ask.

"So if you're that famous, how come you weren't flying on a private jet situation?"

"I'm not private jet famous. I mean, don't get me wrong, I definitely get recognized, it's just more by theater people. Dear Evan Hansen fans, West Side, Newsies, you get it."

"See, that was you reading off your professional resume. But I figured that's what it was. I was never super into musicals. I tried to be, I could just never get it to stick in my brain. I went in and out of a lot of phases as a kid." I was dying to ask more of the juicy details, but I couldn't. Not yet. On the other hand, I found myself just wanting to know more about him personally, and I wanted him to know more about me. All the lame stuff like his favorite color, his favorites movies when he was a little kid, what his parents are like, etc. But I also wanted to know what it would be like to touch him. To kiss his beautiful face. To breathe him in. I asked all the questions and I let him go on and on. He'd try to steer the conversation to something about me and I'd turn it right back around to him. Anything just to stare at that gorgeous face just one second longer. Dinner was coming to an end and I hadn't even noticed how much time had passed until he brought it up.

"I'm sorry, I feel like I've just talked about only myself for the last three hours. Is that a total turn-off?" He was so fucking adorable.

"You could talk to me about anything and it wouldn't be a turn-off." And I meant it too. He seemed to like this answer.

"So if I started to talk about calculus or hip dysplasia or microbiology, you'd still want to go back to my hotel room with me?"

"Do you even know enough about those things to have an actual conversation about them?" I was avoiding the question.

"You're avoiding the question.. and no, I don't. I'm a dramatic arts school drop out. Sexy, right?"

I was eager, and he could tell. "Are you ready to go now?" I asked, gaining confidence.

"I was waiting for you to say that." Mike quickly paid the bill and stretched his hand out to mine to lead me out of the restaurant and into the cool, London air. He placed his hand on the small of my back as we walked to his hotel. I began to feel so incredibly nervous. Would he want to see me again if I gave it all away so soon? Would he still respect me? Does he even respect me now? A million questions were flooding through my mind, but I did my best to just relax. I decided to take things slow and let him take the lead. Maybe I was over thinking everything and he was just leading me back to his hotel room so we could order room service dessert and watch movies together, fully clothed and sitting six feet away from each other on opposite ends of the room. Maybe I was completely delusional and nothing remotely exciting was going to happen.

When we got to his hotel and the elevator doors shut to take us up to his room, I felt the sexual tension. At that point, I didn't care if he respected me. I needed to touch him and I needed him to touch me. I started slow, taking my hand from his and reaching further up his arm to wrap my hand around his bicep.

"Are you nervous?" He was a mind reader apparently.

"A hundred percent. But I really like you. Really really like you. I'm trying to be present and in the moment and spontaneous, and-"

He cut me off by pressing each of his hands on the sides of my face, pushing my hair behind my ears and walking me back against the wall of the elevator. He looked into my eyes and whispered, so delicately, "I'm going to kiss you now, okay?" Him asking only made it a million times more attractive. Cheeks flushed and heart in my stomach, I could only nod. He pressed his lips to mine. Slowly, our mouths melted together as I wrapped my hands around his slender waist, pulling him into me. Needing him even closer than he already was if that was even possible. As we both grew more passionate, more needy for each other, the elevator doors opened to his floor. We both pull ourselves away at the sound of someone clearing their throat, clearly not prepared to walk in on the scene we'd created.

"Oh! Uh, um- we're very sorry," Mike says as he grabs my hand and pulls me out of the elevator, rushing me down the hallway while simultaneously fishing for his key in his pants pocket. I laugh so hard my stomach begins to cramp.

The second we're inside his hotel room, I feel myself being picked up and thrown over Mike's shoulder. Both laughing, he places me on his bed and leans over, propping himself up on his hands.

"I'm going to fuck you now, is that okay?"