#the night before i have to pass out for a class/post if it’s fanfic i can literally NEVER sleep

[lexalovesbooks]

My problem is that sharing my writing always makes me insane

[celestie0]

Some headcanons about Kickoff college!Gojo, please!

hellooo my love i’m so sorry this took me a while i wanted to post ch9 first!

kickoff!gojo headcanons pt.1 unserious & fluffy edition lol

ᰔ these headcanons are based off of my fanfic “kickoff” which is about popular frat boy soccer college athlete gojo lol & there are spoilers below ᰔ for my kickoff readers: most of these are so unserious and/or fluffy (not rly much nsfw) hope u enjoy!!

kickoff!gojo who almost got arrested once for running away from the cops. he wasn’t even in trouble for anything they just started chasing him bc he started running 😭

kickoff!gojo whose primary love language is physical touch and so all of the times he’s had to NOT touch you has driven him absolutely fuckin nuts. positively BONKERS he’s practically been lobotomized by the restraint he’s had to exercise to not touch you

kickoff!gojo whose frat once hosted a date auction to raise money for rush and gojo singlehandedly raised $20k in one night from the bidding bachelorettes (and bachelors)🧍🏻‍♀️he has yet to go on all of those dates he owes them 😅 he runs away anytime his frat president tries to bring it up LOL

kickoff!gojo who is actually a pretty decent student, i mean he’s a business major so womp womp ofc he’s getting by just fine. i think his favorite class he’s ever taken was freshman year econ bc him and todo got into sm shit in that class and it's some of his fondest memories

kickoff!gojo who was literally picturing a life with you on the italian countryside when you were telling him about it. self inserted to the MAX

kickoff!gojo who is always the first to like all of your film photography slideshows on instagram because he has your post notifs on :”) you and messi are the only ppl he’s got post notifs on for 🤣

kickoff!gojo who thought he would be okay with watching your life from afar, through small pictures on his phone, but the thought devastated him more n more w every waking minute

kickoff!gojo who realized that having you wrapped in his arms at the end of ch9 was the closest thing he’s felt to peace since before the night his father passed away

kickoff!gojo who hasn’t really kept too much memoribilia of his father since a lot of the memories are painful for him, but he’s kept that old soccer ball w his dad’s signature n word of love for his mom on it

kickoff!gojo who wouldnt have been able to get through the trauma of losing his father if suguru wasn’t there by his side. he would’ve really lost himself, and would’ve given up on soccer if not for suguru's support. he's truly really grateful for him

kickoff!gojo who knows what his sun, moon & rising signs are because he’s been ran through 🙄 smh. WHORE

kickoff!gojo who plays for charity soccer tournaments on the weekends whenever he can 🫶🏼💕 he loves it bc there’s less pressure to play super well & also he loves getting to meet the people that the events are helping out

kickoff!gojo who has a massive sex drive (he got that athlete testosterone 😔🤚🏼) esp around someone he genuinely likes AHEM YOU so beware that if you start dating him he’s gonna beg you to put it on him at least 15 times a day and you’ll have to reject him 13.5 times

kickoff!gojo who is not ready to be a father at ALL at this point in his life but he’s thought ab how nice it would be to teach his kids how to play soccer someday :”) he’s givin me girl dad vibes tho, and you just KNOW he’s gonna be cheering on his lil girls when they’re tearing through the little league w their sparkly princess tiaras & tutus on 😤 he’d be the little league coach for sure LMAO

also little league coach!gojo would 100% promise to let the kiddos shave his head if they win the championship game 😭 i can just imagine you yelling at him when he randomly comes home bald one day

kickoff!nanami&choso&suguru who would be such protective soccer uncles to yours and gojo's duaghters. not a single boy would ever get NEAR those girls i'm telling youuu. pls pray for them haha

kickoff!gojo who figured out you were mina’s roommate through a little bit of facebook stalking. and yes, he scrolled all the way down to your embarrassing middle school photos. and yes, he still likes you despite seeing them. more, even, when he thinks about it. also, he’s pissed you had a digimon themed 9th birthday party and you didn’t invite him 😒 what’s up w that

kickoff!gojo & kickoff!choso who once illegally played an off-season tourney abroad in spain for a lump sum lmfaoo and it was a pretty decent cut of cash. but shhhh dont tell the NCAA ab that pls or else they’re fucked 💀

this is all i could think of rn haha thank you anon for the ask and hope you enjoyed them <333

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

tangointhenight

pairing: harry styles x reader (au)

warnings: idiots in love trope, long-distance fwb (sounds weird but it makes sense just give her a read luv), switch!harry and switch!reader, detailed descriptions of female and male masterbation, maladaptive daydreaming during a fanfic, mentions of exhibitionism, edging, one singular ‘daddy’, cum swapping, breeding kink, praise kink and degradation, rope play, spitting, choking, mutual masterbation, overstimulation, use of toys (vibrator mostly), crying after sex (iconic)

word count: 13.3k

synopsis: harry records erotic audios, and y/n is an avid listener

author’s note: hello nasties, here’s another filth fic for ya! this has been a long time in the making, and i am so sorry i have been mia for so long, but i am back for the time being to give you this fic. i have wanted to do something like this for a while now, but it’s been a struggle (lots of blood, sweat, and tears put into this). i’m kinda proud of her to be honest, and i hope you enjoy :)

tags: @victoria-styles

masterlist

—

Y/N finally sinks into her mattress after yet another tiring day. She can hear her roommate on the other side of the wall, chatting with her girlfriend over the phone, blissfully ignorant to the fact that she currently has a hand teasing the band of her sweatpants while the other scrolls aimlessly through her phone.

Exhaustion burns behind her eyes, but there’s a desperate ache in her belly, one that demands satiety. She opens the internet app to find it unchanged from the night before, still lighting up in the profile named tangointhenight. His profile picture is a tantalizing photo of his hand, splayed across his thigh, which are clad in tight, floral printed pants, doing wonders for the very prominent bulge. Pieces of paint linger on his thumbnail, a pretty pale mint color, and his skin, tanned with faint freckles and etches of dark ink, looks tempting in the golden light. At his wrist is a braided twine bracelet with cheap beads that have letters that she can’t make out, which looks old and wilted.

She scrolls down, only lingering for a moment to appreciate the photo one final time.

There are some cute little posts and polls in addition to his erotic audios. The newest one, posted just that afternoon, warns not to listen to this in public with a series of cute little emoticons following. If there’s one thing she’s learned about Tango, that’s what she and other listeners call him, is that he’s a bit of an exhibitionist; his audios tend to lean toward nearly getting caught or even being caught (oftentimes leading to a “helping out” situation). She honestly wasn’t into that sort of thing until he started talking about it, and now, she finds it incredibly sexy, the thrill of the quick high and the fear of being caught in such a vulnerable moment.

She’ll definitely have to give the new audio a listen on one of her morning commute trips to the university; perhaps, she could give it a listen while she waits for her class to start, his deep voice teasing and coaxing her into an aching mess. She hopes that it’ll leave her trembling and throbbing for the rest of the day. She wonders if she’ll be able to make it until night before she has to finish herself off or if she’ll have to sneak off to the restrooms during one of her seven minute breaks, foot propped up on the toilet paper dispenser while she rubs herself to her bitter end.

She scrolls down a bit, passing over audios that vary from pillow talk to a dirty fuck in back alleys, before tapping on the familiar link, purple from use, the description teasingly saying: we’ve been visiting my mum for a week, and I haven’t been able to taste you... I guess we’ll just have to be quiet.

It’s one of the first audios she listened to when she was just discovering this new world of pleasure, so it has a special place in her heart. It’s one of his firsts from nearly a year ago, of fuzzy listening quality and nervous voice, but she finds his ramblings endearing; although, admittedly, she thinks anything he does is cute.

She tucks in her earbuds and presses the play button. Tossing the phone to the side, her eyes flutter closed, visions of white dotting through the darkness as they adjust. There’s a subtle cracking sound that indicates that it has finally loaded, and a fuzzy droning sound filters through the headphones. There’s a fan going in the background; it squeaks and grumbles nearby. A door creaks open, one of those fake sound effects that you can buy, but she appreciates the effort.

“Hey, lovie, feelin’ better?”

His familiar voice floats through her ears. She settles even more into her sheets. His voice is a nice, hot cup of tea at the end of a hard day, a drug that leaves her head foggy and senses dulled. His voice reminds her of sleep: deep, soothing, persistent, yet ever fleeting. She yearns for it, like being able to listen to that one mazing song for the first time again or the feeling of sunshine after the long winter months. His voice is intoxicating, reaching a baritone timbre that she can’t quite put to words.

At first, she wanted to put a face to the man who hummed sweet nothings in her ears, who coaxed her to oblivion for nights on end. Now, she’s at ease with never knowing. It keeps things interesting, and she doesn’t think about it as much anymore.

“If only mum wasn’t home, maybe we could’ve snuck a quick one in the shower,” he says. She smirks, picturing him tucked into his childhood bed, a cozy twin that would be a struggle for the both of them to fit in, and he has his old quilt tucked up to his neck, leaving his bare feet exposed because of how little it is.

There’s a moment of silence, then a cute little laugh.

“I know. You wouldn’t want to sin in her godly home, but she loves you, probably more than me. I don't think she would think any differently of you.”

Another beat of silence, then his voice catches in his throat. Y/N smiles softly as he stutters pitifully, slowly, struggling to find his words.

“N-no, y’know tha's not how I meant it,” he says. “Like, she loves you more than she loves me. Not that I don’t love you as much as she does.” He moves, the rustling of his sheets crackling in her ears. She can hear his hand run over his stubble, nails scratching over short little hairs. She wonders if he usually grows out his facial hair or if he’s the type to keep clean shaven.

“She couldn’t possibly love you more than I do.” The bed creaks as he shifts again. “C’mon, babe, join me. ‘S all nice and warm.”

She herself burrows further into her blankets, knowing full well that she’s probably going to be kicking them off in a few minutes. She turns to her side, blinking her eyes open, trying to immerse herself into the fantasy.

“‘M glad you got time off of work to come here with me. I know you could've been spending time back home, but you came here with me instead.” His voice is closer than before, however whispered. Every accentuated vowel that passes through his lips is like a breath of fresh air, and she hums quietly at the sound.

“I really appreciate it. ‘M glad we got to spend this time together.”

She imagines that he tucks her into his neck, coddling her while his fingers trace over the curves of her face, from the furrow of her brow, down to the apple of her cheeks, before stopping at her lips, lingering only momentarily before his thumb would push just past them.

He chuckles suddenly.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Jus’ lovin’ on my girl.”

His short pecks turn into slow, passionate kisses, deep sighs of relief falling from his lips, and she swears she can almost feel his breath on her skin, nose pressed tight to the pulsepoint in her neck as he sponges his lips over her collarbone, teeth nibbling lightly. She tugs the tee up from where it’s settled at her hips to where the curves of her breasts begin, the material squeezing them tightly to her chest. The sensitive skin aches under the tight pressure. She teases her nipples through her thin bra, feeling the tenderness coax chills down her spine.

“Please,” he whines. “Wanna taste you. You can be quiet. I believe in you, love.”

She could picture him now, chin resting on her stomach, eyes pleading with her. She would flick his head at the patronizing tone before brushing her fingers through his hair. Would he have short tuffs or long tresses that she could run her fingers through after a long day, breaking apart the knots that accumulate throughout the day? Does he have pin straight, dark locks that are cut close to his scalp or sand coloured curls that fall gracefully on his forehead? Perhaps, he has a bit of gray peaking through his hairline to match his wise and weathered voice. She could almost moan at the thought. She has always had a thing for older men.

Tango says something, but she can’t really hear it, his words muffled by her racing heart. She pries her pants down shaky legs, leaving them dangling around her ankle, and her fingers work quickly in massaging her puffy clit, arousal wetting the tender skin. Not one for having much patience, she doesn’t wait for him to finish worshiping her body with his mouth before she is rubbing herself through her panties, feeling the cold wetness on her fingertips. Eyes closed, her head falls back on her pillows, legs tensing when she stops suddenly.

“Pretty thighs,” he mumbles to himself between kisses, and she could almost feel his tender touches on the backs of her thighs, which tremble with anticipation. A wetly placed kiss followed by an appreciative hum signals his final descent to her cunt. The sound of languid licks are nearly enough to make her finish, walls clenching miserably around nothing. Fingers slowing close to a dead stop, barely more than a faint fluttering on her sensitive skin, she attempts to collect herself, but it’s difficult when he moans once again, muffled by his furiously working lips.

“Love your pussy, baby.” She melts at his words, eyes rolling back as waves of pleasure rack through her body, hips stuttering in time with each flick of her wrist. “So warm and wet and jus’ perfect for me.” His voice, low with need, makes her throb, arousal slipping into her panties.

She’s close already, an unfortunate effect he has on her. Barely five minutes into her alone time, and she can feel the orgasm begin to build, like an unyielding inferno spreading through every nerve. The stress from her day, the exhaustion with the world, everything melts into just one prominent feeling threatening to burst from her pores. She has to force herself to stop before she falls over the edge in order to draw out this experience as much as possible. She nearly cries out when she pulls her hand away altogether, her poor, puffy clit throbbing painfully.

This continues for a while, the undulating waves of a blistering release and the torture of a cut off orgasm, until the air becomes thick, her heaving breaths heating her empty room.

“There’s my good girl,” he says. “Use me, lovie. Want you to choke me with your pretty thighs.”

His voice is more firm this time, and she could only picture his baleful eyes staring up at her, eager to please her and guide her over the edge. It makes her wonder what they look like; she wonders if they’re a soulful, deep chocolate that darken with lust, a pale blue that reminds her of warm afternoons, or a striking hazel that flickers with green hues in the light.

No matter the color, she is sure that they’re undoubtedly pretty.

“Please,” she whispers faintly.

“More? You want more, my greedy girl?” She nods pitifully, feeling the orgasm build quickly in her belly before she stops once again, fingers pressing into her throbbing clit. “You want my fingers?”

Her walls flutter fruitlessly for some sort of release, for some sort of stimulation. He moans out sharply.

“Feel so good, babylove,” he coos. “So warm and wet f’me.”

She wants to slip her fingers inside, to tease and massage that tender spot that she can barely reach until she struggles to breathe. She wants to feel full, but she doesn’t want to take care of the mess, and it surely won’t be comfortable sleeping in wet sheets. The wipes hidden alongside her other secret toys, beneath mounds of socks and crumpled underwear, do little to take care of the arousal that has pooled between her legs.

She fishes around her bedside table, fingers raking through bundles of panties to find her vibrator, a cheap little thing she got in a set when she first moved into her apartment. Unfortunately, she ran through the other ones that were in the set, and this is the only one left.

She nestles the vibrator on her swollen clit and ticks it on to the lowest setting. This stimulation is different than before; a vague rumbling rattles her bones, making her lips tremble, with choked cries teetering on her tongue. Obscene wet sounds fill her ears, and for a moment, she wonders whether they are coming from the audio or from her dripping pussy, and her thighs tighten around her wrist. She could only imagine the sight of his hands splayed over her hips and on her belly, perfectly pastel painted nails pressing into her wet skin. The shifting of her mattress worries her for only a moment, but her shame melts away, and she loses herself in the sound of his heavy, stifled groans, as if he is truly choking on her. The addition of the vibrator only serves to tease her more as she inches toward the end, brutally building in slow, abrupt waves. She struggles to swallow her whimpers.

He spits suddenly, and her hips jut forward at the sound, an erotic display of dominance, but he makes it seem like such a tender act; she could just melt.

“Can you take another?”

A beat of silence and a sharp intake of breath, squelching sounds growing louder.

“No? That’s alright, lovie, just two, then,” he coos. Her toes curl up a little at his words, hips rising from the mattress. On any other night, she would have craved more; she would have wanted him to coax her open with him telling her that she can take just one more and that she’s his good girl. It’s sad to be turned on by a man simply respecting her limits, but her clit throbs pitifully and some arousal slips out into her underwear.

“Gonna come for me, babe?” His words are slurred and wet. “Make me proud.”

Chills rushing down her spine, her body curls into itself, eager for her release. She wants to come so badly; she wants to feel the pleasure for days afterward, to tremble around her hand until she can’t take it anymore, to come until she’s seeing stars. She wants to make him proud, but she knows that she can’t come yet, or else she won’t be able to hear him finish. She doesn’t have another orgasm in her tonight, and she wants to prolong this experience as much as possible, even if that means holding out on her orgasm. The world spins behind her tightly screwed eyes as she slows her ministrations, the vibrator ticking back down to nothing. Her body reacts before she can even consider the loss, her hips bucking against the toy, attempting desperately to find that little bit of stimulation she needs to finally reach euphoria.

His lips smack loudly as he presses simulated kisses to skin, pulling her back from her foggy mind.

“So good f’me, pretty,” he says, words muted by skin. “So good. Hmm, I knew you could be quiet.” His kisses are slow and tired, unlike before when they were rushed and eager. His mattress grumbles as he moves once again, taking his time to, presumably, trail up the length of her trembling body until they’re suffocating in each other's embrace.

He sighs behind closed lips, heavy and wanton, and she can picture him working his hips into the mattress to find some sort of release. She would pull him up until he was right between her aching legs and press her lips to his neck, feeling his pulse jump at the contact. She would cup his cock through his thin pair of pajamas, teasingly massaging him until he just couldn't take it anymore, caution flying out of his mind as he is overcome by thoughts of her name, her skin, simply <i>her. Trying to form a coherent thought, he would barely be able to hold himself up. She moans quietly at the thought.

“Babylove, we can’t—” He moans, his deep voice splintering. “I don’ know if I’ll be able to control myself.”

She has listened to this audio enough to know what to say to fill the silent gaps to fulfill the ultimate fantasy.

“Please,” she whispers into the dead air, barely audible over her roommate's voice in the next room. “Wanna feel you.” She wishes he was there for her to whisper in his ear, her fingers running up the plain of his back, feeling the heated skin tense at her words. He would quirk an eyebrow.

“Yeah? Y’wanna feel my big cock in y’tummy, pretty baby?”

“Yes,” she whimpers quietly, suddenly very aware of how much she truly wanted to be filled, to have him so impossibly close to her.

“Y’know I can’t say no to you.” She can hear the smile in his voice. She wonders what it looks like, if he beams with an eye-searing grin, his face splitting with happiness, or if he has a shy little smirk, just barely toying on his lips. She likes to think that he has a beautiful smile, filled with warmth and love. She melts a little, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her limbs to the tips of her fingers.

“Get on top.”

She does, eyes still closed as she sits and kneels on her mattress, one hand still between her legs, trying desperately to catch her poor, swollen clit at just the right angle that will leave her thighs quaking, her stomach clenching. Her underwear, which are still stuck around her knees, stretch and snap as her thighs slip and spread further on the sheets.

He moans sharply, and she can feel her hips unconsciously move, as if to pull that sound from him once again. The low vibrations from her little handheld leave her aching for more, nothing more than a faint rumble, but if she flicked it up to the next highest setting, it would surely be heard through the thin walls. Besides, she loves the teasing nearly as much as she hates it, just pushing to the brink before the rush subsides and settles into a quiet lull. Speechless, she gasps for air as yet another jilted orgasm subsides.

She works her hips slowly, careful of the squeaking of her mattress; there are only so many noises that can be passed off as her simply shifting around in her sleep. Her wrist aches at such an awkward angle, but she continues, the burning euphoria just beyond the horizon. He moans, and she nearly follows him, a crest of a cry nearly bursting from her chest but it comes out as a small whimper. She pushes her earbud deeper into her ear, as if to pull him closer.

“Sorry, jus’ feel so good,” he says sheepishly, and she can tell that he’s biting his lip by the faint lisp in his words. It would be torture for the both of them, to be so close but unable to move any faster or harder to finally reach the deepest, most pleasurable part, just barely scratching the itch for intimacy. He whimpers pitifully, and she thinks she might fall apart at the sound, but her stupid vibrator leaves her teetering back and forth between over the edge. She wiggles her hips to try to get a better angle, but with just a hint of stimulation, it’s a torturously slow build up.

“There it is, pretty,” he says, breaths faltering. “That’s the spot. Make yourself feel good, lovie. Use me.” Her legs ache at the awkward angle, trembling with overexertion. She wishes that she could let go of it, leaving it on the mattress with her pussy and thighs holding it in place, so she can grind on it, unhindered by her own body’s exhaustion, eagerly chasing her high. It would also free her hands to tease her breasts again, pulling and pinching at her hardened nipples.

“Love the way you feel, babylove,” he whispers. “Fuck, so wet f’me.” He curses again and again, as if no other words can properly describe the feeling of her, so soft, so warm, so fucking good. She could only picture him in abridged visions, his undoubtedly pretty lips parted with his pretty whimpers sneaking through, his features pinched in pleasure. Her eyes roll back as her orgasm quickly approaches.

“‘M gonna come,” he says suddenly. “Are you close, too?” She whimpers, arousal slips down her swollen lips and into her furiously working fingers, eager to finish alongside him. “Yeah? Y’gonna come with me? Y’gonna come on my cock, pretty?”

She is so close, so unbelievably close, and she struggles to relax her muscles to hold off for just a little longer.

“So fuckin’ good, such a good fuckin’ girl,” he says sharply. His mattress squeaks now, unable to hold back the sharp jolts of his hips, and he lets go of all inhibitions, moaning freely. She could imagine his hand tracing up her belly, cupping her swinging breasts, and he would suckle on her nipples until her fervent hips faltered. He would brush his hands up the curve of her back, digging into the muscles of her shoulders until she fell forward. Faces nestled together, interlocking like pieces of a puzzle, they would breathe each other in, savoring such a close moment of intimacy. It would feel like a lifetime as they waited with bated breath, using each other to get the most pleasure possible.

She comes when he does, holding her breath to keep the moans from slipping, which makes it all the more euphoric, the chance of nearly getting caught at her most vulnerable and the faint lightheadedness making her vision foggy. Her orgasm leaves her legs trembling, slipping away from her still buzzing toy, falling forward into her sheets. She breathes in sharply, barely holding back a pained cry; fat tears of pleasure soak into her blanket as euphoria crashes and beats into her muscles. The heart-racing, earth-shattering, limb-thrashing orgasm makes her chest heave. Just like she wanted, she is left spent on her mattress, the powerful rush still lingering in her trembling body.

She flips onto her back, quickly pulling her bottoms back up onto her hips. In her drunken stupor, her earbuds fell out, and she can vaguely hear Tango’s praises. She picks her phone back up, eyes straining under the bright light, and closes out of the audio.

Her head is light, foggy with the residual high. A dazed smile flickers over her lips, exhaustion settling deep in her bones, finally satiated by her orgasm.

She scrolls through his account once again, this time reading through some of his other posts, like links to playlists and cute stories. Suddenly, the little message icon in the corner looks so appealing, teasing and taunting. Perhaps, she’s feeling a little giddy from her high or maybe it’s from the exhaustion, but she can’t seem to find a reason to not do it.

She sends him a message.

Meanwhile, Harry stares at the blinking cursor petulantly. It taunts him amidst a sea of white, a blank canvas in what should have been a completed midterm paper that’s due in a couple of days. His eyes sink closed, and he starts to drift off, only waking when his hand slips from his cheek, knocking his glasses askew. An old sitcom plays in the background, the canned laughter providing a break in the silence every five seconds. He sighs for the billionth time that evening, struggling to find motivation to even think at this point.

His phone dings, and he happily divulges the distraction, his brows furrowing as he reads a direct message from a user called honeyhi. He’s used to getting comments on his post, with the occasional direct message (which he usually deletes instantly because of poor past experiences), and now, he usually doesn’t think much of them. He isn’t doing it to gain anything from anyone. He just wants to put his thoughts out there, and it’s just an added bonus to get validation from beautiful people.

She doesn’t have a profile picture, not uncommon on that corner of the web, especially since his posts aren’t a lot of people’s taste. He wouldn’t usually indulge in them, deleting them usually instantly, but something compels him to open her message.

Not to be too forward, but I had the best orgasm of my life, listening to your audios. I’ve listened to your audios for a long time, and honestly, listening to you has become the highlight of my evenings ;)

Honey, you have no idea what that means to me.

Truly, his heart swells at her sweet words. It’s nice to get complimented on something you put so much effort into. He bares himself for strangers, expressing such an intimate part of himself for their shared pleasure, and it feels reassuring to get compliments.

I mean it. Also, Tango in the Night is arguably one of Fleetwood Mac’s best albums. Definitely top three.

Most people assume it’s a sex thing.

I wonder why.

He laughs a little at the dry comment.

So, what are the other two in your top three albums?

Pre or post Stevie Nicks?

Post, of course. What kind of question is that?

That was a test. You passed. I think we’ll get along just fine, Tango.

I think so, too, Honey.

—

Y/N rushes past the postman, nearly toppling over when her bag shifts slightly on her arm, her thick binders peek out of the top and dig into her arm. Her hand furiously slaps the elevator button, and she stands impatiently, her dangling keys shaking at her hip. The doors tremble as the weight teeters down to the main floor, far too slowly in her opinion. For a moment, she considers just running up the three flights of stairs to her floor, but that feels a little too eager.

She and Tango have their weekly phone call tonight, and her classes ran long today; that coupled with the stand-still traffic made her more anxious than usual to get home. She always calls first, since her schedule is the most complicated, and she’ll feel absolutely awful if she was late for their call. She feels silly getting worked up over such a small thing, but their friendship progressed beyond the occasional messages in the past month, and she honestly looks forward to their weekly talks. Tango is such a beautiful and humble person, and he is such a stable place of comfort. She knows that he will be understanding and have an independent, secondary perspective on any situation.

He is someone she can rely on for just about anything.

The bell dings above her, and the elevator doors finally part. After barreling inside, she sinks against the railing, glancing at the time, which is still just before her usual calling time. She sighs sharply when the doors begin to close, relief tugging on her shoulders.

However, a hand pushes through the lift’s doors before they can shut, and she bites back an irritated groan; she probably could have made it to her apartment by now if she had ran up the stairs. The man slides in and gives her a grateful nod, accompanied by a small smile. Much to her delight, he presses the ‘close door’ button quickly, and they’re met with no interruptions this time. It’s a quiet ride, despite her nervous feet tapping, and he taps away on his phone,

She admires him out of the corner of her eye, forgetting momentarily about her anxiety. Half of his hair is pulled back in a small bun, exposing the darker locks underneath, and a bandana pushes back the frizzy flyaways that would normally frame his face. The thick strands curl slightly at the ends; there’s one tight coil that she wants to tug on. She could easily become enamored with him, with his pretty green eyes and day-old stubble. His bag has H.E.S embroidered on the bottom corner. A coral colored, gem necklace rests beautifully on his tanned chest, which is mostly covered by a near see-through white top, covered with a baggy, gingham jumper.

After living in the building for two years, they have run into one another on several occasions but have never really spoken. He lives on the second floor, and he goes to the university as well.

When he leaves, after offering another nod and quick smile, she calls Tango. He answers after the second ring.

“Hey, sweets,” he grumbles, not as chipper as his usual self. Her heart sinks a little. He had his midterms last week, and she can only assume that the results are not what he had hoped.

“Oh, no,” she says. “What happened?”

“‘S nothin’,” he insists, but she can hear the irritation in his voice. “‘M jus’ getting myself worked up over nothin’. How was your day?”

Clearly not wanting to talk, he changes the subject, which is something Y/N has grown used to over the past few months. He doesn’t like to vent when he’s too upset because he’s afraid of lashing out and taking his aggression out on her. Thankfully, she has also learned how to distract him. Usually, his annoyance melts away within minutes, and he is his usual, bubbly self again.

“Well, let me tell you, I nearly killed the postman today, and someone nearly hit my car today.”

“What?” He asks incredulously. “Please, elaborate.”

And so, she does.

A couple hours later, Y/N’s in her kitchen, making avocado and tomato toast for the fifth time this week. Her roommate is gone for the weekend, thankfully, which means she can get more stuff done without interruptions (and she can talk to Tango for as long as she wants without getting interrogated about it). His mood had improved significantly after she was able to make him laugh at her own expense (he especially liked the story about how she grabbed her iced coffee too quickly this morning and spilled it all over the barista’s hand).

“I have a question,” he says quickly, as if he wouldn’t have the courage to ask if he held onto it for a moment longer.

“Okay,” she says slowly, almost fearful at the sudden change of tone in his voice.

“Would you be able to listen to something I recorded the other day?” He giggles nervously. “I dunno. I just feel a little,” he makes a little noise, “off about it.”

Stunned, she stares at her phone, the seconds ticking by before her very eyes, and despite the fact that the only reason why they know each other is because she listened to his audios, she’s a little taken aback by the question. Before she knows it, too much time has passed for her to brush off as anything but bewilderment. She stutters.

“I—uh—sure?”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“No, I am.” Stubborn and not willing to back down, she digs herself a deeper hole, despite the odd feeling growing in her stomach. “Yes, I will listen to it for you.”

“Okay, then,” he says breathlessly. “I’ll send it to you.”

Neither know what to say now. Conversation usually came easy to them, so it feels so strange to be stuck in such an uncomfortable silence. Now, she’s gone and ruined everything because of her hesitation. Why did she even hesitate? There’s no reason to be embarrassed. They’re both very open, sexual people, and it’s nothing to get so worked up over. Maybe, it’s the fact that it’s him, and she knows him so well now. Compared to before, when he was just some stranger on the internet, she knows his likes, dislikes; hell, she has even spoken to his cat, and it feels wrong because he is her friend, and that’s not what friends are supposed to do.

“It’s not weird. Is it?” He asks shyly.

“Of course not.” She says it a little too quickly. Admittedly, it feels a <i>little weird, now that she thinks about it. It would be like walking in on your friend having sex. Then again, the only reason why they really know each other is because she listened to his audios (which is basically him jerking off to his dirty thoughts). However, it’s not an aspect they spoke about too often, usually after a couple of drinks. Their friendship, despite how it began, is purely innocent. They were each other’s comfort person; they were there to vent, laugh, and talk with. Neither ever hinted toward anything different, other than the occasional, playful flirting.

“No, I’ll listen to it for you. What are friends for?”

She doesn’t know why her heart is beating so fast.

“Thank you,” he says.

“So,” she says, “do you want me to listen to it now?”

“Eager, are we?” He hums teasingly.

“Shut up,” she scoffs.

“I mean, if you wanted to hear some dirty talk, all you had to do was ask.”

“Please, stop talking.”

“Y’know I’m always down to clown.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

True to her words, she doesn’t wait for him to answer before she ends the call.

Her phone dings a second later with the link along with another cheeky message. The link is to a private web upload platform, and she feels special for a moment. She wonders if she should just listen to it while eating her toast and go about her usual routine, or if she should do what she usually does when listening to his audios. Is that what he would want, though? Would it make him feel uncomfortable? Is it more weird to just listen to him moan in her ear while doing mundane tasks around the house?

Granted, they have had some conversations about sex and the like, but this feels so much more intimate, especially because he knows that she’s going to listen to him jerk off, not to even mention the obscene things that come from his mouth.

What does it mean for their friendship? Perhaps, it’s not even meant to mean anything, just a sincere favor asked between two friends. Maybe, it’s meant to be a step toward something more on his part. Is that even what she wants?

She brushes off that thought quickly, as she has for months, because deep down, she knows it would just end up in disappointment.

Oh, what a mess.

She’s headed on a downward spiral that has no chance of stopping unless it’s hit by a freight train to hell.

She opts to forgetting her toast and slips into her bedroom, falling onto her blankets giddily. She presses play on the audio, her heart racing as it loads, and leaves her phone face down next to her ear, eyes closing to fully immerse herself, trying to ignore her anxiety.

“Hello,” he says slowly, almost shyly, and it feels like one of their late nights again, with him talking through her phone and her cuddled in bed, listening eagerly. “I’ve just gotten home, but I’ve been thinkin’ about this all day. Couldn’t go to sleep before gettin’ it out there, y’know.” He giggles, a pretty little noise she’s heard many times now. He laughs a lot, sometimes at himself, but mostly in response to her. He even laughs at her corny, little puns, which she appreciated.

“And ‘m really hard right now, so that doesn’t help either. I haven’t really been able to come in the past two weeks. Been too busy with… life, I guess. But a friend of mine talked to me about the world of BDSM. She’s a kinky little shit.”

Y/N’s heart lurches, stomach twisting with an unrecognizable feeling, knowing that the certain friend he is talking about is her. She remembers the conversation well, even though she was a little tipsy and very high, mostly because it was also the first time they had actually spoken on the phone, and it began as it normally does, about mundane things that happened that week. Somehow, the conversation shifted to kinks, and she told him that she wouldn’t be opposed to more sinful acts in the bedroom, most of which her previous partners had not indulged.

“I’m pretty vanilla, I guess. I just love to love people. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I’ve never really been into that sort of thing, but now, I can’t stop thinking about it, and I’ve been kinda into some dark, dom stuff lately,” he admits slowly. “Dark for me, at least, which, again, doesn’t say much.” There’s another laugh, radiant and delicate.

“I dunno why, but I’ve been fantasizing about taking you into our room. A little lackluster, I know, but I’m not into the dark, dingy places, like those sex dungeons they have in the movies, where there’s lots of leather, red lights, music, quite the ambience.” He stops suddenly, and she could imagine his lips pursing to cease his ramblings. She wishes he wouldn’t do that so much; she wishes that he wouldn’t doubt himself and his beautiful way with words. If only he could be as confident in himself as she is in him.

“I just want to lay you down on our bed with our fluffy blankets pushed off to the side. Then, if either of us need to take a moment or stop, we can.” Her heart swells a little at his words. Even though he’s trying to talk about, in his words, “dark, dom stuff”, he is still so sweet and considerate, and she can’t help but soften. He trails off.

Faintly, she can hear him yank his belt from the loops, and it’s, honestly, one of the hottest things she has ever heard; the teasing glimpse of what could come far more erotic than anything any of her other partners could do. She could only imagine what it would feel like to have him in front of her, shirtless with his pants low on his hips; maybe he would be wearing the same floral pants he is in his profile picture, the ones that are unbelievably tight. She would be splayed on the bed, just observing this beauty of a man, waiting patiently for him to come and ravish her.

She’s sure that his tattoos cover more than just his arms, but how many more is a question that haunts her. The thought of a big tattoo on his thigh that she can grind on while he moans about how much of a good girl she is has led to many obscene dreams. She imagines black images carved into his chest, perhaps a trail of floating rose petals from his collar bone to his peck or a hellish looking snake wrapped around his waist. More vividly, she envisions a bold tattoo just beneath his belly button, one that she would scratch at while he violently pounded into her, one that she would kiss and lick before she would take him in her mouth.

Oh, what she would do to be able to feel his skin on hers.

She dips her hand beneath the band of her shorts out of habit, toying with the silky material of her panties. She tries not to think too much about her feelings, fearing it would deepen the ache in her heart.

“Anyway, you’d be on the bed,” he says, his usual slow, stifling voice pulling her deeper into the fantasy, “naked, on your knees with your pretty pussy facing me. You’re all tied up, starting at your wrists and ankles, and there would be a pretty knot down your spine that I can grab while I fuck you from behind.”

Her cunt throbs at the sudden turn. She could only imagine: her face pressed into the pillows, choking on the sheets, her muscles tight, aching beneath the restraints, and her voice raw, sobbing from overstimulation. Exhausted and wanton, she would take anything that he would be willing to give her. He would shove her face into the mattress, mounting her, and he would tug on the rope until it felt like it would permanently embedded in her wet skin, telling her how much of a good little slut she is, taking him so well.

She doesn't know why she’s drawn to rope play; perhaps, it’s all a part of the subtle nuances of the sex, the intimacy of tying the complex binds around your partner and the intricacies of sensory manipulation with such overwhelming stimulation. It’s so much more than just being bound while fucking. There is such a deep reliance on the other person to understand your body, your limits, your needs. It’s about trust and vulnerability. She thinks of it in such a melodic and romantic way; it must have resonated with Tango.

“Or I’d tie your arms to your legs, keeping you spread open for me on your back, with knots around your belly, the lead falling between your tits.” Her eyes flutter closed. While rope play is something that she has always wanted to try but never felt comfortable enough with another person to act on it. He would be different though. She cups her pussy, languidly running her fingers through her wet folds, feeling the arousal slip down her skin before settling on her sheets.

She pinches her clit, and her legs immediately jerk around her arm. Feeling far too sensitive for that type of stimulation, she simply strokes through her lips, focusing her ministrations on the delicate inside, close to her sopping entrance, enjoying the slow build.

“Then, I could hold onto your neck while I fuck you, and I like being able to see your face, to see how good I’m making you feel, to see tears of pleasure run down your pretty face. You could suck on my fingers while I fuck you, deep and hard. D’ya wanna choke on my fingers, pretty?”

She wants absolutely nothing more. She would gladly suck on his fingers if it meant that she could see the look of awe in his eyes, lust darkening his features when she bites teasingly on his nail.

“But if you’re on your knees, I could watch you in the mirror and still see your face. From behind, I can see your pretty, tight pussy take my cock.” He whimpers. “I haven’t decided which I would rather have.”

She can’t decide, either.

Then again, they could always have both.

“Of course, I wouldn’t give you my cock that easily. No, you’re going to be crying for me, begging for me to fuck you, and I dunno if I would fuck you right away or make you beg for it. I think for the first bit, after you’re all tied up for me, I’ll tease you, just barely touching you, pulling on the lead, the ropes tightening around your aching body. I think your tits would look so pretty all tied up f’me, babylove.

��When you’ve finally had enough, crying for me to stuff you full of my cock, I’d let you come, but I’d only use my fingers, never giving you what you really want. Maybe I’ll put a little vibrator on your clit and leave you there, having you come again and again until it hurts. I’d have you keep your panties on, of course. Don’t want you making a mess of the sheets, and then, when I finally give you my cock, I’ll put them in your mouth to keep you quiet, and so you can taste yourself.”

His moans are in the forefront in his sensual song, mixed amongst a symphony of bed and friction sounds. She matches his pace, flicking her wrist in time with the sound of him working his wet cock. She massages the entirety of her pussy, messily rubbing her fingers from the tip of her poor, swollen clit to her throbbing opening.

“Fuck, babylove, you’d be so good f’me, taking my cock so deep in your pussy. Would you cry f’me, pretty? Cry for daddy to fuck you into the mattress.” A rumbling groan finally breaks free, and she is so close to falling apart, her high festering into her muscles, burning through her nerves; her skin feels hot to the touch. She struggles to breathe, but she doesn't yearn for air as much as she does her end. Tears in her eyes, she clutches onto her blanket, tugging it in her mouth to keep from crying too loudly. She sobs, feeling a familiar tightness in her body, just beyond her grasp. Her hand still moves over her pussy, arousal seeping through trembling fingers, but she can’t reach her peak with such light, varied stimulation, her hips buckling.

“My pretty rope bunny,” he mutters. He’s desperate, truly just rambling on and on about anything that comes to mind. “My pretty honey,” he whimpers, almost inaudibly, “honey, honey.”

For a second, she thinks of the times that word has passed through his lips in less sinful situations, a slow, lulling honey when he’s trying to get her attention, sweet and innocent. That’s his special name for her, and she wonders if, possibly, he thinks about her in the same way she does, if he wishes to be with her in such an intimate way, just as she does. She thinks, incredulously, that maybe she isn’t overanalyzing the situation.

His bed squeaks faintly in the background, just barely heard over his withering voice. She can only begin to imagine what he looks like in that moment, legs tense, feet digging into the mattress, his hips thrusting to fuck himself into his fist. The head of his cock would peek through the top of his fist as he coerced his release free. She wishes she could see what he looks like when he comes, when he finally reaches his most euphoric moment. It’s such a primal thing to witness, to see someone liberated of all inhibitions, to observe them completely succumbing to their instincts. It’s such a beautiful thing to see someone acquiesce control and thrive so harmoniously with their body.

“I wanna wrap my belt around your throat.” He swallows thickly. She whines along with him. Perhaps, she’s just fooling herself, but she can swear that she could almost hear the sound of a leather belt squeezing in his fist. A pitiful pool of wetness slips between her ass cheeks.

“My cock hurts just thinking about how you’d sound.” He moans, mimicking the desperate heaves that would undoubtedly slip through her lips as he pulls his belt tightly around her throat. “Then, when you’re bratty, I can just wrap my hand around the belt and make it tighter.

“Please,” he mocks weakly, “please, sir, I’ll be good. But you’re just saying that to get what you want. You’re just a naughty, little slut aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she returns weakly.

“Maybe, I could get you a collar and pull you around with that. Would you like that?” He hums. “Of course, you would. You’re my pretty, little bunny.”

In any other instance, she would feel humiliated to be so aroused at being so weak and submissive to another, but he could convince her to do anything at this point. She’s close, toes curling and muscles tightening, and she waits for his familiar profession that he is also near the edge, but the silence that follows is deafening, a disappointing resolution to an intense narrative. It makes her stop completely, wet hand flipping her phone over to see that, indeed, she had listened to all of the audio. It knocks the air from her lungs when she realizes that that was it. She isn’t going to hear his cute little whimpers as he comes nor his sweet aftercare.

Frustrated from her ruined orgasm, she calls him instantly, and he picks up after the fourth ring this time, as if he <i>knows</i> that she is this needy and frustrated. She doesn’t give him the chance to greet her.

“That couldn’t have been all of it.”

“Well, hello to you, too—”

“I didn’t get to hear you come.”

“Is that what you wanna hear, honey?”

“Well, yeah, I always come with—” She stops before she says something she’ll regret, but by the sound of his laughter, it’s already too late. She wants to hide away in embarrassment.

“It’s only partially finished. I thought I told you that.” She can hear the teasing smirk he surely has plastered on his face, the cheeky bastard. “I just wanted to hear what you thought so far before I finished it. There’s no point in finishing something that I already feel isn’t worth the time.”

“Well, then,” she stutters quickly, “How does it end?”

“How do you think it should end?”

There’s a certainty in his words, as if he has already accepted her as a lover, and she knows that he is giving her the opportunity to initiate the next step. Fear squeezes her chest, and for a second, she worries that she isn’t brave enough to follow through. Every fiber of her being is pleading with her to just take that risk, but another, more rational side of her, is saying it’s better to say a quick I don’t know, and they would move on as normal.

“Where would you come?”

Oh, it feels so filthy to ask that, but it’s so relieving to hear the hum of approval that passes through his lips.

Her heart races, not like before; this is exciting and new and arousing, and it feels wrong. She doesn’t even know what he looks like; hell, she doesn’t even know his real name, and she’s so fucking ready and willing to give herself to him. There’s just so many reasons to not pursue him. She feels ashamed, almost, that she is weak for a man she knows nothing about.

“Hmm, that’s a good question. Where would you like me to come?”

But how can she not get weak when he asks her things like that?

Shivers bloom on her skin in sunflower blossoms. She knows what he wants to hear, and usually, she would tease him, telling him that he didn’t care if he even came or not, but the throbbing between her legs is relentless, and she’s just lust-drunk that she’ll say just about anything to get what she needs. She begins rubbing herself again, focusing solely on her clit this time instead of the entirety of her pussy in the palm of her hand. Breathing out shakily, she answers honestly.

“Everywhere.”

He moans, and she knows that was the right answer.

“Everywhere? Such a greedy girl. You want me to come down your throat? You wanna taste it? Maybe, I’ll have you choke on my cock, fuck y’face until you’re crying.”

After he was done fucking her, she’s sure that he would yank her up either by the rope around her breasts or by the belt around her neck (she can’t decide which yet) and put his cock by her mouth, rubbing himself over her lips and chin, but never quite pushing past the barrier of her lips; no, she would be the one to open her sweet mouth for him, her jaw lax and tongue wet as she takes everything he’d give her.

God, yes, she wants to taste him. She wants him to use her in every possible, degrading way: to use her mouth while she tied up, under his mercy, to fuck her face until she has tears dripping down her cheeks, wetting her heaving chest, to come down her throat until she’s choking on him, but he would pinch her nose and make her taste it until her vision was blurry.

“You’d take it all, babylove. Won’t you?”

He asks so innocently, his deep voice having a soft twinge, but she knows that it’s not optional, not that she would choose otherwise. She would greedily lap at his cum and drink it all, proudly showing off her empty mouth when she’s done. Maybe, he would insist that she keep it in her mouth and pull her into a wet, heated kiss, prying her lips apart so he can taste himself on her tongue.

“I could make a mess on your belly or your tits, and then, I could lick you clean. Or I could mark up your thighs and watch it drip onto the sheets.”

The thought of him marking her with his come is nearly enough for her to reach her peak. A voice in the back of her head chastises her for being so greedy; this is something she has fantasized about since they started talking, and it’s going to be over before it can even begin at this rate. She needs to distract herself, to focus on anything other than the painful throbbing between her legs.

“Or I could come inside you.”

That’s the last thing she needed to hear.

Only because it makes a thick bead of arousal seep into her sheets. It makes her finally give in and sink two fingers inside herself, and <i>fuck, she’s so wet and swollen and pliable. She sobs, truly biting back even louder cries behind gritted teeth. She curses again and again at the feeling coursing through her veins, heat spreading in her belly as her hips frantically move against her ministrations.

“By the sound of that moan, I think that’s definitely preferred. Such a filthy girl. Y’want me to fill your belly? Want me to mark you as mine?”

She just knows that he could fill her to the brim, but he would want to prolong the experience as much as possible, teasing her with his cock and coaxing her to beg for his cum.

She could just imagine the determined look in his eyes, so close to coming, but he would pull out, just barely teasing her trembling entrance with his twitching cock. He wouldn’t move, and when she would beg for him to put it back in and just fuck her until she couldn’t breath, he would say very simply: if y’want my cum so bad, put my cock back inside.

God, his face would be gleaming with this power, satisfied with seeing her so needy for his cum. Shamefully, she would put one of her hands on his hip while the other grasps his cock, pushing on him until he sinks entirely inside her once again, but he still wouldn’t move, simply filling her, the both of them twitching with arousal. He would demand that she make him come if she wants it so bad, as if it's a gift from the heavens.

“Are you touching yourself?” He asks, and only then does she realize that she was drowning in her fantasy; the sudden change makes her stop rubbing herself, her vision hazy. She parts her lips with wet fingers, slipping back down to her entrance, gently prodding inside until that euphoria builds once again.

“Yes,” she admits shamefully. “‘M so fucking wet for you.”

“Dirty little slut,” he says sharply. He has no room to judge, especially since she can hear the all-too-familiar sounds to him jerking his cock, wet sounds of his fist passing over the thick head echoing in her empty room. She is near tears at this point, so needy and high and horny, but she wants to make this last.

“Would you let me come? Please, can I come?”

It’s his turn to moan with approval, and she feels proud. His heavy breathing in time with hers, he seems to be lost in pleasure, voice hitching as he struggles to find words. Her orgasm swells to a near crest once again, but she wants to hear him finish. At this point, she knows what it sounds like, from the frantic ramblings to the guttural moans, and he’s not quite there yet.

“Do you think you deserve to come, honey? You think you’ve been a good girl f’me?”

“Yes, I’m a good girl—fuck—please, please, I need to come.” She stumbles through her words, what little power she held in her withering grasp deflating instantly from his words.

“I dunno, I think you’re a brat who just wants to get off.”

It’s painful how much his words impact her, volatile muscles spasming while she staves of hee end. She whimpers, sinking further in her headspace; she feels a cloud settle in her vision (or perhaps those are tears), overwhelming yet freeing.

“No, I’m your good girl,” she insists.

“I think you’ll have to prove it to me, honey,” he replies slyly. “I don’t think I’ll let you come quickly. I want you to beg for it. Can you do that f’me, babylove? Beg me to come.”

“Fuck, I’m so close,” she says. “Please, please, I need it. Please, let me come.”

“You can do better than that,” he says, voice cracking. Their harmonious sounds of excitement drive both of them closer to their orgasms.

“Oh, god—please, I—fuck—I need it so bad. ‘M so close, please.” She can barely speak coherently. Chills wrack her sore body, waves of throbbing pleasure threatening to break her. She wanted—no, needed—him to finish.

“Come f’me, Honey,” he says. “You’re my good girl, so good f’me. C’mon, babylove, come with me.”

She does. With ears ringing and eyes closing, she comes until her pussy aches. It feels never ending, euphoria consuming every part of her sweat-laden flesh, chilling and fiery, for hours—or perhaps only seconds. She can’t tell.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her vision blurry. Her body trembles with residual aftershocks of her intense orgasm. She lays spread open on her bed, her pussy still too sensitive to close her legs entirely.

“Thank you for letting me come.” In her daze, her limbs fall away limply. All she can do is exist at this moment. She vaguely wonders if he finished with her, the thought of his deep moans fueling another fire. A part of her is disappointed that she wasn't present enough to listen to him, but another part knows that more opportunities will come.

“You’re so welcome, honey,” he says sweetly. “I think we both really needed that today.”

She hums, still recovering from such a powerful end. She slowly regains her breathing.

“I guess I should be thanking you because that’s one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had,” he says. She laughs.

“You flatter me.”

“I’m serious. Nearly gave myself a pearl necklace.”

And just like that, everything continues as normal. Both know that the other is naked and satiated, but neither feels uncomfortable with the fact. If anything, it makes things relieved, open, or comfortable. They’re both giggly in the golden after-glow.

“What does this mean for us, Honey?”

As, yes, the dreaded ‘talk’. Fear immediately spikes in her veins, and she struggles to find her words. Before she can answer, he begins speaking again.

“Look, I really like talking with you, and I don’t want this to make things weird, but I meant what I said earlier. That was probably one of the best orgasms of my life, and I don’t think that I could live without your pretty little moans now that I’ve heard them. Maybe, we can do that again. We don’t have to put a label on it or anything, if you don’t want to.”

Her heart sinks. Is that all that he wants?

“Right, it doesn’t have to be anything serious, just us having some stress relief.” Her words are dry and forced, feeling like bile in her mouth. She grits her teeth. What the hell had she just gotten herself into?

“Hey, uh, it’s late, and I have to wake up early tomorrow. Same time next week?”

She hopes that he doesn’t think that she regrets what they did, and she hopes he doesn’t think too much into her abrupt ending of the call. It’s not a total lie; she does have work early tomorrow morning, but she has had more than a few days where she was running on two hours of sleep and a miracle. She just wants to get off the phone before he hears the contemplation in her voice.

“You think I can wait a week after that? You have too much faith in me.”

“I think you’ll survive, babe,” she says.

“Good night, babylove.”

“Good night.”

She falls asleep quickly after, dreaming of the nameless, faceless man who she bares her soul to.

Later that night, as Harry edits the finally finished audio, he thinks back to Honey and their mutual pleasure, feeling like an absolute idiot for saying that it was nothing serious. He wasn’t expecting her to agree so emphatically, so quickly.

Although, what had he expected? He was the one who suggested it. No matter, he can’t have a relationship right now, especially a long distance one. He would just end up getting hurt, but he likes her too much to stop talking to her completely. He finally took their relationship further even if it won’t lead to anything more.

—

“Are you ready to admit defeat?”

Y/N lets out a breathy laugh, despite her current situation, her hand rubbing leisure circles on her already sensitive clit, which still throbs from her first orgasm of the night. Tango murmurs praise in her humming ears.

She’s not really sure what they are, and she doesn’t want to think about it. It would only complicate things more.

Friends? Definitely.

Well, maybe not definitely, since she doesn’t even know his name, but what other word could she use to define their relationship? What sort of friends would say such filthy things to each other? Why would he call her ‘my honey’ so emphatically if they were ‘just friends’? Too afraid of misinterpreting his intentions and embarrassing herself, she doesn’t mention anything, and he never does either, but it keeps her awake at night, wondering what they could be if she could just put her feelings to words.

This would be the second hour of their phone call, and it only took them ten minutes for the conversation to turn into one of their “stress relieving sessions”. Both of them had a terrible day; she was late for the first day at her new job (they were understanding given the circumstances, but it still left a sour taste in her mouth), and he slept through an exam. She eased him into a submissive headspace quickly, babbling about what a good boy he is and how proud she is of him. Within minutes, he came, and she whispered all the filthy things she wanted to do to him until he was completely spent, his cock milked of all remnants of his seed, twitching and throbbing with empty orgasms.

He easily fell into the dominant headspace after his quick high, and he was adamant that he could make her come more than any of her other partners, even without him truly there. She knows that he can; hell, she has touched herself to his voice more times than she could count, but she likes teasing him, hearing him get all riled up and stubborn.

“Are you gonna come again, honey?”

“Nope,” she breathes, “Not even a little close.”

“You’re obviously lying or not trying,” he says sharply, and a sense of pride swells in her chest at her ability to get a rise out of him without even trying. She smirks.

“What are you gonna do? Punish me?”

“I might have to.”

She’s sure he would, too, but it would be in the most pleasurable way possible, with his mouth and fingers and cock stimulating her until she comes so many times she can’t take anymore. Her fingers trace her most intimate area, nails scraping against her quivering core. She sinks two fingers inside, feeling her sopping pussy swallow them easily, adjusting quickly and craving more. She tries to find that sweet, spongy spot inside her, but she can’t seem to reach it.

“Wish it was your fingers,” she mumbles, her movements certain and even, but it’s never enough for her greedy body.

“Yeah, lovie?” He croons, “they’d be so big in your tight little pussy.” She hums, wishing that he was there to stuff her in every way possible.

“Would you wear your rings?”

“For you? Of course.” Her eyes roll back at the thought; his thick fingers could tear her at the seams, and with the added texture of his rings, she would be coming within seconds. Her clit throbs, blood rushing in time with her racing heart, and she massages it harder, wanton and waiting for yet another release. “C’mon, babylove, Come for me. Make me proud,” he coaxes. His words make her fall over that edge once more, thighs shaking and pussy weeping. She’s sure there’s a creamy stain beneath her, seeping into her wet skin.

“Again,” he demands. She thinks she may break. “Keep going, babylove. Where’s that toy you told me about?”

He knows that she won’t be able to come much longer on her own, with the pain overwhelming the pleasure.

“It’s so far away,” she whines.

“Go grab it, love,”

Her legs tremble as she twists around, reaching blindly into her bedside drawer. She can’t close her legs too much without getting overstimulated; her legs ache and twitch. Once the toy is situated just above her clit, she ticks it on. Her body reacts immediately, limbs jolting about, hips ducking away, and her voice catching. Gasping, she almost wants to take the toy away, the stimulation being far too much.

He thinks differently.

“Turn it up higher, lovie,” he says so sweetly. Her chest feels like it could almost collapse into itself. Still dizzy from her orgasm, she’s not sure if she can take it, her body fighting against her. She wants to beg and plead for something, but she doesn’t even know what for. Is it for yet another orgasm that will surely be more powerful that any other? Or is it for the burning at every nerve ending to stop?

“I dunno—”

“You can take it, such a good little bunny for me.”

The vibrator ticks to the next setting, a sharp, persistent sound echoes in her empty room, followed by an even louder shout. She has not control anymore. Thankfully, she’s home alone or else it would be an awkward morning with her roommate listening to her cries of pleasure well into the night. Her hand shakes, but she presses the head of the toy harder to her clit. She lets out a guttural groan, feeling euphoria seep from every pore.

“There it is,” he moans, breathing growing ragged. He’s surely jerking himself off, basking in the pleasure with her, and it makes her arousal burn deeper. She wants to put on a show for him, to egg him on and make him feel as good as he makes her feel.

“There’s my pretty girl. Let me hear you, baby.”

She can barely squeeze out a few breathless whimpers from her chest, hedonistic—no, animalistic—sobs crash through her. Pain and pleasure fight for control, just as her mind and body do.

“Feel good?”

“Yes,” she says weakly. “Feels so good.”

She comes quickly with a silent cry, her lips parted and face scrunched. Saliva slips from her open mouth, and she is unable to wipe it away, lewdly dripping down her chin to her neck before finding it’s place on her dirtied sjeets. The recovery period is quicker this time; it’s either that or her body is becoming numb to anything but pleasure. It feels like it’s never ending with the vibrator still nestled tightly to her puffy cilt. Her lips are surely swollen now too, tender from too many orgasms, yet still sopping with arousal.

“Don’t take it away,” he says, “You got another one in ya. You can do it, lovie.”

His voice is muffled beneath blankets where her phone lies, lost in her ravenous bouts of pleasure, limbs writhing and tossing. Her body aches when she twists to put it back up by her ear to hear him more clearly, muscles tight from her previous orgasms. Legs closing slightly, she whines when the toy presses harder against her clit, hips ducking away from the strong vibrations, eyes fluttering closed. Her phone falls out of her grasp once more, but the light illuminates the dark room, casting a warm glow.

“Please—”

She’s not really sure what she’s begging for; it just slips out, a weak plea. Perhaps, she just wants him to be there instead of on the other end of a phone call, in some faraway place she doesn’t even know. The room would feel so much warmer with him here, her back pressed to his chest, their sweat mingling. Maybe he would wear those pretty lace stockings he showed her a picture of once, the glittery fabric coarse against her skin as he teases his toes along her leg, keeping them spread. His freckled and inked arms wrapped tightly around her middle, paying special attention to her tummy, he would whisper sweet things in her ear and press on the area right below her belly button, telling her of how he wants to grind his pretty cock against her soft middle until she is sticky with his precum, how he can fuck himself that deep inside her. She would feel him for days after.

“I know it hurts, baby, but just one more, then you can go to bed.”

It sounds so nice, the thought of sinking into her pillows for a good night's rest, but an orgasm sounds even better, one leaving her spent and satiated and sleepy.

“Such a good girl f’me.”

As much as she wants to, the sensitivity becoming nearly unbearable, she can’t stop; she wants to make him proud, to prove to him that she’s his good girl who can take it. Even though he’s not truly there with her to hold her and make sure she comes, she still wants to do as he says. Her legs tremble, threatening to close.

She squeaks when the vibrator hits a particularly sensitive angle on her clit, and she bites into her pillow to keep from crying out. Her hips work desperately, to reach that high for the last time, just one more, like an addict itching for one more hit. It’s her fourth orgasm within ten minutes, and this might just be her breaking point.

“I dunno if I can.” Her words slur, and she can feel spit dripping down her puckered lips. She suddenly wishes he was there to wipe it away, thumb soft and subtle against her skin, lingering on her puffy lips.

“One more, babylove,” he insists. “Just one more. You’re doing so well.” She bites back a mangled cry, eyes squeezing shut, her thoughts lost in a dark chaos. His voice is the only anchor amidst a dizzying high, coaxing her through her stupor with sweet words.

“My pretty girl, my good fucking girl, taking it so well.” His gravelly voice pulls her from drowning, his words gritty from his clenched jaw. “You’re not hurting too much, are ya?”

His deep voice is soft, lilting with a tender care she needs. She could simply melt, blanketed in the warmth of his rich voice.

“A little,” she admits, a dull ache in her belly when she clenches too tightly. “But it feels so good.”

The vibrations pulse through her body, leaving her voice shaky, and she shifts slightly, hips digging into the mattress. It settles on the underside of her clit, and it’s so close to that one spot, until finally—there, there, there—right there. She groans, low and guttural, drawn out from the depths of her chest, animalistic almost. Her body burns and trembles for a second before yet another strong, unrelenting wave drowns her. Every muscle in her body tenses as the head of the vibrator finds the one tender spot on her clit, catching at just the right angle that leaves her eyes teary, world dizzy. She knows it’ll be painful if she doesn’t pull away, a harsh orgasm building, but she can’t stop, not with him listening to her, waiting for her final bitter end.

She’s doing so good for him, such a good bunny. She trembles in the wake of such a violent euphoria, weak moans slipping in time with her belated breathing. It passes through in waves, the pain, a bittersweet burning welling deep inside her, but a different ache persists, one that leaves her yearning for more, one that makes her dig her feet into the mattress and press herself harder on the toy. Her toes curl, and her back arches, free hand twisting the sheets.

He hums appreciatively.

“My bunny likes it when it hurts. Doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” she sobs, “I want it to hurt.” Hips shuttering away from the relentless vibrator, Y/N feels her final orgasm build, pain lingering around the edges as her muscles twitch.

“Such a dirty little slut.” Her back arches at his filthy words, arousal pooling beneath her. She could feel it wetting her thighs. “Just f’me, right, honey? Just my pretty slut.”

She comes quickly, eyes rolling back as it overwhelms all of her senses. She feels tense yet relaxed. A broken cry breaks from her swollen lips as she shatters, falling apart for the final time. Her muscles quiver, tiny shocks lingering in the aftermath of so many orgasms in such quick succession. Her limbs ache. Her heart races. Her pussy throbs. She knows that this will be all she can take, her body completely spent. She can’t find the energy to keep her eyes open, and they roll back.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” she says, still struggling to find her breath and collect her thoughts, but when she does, a smile breaks her face. She feels everything and nothing all at once, so perfectly numb. She finds herself laughing incredulously because that cocky little bastard was right: he made her come more times than anyone has before. She laughs until tears slip down her warm cheeks.

This is the part where the emotions start to become just as overwhelming as her release. So much sinks in all at once, and she realizes just how alone she is, and she wishes he was here to pull her back down to earth, to hold and to love. She feels deflated. The sexual release is such a rush, but it brings devastating lows. With tears in her eyes, she struggles not to cave into herself.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she lies, a sob curling in her lungs, forcing its way out in a blubbering mess. Once the first one escapes, the rest follow easily. She can’t seem to stop, heaving cries wracking her already sore body as she clutches onto her pillow. She fists her phone to her ear in an attempt to be closer to him, but that makes the feeling grow worse, settling to a black hole in her stomach, sucking all euphoria from her. Tears soak into her skin and sink into her ear, muffling his comforting words.

“Let it out, babylove,” he says softly. “I know, I know. I know. Sometimes it can just get really overwhelming.” His words are gentle, just as he is, and maybe that’s what makes this even worse. He is everything she wants. He is just so perfect for her in every way, but he is ao far from her reach. Maybe it would be better if he wasn’t such a good person. Maybe that would make the yearning go away. She’s quiet, slowly breathing through stuttering sniffles.

“Hey,” he says softly, “Go pee and clean yourself up, babe. Know you don’t like feeling all wet down there. It makes your peach all sticky.”

She nods, knowing full well that he can’t see her, but doesn’t move. She honestly doesn’t think she can.

“Go on,” he murmurs when he doesn’t hear the familiar rustling of her sheets. “‘M right here, honey.”

A few more tears squeeze out of her eyes at his words. It makes her whole demeanor crumble once again; she’s upset because he’s not really there, he’s not there to hold her and kiss her and love her, and that’s not fair. She just wants to have him here to tell her that everything will be alright; she wants him to be there to laugh with, to just be with. He is such a good part of her life, but she just wishes that he could physically be there in the way she dreams.

She cleans up quickly, tossing her spent underwear into her dirty laundry. Just as she had suspected, the remnants of her orgasms stained her thighs.

What’s that ache in her chest?

“Good girl, feel better, lovie?”

She nods and whimpers, unable to calm her trembling lips.

“Good, ‘m right here, babylove. Y’did so good, so proud of you.”

She crawls back to bed moments later, shuddering breaths and swollen eyes being the only remnants of her breakdown. She sniffles and wipes her wet eyes with the back of her hand, which smells vaguely of her feminine wipes.

“Sorry, if it was too much,” he says.

“No, no need to apologize,” she says quickly to get rid of any lingering guilt he has. It felt amazing, to be tested just beyond her limits, to be pushed to a shattering breaking point, to trust him to know what she can take. “It was nice. I just sorta—” Her voice breaks. “I dunno. Everything just got a little overwhelming. I think I’m better now.”

“What do you need from me, honey?”

She nearly starts crying again at how sweet he is. She almost could imagine that only a few minutes ago he was calling her his dirty little slut and demanding her to come until she could handle it.

“Just talk to me,” she says.

“So, I saw a couple dogs today,” he begins awkwardly. “Well, I was attacked by two little frenchie’s when I was walking to class, and it completely made my day ten-times better. They were so cute with their chubby little legs.”

He rambles on about his week, and it feels nice and familiar.

She’s nearly asleep when he begins talking about his mother. Apparently, she was visiting him last week, which was nice for about a day; then, he began realizing why he moved away in the first place: she is so smothering.

“And my mum is always nagging me to go out and socialize. She was like,” he breathes in, adjusting his tone to a falsetto. “Harry, you’re never gonna be able to find anyone if you don’t…”

He continues as normal, chattering away in his low, sleepy voice. She doesn’t think he even realizes his slip up, words spluttering out of his mouth so quickly that even he probably couldn’t hear it. She smiles as sleep finally overwhelms her.

Harry.

His name is Harry.

—

[mirkwoodshewolf]

No following; Planet of the Apes fanfic Chap. 1

*Author's note*

Okay so we're gonna try something new here tumblr. Ever since I saw the new Planet of the apes film a month ago I got interested in the fandom once again but never thought anyone wrote fics for the fandom. After reading some on FF.net as well as here, it got me wanting to write a series while I'm on a writer's block for my current series. And thus this series was born.

This entire series will encompass the Andy Serkis trilogy and will be a Caesar fic. But it is STRICTLY PLATONIC so if that's not your cup of tea, no hate and just move on. This is my story and I'll write it the way I want to.

Now to those who wish to give this series a chance as you read, leave a comment down below if you wish to be tagged for updates (rn I'll be binge posting cause I've already got 10 chapters ready to go and be read).

WARNINGS: Fluff, angst, swearing, violence. So this won't be for the light of heart (at least until I get to Dawn and then War).

Taglist:

@queen-paladin

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@gay-and-ready-to-cry

@waddles03

______________________________________________________

Some say that the bonds between human and animal are a unique thing.  That there’s an unbreakable trust between the two and that they are fated to always be together.  Others say that like soulmates, there’s always an animal for a person who needs them the most.  For me, I would end up having the most unique of all bonds with an animal that is closest to my own species of animal.

This is the story of such a bond, this is the story of Lin and Caesar.

It was nightfall and pouring down rain as I rode home with my best friend Gabriella and her mother.  Gabi and I had known each other since Pre-K after we both had a love for the Disney movie Lilo and Stitch.  From that moment on we’ve been inseparable.  Currently I was getting a ride home with her mom after our strings class.

She and I after school go over to the rec center every Tuesday, Thursday and Friday nights and perform with the San Fransisco Strings and Orchestra for minors.  Gabi plays the cello and I play the violin.  We’re both pretty good if I do say so myself, our teacher tells us that we could eventually go far into the world of music if we set our mind to it.  But I think I’m good cause of my genetics, after all my grandpa was a former music professor and conductor.  But he doesn’t really play anymore, or at least he tries to.

We soon stopped at my house and I said grabbing my things and readied my umbrella.

“Thanks for the ride Mrs. Montez.”

“Anytime Lin sweetie. Watch out crossing the dark, wet sidewalk.”

“I will, see you tomorrow in class Gabi.”

“See yah Lin.” I quickly opened the door and opened up my umbrella before quickly racing across the sidewalk and up the stairs to my front door.  I took my key and unlocked the door but not before waving one final time and soon Mrs. Montez drove off down the road.

I entered inside and shook off my umbrella before hanging it to dry.  I also took off my raincoat and hung it up beside it before walking further into the house proclaiming.

“Hello? Grandpa? Uncle Will?” that’s when I heard the sound of cooing, like a baby cooing but it wasn’t human.  I set my violin case down to the banister by the front door and walked into the study room where I found a large box with holes sitting on the table.  As I got closer to it, I heard my uncle say.

“Oh perfect timing, guess that means I can show you both.” I turned and saw both my uncle and grandpa coming around from the kitchen entry.

“Show me what?” uncle Will walked passed me, ruffled my hair and stood over the box.

“Hey grandpa.”

“Hey sweetheart. Get another gold star from Ms. Honey for good behavior?” I smiled solemnly.  Ms. Honey was my kindergarten teacher, my current teacher is Mr. Simmons. 

My grandpa for the past couple of years has been dealing with Alzheimer’s disease.  Uncle Will told me that it’s a disease that slowly eats away at the brain’s cells, affecting memory and sometimes body function.  You see, my parents died in a plane crash when I was just 3 years old and in their will they had the next guardianship be my grandpa.  But two years ago, that’s when the disease started to take its effect on him.

So my uncle Will had to move in with us to help not only take care of me but of grandpa too.  And when he’s at work and I’m at school, a nice nurse comes in and helps take care of grandpa.

“Grandpa, I’m in the 4th grade. My teacher is Mr. Simmons. You know the nice man you and uncle Will met last month at the school picnic.” He looked dazed for a second but then said.

“Oh right, yeah I knew that.”

“Dad, Lin, come check this out.” Uncle Will said trying to redirect the conversation.  We came over and the second we looked inside, there lay a baby monkey.

“Is that a monkey?” I asked with a head tilt.

“He’s actually a chimpanzee, an ape.” Uncle Will corrected me.  Grandpa was in pure awe as he slowly reached in and touched the baby chimp.

“What is that? Is he injured?” he asked as I took notice of a mark right around the right side of his chest.  It was a prominent balding mark in a unique shape, a long oval shape with an additional stripe at the top.  Kinda reminded me of an incomplete cross or an unfinished F.

“No, I think that’s a birthmark.” Uncle Will said as he crossed into the kitchen and started putting some things into the fridge.  All the while grandpa picked up the baby chimp and lifted him high into the air like he was Simba.  The little guy was just small enough to fit between both of grandpa’s hands.

“Listen Lin,” he told me before he began quoting, “‘But as for Caesar, kneel down, kneel down and wonder.’”

“He’s so cute.” I awed as I reached out and touched his little toes.

“Yeah don’t get too attached, either of you.” Uncle Will told us.

“So why bring him here then if we can’t keep him?” I sassed.

“He’s not a dog or a cat, not even a bunny rabbit. He’s a wild animal. My coworker promised he’d try to find an animal sanctuary for him in a couple of days.” I let out a exasperated groan.

“Animal sanctuaries are still prisons.”

“Don’t get smart young lady.” My uncle playfully reprimanded as he pointed at me.

“It’s not polite to point.” I sassed back.

“Polite? Okay, I’ll show you polite.” My uncle said as he shut the fridge and giving me that narrowed but playful look in his eyes.  I took off running as he raced after me.  I got only up four stairs before I felt two arms wrap around me and he swung me away from the staircase and the next thing I felt was a wet finger in my ear.

“GAHH EWW UNCLE WILL!!!”

“Yeah your mom did this to me all the time when we were kids, now it’s payback.” He laughed.

“I’m innocent in this vile act!” I proclaimed dramatically.

“But you must pay for the sins of thy mother young youth!”

“Will, Maria, you two better stop horsing around in there.” At hearing my mom’s name we both settled down and a somber feeling was in the air.

“He’s been calling me that on and off for the past week.”

“Honestly who can blame him. You look so much like her when she was your age.” He said with a soft smile and he ruffled my hair again.

“Really?”

“Yeah. And when have I ever lied about anything in regards to my big sister?”

“Never.”

“Exactly.” He then playfully nudged my side with his before changing the subject.  “Now please tell me you managed to eat dinner cause I’ve had a long day of work and I don’t feel like cooking anything.”

“Lucky for you, the rec center was hosting a pizza party after the past few months prepping for Districts last week. Maestro Fiyero said we earned a little break after working us so hard.”

“Good. Now why don’t you brush your teeth and get ready for bed.”

“Why does my curfew have to be 9 o’clock? I’m 10 years old, not five.”

“Growing girls needs sleep too you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Tell grandpa I said goodnight will yah?”

“Will do kid. Sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

“You too.” I grabbed my violin and raced on upstairs and did my nighttime routine before getting into bed and turning off the light.

As the night progressed, I soon heard the sounds of shrieks coming from the hallway.  I opened my eyes and looked at my clock to see that it was 2:30am.  I got up and let out a cough and muttered to myself.

“Need some juice.” Quietly I walked down the hallway towards the stairs but as I came to the bathroom I could hear the shower running as well as the bathroom sink.  Did grandpa accidentally leave the water running again after taking his shower?  No, Uncle Will would’ve turned it off by now.

I knocked softly on the door and I heard my uncle’s voice say.

“It’s just me dad.”

“I’m not grandpa.” I heard footsteps and the door cracked open and when he saw me, he brought me into the bathroom before closing it.  Immediately I was hit with the heat that had been trapped by the hot water that was coming from both the shower and the sink.

“What are you doing up so late Lin?”

“I heard shrieking and then I got thirsty.”

“Ohh sorry, guess this little guy woke you up too huh?” it was then I took notice of the baby chimp swaddled up in my uncle’s arms.  I looked down at him and he looked up at me, moving his grip from my uncle’s finger to mine as he cooed.

“He looks like he has a cold.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, his nose is kinda runny.”

“Well that’s normal for babies sometimes. He’s barely a day old. You definitely had a runny nose when you were born.”

“No I didn’t!”

“Oh yeah you were quite the little snot monster. The original boogeyman, or boogeygirl.” He said taking his free hand that was on top of the baby chimp and playfully gripped my nose.

“Uncle Will!” I whined softly which made him laugh.  Our moment was stopped as the baby chimp let out a few more coos before snuggling up to uncle Will, all the while the grip on my finger got a bit tighter.  I smiled down at him and said as I stroked my thumb over his tiny fingers.  “Are you sure we can’t keep him?”

“I’ll—think about it. Holding him like this….makes me think back to the day you were born. Boy your mom wouldn’t let me near you at first. Feared I was gonna drop you, she always had that fierce mama bear instinct right from the get-go. Even when we were growing up and as she tormented me at times. When I needed it, she was there with her hot-headed attitude.”

“I miss her uncle Will.”

“Me too kid. Me too.” I leaned up against him and he rested his head on top of mine giving it a soft kiss.  “Go on back to bed, I’ll stay up with him.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m used to all-nighters, one day you might get there when you’re composing your first symphony. But for now, head back to bed.”

“Can I still get my juice first? I’m thirsty.”

“Just this once. Just be quiet when passing Charles’ room.” I nodded before leaning down and gave the baby chimp a kiss to which he let out a cute yawn and quiet hoot.

“Goodnight little chimp. Night uncle Will.” I gave him a peck on the cheek and he said goodnight to me as I quietly left the bathroom shutting the door immediately as I got out.  I went downstairs, got my drink and went back to bed.

The next morning I was finishing my breakfast and packing my school books into my backpack as uncle Will was coming down with the baby chimp and set him up in my old high-stool chair that grandpa had kept.

“Where’s my car keys?” grandpa asked as he was patting through his robe and pj pockets.  “My car keys where’d you put them? I need to get Lin to school!” he said urgently.

“Dad.” Uncle Will calmly spoke to him. “You-you don’t drive anymore. And Lin takes the bus.” Grandpa looked at him with a blank stare before turning away and telling him.

“I know that.” It really does make me sad to see grandpa this way.  He always looks so dazed and lost, like he’s here with us but at the same time he’s not.  Sometimes he’ll just sit there and stare off into space, frozen in his spot and not say anything for a really long time.

“Here, why don’t you feed him? Can you do that?” uncle Will suggested holding up a baby bottle filled with milk.

“Of course I can.” Said grandpa coming over.  As uncle Will went to get his coffee (blech!) grandpa came over and grabbed the bottle which made the baby chimp go crazy with hunger as he reached out for it.  As soon as it was in reach, he grabbed the bottle from grandpa’s hand and immediately began drinking it as fast as he could.

I dropped my fork and stared at him in awe.  I was told that babies always needed help being fed for at least several months and yet after just being born yesterday, he was feeding himself.

“Will, look at this.” Grandpa said as uncle Will came back into the kitchen and saw what we saw.  “How old is he? Like a day old, two days old?” Uncle Will sat down as he examined the baby chimp confused.

“Yeah.” Uncle Will said lowly as he kept his eyes on the baby chimp.

“Oh he’s a smart one isn’t he?” said grandpa as he came around and sat on the other side of the baby and gently placed his hand on top of his head.  “What are you gonna name him?”

“I—I don’t know.” Uncle Will said unsure.  That’s when I saw it.  Now I’m no monkey or ape expert but from pictures I’ve seen in books they normally have dark eyes, mostly brown but this little guy.  His eyes were green.

A green eyed baby chimpanzee.  One look into his eyes and I knew that he was something very special.

[softxsuki]

Hiii, i just joined the club and everything here is amazing!!! I absolutely love how you write and i wanted to make a request if it's ok, it's half urgent half not...let me explain: these last days have been very stressful for me and i have been trying to find a comfort mha fanfic for a simular situation as mine, i feel like a i need attention but now just soft one like a worried kind one and not from a partner but from more like a fatherlike figure i need to feel secure and cared for to relax before i breakdown :")...idk if you take requests with characters other than bakugou etc but i really wanted to request this fan fic:

Reader is part of class 1A and she's been having trouble at home and training hard plus insomnia, in other words she's not feeling too great but she always takes part i class, trains and never skips anything. Mr Aizawa has noticed that the last few days reader seemed out of it so he decides to have a talk with her after class but reader in that specific day has been feeling much worse than the other past days of exhaustion and while Mr Aizawa is expressing his concerns and trying to get her to talk to him she has a stress induced seizure and then passes out from then all carrying reader for urgent check up and the comfort. :))

I would be so happy if you took this request...thank you so much for all your hard work!!

Aizawa Comforts Reader Who Has A Stress-Induced Seizure

| Pairing: Aizawa x Fem!Reader (PLATONIC) | Genre: Comfort | Post-Type: Headcanons | Word Count: 650 |

Warnings: Mentions of seizures, stress, insomnia, alluding to at-home troubles

Note: Hey, welcome to my blog it's great to have you! I don't write for Aizawa anymore because I'm just really bad at writing for him as you'll see NBFHKEAFJ. But I wanted to make this for you since it's a topic I haven't been asked for yet, but moving forward for anyone reading this, I do not write for Aizawa so please don't send any requests for him :3. I have a full list of characters that I do write for on my navigation page if anyone wants to check that out. But hopefully this does it's job for you! All my urgent requests are written in headcanon format so I hope that's okay! I hope the stresses in your life ease up so you can get the rest you need ! <3

You could feel your head pounding as Aizawa asked you to stay for a few moments after class, a worried expression on his usual stoic face

It had been a tough week for you, with your usual troubles at home and the countless nights you’ve had without sleep

Yet instead of taking a break, you pushed yourself even harder, training every day and never missing a class

It got to the point where Aizawa could see how out of it you were, hence why he pulled you aside

You could hardly focus on the words he was saying, but by the look on his face it seemed like it was serious

Tingles shot up your body as the pounding in your head grew more severe, and before you knew it, your body was convulsing

Alarmed, Aizawa supports your head, waiting for your violent shakes to cease from the little knowledge he held about seizures fill his mind, but once you go still, you're passed out from your lack of sleep and fatigue that had filled your body these past few days

He lifts you up and brings you to Recovery Girl who watches over you until you finally wake up later in the day when classes are over

Upon opening your eyes, you see Aizawa asleep in a seat beside the bed in the room

“Aizawa Sensei,” you say softly, making the older man jolt at the sudden noise, his eyes immediately on you as he sits up

“How are you feeling?” He asks with a sigh, rubbing his tired eyes

It was the most rest you’d gotten the whole week so of course you felt a lot better, but you could see the slight furrow in Aizawa’s brows as you speak, letting him in on your rough week and how you’ve been feeling in general

“L/N…you’re a great student and I know you want to give it your best, I see the effort you’re putting in, but you can’t do it at the expense of your health. Take the next few days off recuperating at the dorms. I’ll have Uraraka or Yaoyorozu bring you any work you miss. Don’t bring yourself to your breaking point like this again”

He’s stern, and stoic as usual, but you can hear the tinge of concern in his tone, you’re his student so of course he’d be worried about you just suddenly collapsing and having a seizure like that

You were ready to protest–how could you go a full week without training? You’d fall behind your classes. Seeing your inner turmoil, Aizawa speaks again

“You’re free to train after class hours for no longer than an hour each day, I’ll have one of your classmates observe you…Just know your teachers are here for a reason, even if you feel like you can’t come to me, every teachers here at UA has an obligation to be there for their students, so reach out if you need it. I’ll be stopping by the dorms to check in on everyone more frequently from not on, so please rest”

You nod your head in agreement, with Aizawa’s support perhaps you could work your way through your troubles and stresses moving forward in a better way

You were a future hero, if you couldn’t properly take care of yourself, how could you save anyone else?

With a small smile, Aizawa pats your head, standing up from his seat as he nudges his head towards the door

“Then let’s get you back to the dorms, Recovery Girl said you were set to head back once you woke up”

And with that, Aizawa leads you back to the dorms where everyone is informed of your situation (briefly) to make sure you actually do rest instead of overworking yourself again for the next few days and even moving forward in general

Not only do you have your teachers support, but even the support of your classmates

Posted: 4/15/2024

[trans-queen-administrator]

Ok people seemed to really like the last post I made summarizing an unwritten fleshed out worm fanfic I had, so here's another! This one's an altpower and wait where are you going come back its good I swear.

(tw: suicide)

Taylor triggers with Ingenue's power after an incident involving Sophia (who is removed from the wards and not a part of this fic past this), and outs Sophia as a cape since Ingenue can see powers. She's forced into the wards because she has no ability to defend herself, is immensely powerful, and people will want her dead or on their side since she can out every cape in the city. She genuinely has no practical choice besides the Wards here, so she begrudgingly joins. It's not all bad though! She actually makes friends for the first time in so long :)

Her and Missy hang out a lot, and their powers synergize super well since Taylor can make Vista frighteningly powerful. She warms up to Dennis after some patrols, she can make his power non-touch based too! Dauntless is like a mentor figure, they meet up every day so she can make his charge way more powerful, speeding up his growth by like 3 times, and he gives her lots of advice, helps her begin to come out of her shell, and is generally chill. Good times.

So y'all remember that bit about Ingenue's power causing people to go insane in the long term? What if you didn't know about that and you constantly used your power on your friends? Wouldn't that be funny?

Clockblocker is the first to snap. He's on a train when he just decides fuck it, and freezes a pencil in the air. Everyone sitting to the left of him down the length of the train gets impaled by it, just goes clean through. It's covered up as a villain attack, he's ushered off to the asylum, and the wards are just. Really messed up by it. They miss him, they miss his jokes, and they don't get why he did it.

A week passes. Taylor confides in Dauntless about how she feels like it has to be her fault, like everything is, but he reassures her. It's fine, she's done so much good, sometime's people just go bad. Genuinely just a great pep talk, she still misses Dennis but she's grateful she has the rest of her friends and Dauntless is there to cheer her up. She also mentions how it's hard to walk around the city, she keeps seeing villains and she can't do anything about it. She mentioned a few weeks ago that a bunch of them keep going into the same building, but she's helpless and just has to sit by.

That night, Dauntless levels the Medhall building. A few E88 capes were inside and they fight, and he kills them. Everyone else in the building is injured at the least, collateral damage that Dauntless would have cared about before. There's no covering that one up, he's killed dozens. When he's caught more than half the empire is dead, along with upwards of a hundred bystanders, and he's sent to the birdcage.

Taylor doesn't leave her room for a few days. Vista reassures her that it wasn't her fault.

On their next patrol, Missy begs Taylor to use her power to remove her manton limit. Taylor doesn't, but she's pretty sure she sees the pattern now. Vista's going insane. Were the other two this obvious? Should she have noticed? Would everyone be alive if she had? Would she still have friends? How can she tell anyone about this, when she'll be blamed?

She goes to Piggot, pretty much accepting that she'll get birdcaged or something. She's a horrible person, she knows that. She never gets to talk to Piggot, because all the heroes get called into the field to stop an A class threat. Vista is twisting the city around her, killing countless people. She turns bullets back, she extends a knife with her powers like Jack Slash. She's finally proving what she can do, then they'll all see, and they'll respect her and let her fight the way she wants to.

(side note, ingenue's power makes people closer to their shards in this interpretation, which also means they're flat out way more powerful even without her touch after a while)

The heroes are fighting Missy, they're losing, none of them want to hurt her. Missy see's Taylor from across the city, she's using her power to see almost everywhere at once by distorting space. Within seconds, Taylor is next to Missy. She reaches out to touch her, if she can shut down her power then it'll all be ok and Missy can get help and they'll be friends again and it wont be her fault. The space between them is a mile long and a foot thick. Missy doesn't want her help right now, she wants to prove herself to Taylor so Taylor will finally appreciate her power and they can be a team. Taylor tries to look away as Missy kills someone, space is warped so her line of sight is directly on the act. She closes her eyes, and the space between her eyelids is stretched infinitely wide. She watches, unable to stop her, as Missy keeps killing and defending and destroying. Missy begins to try to upend the sea floor, to dump the ocean onto the city. She's taken out before that can happen. How doesn't matter, what matters is Taylor couldn't stop her. The city is in shambles, its her fault, she was RIGHT THERE and she couldn't do anything, she could just watch and watch and watch.

She tells the PRT about how she thinks her power is breaking people. She's banned from touching anyone. They don't do much more, legally speaking she's safe and it wasn't her fault. The rest of the wards don't talk to her anymore. They blame her, just like she knew everyone would. It's her fault everything went to shit. She can't blame them for hating her, she hates herself too. She sneaks out to go on a walk one night, when the hateful looks and resentment get to be too much. She sees a cape. Lung.

Taylor knows her power is practically useless alone, and she walks up to Lung and insults him, provokes him, riles him up to attack her. If she dies here at least she'll be remembered for dying as a hero fighting a villain, rather than someone who corrupts everything they touch. Lung burns her, bad, all over her right side. He lifts her up by the neck and prepares another fireball. This is what she wanted, but she can't do it. She twists his power, reducing his durability and fireproof nature to zero and ramping up his firepower. Lung burns himself to a cinder in seconds, erased by his own power once the protections were gone. Taylor gets burned again in the blaze. She couldn't even commit suicide without hurting anyone else. She couldn't even die without fucking it up. She's alive. Panacea refuses to touch her to heal her, for very understandable reasons.

She goes to the asylum, despite her request for the birdcage.

Filled with guilt, afraid to touch anyone and everyone, blaming herself for everything that happened, avoiding Dennis at lunchtime while he glares at her, closing up and being silent for days on end, haunted by the people Vista forced her to watch die. Her fault, all of it.

And that's the end! Woooo! She's broken forever, no coming back from that one!

[somany-fandoms-solittle-time]

In A Sentimental Mood: A Ruggie/Yuu Oneshot

Some quick Housekeeping! This was originally meant to be a song-fic but the only time I remembered to/felt inspired to write was nearly the middle of the night (as writers do lol) so I didn’t have enough mental energy to splice the lyrics together into the story. Instead, I listened to the song on repeat while writing, like, HALF of the fic but I thought it was cute enough to fit the vibes. The narrator's voice and descriptions were hard to keep consistent as well as concise, but whatever. I don’t think I properly matched Ruggie’s speech pattern but I think it’s close enough to ‘random, working class teenager’ for now.

Also! It’s an X Yuu but I’m pretty sure I used all GN! Pronouns so please feel free to read it as an X Reader (who’s the Ramshackle Perfect). It felt kinda awkward to not describe the character or use open descriptors (like Y/N, HC, etc.) but feel free to add any notes or styles to try out for an open reader audience. Honestly feel free to comment or message any feedback lol! I don’t have a beta reader atm (I might ask either my gf or my IRL friend who’s also into TWST) but it could be fun to have a random stranger react to my writing so they’re disconnected from personal feelings and whatnot.

 I have a fic introducing my oc a little interacting with the Pop Music Club, but it’s making out to be longer than expected so between writing for my own AU/ocs story I’ll be posting cute lil song-fics as well as crackhead interactions lol! Maybe a few headcanons as well. I’m not sure if I would have ever actually started writing fanfics (or writing in general) instead of simply daydreaming about it if it wasn’t for @twst-beam and @krenenbaker , so a quick dedication for them for lowkey lighting a fire under my ass. Not only have you opened the creative floodgates, but actually gave me the motivation to actually TRY and put it into action. Anyway…. ON TO THE STORY BITCHES!!! ENJOY THE THE SWEET HYENA BOY (who weirdly looks exactly like my Boyfriend, lol) AND COME REALISH IN THE CHAOS~

In A Sentimental Mood:

A Ruggie/Yuu one-shot

It had been a long day. Scratch that–it had been the longest year of Ruggie Bucchi and Yuu’s life! However, there was something especially trying these last 24 hours. Maybe it had something to do with how this was the first day off the both had (that lined up) in w e e k s and they STILL BOTH got called in to run some nonsensical errand. Or maybe it’s because when the First Year Squad were supposed to be babysitting Grim the entire first floor of Ramshackle got absolutely trashed. 

Something about stupid bets, idiotic magic competition, and a prolonged chase. Afterwards, Rugs and Yuu had to help clean up! The aftermath of the wreckage was too much for the Hodge Podge group of freshmen.

What really topped the day off was the mission impossible scheme the couple failed to pull off. Originally, the two were simply planning to “borrow” on one Leonas (numerous) credit cards while the latter was passed out for an all-expenses-paid date out. It’s not like they were about to rob the second prince blind! Just a few trips to their usual thrifting stops, maybe hassle with a local boutique and then some semi-fancy free grub. 

Instead they got caught two shops in when they decided to grab some food before being totally weighed down by paper shopping bags. Since they had a later start, Yuu suggested getting dinner to the new uppity wine-and-dine.

“C’mon Rugs~ When are we gonna have another chance to dine like Kings? And on a Royal Dime at that!” they foolishly (but successfully) tempted the poor Hyena into a little more Mischievous than the two realized.

Too bad their Dinner Date got cut short from one of the waiters recognizing the Sunset Savannah Royal Seal on Leona’s card. It took an hour and a half of being corralled into a backroom, 3 ominous threats of calling the police, snarky back talk and just general arguing before Leona strutted into the Restaurant and vouched for his underclassmen. Seeing the lazy Lion not only WAKE UP, but come off campus was a bit of a surprise for the thief couple. 

What wasn’t as surprising was his smug, diva face while declaring that they would need to pay him back for disturbing his nap. After hasty, and admittedly sheepish, promises to the Prince, he collected his missing card and strutted back to campus. Luckily, he was secretly a bit of a softy towards his unofficial Vice and the magicless Perfect that saved his life (and probably his status for not ratting him out to his older brother). It’s safe to say while making the switch a decent stack of Thaumarks was placed in Ruggie’s wallet.

So yeah, in a word, the day had been a bit of a shitshow. A clusterfuck of misfortunate events (and if it weren’t for Leona, Yuu and Ruggie would not only be in some kind of jail but also flat broke). 

But finally–finally–this hardworking hyena Beastman and the Ramshackle Perfect were about to have some peace and quiet! A moment for just the two of them. A small, precious moment late at night. After the longest night of their collective lives, the two were able to cuddle up and appreciate what they had. Even if all they had was encompassed by long, tiring days and horrendous luck… and having the bend to the whims of some of the brattiest Divas of NRC.

Regardless, this time isn’t about them. It’s about Ruggie Bucchi and Yuu enjoying what left they had of their day off, Damnnit!  

“Ya’ know,” Yuu hummed into where their face was buried for max comfort; Ruggie’s chest. “Today wasn’t a total bust.”

Ruggie snickered sarcastically as his left hand paused its petting motion through his significant other’s hair. He was clearly only humoring his lover's thought process, yet paying attention all the same.

“I’m just saying it wasn’t a total loss,” they began to half-jokingly argue, “I still got to spend the day with you. Besides, you gotta admit it was pretty funny watching that stupid manager’s annoying face drop when Prince Grumpy strutted in all pissy!”

“Shee Shee Shee! Fair enough, Sugar! Good thing he didn’t realize Leona’s always cranky… or that His Majesty~ was mostly just pissed he had to wake up.” Ruggie answered playfully.

“It was kinda sweet of him for letting us, mostly, off the hook though. He even let us keep our goodies along with that sneaky bonus,” Yuu mentioned while lazily motioning towards the small mound of shopping bags and the miscellaneous items inside.

“Pleeeease~ He probably spends more on a single earring than we did with his card and cash combined,” Rugs pouted enviously. To emphasize his pout, he completely encircled Yuu with his arms and clutched them tightly. He was hanging onto them tighter than a swiped snack from the cafeteria on Doughnut day.

“I don’t know,” his partner giggled in response, “Leona’s been such a softy lately… but his whole dark and brooding reputation gets in the way a bit.”

“Dark and brooding?” Ruggie snorted, “Dunno if Leona’s habits of lyin’ around counts as dark and brooding.”

Yuu tried to suppress their elated smirk at feeling the slight tremor of quiet laughter. “True, that’s more of Mal’s stick isn’t it? Angsty and depressed?”

“Nahhh, that’s Idia’s thing! Also, I still can’t wrap my head ‘round you calling Malleus by some nickname.” His laughter died down as he scrunched his nose at the thought of his partner so buddy-buddy with one of Twisted Wonderland’s most powerful mages. And a crown Prince… with servants and castles and-

“You do realize that Malleus is like a GIANT kid right? I mean, yeah he’s some super powerful wizard-”

“Mage!”

“...whatever. He’s an absolute beast when it comes to magic and whatnot, but he’s got this whole ‘homeschooled only child’ vibe going on and honestly? It’s a little pathetic, in a cute stray way.”

Ruggie didn’t really know how to feel about his partner’s revelation. On one hand, he knew they were just friends and had befriended each other longer before Yuu realized Malleus’ status. That didn’t necessarily make it any easier to cover up the inherent inferiority or the slight unsettling fear. Good thing they didn’t feel the usual pressure of this world’s social ladder… but that doesn’t mean they won’t start worrying if he stayed lost in thought for too long.

“.......what was your world like for you to turn out so weird?” 

“Hey!”

Ruggie continued to laugh, but it came out a little bit strained. Yuu finally glanced up in order to catch a glimpse of their boyfriend’s adorable pout.  His lightly scrunched eyebrows and the way his ears seemed to fold-in on themselves made him look like a grumpy puppy. Absurdly cute, but clearly bothered, and they both had had such a long day t wouldn’t be right not to cheer him back up!

“Oh, c’mere!” the Perfect said through teasing giggles as they flipped Ruggie over to switch positions.

Rugs was currently (and quite contently) snuggled face first into his lover's chest; enjoying the sound of their heartbeat along with the comfortable extra cushioning. His arms reached slightly down to wrap around their waist snuggly as the two pairs of legs naturally crisscrossed at the joints. The moment he fully relaxed was when Yuu started to softly pet his bushy hair and scratch along the base of his ears.

Pure Heaven.

“Were you getting grumpy because I kept mentioning Leona and Malleus?” the Perfect lovingly taunted now that he was trapped and attacked (with euphoric head scratches) in his weak spot. Truly, an idiots mirage of paradise.

“C’mon Sweet Cheeks! Ya Couldn’t’ve least let me keep my pride?” Rugs whined, quickly going back to frowning deeply but unable to hold it for long. There was no chance in all of Twisted Wonderland he could stay “upset” while his precious Dandelion Fluff’s fingers softly caressed his sensitive ears. At least he could cover-up the way he melted, burying himself further into their figure. Luckily, Yuu was already squeezing him closure with a burst of affection,

“Don’t worry, my silly Hyena, the only one I was focused on today was you. The only one I wanted to spend time with was you. And the only person I think of from dawn till dusk, and dream about the whole night through, will always be you, Ruggie Bucchi.” Yuu declared playfully, then slowly breathlessly serious with a sappy amount of affection as they watched Ruggie's tail wave faster and faster.

“Shee shee shee,” Rugs bashfully replied, “where did all that come from outta nowhere?”

Yuu wistfully sighed, “I guess I’m just in a sentimental mood.”

The two shared some playful hushed whispers until Ruggie had to turn his head to hide a yawn. His attempt was futile however, as Yuu caught it–but instead of teasing him over it they simply snuggled him closer and quietly sang an old, sweet crooner love song from their home world. Despite the long day, it felt blissfully short as the two peacefully drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms. 

[charlesdesvoeux]

7, 11, 18, 65, 74!

(This got a little long so let me put it under a cut)

7. How do you choose which POV to write from?

My default is 3rd person limited. I've only recently tried 1st person-- it can be downright addictive, because it puts you so close to the character. Thing is, I always feel like I need a *reason* to write 1st person, otherwise it can be a little strange to me??? Like why are we hearing them talk directly. Do they know they're writing a book*. So I usually stick with 3rd person limited. The only fics I'm working on right now that are 1st person are a Billy afterlife au-- I felt I needed his direct voice, also his "justification" is that he's dead. he's screaming into the void and trying to see if someone will listen-- and another one that's essentially "what if the ministry of time but with John Irving and also his bridge is a bisexual man of pakistani descent"-- the book was in 1st person so it made sense that a fic based on it would also be 1st person.

11. Link your three favorite fics right now.

Wait, of mine or of others? I'm gonna say of others. I've recently read If on an Arctic night an author which I think is one of my all-time favorite terror fics (as the author said in the tags: porn and post-modernism. it's amazing). Another all-time favorite terror fic is húshuō bādào which is essentially the other side of Fitzjames' Chinese sniper story and I cannot praise it enough. Lastly I'm still obsessed with I dreamed of the fine, deep harbour I'd find (50k word Hartving modern au my beloved)

If it's mine. Hands down best thing I wrote in terms of fanfic was Three Scenes from an Afterlife, I think. Unnatural and Detestable still works, I think, because of its smaller scale-- I tried to chronicle only a moment and not the whole history of something, so I think I managed to do ok. And if nothing else at least Jacko, the Ripper is funny.

18. Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

Sometimes a title inspires a fic, other times I'm tearing my hair out trying to think of a title. I was listening to a Nicole Dollanganger song and it reminded me of hickeygibson, so I thought "hey, what if I wrote a Billy afterlife au with this line from the song as the title?" (still working on it). But with my Bryant/Chambers fic I had absolutely no idea what to call it, and then I thought "well I think I've used the idea of warmth as like a recurring thing here so. ok let's call it Warmth". Jacko, the Ripper was too good a pun to pass up. Unnatural and Detestable is from how the Articles of War in the navy described the crime of sodomy, and it plays well with Irving's self-loathing in that one.

65. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

My only ongoing fic is The War Between Us and Our Ghosts. I'm planning for next chapter to have Tommy and Pilk go on a "night on the town" before Pilk leaves for a while to go see his family in Bristol and then oops some gay stuff happens. I'm looking forward to that; only reason I haven't written it is bc I'd need to do some research on "things working class people in London would do for entertainment in the mid 19th century" like. Would they go to the theater? If so, which type of theater, with which type of plays? What might they have eaten? And I don't feel like looking it up *right now* so I haven't written it yet, lol.

For future projects, I think the "tmot but with jirv" thing will be quite fun if I do manage to continue it (i'm only posting after i finish writing it). can't wait to see how john irving deals with the modern world and how the narrator deals with falling in love with a "glorified zombie" as he's called him so far.

74. You’ve posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it?

I've never posted anonymously. I have no idea how one might guess I wrote it lol sorry.

*weirdly enough I only get this hang-up about fics. i've written original works before that do 1st person without feeling this kind of "offness".

[a-morningstar-120]

Okay. So I may have spiraled down hill and written my workshop AU with a sleep deprived brain and no predetermined consequences.

Star Wars

Anakin Skywalker/Padmé Amidala

Words, 1098

Posted on AO3 and FFN

Summary: AU: After the war, Anakin left the Jedi and opened a workshop repairing Speeders and ships. Padmé, having no idea what most tools are, just tries desperately to do her best.

There was a light drizzle of rain outside, the sound of people and the busy city streets and air traffic beyond the small workshop reaching Anakin's ears.

Anakin leaned back from a Speeder he had been working on, dropping his cutters on the concrete floor beside him with a loud clang. Just another day of endless, tiring work, he ran his fingers through his sweaty hair, leaving a trail of grease on his left cheek. If he couldn't get this front line of senate class Speeders fixed soon he would be grinding his teeth through the nights getting it done. He sighed.

A gentle hand brushed a wet lock of hair from his eyes

"Padmé," he said, looking up and smiling at his wife, who seemed to make his worries fly away like a bird from a storm with a touch. "Could you get me the pliers?" Anakin nodded to himself before leaning over the hood again, knocking his bangs from his eyes with a hand, glaring frustratedly at the tangled wires.

"And which ones are those again?" She called over her shoulder, securing her bun atop her head with one hand and digging through a toolbox with the other, pulling out a screwdriver.

"You know, pliers. They're the-ow ow, ow, ow."

"Ani?"

Anakin hist, pulling his hand back from the wire he had tried inspecting up close, the tip still sparking. Flipping his palm over, he stared down at it, red, angry, but not too bad. It hadn't shot violently like others he had dealt with, thank the Force.

"I'm fine," he finally said to ease Padmé's worry.

Padmé doubted him, but she just frowned, turning her attention back to the box, wiping grease from the back of her hand onto a cleaning cloth laying on the side.

"Is this what you asked for?" She asked, appearing back at Anakin's side holding a socket wrench, grease slowly trickling to the concrete below.

Turning, Anakin gave her a goofy grin, almost reminiscent of when he was a small boy back on Tatooine. "No, Padmé," he chuckled, and as she protested, batting him away, he wrapped his arms around her, leaning down and placing a feather like kiss against her lips.

"Anakin," she began, nudging him slightly with her free hand, laughing, "you're absolutely disgusting."

he gasped, stepping back and bringing his hand over his heart in feigned hurt. "Padmé," he said, sounding astonished, lashes fluttering delicately.

Padmé smiled, shaking her head at her husband, "oh, Ani."

Shrugging, Anakin brushed past her and began digging through the toolbox. After disappearing head first for about five minutes or so he finally reappeared holding an orange pair of . . . something in his mechanical hand.

"What is-in the ... what are those?" Padmé finally managed to force out, staring at the weird thingies in Anakin's hand, that looked a lot like a huge pair of tweezers.

"Pliers," he said simply.

Confused, she narrowed her eyes at them, frowning. Maybe the workshop life wasn't exactly fit for her, a complete one-eighty from the senate, but Anakin loved it, and if Anakin loved it. Well, then. She'd follow him as long as he didn't fall to the Dark Side or something crazy like that.

Anakin shuffled by, swinging the pliers in his hand, humming to himself as he went. Padmé watched.

They stayed like that near to an hour in comfortable silence, the only sounds being Anakin's tinkering and occasional muttering.

Quite enjoyable when one thought about it.

"Can you pass me the smaller cutters?"

Padmé jumped, startled by the noise. Heart racing, she nodded, fumbling around on the workbench beside her. She moved aside a hammer and a tray of bolts, reaching around a small cup of screws for a weird tool with sharp edges, the handle covered in grime.

"This?" She asked, holding it up for him to see, trying to seem innocent like he did so often by batting her lashes and quirking her head slightly, not even going for the pout, though.

Sighing, Anakin stood, taking the object from her hand. "No, though I commend you for your efforts," he said kissing her on the forehead.

Grabbing what he needed, she supposed. Anakin knelt back in front of the hood of the Speeder, attacking something aggressively.

"Do you need any more help?" She asked eventually, kneeling next to him with a damp cloth.

Anakin gave it a raised eyebrow.

"I was going to wipe your face off," she explained, looking down, a few strands of hair falling from her bun and into her face.

Anakin complied, allowing the cool rag to wash over his flushed skin and clean away the sweat, his eyes closed from the gentle feel of Padmé's hand. "I'll take water, too," he replied when she finished, tossing the rag away to be washed with the others.

Padmé gave him a soft smile, leaning in and kissing him on the cheek, her scent intoxicating to his senses. "Of course," she rose to her feet, gathering the basket with the dirty rags as she went.

Anakin lowered his head, wishing she was back already, even if it hadn't been a minute. Turning bolts over in his palm, Anakin turned back to his work, beginning the process, the long process of rebuilding and fixing the damage he had just finally deconstructed.

Twisting sockets this way and that, he was distracted when Padmé returned with his glass of water.

"Ani?" She called softly, setting it down on the workbench behind him. Padmé crossed the distance between them, pulling the sockets gently from his hands and laying them on the ground before grabbing his hand, "you need to take a break," she looked concerned, worry etching lines across her features.

Anakin opened his mouth, ready to protest but Padmé beat him to it.

"Anakin, please. It won't hurt you."

He shook his head," Padmé, I will. Thanks for the water, you're sure it's not hot chocolate?" He tried teasing, a slight smile playing across his lips, not quite reaching his eyes.

The brunette stepped back with a huff, hands on her hips, eyes alight with determination. "Don't make me com Obi-Wan," she snapped angrily, eyes narrowing.

Anakin through his hands up in defeat, Force knew the last thing he wanted was his wife and old master both on his case about resting. "Okay. Okay. Okay, he laughed, "you win."

Padmé exhaled in what seemed to be relief, "thank you."

Shrugging, Anakin swept her up into a hug, ignoring her protests about him being sweaty and smelling like a dead Bantha.

"Anakin kriffing Skywalker!"

[chaos-is-neutral]

Lyria, The Quiet Songbird 🕊️

Class: Bard

Race: Half-Elf

Chaotic Neutral/Neutral Good

Pronouns: They/Them

Sexuality: Bisexual

In a relationship with Karlach and Halsin. They are the only two who truly know Lyria, yet they will not sing for them.

Astarion is surprisingly their best friend despite their arguing all the time.

They play their flute out of necessity for the camp to heal them, but they will not play any more than that

Backstory: They were abandoned by their parents at a circus that frequents Baldur's Gate. They were only three and have no real memory of them, so Lyria never missed their parents and instead found a family among the people they performed with. Growing up Lyria developed a love for music and art. They taught themselves to play the lute, flute, and harp. When they were sixteen the ring mistress took notice of them. She moved them to her tent where she helped Lyria hone their skills. When they sing the crowd goes quiet and all will listen. It is a voice that is a once in a generation. People will come all over to hear them perform. Lyria's musical abilities even had magical healing. The ring mistress called them her songbirds. For a while, everything was okay until Lyria wanted to move out of the tent and into their own. The ring mistress grew angry at Lyria and said that they were hers and they did not belong to anyone else. That is when the abuse began. Lyria was caged by her. If they even looked at someone else in a different way things went bad. One night Lyria attempted to escape with a man they had fallen for. They were sadly caught though. Someone had reported it to the ring mistress. In a fit of rage, she carved the symbol onto Lyria's forehead, chin, and neck. It was to show who they belonged to. After that, the bard became a hallow of who they once were. They stopped singing, stopped performing. Lyria vowed to never play again. The abuse didn't stop though. Instead, it got worse. Years had passed before they had the courage to escape again. It took a lot of planning, but the night had come. They took only their flute with them as they escaped. Sadly they had only made a half-day travel before the mindflayer abuducted them.

Post BG3 Ending: When Karlach was dying they sang for the first time with tears in their eyes. Thankfully at the last minute, Wyll took Karlach back to hell. Lyria fell into a deep depression but Halsin figured out how to bring her back and Wyll. Once they had Karlach back the three of them went back to the Shadowlands and created a grove there. The three adopted Thaniel and Oliver. Lyria keeps to themselves mostly. They can be found in their meadow painting or writing music. They help Halsin from time to time with council duties. Slowly and bit by bit Lyria becomes truly happy again.

(I won't continue their post bg3 ending, because I am going to be writing a fanfic where Lyria gets it a little rough lol and we get possessive and distraught Karlach and Halsin)

[www-librarytearoom-com]

Hey thanks for being so nice about my question, I just rly wanted to avoid conflict lol. But I actually do have a request! If you could write something this ishimondo idea I’ve had for a while that’d be cool. It’s basically mondo finds out that he needs glasses and when he finally gets them and can see properly he realizes wow kiyotaka’s like really beautiful. Thank you very much if you can and I hope you have a nice day

Absolutely no worries! Differences in opinion should never result in conflict in my opinion. ^^ I ABSOLUTELY LOVED YOUR IDEA !!! So I got to work straight away (or after I finished my actual work cuz I have a job lol ♡). I really do hope you enjoy it! It is a bit character building heavy but I love to do that at the starts of my posts.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Beautiful Best Friend

Fanfic Commision, 1,343 words.

Triggers: none.

Theme: Fluff, romance-ish? Hinted romance.

Additional notes: This is set their first year of Hope's Peak Academy, so before all of the Canon drama!

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Mondo hadn't always been all too aware of it. It had always just been a natural thing of him having to squint his eyes to read work, or bills, or even road signs… well, the ones that he bothered to read anyway. Everything in his line of sight had always just been a blur, he supposed?

Of course, the fact that he never really chose to do his school work, or read any books, or study any road laws that probably would've been useful as a gang member never helped. He hadn't really been given a reason to care for them; he had hardly even considered batting an eye for them.

After all, who had ever told him to?

He never really chose to show up at school. That was one of the least important things to him. School? Education? Why in the damn hell would he need that when he's part of one of an Ultimate Biker Gang?

All in all, his blurred eyes hadn't ever been a concern. He'd always just brush it off. Be it, 'oh I just didn't sleep well last night', or: 'those damn street lights always getting in my eyes!'. Mondo had never really taken the time to consider something might actually be wrong with his definitely out of the ordinary eyesight.

But, he hadn't ever bothered to care.

Besides, anything out of the norm - or his norm, which was big and tough - was a weakness in their career. He didn't have time for this fault in his eyesight! Always too busy with his gang, and the fun and stress that came along with it.

Well, that was until he enrolled in the most favoured and prestigious Hope's Peak Academy! The school that everyone in practically the whole world wanted to enroll in, wanted to experience. It was just too amazing to pass up, right?

He hadn't really expected to get in. But it was way better than any ordinary High School he could have attended. Because all he had to do? Practice being a Gang Leader! That's all he needed to pass, and what a win that was in his books.

Sure, yes, of course, or whatever. He wasn't expecting to make any friends along the way. He was planning on just sticking to his Gang, because his bros were his family. He didn't need anyone else. These damn privileged brats didn't need his attention.

Like, c'mon? Ultimate Fanfic Creator?! Yeah, Yamada was nice and all, but what did he actually do to be able to land a place in that school? Write a good ol' 'Harry Potter' fanfiction or somethin'? He couldn't wrap his head around that.

There were other students in his class, however, that were really cool! Naegi, despite being completely and utterly normal, was such a fun guy to hang with. There was so much personality built into that small little body. It was fun hanging out with him because he was practically compliant to every single thing. He enjoyed pulling him out onto bike rides and listening to the kid's horrified screams.

Togami was… well, he was definitely somethin'. Depending on what you were talking to him about, he could hold quite a decent conversation with you. But other than that? Nah, there wasn't much to him except for the fact that he was an entitled spoiled brat.

Mukuro was cool too, he supposed! Very scary though. She just always had this cold stare on her face, but if he ever made a sarcastic joke or a pun at her, she'd always shoot one back. That was a win from his books!

In comparison, there was Ishimaru. Someone he considered to be his ultimate best friend. They were practically polar opposites in regards to their talent. In a nutshell, a delinquent and a teacher's pet? It made no sense how they could get along so well, but they just found it so easy to flow together and find similar interests. Mondo tried his hardest to understand his bro's insistence on following every single rule, heck, he had even tried to read the rulebook with him! Ishi' always tried to understand his love for biking and going above the speed limit.

When he thought about his attempts to read the rulebook with him, however, he was reminded again of how hard he had to squint his eyes to even begin to depict some of the words.

"Mondo, are you struggling with something?"

When he finally looked up, it had appeared that Ishimaru had been calling his name a multitude of times to try and grab his attention. He hadn't even picked up on it. He was quick to smile though and brush it off.

"Eh, nothing to worry about, bro!" He started, leaning back in his desk chair and casually resting his hands at the nape of his neck. "Just wondering about my eyesight. It's always been rather blurry."

Ishimaru appeared to take this far more seriously than he did. "It has? You should see an opthamologist about that, bro. That doesn't seem normal."

Mondo had furrowed his eyebrows but ultimately brushed it off for the rest of the day. However, Ishimaru's words had apparently stuck in his head. After all, he had never even remotely considered going to see anyone about his eyesight! It had just become normal to him I guess?

Regardless of that, he somehow found himself outside of an ophthalmology clinic two weeks later, a new pair of glasses in his left hand. He wasn't about to put them on in public - he could hardly even imagine doing that! If someone who knew him recognised him, what would they think?

At that thought, he shoved the glasses in his pocket and began to make his way back to the academy. Mondo couldn't risk anyone seeing him outside of the clinic. His reputation would be ruined!

It was odd how nervous he felt to show anyone his new glasses. Though even he could admit that he had never seen so clearly whilst wearing them. Perhaps he could go back and ask the doctor dude (it was so hard to pronounce ophthalmologist and he stood by that), to get some contacts so that way he could see all the time and not have to risk his reputation.

The first person he decided to show them to, was Ishimaru. As they sat together in his dorm, he put his glasses on to show his bro and…

Woah.

When did Ishimaru ever look that beautiful?

He felt the heat begin to rise to his cheeks, and all of a sudden he felt all sweaty and clammy. Basically to the point where he had to shrug off his long Biker jacket.

He couldn't have problems with his hearing too, man! But everything Ishimaru was saying to him, compliments of his glasses, he noted. Everything was going straight through him as all he could pay attention to was the handsome appearance of his best friend.

Did that just happen overnight? He didn't know, but he felt himself rubbing the back of his neck with sheepishness as he tried to stop himself from admiring the boy in front of him.

"Mondo, are you even listening to me?" Ishimaru deadpanned eventually, and Mondo zoned back in.

"Yeah, yeah. Say, 'Maru? What say you and I pop down to the cafe you like this weekend?" Mondo managed to ask after a sudden confidence - or adrenaline? - boost. Of course, he had always found everything about his best friend to be amazing, but being able to see the absolute beauty of his best friend hit the nail dead right on the coffin.

"You mean like, as a date?" Ishimaru quizzed him, his red eyes meeting his dead on. He was always able to do that, keep constant eye contact. Sometimes to the point of discomfort for others: never for him.

"I mean, yeah. That'd be cool." He responded and smiled, one of his softer smiles.

Yeah, maybe it didn't just have to be his gang that could be family.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

I really do hope you like reading it as much as I loved writing it! I hope it was to your tastes, and I'm so sorry if it wasn't. I'm kinda new to commissions O-O

Love, Anastasia ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[fitzrove]

Passing this on :p

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love! 💞

Ahhhhh thank you so much!!!!!! This is so nice of you to send >:] tysm <3

I'm going to recommend both Elisabeth and Endeavour fics because I've spent a lot of time writing for both!! So let's get to it, in no order of preference:

Feel The Night - Endeavour (TV) - rated T, Morse x Jakes, vampire AU, Victorian setting, mystery/romance, ballroom dancing, neck biting, strangers to lovers, 5 chapters / 23.5k

This is secretly a TdV / Endeavour fusion (from before my full-blown euromusical era hehehehehe). I think it's some of the best work on setting and mood that I've done - like I did a bunch of research and actually put that to the page ajdjjjg. Really proud of it even 3 years down the line!!

Flights of Angels - Elisabeth - rated M (references sex), Rudolf x Tod, post-canon, angst with a happy ending, character growth, historical references and commentary, 12 chapters / 20k

My todolf divorce fanfic xD Exploring the deep implications of the common trope of human-to-Todesengel; Tod backstory and worldbuilding, esp referencing the human-metaphor dichotomy inherent in Máté's portrayal; character growth and character development for Rudolf. Yeah I wax poetic but this is actually mostly an exploration of how Máté!Tod and Lukas!Rudolf (because they are very specific portrayals!!!!) could make a long-term relationship work. There are Implications to it. Also, Mizzi Kaspar appears!!!

Vögelein - Elisabeth - rated M (but one chapter might as well be E), Rudolf x Tod, lesbian todolf, 5+1, historical commentary and references, 6 chapters / 7.2k

Lesbian todolf!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It's literally just "what if Rudolf was born a girl" (and Stéphanie a boy) and goes from there - ie. we end up in the Belgian court which comes with extremely unfortunate implications in the late 19th century. Also Tod is a woman (hehe lyrics reference) because I don't stand for heterosexuality sorry AHSHFHGH. Rudolf also keeps all his (= her) unsavoury historical womanizing because it's so integral to the character, in my opinion. I'm really proud of this >:]

Soft Like Summer Rain - Endeavour - rated M (but one chapter might as well be E), Morse x Jakes / Jakes x Hope / Morse x Jakes x Hope, mutual pining, 21 chapters / 51.6k

My longest fic to date!! I wrote it when I was 18 fun fact: largely in class too xD so some parts I can't bear to reread because I'm afraid I'll find lots of melodrama ahdjg, but it's one of a kind and I'm so proud of what it represents!! Plot: what if Morse visited Jakes over the summer after S3 and things kinda went from there. I can't believe Jakes asking him to come to the US with him actually became canon in S9, 4 years after this fic was published,, half-convinced Russ Lewis reads my fanfic...

Midnight Man - Elisabeth - rated E, Rudolf x Tod, modern AU, yeah um it's a one-shot that's rated E and only 2k words long you can do the math about what happens in it...

My first todolf fanfic xD Lawyer Rudolf. There's an entire unpublished modern AU universe based on this but it's more fun to think about than it necessarily is to write out, especially since the fun parts are just Tod forcibly inserting himself into Rudolf's life as common-law boyfriend/roommate (depression metaphor!!1) and getting up to shenanigans. I don't really have interesting things to say re: it being a modern AU, which makes it harder to write. I've worked on a ballet AU behind the scenes for like 2 years adjhfjjg which is a modern AU that takes the metaphors a lot further... but I haven't managed to write it because I'm not entirely sure how I'll approach it, especially the Tod characterisation in that. But I've done so much research that hopefully I will write something in that universe eventually...

Thank you again for sending this, it was so much fun to look back on what I've written!! >:]

[violoncelle121]

My New KoF Headcanon

I am currently studying Biology for my college, and it is my Major. Some of the class lectures I remember listening to were the concepts of Evolution, an 'Early Earth', and Selective Breeding. So out of the things I have learned in those courses, I proposed a new headcanon for the fictional world of Geronimo Stilton and Elizabetta Dami's 'Kingdom of Fantasy' book series.

Remember, this theory is completely fan-made, so do not take this too seriously, and do not regard it as any original work from the author of the 'Kingdom of Fantasy' book series. 

~~ BEWARE OF SUGGESTIVE CONTENT AHEAD! DO NOT CONTINUE READING IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THEMES SUCH AS GENOCIDE OR SOCIAL INJUSTICE! ~~

My idea suggests that before there was a diverse range of creatures living in such a world, there were two primeval species: Fairies (a more 'ancient' variety, not like the ones in the books) and Demons. The early Fairies were a species that came to the land by falling from the sky (like shooting stars), while the Demons were originally living in the Kingdom of Fantasy. At that time, there were still many 'pure-bred' Demon species and variants, dwelling in environments from mountains to forests, and even the oceans and ice caps. In addition to that, there were likely regular humans living in the early KoF already, but they did not play significant roles yet.

The early Fairies still had blue skin and two pairs of white wings (similar to those of the Crystal Castle today), but the wings of the ancient species were probably larger and scalier (especially on the outer layers to keep their wings safe from the elements). Supposedly made of cosmic material, it was believed that the Fairies could absorb and use energy from any celestial body, like the Sun, stars, or the Moon. Pure-bred Demons usually had animal-like legs, pointed ears, dark eyes for night-vision, claws, fangs, horns and/or tails, and occasionally a pair of large wings (depending on the environment). They were able to manipulate any kind of magic and transform into any kind of animal they chose. However, the one thing they had in common was the trait of having Souls highly saturated with magic.

Years have passed since the Fairies and Demons have tried to coexist with one another, then either species assumed that one was too powerful and too dangerous, so it was then decided that both could not handle putting aside their differences anymore. Over the eras, battles have clashed between the species, and there were laws that set them apart even more. This was until a ruling Fairy decided to capture pure-bred Demons and forcefully breed them with other species to decrease their magical capabilities. This condition has remained for several generations, while many pure-breds and Fairies who opposed that heinous tactic were executed. The energy in their Souls were then used to enhance weapons.

As a result of such injustice, newer and lesser species have been formed, such as Shapeshifters, Elves, Mer-folk, Wizards/Witches, and other beings, including new Fairy varieties (probably descending from the ones that opposed the genocide of the Demons). However, some Fairies still decided to keep their 'purity' by disregarding certain species, such as the 'evil' Wizards/Witches and Dark Fairies, believing that they were and are the closest things to Demons.

I am still trying my best to develop this fan-made theory, but I still hope you enjoyed reading it. On the other hand, I cannot put this idea into one large fanfiction because it is complicated and time/energy consuming, and I am already busy enough as it is. However, I can sneak in some references of this in my Kingdom of Fantasy fanfics in future chapters. Feel free to post any comments and suggestions. Thank you for reading this, and stay fantastic!

[quordleona03]

Okay, so @marley--manson tagged me for the ten fanfics meme:

Rules: post the first sentence of your last ten fics. If you haven’t written ten fics, share as many first-sentences as you have.

I was tagged before, and then I did my last ten MAS*H fics. So this time, I'm going to do my last ten fics each from a different fandom

1 "First, the sacrifice. " The Real Meaning Of Christmas (Christmas Tales & Traditions)

2 "We always had to keep moving." Grimm Towervans (Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms)

3 "Robin dreams in Sherwood." mort de l'histoire (The Matter of Britain, British mythology)

4 "Business class was more than half empty, a five o’clock flight out of O’Hare on a Wedneday night, but Gerard had good reason to believe that he would have noticed the man in the window seat on the right-hand side even if the plane had been crowded." An ill for mending (The Fugitive - 1993 movie)

5. "Princeton Plains Teaching Hospital currently owned 43 slaves: janitors, secretaries, personal assistants, and three lab technicians who had gone overboard on their student loans." Adverse Events (House MD AU) 6. "The doctor who replaced Richard Kimble on the late shift was a free man: he kept Kimble for fifteen precious minutes making certain that he had all the details of the nine survivors from the one o’clock Games." The Games (Keptverse AU)

7. "'I endeavour to give satisfaction,' Jeeves paused." Straight Face (Jeeves - PG Wodehouse)

8. "I am 176 years old." Sachertorte (cake fandom, I guess)

9. "The street's lights made moving shadows outside: the cigarette smoke passing across the room's lights made moving shadows on the ceiling." Far from all intentional ill-doing (The Charioteer - Mary Renault)

10. "Lando’s blaster pistol filled Han’s mouth." Winners and Losers (Star Wars _ original trilogy)

Tagging:

@olderthannetfic @mashbrainrot @woodsfeildslittlerivers @relnicht @bbjkrss-blog @codeblue2 @heavensyesfathermulcahy @cesperanza @bendingsignpost@ierospit

[wardingoffevil]

I posted 5,105 times in 2022

That's 5,105 more posts than 2021!

135 posts created (3%)

4,970 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@noahsthottie

@mrsbsmooth

@beesandfigsblog

@litgwritersroom

@rebelrayne

I tagged 963 of my posts in 2022

#litg - 660 posts

#love island the game - 512 posts

#litg fanfic - 252 posts

#litg s5 - 237 posts

#litg ex in the villa - 203 posts

#litg s2 - 159 posts

#ex in the villa - 114 posts

#litg ff - 111 posts

#litg suresh - 95 posts

#joseph quinn - 73 posts

Longest Tag: 124 characters

#i still don’t feel he’s genuine and he’s been stringing kat along but i did snog his ass in the loo since i felt like it lol

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Gary Rennell as a Dad

Gaz is adorable to imagine as a dad. I can’t deny how great of a father he’d be. I do see Gary having a big family, but for this post, he’s going to have three kids.

❤️ Gary is a nervous wreck while waiting for his kids to be born. He is constantly pacing back and forth, asking nurses and doctors the most ridiculous things, experiencing every emotion imaginable. It’s more of a rough time for him than the mom. And, yes, he most definitely fainted at the birth of his first child.

❤️ This is one of the most interactive dad’s there is. He has formula stains on himself, can change a diaper with his eyes closed, knows every song to every children’s show, has the babies down for sleep in less than five minutes. You name it, he’s mastered it.

❤️ Gary as a girl dad is such a sweet sight. He took on the role as the honorary tea party host. Complete with pink boa, tiara, and pink heels. If you don’t believe this little girl doesn’t have Gary wrapped around her little finger, you’re crazy. She asks him to jump and he asks how high.

❤️ Gary as a boy dad is something he was quite scared of at first. Since he didn’t have his dad around, he treats his son how he wished his dad would have treated him. Similarly to his daughter(s), this little boy is the sparkle in Gary’s eye.

❤️ Yes, Chelsea decorated the kids’ nurseries/rooms. Yes, Lottie also babysits when no one else is available. Yes, Noah is their full-time babysitter, other than Nan on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

❤️ The first time he brought his kids to work, he got up in his crane with them, and asked someone to take their picture. That is the picture he has in his wallet: his kids and him inside cranes. It fills his heart with so much love.

❤️ Do not go to Gary if you: have a cut and are bleeding, broke a bone, just threw up, etc. He will not only gag, but potentially pass out. He can’t handle bodily fluids like that. The only part of parenting he hates.

❤️ Nan babysits every Tuesday and Thursday. The kids absolute love going to Nan’s house. It’s still tradition even as they grow up to spend the night there twice a week. Gary doesn’t even have to ask, they just want to go.

❤️ Gary’s son’s first words were “oi, oi.”

❤️ Just like Bruno, Gary is a loud and proud dad. He is clapping the loudest, hollering the loudest, front and center for all the pictures and videos. This man knows the weekly schedule for the family.

❤️ Dating Gary’s children consists of: acts of intimidation that turn cringe (for his daughters), embarrassing stories, inappropriate jokes, and curfew being upped an hour. He’s a lot more chill about it than some may think.

❤️ The family has two dogs, two cats, a rabbit and a hamster.

❤️ Gary is the type of dad that you can go to him with anything and he will do everything he can to help you. Flunked a class? He knows you tried, and will reassure you that you didn’t disappoint him. Have a bully? He had them too and he will get them to stop, even if he has to scare them stupid. Broke something valuable? He can fix it or replace it. Got dumped? He’ll remind you of your worth and help you heal.

❤️ Christmas is a big day for everyone, but it is a HUGE day in the Rennell household. They all have matching pajamas, they watch Christmas movies before bed on Christmas Eve, and Gary is in charge of eating the cookies and milk that the kids left out. He even takes their letters to Santa and replaces them with one he wrote as Santa. For Christmas Day, they go to Nan’s and have a big dinner with everyone in the family. This family’s Christmas/Holiday cards are A+ every single year! 🎄

Thank you, @future-mrs-suresh, for recommending him! I hope the Gary stans enjoy this. You know I had to throw in a crane picture in for Gaz. 😉

95 notes - Posted October 24, 2022

#4

Oliver as a Dad

I feel like if there was ever a more patient and nurturing man, it would be Oliver. As a father, that shines through. I do not see him having a huge family (like Bruno, James, Jake, Gary, Bobby). One to two kids would be his ideal family size. His first born is a girl and his second is a boy.

🌺 When his two kids were born, Oliver didn’t sob, but he did cry. He was almost scared to touch them because they were so small compared to him. He was scared he’d break them. But once they looked up into his eyes, he was smitten. No love could ever compare to the love he has for his children.

🌺 Oliver as a girl dad is incredibly sweet. He tries to be strong with her, but she is so much like him that he can’t resist when she gives him her big brown eyes. He sees so much of himself in her. She has all of his mannerisms and quirks. She is Oliver’s little twin.

🌺 Oliver as a boy dad is energetic! His son keeps him on his toes, and always pushing boundaries. You’d think his daughter would be that way, but no, his son is his complete opposite. He’s always getting into something. Cannot leave him alone for a second! Dandelion gets exhausted being his partner in crime.

🌺 He loves reading bedtime stories!

🌺 Breakfast is a busy time in this household. Food cooking, people rushing around, it gets crazy. Oliver likes to be the one cooking. He makes breakfast every single morning before work and school. Includes little pictures he drew in the kids’ lunch boxes, too.

🌺 Dandelion rotates sleeping in the kids’ rooms. She likes to check up on them through the night. She’s their cat-mom. And she is insanely protective of them. No one messes with her human babies. 🐈

🌺 Oliver actually gets along with his kids as teenagers. He’s laid back and pretty easy-going. He knows when to give them space. He’s not quite up on a lot of the trends, in which case his kids will kindly educate him.

🌺 His daughter’s friends have crushes on him and his son’s friends are intimidated by him (at first). He thinks it’s funny.

🌺 Oliver is Southeast Asian, so he loves to teach his kids all about his culture. He’s very proud of that. He likes to make a traditional dish a few times a week for dinner, and invite his nan over. He’s very close with her.

🌺 As a tattoo artist, Oliver’s kids have been hanging out at the shop since they were newborns. His daughter actually wants to follow in his footsteps, and would love to be his apprentice. She’s insanely gifted at art and can draw anything that pops into her head. Her specialty is portraits. Oliver’s proud to teach her everything he knows. His son would “rather die than work here…” (actual quote from him).

🌺 Bruno got his first tattoo by Oliver, and they frequently hang out at each other’s houses. Their families are pretty close. Every now and then Will and Kobi hangs out with them, too.

🌺 Oliver’s parenting style is just vibing and going with the flow. He has raised his kids to be genuinely good people. He is a proud father, and encourages them daily to chase their dreams. No matter what happens in life, he will always stand right beside his children and guide them. He melts my heart so much.

I haven’t played Oliver’s route, so please don’t attack me if things are wrong! I hope all the Oliver stans enjoy some wholesome dad content. Thank you, @libelle949, for recommending him! If you want some spicy NSFW HC’s on Ollie, Suzi has some for him here. 🖤

97 notes - Posted October 20, 2022

#3

Bobby McKenzie as a Dad

Omg this is one of my favorites! Bobby as a dad gives me brain rot. Fatherhood was meant for Bobby. I wanted to save him for last but I couldn’t wait. I finally finished this

Note: Please don’t attack me if we have differing opinions. Be respectful or don’t interact.

🧁 It was a rollercoaster ride for Bobby when his kids were born. He definitely tried to get the mom, nurses, and doctors to laugh while putting on the gown, gloves, mask, and wrapping a stethoscope around his neck. He may have tried to lighten the mood but inside he was a nervous wreck. Bobby’s a crier. He sobbed for each birth. Full on ugly crying.

🧁 Bobby wants a lot of kids, I’d say about 3-4, if not more than that. It doesn’t matter if they’re all girls, all boys, even number of both, odd number of both, he’s happy regardless. A baby around his chest, a toddler wrapped around his left leg, a seven year old putting icing on the fresh cupcakes out of the oven—that sort of chaos is Bobby’s bliss.

🧁 All of Bobby’s kids inherited his pretty freckles.

🧁 There’s no Bobby as a girl dad or a boy dad—he’s the same dad to all his kids: energetic, lovable, silly, and supportive. He’s just happy to be a dad. Period.

🧁 Bobby is the child-at-heart type of father. The type of father that loves to see his kids use their imagination, their creativity. The type of father that doesn’t see “weird” or “eccentric” kids. He sees children being children. He may be an adult, but his childlike sense of wonder and curiosity still flows through his veins.

🧁 Bobby’s eldest daughter’s named Paisley.

🧁 Chelsea designed the nurseries. Bobby helped a lot with ideas and quirks. They’re an amazing interior design team and Bobby thinks he may have a future in it if his bakery fails (it won’t).

🧁 Bobby has no problem at all checking on the baby during the night. He knows the drill. Even if he gets home late, even if he has to be up in three hours. He’s making sure his children are alright.

🧁 He named cupcakes after his children at his bakery.

🧁 Nap time isn’t just for kids in the McKenzie house. Bobby likes to join in because it gives him an excuse to watch cartoons and nap.

🧁 Bobby calls Gary a lot asking him for advice, telling him what curse word he taught his toddler to say, planning their next “dad’s day”, etc. They were best mates in the villa and it remained the same outside the villa. If they’re not texting, they’re FaceTiming.

🧁 You’re insane if you think each of his kids don’t get their own unique boops from him, complete with sounds.

🧁 Bobby makes all the kids’ lunches every day before school. Something different every day, too. Complete with a cupcake/cookie and a smiley face Post-It note from dad.

🧁 There’s always some kind of music playing in this house at all times, the genre varies from day to day.

🧁 Bobby sings “You Are My Sunshine” to his kids. With a guitar or without.

🧁 Bedtime stories are reserved only for Bobby. Sometimes he’ll read their favorite books, sometimes he makes the story up on the spot. But his favorite story to tell is “The Adventures of LongBob Cupcake.” He tells the kids that it’s based on true events.

🧁 The McKenzie’s (including his parents and sister) do go to Jamaica, once a year, to visit Bobby’s nan. Everyone looks forward to it.

🧁 Bobby never gets mad at his kids for throwing parties while he’s gone. All he cares about is the kitchen not getting trashed.

🧁 Bobby’s another loud and proud dad that attends every single activity for his kids. Definitely can hear him shouting over all the other dads, and he’s always front row center when taking videos. His social media accounts are flooded with his kids’ things.

🧁 Gary, Rahim, and Noah still hang out with Bobby. Bobby loves when everyone comes to visit because it gives him an excuse to bake and to try new recipes out on them. Gary eats anything, so really he tests the recipes on Rahim and Noah.

🧁 Bobby is the father that every kid dreams of having. He’s so loving, so accepting, so supportive of his children. He is never NOT proud of them.

There are so many Bobby pages on here that are amazing, but one in particular sticks out the most: @ravenadottir (currently on hiatus), and it can be found here. There’s all sorts of information/route guides/headcanons for Bobby. She even has an amazing fic for him as well (Paisley Cuddle is a must-read if you haven’t yet). 🖤

107 notes - Posted November 28, 2022

#2

Lucas Koh as a Dad

Hear me out…

This one is hard for me because I’m one of those who can’t see him as a father. Yes, it’s canon that he doesn’t want kids. So I’m going to step out of my comfort zone to deliver.

The only way he would become a father, or even entertain the idea of being a father, would be if he found the right person first. It would take years and years of begging and pleading for him to agree. Or a divine miracle. That being said, if he becomes a father, he’s only having one child, and it will be a girl. A son would trigger his trauma with his own father, and it would make him a cold and distant father. If he chose to even stay in his life, but that’s a different story for a different day.

🖤 Trust me, they already know it’s a girl. Lucas knows the entire process and what it entails. He’s going to go through it with ease. He’s going to be reluctant to hold her because, frankly, he’ll be scared. So many emotions will be going through him, but he’ll be calm and collected on the outside.

🖤 There is no one on Earth that will be more protective of his child than Lucas Koh. I mean that man will know where his daughter is, who’s with her, what’s going on with her, at all times. He will have a hawk’s eye on her.

🖤 Lucas may not always be the one getting up to change or feed her. In fact, I do see him considering a full-time live-in nanny.

🖤 The more that the reality sets in, he will become more in tune with fatherhood. It will scare him to death. He’ll constantly need reassurance. He knows he can provide financially for her, but he’s more scared of providing emotionally to his daughter.

🖤 If you think he’s going to be the type of dad to play dress-up or dollhouse, I’m sorry but that isn’t him. If she wants to play doctor, though, that’s more his thing. That’ll include him explaining what the tools are for. She won’t understand him but continue playing.

🖤 It’s true this little girl will have everything she could ever dream of: the sun, the moon, and every star. However, she will be used to hearing the word “no” sometimes. The last thing Lucas wants is a bratty child.

🖤 You know how parents go all out for their kids’ first birthday? Lucas will have the most exquisite, most lavish party for his daughter.

🖤 Lucas will regularly attend therapy. Having a child really made him think about his past. He doesn’t want his daughter hating him or resenting him later on, so he wants to work on healing his trauma so he doesn’t repeat it.

🖤 This is really random but I can also see his daughter being extremely beautiful. Even as a newborn. She’ll be one of those adorable little girls with pretty, long, straight hair. The older she gets, the more she resembles Lucas.

🖤 When it comes to her education, Lucas will have her enrolled in the most top notch school around. If there is one thing he’s strict on it’s her grades. He wants her to have an education before anything else. He wants her to be successful. I can definitely see him enrolling her in boarding school.

🖤 Dating will be forbidden until she moves out on her own. In his house her education comes before dating. Lucas isn’t stupid—he knows she’s beautiful and her peers know it too. If she does sneak around and date, without Lucas knowing, well, let’s hope she doesn’t get caught. Yikes.

🖤 I don’t see him always attending her events or activities because of his work schedule. He does try. He really does. Sometimes he just can’t get out of it.

🖤 Once a week, Lucas takes his daughter out to any restaurant of her choice. They order the same thing and sit at the same table. After eating, they go shopping or any activity that she wants to do. He enjoys one-on-one time with her. He enjoys making memories that will have a big impact on her.

🖤 Becoming a father has made Lucas grow as a man. Will he have fights with his daughter? Absolutely. He knows that. Instead of being passive-aggressive, like he usually is, he’s the first one to apologize. Especially if he overreacted. She is far more important to him than holding a grudge.

🖤 It may have been a long journey, but eventually Lucas will learn that he is capable of loving another human as deeply as he does his daughter. The fear of making a mistake will never leave him entirely, it’ll always be there. Every father has it, and Lucas knows it’s okay. He may not be the type of father that Bruno, or Gary, is but that doesn’t mean he loves his daughter any less. Lucas is the type of father who teaches structure and discipline. She knows she is loved, and wanted.

Okay, anon, I hope you enjoy this! It was a wild ride. I hope the Lucas stans enjoy this! 🥹

115 notes - Posted October 31, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Bruno Kaminski as a Dad

🤍 No matter how many children he has, Bruno will sob at every single one of their births. He will be an emotional wreck, yet so very proud. He will drop his phone on (at least) one of his kids while taking pictures of them as a newborn. Nothing too damaging, it won’t leave a mark.

🤍 Because of working late, Bruno does enjoy sleeping in, but since becoming a dad he’s happy to be the one to wake the baby up in the mornings. He sings their favorite song while opening the curtains, and he always asks if they had a good sleep. They reply only in babbles, but Bruno understands perfectly.

🤍 Bruno as a girl dad—he’s letting her pick out her own outfits and hair styles. He opts for the easy, and his personal favorite: pigtails with bows, but if she just wants to leave it down then he’s good with that too. He likes to let her be independent and make her own choices. Bruno is definitely all about Girl Power. Just seeing him as a girl dad makes my heart so full.

🤍 If Bruno has a son, that little boy will be his twin. I can’t unsee it. I honestly love that for Bruno since he grew up with all sisters. The bond they’ll have will be unlike any other, and I honestly want to cry thinking about it.

🤍 Bruno’s a baby at heart, so think of him as an extra toddler running around the house. He’s definitely a Labrador Retriever puppy with his kids. And my heart will explode from the cuteness.

🤍 Yes, he watches his kids sleep and makes sure they are breathing during the night.

🤍 Learning to talk is fun because of his Scouse accent. He teaches his kids bad words in Polish, too. When they are babies, and learning how to walk, Bruno holds their hands and helps steady them. When they’re in public, he tells people they have their “training feet” on. Imagining a tall dad, bent down, holding their tiny baby hands, as they wobble about.. I’m crying.

🤍 Bruno’s in charge of bath time! Suds everywhere. Toys all over the place. And that mess isn’t just from the kids.

🤍 He is that loud and proud dad at all of his kids’ games, rehearsals, recitals, etc. He has every moment on video. He’s posting them on every social media account he has. He knows when all of their events are and shows up early to them all.

🤍 His daughters are NOT to start dating until they’re “at least 45 years old” and he’s “too senile to know what’s going on.” Those are his rules, not mine. Their first dates include: having their date come in, introductions, small chitchat, and then be subject to Bruno attempting to be intimidating but comes off as awkward for everyone.

🤍 When the family wants steaks, hotdogs, or hamburgers, Bruno’s the type of dad that thinks he knows his way around a big fancy grill, but almost blows the house up every time he tries to use it. So now he’s only allowed to “grill” on the stove when his wife’s home. Or they opt to get takeout.

🤍 His kids will always have a pet. Dog, cat, hamster, rabbit. Or even a goldfish (iykyk 😉). Or an exotic animal. Or one of each. Bruno’s unpredictable.

🤍 Bruno’s the king of “go ask your mum!” The kids know that he’ll never say ‘no’ so they always go to him first. Sometimes he gives in (okay..he always gives in), but he’ll spice things up with a ‘no’ here and there to keep the kids on their toes.

🤍 Having teenagers isn’t as scary for Bruno as one may think. He’s very patient and understanding. He has older sisters, and he was a teenager once too. He does require some reassurance because sometimes teenagers can be mean. He does his very best to stay up on trends, and will learn all the TikTok dances. He can dance so it won’t be a horrible sight.

🤍 Bruno is super involved with his kids. He’s playing board games with them, coloring and drawing with them, playing hide ‘n’ seek, playing tag, etc. He’s 100% devoted to his children. They are his laptop background, iPhone lockscreen and wallpaper, his Facebook profile picture and cover photo. Every school picture they have taken are in his wallet, too.

🤍 On that note, Bruno is the ultimate sap when his children make him anything. He keeps all of their birthday/Christmas/Anniversary cards that they gave him, coloring book pages, drawings, paintings, crafts, etc. Every Valentine’s Day, when his kids are little, they give him a Valentine that says “(their name) loves daddy THIS much!” or “Daddy is my Valentine!” and he tears up. You will periodically catch him going through all of those keepsakes as his children grow up, and he will be crying.

🤍 It means a lot to Bruno to have his Polish roots incorporated in his kids’ names. His first born son will have the same middle name as him. His other kids will have a Polish middle name, possibly named after Bruno’s family members. His way of paying tribute.

🤍 Bruno + teaching his kids to drive = madness.

🤍 Bruno will get “empty nest syndrome.” He will be sad when his youngest child finally leaves his house for uni. Hell, he’ll get a little sad when all the kids are at their friends’ houses for the weekend.

🤍 Oh, and Will Kimura helped paint the kids’ rooms. Bruno keeps him on call when he needs something fixed or “one of the kids pours their food down the drain again.” Will knows exactly who did it but just goes along with it.

🤍 You’re crazy if you don’t think he’s got his kids in his stand-up routines. He’s got so many jokes about them and his life as a dad.

🤍 Bruno will love his children regardless of who they grow up to be. He only wants them to enjoy the moment and be happy. He hopes that he (and his wife) have given them all the tools they need to have a bright future. No one on this planet could be more proud of their children, or love their children more, than Bruno Kaminski.

@mrsbsmooth touched on the domestic life of Bruno as well. You can find that here. As well as some HC’s for him as well. Those can be found here and here. Let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to see! 🖤

115 notes - Posted October 17, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[genericswordsmaiden]

Thinking about 2022. (I'm writing this mainly for myself, if you want to read it let me warn you - it's a long post)

In the spring I spent my time studying, hanging out with friends and going to university classes. In March I created a nice long kpop playlist that accompanied me when I felt lonely.

Then came the summer where I saw the seashore for a total of 5 cumulative hours, the summer where I spent a whole week at my granduncle's vacation villa and enjoyed the comfort of a place I'll never see again - a whole week away from my parents, with him and his son's girlfriend. I spent those seven days reading, watching interesting programs on RAI channels, dozing off, listening to music and pirating the first season of R.I.S (2004). The days before were also interesting: I visited Sermoneta, saw marvelous things and ate lots of good stuff. My earphones were always with me. 2022 was the summer where I fell in love with Seventeen and Onewe. I find it bittersweet listening to those songs now (mainly svt's "home" and "don't wanna cry" and the whole "One" album by onewe). I found a home in those two people who stayed with me in that week. When my parents came back to pick me up, we had lunch all together. We organised a barbecue a couple of weeks later (August 24) and that was another fun day... My family, my mother's sister and her cousin, his girlfriend, his sister's son... There were so many people, I loved that day. When it was time to say goodbye, I felt empty, but it wasn't unpleasant. I had spent wonderful moments, and I knew they would end. I remember listening to onewe's "star" as the road between me and that house became longer.

But I couldn't know that autumn 2022 would be full of events. On september 2nd me and my mother went back to the San Felice villa, to stay with our uncle for some more days. He missed us. Her cousin (who to me is the aunt™ because she just has that attitude) took us to dinner in a restaurant near the sea, I got half-drunk and walked barefoot on the cold sand on the shore at 1:00 a.m. The day after we went to the old part of town, where I got to take lots of marvelous pictures and reminisce about the summer of 2020, when I went there at night with my brother and my cousin. That evening we went to the city of Latina to celebrate the birthday party of a relative of my late grandaunt. I made some small conversations about lotr and books and movies with some of the people there and petted their dog for a while. It was a good evening. The day after, I said goodbye. To San Felice, to the walks around the block, to the beautiful house where I left my heart. Forever. They sold it. But my memories are still with me.

Then October rolled over and on the 7th I took a plane for the first time and went north, to stay again with my granduncle. I loved those four days so much! Central Milan is so freaking cool. So much was going on both in real life and here on Tumblr. September/October was the period in which I got into the ReAnimator fandom, and now I'll forever associate those days with that movie. I also began reading a really good fanfic during my stay in Legnano, but I stopped at chapter 6 for reasons - actually, I should talk about them with the author, she deserves to know what I think of it even though months have passed. Speaking of ReAnimator, the songs I listened the most in those weeks were "one of those nights" and the Gasoline album by Key, and one of the tracks - "villain", gives me some Herbert West vibes.

November and December don't actually have much content. Not much happened, except lots of hours spent studying, posting, writing and money spent buying new books.

In conclusion, I really hope 2023 will have moments as beautiful as the ones I had last year.