#i also think a not insignificant number will just ghost | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cinnamonest · 3 years

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Since people actually liked it here's the continuation of the modern Xiao camgirl!darling post I cut from the original, as promised, most if it's under a cut. Here’s the original post. I didn’t think people would actually like the camgirl concept so I thought I was rambling too much and cut this part out lol but here it is now!

Tws: derogatory language/female slurs, mentions of reader being a cheater, reader is promiscuous, murder, incel-y mentality (our modern boy would be a 4chan user, look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong) and mentions of upsetting realistic things, this one's darker than the first part. If you're bothered by other modern stuff for being too realistic best avoid this too probably, involuntary pornography ---------- Coming up on one year since you gained your most loyal subscriber, you get a rather... Unsettling request. He has something he would like this month, in fact, he adds a few hundred to the regular amount (he's been saving up just for this) and asks for just the answer to one simple question. What's your name?

Your real name, he clarifies. He doesn't need a last name, nothing like that. It would just... Make him feel closer to you. He avoids using the term "anniversary," even though that's what comes to mind. He also doesn't tell you that he already knows, that this is just a test of your honesty. For someone who's so cautious, you would think you would think to give a fake name whenever you go to coffee shops for them to yell out, or change it on the packages you get. You hesitate. And it would be easy to give him a fake one, yet, you don't really think about it too much, you kinda think about that as an afterthought, what you should have done, but your very real name is typed out and sent before you really process it, and you feel a sort of unease, but it's already sent. No big deal. He can't do much with just your first name, right? If your name is common, you feel pretty safe, but even if it's a rarer one, surely there are other people with it, right? He's happy though. Kinda surprised, really, that you didn't lie to him. Maybe you trust him?

You're not stupid, you know something is wrong, you're becoming paranoid. And you connect the weird feeling to him, bc he goes radio silence for several days leading up to finally taking you. This dude who used to respond to any messages you sent within 10 seconds suddenly... It's like he disappeared? He hasn't responded to anything you send him ever since you said your name. You send him messages saying you haven't heard from him in a while and you're worried... The way you word it makes it sound like you're worried about him, but you both know that's not what you really mean. You're hesitant and suspicious of every guy you meet. You buy pepper spray and start carrying some around, you nearly spray a poor guy who you thought was trailing you, turns out he just lives in your building. He makes note of it. He watched you buy it, and is quick to realize you always hold it in the same hand. That must be your dominant hand, that's an important mental note for the future, since you're more likely to try to attack him with that hand. He'll remember. He has a note in his phone with information like that. Height, weight, birthday, social security number, parents' names, school she graduated from. All in little bullet points. He adds dominant hand to the list. He's not worried at all really. Already watched you struggle to carry packages he could lift with one hand, your strength doesn't cross his mind as a threat. At first he just doesn't know what to say, and that's why he stops responding, he feels too awkward but... He starts to enjoy the weird feeling of power the whole situation is giving him. You're worried, you're constantly paranoid, and it's because of him. Now you finally understand the same feeling you inflict on him, how you consume his thoughts every waking moment of every day. It used to irritate him that you held so much power over him, while he meant nothing to you. Now, the tables have turned. You're forced to have him constantly in your mind, whether you like it or not, just like you are in his. It's giving you what you deserve. It gives him a feeling of significance. He matters, even if it's not in a good way. And he keeps telling himself that once he's all you have, he'll matter even more. He's smart enough to realize that if you're paranoid, you might have mentioned him by username to someone else, so to ensure he knows what to do from this point, he has to sneak into your apartment at night as you sleep. It's so unbearably tempting, you have no idea -- you're right there and so vulnerable. He has to hold himself back because he knows that if he so much as touched you, he couldn't hold back. But it's torture, standing there so close, watching your chest rise and fall as he fiddles with the phone. Even when he unlocks it with your thumb, he tries to hold the phone from an angle to do so, even if the skin of his hand grazes yours, it would be too much. You have a lot of contacts across your messages and a bunch of different apps. You have one guy in your online chat you've exchanged far more messages with than anyone else! Hundreds upon hundreds of messages, and huge paypal cash drops, who the hell is -- oh, wait, that's him. Nevermind. But, to his pleasant surprise, he's the only one of your... customers that you regularly talk to, the rest just have a few paypal notifications or clarifications on your policies, but no actual conversations like you have with him. Of course, that's literally part of your deal, he's literally paying for it, but it makes him happy nonetheless. But as he goes through your personal messages, he finds that you are... in no shortage of options. Like, holy shit. It was kind of expected. You *are* really pretty, that's how you have so many followers after all, but this is a lot. So many contacts named some variation of "DO NOT ANSWER!!!" or "creepy guy that forced me to give him my number at the club", etc etc. Plenty of unsaved numbers texting you to never get a response. You've ghosted enough dudes to make your place haunted. It's... kinda awful, really. It also kinda hurts his heart a bit more than he expected. You have so, so, so many options, even without the cam thing, he's more insignificant than he even realized. ...Well, for now, at least. He'll be significant to you soon enough. And then you seem to have a sort of "boyfriend of the month" deal going on, aside from that. Plenty of male-name contacts whose last exchange is a "don't talk to me again!" message from you, plenty of messages corresponding to the same time as those to your girl friends about how you can't find a good guy and every relationship ends badly. How unfortunate. See, it's because you choose bad guys. You probably go for dicks and not.... well, he can't exactly pull the "nice guys like me" mentality, he doesn't delude himself into thinking he is one. He's lucid enough to realize that most nice guys would not be sneaking into your house and standing over your sleeping body to stalk your phone as they make plans to kidnap you. He knows he would probably fall under the classification of a creepy guy. He's just too far gone to care. Still, he would be so much better to you, he tells himself, not a cheater or a player like you complain about. To say he resents those kinds of guys -- ones that can do the unthinkable and actually talk to girls, let alone successfully, only to be assholes, and yet girls like you still go for them -- is an understatement. You're basically just a slut, you probably ignore all the guys that would be nice to you, just like all those internet forums he reads talk about. Typical.

Well, those forums also make fun of guys like him who pay for girls like you, but he can't blame them. It *is* kinda pathetic. There is one dude you talk to, though, now. Current boyfriend of the month, from the looks of it. You have a little heart emoji next to the name. He knows it's kinda pathetic that something so simple and insignificant sets him off, but it does, makes him pout and grind his teeth and curl his other hand into a fist. It's so unfair. Some dude you barely know gets to fuck you, and you haven't even known him nearly as long as you've known him! He doubts this dude -- hell, any of your boyfriends -- has put in the same amount of money that he has into you. They fuck you practically for free. And that, unfortunately for you, only solidifies his decision. If you're fucking some dude for a month because they buy you dinner every now and then, if we're going by that scale, then you owe him quite a good deal of pussy. Any hesitancy or guilt he had about the whole thing is gone. And he's a little mad. Keeps grumbling to himself that you're just a loose whore, fucking so many people and putting yourself out there on the internet. He wonders if they even know about what you do. Probably not, you probably don't tell them. Yeah, that sounds like what you'd do. Really, you're kinda lucky that someone like him is so willing to commit to you, since you are a slut. You don't deserve it, but he loves you anyway. And you'll probably have the nerve to be ungrateful for it too. Sigh. On the bright side, by some miracle, it would appear that you have not told any real-life people about him, you haven't sent out any hey if I disappear you should probably look into this creep type of messages. But he can't afford to have you doing so in between now and when you move in with him, so, he decides he has to act within the next 24 hours. While he's here, though, he decides to do a quick sweep of your place. Makes note of what snacks and drinks you like, what brand of toothpaste and shampoo and the like you use, so he can buy some for you. Maybe you'll adjust better if you have some of your favorite things. And then, after days of silence, he sends you a message, says it's fine, his internet went out for a few days. He means it to reassure you, but somehow it makes you feel more uneasy. He has everything planned out, or so he thinks. But you deviate from your usual schedule. When you leave work or class, you don't go home, you go somewhere else, first. How strange. Maybe picking up groceries? He follows from a distance. No, looks like you're going out to eat...? Maybe you're meeting friends or family or -- no that's a guy. Fuck. You must have planned this just earlier today, since there were no messages on your phone. It makes a bitter feeling rise in his gut. He hates that he can't get close enough to listen to your conversation. Well, he hates the whole thing, sits there and seethes the whole time. Watches you through the windows in the parking lot, thankfully you chose to sit outside. Feels his eye twitch and his hand clench every time you smile and laugh. It takes way too long. The fact that you split the bill feels like a punch to the stomach too. Shouldn't you be used to taking guys' money? Oh, and what's this...? This guy isn't the picture on boyfriend-of-the-month's contact. Well, well, well. You really are a whore. See, it's a very good thing he's taking you off the market. You're probably a reckless heartbreaker too. He's doing all the other men of the world a favor by taking on such a burden as you. And it makes him feel far more justified in keeping you locked away, since he has every reason to believe, now, that you'd run off and fuck someone else if given the chance. Halfway through, the guy briefly gets up and runs to the bathroom or something. While he's gone, he sees your face fall a bit. And then he sees you look around. You turn your head from one side to the other. Your eyes scan the area. You shuffle uncomfortably and you bite your lip and your eyebrows furrow. You're scared. You feel like -- no, you know you're being watched and it scares you. That makes him a little happy, for some reason. He wouldn't be sure what to do if you went home with the guy, but thankfully you don't. No big deal, this was just a bump in the road, he still beats you back to your building and he still goes through with the original plan. Even better, now that it's even darker outside. If anything, now he's got extra aggression and testosterone in his blood, running over the events in his head and going through some... very forceful and violent fantasies. The message he sent had you uneasy, and it's also how you immediately know what's going on when it does finally happen. You keep telling yourself you're being unnecessarily paranoid, that it's nothing, maybe that guy actually got his life together or got a girlfriend or something. Things like... What you fear, don't happen in real life, that's stuff that only happens in movies and stuff. You keep calling it that or it in your head. That won't happen to you. It's not going to happen. The series of events that play out in your head, scenarios you try to push out of your mind. Sure, in the movies it always takes place in the stairwell, but that's fiction, so you go up the apartment stairwell as always. You're not gonna let a bunch of B-grade old films scare you. And it's always some dude standing and waiting, but that nice young boy that you've never seen before is just leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone, he only glances up for a second as you pass by, he's not a threat, you're being paranoid. You flash a smile and a little wave as you walk by, he doesn't return either, just looks back down at his phone. See? This guy doesn't even care, you're being paranoid for nothing, you tell yourself. But as you make the turn to go up the next set of stairs you hear the click of a phone being put on the lockscreen, a few metallic footsteps ringing out in the open hall and echoing, coming up right behind you, but for that split second you expect a tap on the shoulder, maybe he has a question, it's not like movies, it's not like movies, you're not gonna get a cloth shoved over your face and--- Well, it's not exactly like the movies. You were prepared, but it all happens in one motion - one hand grabs the hand with the spray and twists it, making you drop it, the other wraps some material over your mouth. You were prepared enough that you don't gasp in surprise, you hold your breath and thrash, but it doesn't make any difference, you wiggle and writhe for a few moments but can't even begin to break free, eventually succumb to the lack of oxygen and take a deep breath. It takes a few seconds to settle in, it's not so immediate. You instinctively panic and thrash again, but he has a complete iron grip. The dizziness takes a second to set in. He huffs a bit in frustration and says stop moving, it's fine. It's definitely not, but it occurs to you that that's not something a kidnapper looking for any potential vulnerable girl says. It's a poor attempt at comfort. It's someone specifically looking for you. And if that wasn't enough, he says your name. Your very real name. Maybe it was a mistake to tell him after all. But the worst part of it all is that there's not a single doubt in your mind, even in your panic you have the realization, it's definitely him and this is literally exactly what you were afraid of. And it's the last thing that goes through your head. And once he's got you out cold he just takes a sigh of relief. He may have been very neutral faced to you, but in reality he was incredibly nervous. He hasn't exactly made or used chloroform before, our boy is operating on YouTube tutorials here. He's got adrenaline pumping through his veins and carries you with his arms trembling. He's on autopilot carrying you out, but his mind is also consumed by holy fuck I'm touching her she smells so nice she's so warm her face is so close I'm actually touching her-- you get the idea. He feels bad about taping your hands and feet together and putting you in the trunk of his car, kinda. It feels too much like what a really bad person would do to a girl they didn't care about, like he's a trafficker or a murderer or a criminal or something, but that's not true at all. Sure, he's still mad at you for being a whore and all that, but it feels improper, he just has no choice. It's late at night, but he can't risk getting pulled or being at a stoplight and someone seeing an unconscious girl in his backseat, so, trunk it is. But once he's home, to his tiny little downtown apartment (he'll probably be able to move into a better place soon, since he's not paying you tons of money anymore), he takes a quick check to make sure the coast is clear, and drags you out, up the stairs, all the way into his apartment, sets you down on the bed, where you'll be staying. He even washed the sheets and cleaned the place up a bit for your arrival. You probably would not like to see what this place looked like before the five trash bags worth of cleaning was done. He'll probably be more motivated in the future, though, since now he won't be so depressed all the time. And then the adrenaline of the fear of being seen is over, and that's when it sets in that this is real. It's very, very hard to hold back. You're real, in the flesh, he can reach out and touch you with his hands! It feels like a dream. And he realizes he can take this opportunity to do things he would be far, far too embarrassed to do when you're awake. He takes a few minutes to do just that, cautiously reaches out to poke your face, and then run a hand down your neck, your skin is so soft! Your hair smells so nice, he lays down beside you and runs his fingers over it. Puts hands on your body and just lays there in awe of the fact that you're real. He's pretty certain he's never actually touched a human female before now. Everything about you feels soft. Weirdly feminine, which is something very foreign and confusing to him. And he kinda uh... Loses it. Goes buckwild with just taking in every aspect of you. Again, since you're unconscious he can be gross and entirely shameless about it. Peels your clothes off and runs his hands and mouth over every inch of flesh, takes the tape off your lips and presses his tongue into your limp mouth until he's forced to let go to breathe, fingers you and tonguefucks you and sucks on your nipples and your neck. Lays pressed against you and just breathes in your scent. It takes every ounce of self control he has not to fuck you already. But he does jerk off a few times. That way he'll last longer, so it's a win-win. And then... you twitch. Tape goes back over your mouth. And then, you twitch again. And this time, you make a little "mm!" under the tape, you start trembling and he sees you try to pull your hands apart. You whimper. It sounds scared and distressed. He feels kinda bad, but it also makes him hard, and that outweighs any guilt by far. Besides, it's what you deserve after what you did earlier. You tortured him mentally, it's only fair. On the good side of things, you suppose, you don't have to worry about the usual fears one would have over such a situation - you're fairly certain he's not going to kill you, nor sell you. In fact, the bed you wake up on is pretty soft. You're naked and the tape is uncomfortable, but... At least he was considerate enough to give you a blanket. He does care about you, after all. First thing he says is asking if you're awake. Can you hear me? You hesitate a moment, and then you nod. He's a bit new to this whole abduction thing. He wants to make sure he didn't pull a muscle or something with the tape. So... Do you hurt anywhere? Does your head hurt? Oh, right, the tape. He's not stupid either. You have to promise you're not going to scream. In fact, he's angry enough about earlier that he gets a bit meaner than he originally told himself he'd be. If you scream, I'll make you regret it. Understand? You nod, so he takes it off, holding it close in preparation in case you were lying, but you don't actually answer him, you're silent again for a minute, then just ask a question of your own. You're that guy, right? He's silent for a few seconds, there's no need for any clarification. Finally just says yeah. You just breathe again. Silently. Finally you summon the courage to ask him what he wants with you. And why are you doing this to me? And his answer is fairly simple. What do you think? You don't say anything for a minute, and neither does he. He's not good with words, and you don't really have ones for this situation. It occurs to you that offering to pay him to let you go is probably not the solution. After all, this is the guy that's dumped unimaginable amounts of money onto you, you couldn't even come close to paying him back. You figure maybe, after he gets what he wants... well, you get the courage to ask. Is there anything... that I can do o-or... anything that will make you... are you gonna let me go, after you....? And the answer is, again, simple, but the one you did not want to hear. No. He's a blunt boy, so he doesn't beat around the bush, but he doesn't torment you by keeping anything from you. In fact, he's already rehearsed this speech a few hundred times in his head. He just wanted to make sure he's very clear so there's no misunderstanding, and while he likes some discomfort in a vengeful sort of way, he doesn't want you to be too freaked out to where you have a panic attack. He says he's just going to... keep you here. He has the things you'll need. He got your purse with your keys, so he'll even run to your apartment after this to go get some of your stuff. You don't need to tell him which number, he adds, he already knows which apartment you're in. He needs you here, he says. And he makes sure to add that it's your fault. If you were never out there selling yourself in the first place, this never would have happened. If you're good, he can make things a bit better for you. But you need to go ahead and accept that you're going to be staying and that no amount of begging or offers is going to convince him to let you go. He can be nice to you, he promises. A better boyfriend than the others. You just have to be a good girlfriend -- you know, obedient and sweet and do what he says. Just like you always were when you talked to him. Just keep being sweet like that and doing the things he tells you to do. You would argue that the terms boyfriend and girlfriend are not appropriate descriptors of the sort of relationship he's creating, but you keep that thought to yourself. Instead, you ask, How long are you going to keep me here? Which is a dumb question, since he's pretty sure he already made that clear. Forever. -----

There's a double homicide in the area. Takes place on the same night, and the same diameter of knife is used, so police believe maybe the two incidents are connected. Especially because they do have something in common, one girl. She was romantically involved with both of them. The girl in question's apartment has been vacated, very suddenly, and the girl has disappeared without a trace, taking things with her from the looks of it, so police believe she may be responsible, but other than that, they have no leads. A few weeks later, a video circulates all over the internet. Some famous camgirl finally started making porn, apparently. Just one video, but the description (which was totally written by her, it has to be since it's written in first person right?) says something about how she decided to quit camming, so this video marks the end of her career. She got into a relationship, so she says in the description, so she has to quit. It's roleplay porn, apparently, she's doing a good job at the acting. All tied up and gagged and getting fucked by some big-dicked guy holding the camera. He's silent, but she's making a ton of noise, cums several times. Really good acting, the fear and desperation in her eyes looks so real. Talk about going out with a bang. It gets a lot of likes. Tons of comments about how sad people are she's quitting. And of course, a lot of comments say, what a lucky guy.

#.camgirl

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castielcommunism · 2 years

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for that deancrit/cascrit post, do you think it's unfair that there's so much deancrit posted but never about the other characters? they've all done stupid/horrible things but it only ever seems like dean gets shit for it :/

My suspicion is that because the show tends to be more forgiving of Dean than either Sam or Cas, the response in the fandom is flipped where people will regularly say Cas or Sam never did anything wrong and then get mad at Dean. The morality of spn is also very weird, like killing people for example isn’t generally taken to be a huge transgression because everyone in the show does it all the time, so Cas doing angel war crimes doesn’t tend to register on people’s #critical radars the same way Dean lying to his brother does. The scope of what’s acceptable to judge these characters on is fairly narrow, limited mostly to interpersonal betrayals and conflict. Which I think Dean kinda reigns supreme on in terms of pure numbers (although Sam and Cas aren’t saints in this regard lol). And also stuff like Sam ghosting Kevin for a year in s8 feels kinda weird to me? Like a bunch of conflict and bad decisions the characters make feel manufactured in a way where I can’t really get mad at them because it feels like a decision the writers made for them to create drama rather than their own decisions. And like idk maybe the Kevin example is a bad one, I haven’t thought about it enough and it’s been a while since I saw those episodes, but like I know it gets brought up as a sam transgression, especially as a response to deancrit.

I think Dean is also the most noticeable figure in the room when the writing gets bad. Sam kinda fades into the wallpaper and Cas shows up intermittently to be like :( sorry guys I fucked up again can you help me clean up this mess I made :( whereas Dean just becomes openly unpleasant towards everyone. Like all of that shit sucks but there’s a difference in the way you feel it. Which is my central issue with dean critical people - the show’s badness isn’t localised to Dean, and if he didn’t exist the writers would invent another guy to fill that niche. He just happens to be the lightning rod for the specific brand of angry masculinity spn wants to explore so he gets all that thrown at him. And like he doesn’t HAVE to be their beast of burden in that regard, but that’s the show we got. It’s also really weird that the show frequently brings up that he wants to move on to happier and healthier environments, that he wants to have a job and friends and be part of a team and live a normal life, and the writers go “well what if instead you were stuck in an underground bunker alone with your brother and all the people you loved kept dying and leaving you and what if you had to keep doing this violent job you hate”. so like what do u expect!!!!! I can’t really get too mad at the guy for being forced to exist in the supernatural plinko every day because he clearly does not want to be there. Even as early as s6 they show Dean in a stable environment outside of hunting (living with Lisa and Ben) and by all accounts he treats them really well and gets along well with other people and doesn’t have these big ongoing interpersonal problems. It’s only when hunting begins to intrude that he starts lashing out again. Like I know he’s secretly miserable while he’s with Lisa, but it’s canonical that when taken out of hunting he becomes a lot more stable and less angry.

The OTHER other thing is that Dean is by far the most popular member of tfw, and hating the most popular guy in the fandom because you don’t like his fans probably contributes a not-insignificant amount to the deancrit take factory. So I think it’s a combination of those three things and probably other stuff I’m missing. But I think on the whole that deancrit isn’t generally popular in destiel tumblr (not to the degree it exists in other circles, certainly), and destiel tumblr is by far the largest portion of the fandom, so it exists in a minority anyway. It just happens to be the biggest minority

#dean.txt #dean studies #uh sorta lol #meta

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jadoue1999 · 3 years

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Peter Maximoff’s complicated relationship with Star Wars

Summary: Peter didn't like Star Wars. But not because they were bad movies, no. It's because they somehow were very similar to his own life, and they also showed him what might have been, had his twin lived long enough. This is the story of Peter Maximoff, told through the many similarities between the original trilogy and his own life.

*All Star Wars quotes are in italics*

Peter doesn’t like Star Wars

Don’t get him wrong, the movies are great. The first movie had come out when he was 22 years old, and he had found it amazing. He had never seen anything like it before and had sneaked into the movie theater to rewatch it with his twin several times.

‘I need your help, Luke.’

It was almost ironic how his life resembled some parts of the movie. Both he and Wendy had some characteristics of Luke and Leia. He was the goofball, the one who had been recruited to break someone out of an impenetrable prison. Hell, Charles could be Obi-Wan, the old wizard with strange mind control powers (though he didn’t have them at the time), Hank was Chewbacca, the fierce beast who was loyal to his family, and then the claw guy, Logan, was Han Solo. The dark-haired man with a don’t-mess-with-me attitude that would shoot you down without hesitation. That made him Luke, the farm boy that was raised isolated, unaware of the true danger. Only difference was that Erik wasn’t Leia, no he was Vader. Wendy was Leia, the fierce, loud mouthed, badass princess that didn’t let anyone boss her around.

They had loved the first movie, but then tragedy struck. His twin’s powers were always unpredictable, always on the verge of lashing out. He had tried to help as much as he could, but just a few months after their 23rd birthday, it was too much for Wendy to bear. She lost control and died, taking half a block with her. Peter did his best to carry on, but their lost connection was all he could feel. The aching emptiness that had always been occupied by his twin sister. It took awhile, but he did eventually go see the second Star Wars. It was... a bittersweet experience to say the least.

Seeing the big bad Vader being related to Luke really did a number on him. All he could think about was the fact that he too was related to a literal terrorist. Someone who had hurt hundred of people and would probably not hesitate to hurt him as well. And then it was revealed that Luke and Leia shared a connection, where they could hear each other and feel each other, and it just overwhelmed him. Minus the kissing (ew, that was gross, why did they even include that?!) Luke and Leia’s relationship reminded him of his and Wendy’s.

That’s why he wasn’t surprised when they were revealed to be twins in the next movie.

Actually, he had been surprised, but more about the fact that his grief took over for a moment. Seeing Leia try to reason with Luke, telling him that nothing good would come out of chasing Vader, their father... that was a conversation that had really happened after their mom told them who exactly was Magneto. Peter had decided to chase Erik down the moment he had resurfaced.

‘I won't fail - I'm not afraid.’

‘Oh, you will be. You will be.’

His mom had warned him about Magneto, how nothing good came out of chasing ghosts, but he had to try. A confrontation with the Dark Lord of the Sith.

Cloud city The mansion was full of people, and the place was exploding. He saved them all (minus one), of course, because that’s what he did. Why be a speedster if you can’t save people from catastrophe?

‘Luke, don't - it's a trap!’

Yeah, it had been a trap, alright. But unlike Luke, he hadn’t had Leia to warn him. So, the carbon freezing chamber knock out gun had worked. That’s how he ended up captured by the government and woke up in a weird green room. The others, he could understand why they were taken, they seemed to know the man holding them, but why him? Peter was of no interest to them. Unless they knew he was related to Magneto and planned to use him as a bargaining chip, but it seemed unlikely.

Then, they were freed and, on their way to confront En Sabah Nur, or as Hank had described him, the blue god. He had told Raven about his relationship with Erik, and she promised him that she would make sure she would tell him.

‘There is no escape. Don't make me destroy you.’

The cold, cold eyes of Magneto were staring at him with something that seemed almost like interest. “And you?”

‘I am your father.’

It was right there, a perfect opportunity served on a silver platter. An opportunity to make Erik realize he wasn’t alone, that he had more family. Perhaps he’d turn back to the light side if he knew. “I’m your-“

But it was Wendy who was the brave one, she was the chosen one. She never would have hesitated. And he wasn’t his sister. “I’m here for my family too.”

It was all sad and tragic because his life was just like that. He could feel Raven’s eyes on him, she couldn’t understand why he hadn’t told him, but she couldn’t know about Wendy. It was his own painful secret.

With how similar his life was to Luke’s he wasn’t sure why he was even surprised when he got his hand cut off leg broken. Then, there he was, trying to hold on to consciousness as shock settled into his body.

‘Hear me! Leia!’

Oh, how he wished Wendy were here. She would have destroyed them. Peter would have done anything for his twin to answer, like Leia did with Luke. But she was dead, there was no one to answer him. Just the cobwebs of their broken connection and the burning pain of his leg. He didn’t really care what happened next, he was all too focused on getting his message to his long-lost sister. He didn’t really believe in a higher power, of some all-powerful entity that somehow watched over everyone. He did, however, believe in Wendy, his strong, beautiful, powerful sister.

‘I would have preferred her too’

The blue God’s voice resonated in his head, catching him off guard. No one had ever reached in his mind like that, Wendy only could because of their connection.

‘If you will not turn to the dark side, then perhaps she will.’

Would his father have tried recruiting Wendy for his brotherhood? Yeah, definitely. She would have been the true last hope. A daughter to be proud about. One with abilities beyond anything anyone had ever seen. One that truly would have saved everyone, hell, she would have prevented the mansion from exploding and never would have been captured in the first place. The blue god looked at him with disdain in his eyes and Peter knew it didn’t mean anything good. He tried to crawl away, but in his current position, that did absolutely nothing.

‘It is pointless to resist, my son.’

En Sabah Nur grabbed him by the hair and tugged, holding him painfully upright and vulnerable. He’d always hated staying still, he was always too full of energy, always eager to chase after the next distraction.

Peter looked up at his father, trying to see if he would do anything, but he saw nothing but indifference. Magneto didn’t care about him. He was an insignificant mutant, a face amongst a thousand others. Soon to be counted amongst the hundred of corpses that Erik had seen in his life.

‘Now, young Skywalker...you will die.’

The god pulled his head back sharply, exposing his throat. “End him.”

One of his horsemen was approaching him with a sharp sword. Peter was slightly thankful that it wasn’t his dad that was chosen to be his executioner. His powers had kicked in, trying to give him an opportunity to escape. But it only made his imminent doom even worse.

Then, he didn’t die, and the hope of seeing his twin again was brushed aside for another near-death situation. As it turned out, Raven was a great person when the son of her friend was in danger.

En Sabah Nur let him go too quickly to focus on the blue mutant. He gasped and writhed as he fell to the ground as electricity pain coursed through his body. The blue god didn’t care about him, he continued calling for Charles, calling for his true target.

‘Father! Help me!’

He should cry out like Luke did, there was no way Magneto would act if he didn’t. Then again, he didn’t have a clue who he was. It was doubtful he remembered him from the Pentagon, it had been nearly 10 years and Erik had had a whole other family since. He was just the nameless idiot that got a big head and tried to take on a god and got defeated like a loser.

In the end, they were all fine, just a little shaken. Erik gave him a weird look, either he pitied him, or he was wondering what he had wanted to tell him. But Peter was on the verge of passing out, there was no way he could hold a conversation at the moment. They came back to the mansion and Peter decided to stay, maybe getting out of his isolation wouldn’t be so bad.

So, even if his life was similar to Star Wars, in its turns and tragedy, it wasn’t even close to how the trilogy ended. The scruffy Han never came back, Obi-wan wasn’t next to a redeemed Anakin (he just left all together) and Leia wasn’t at his side anymore. A happy ending wasn’t something that happened in real life. Everything he wanted resolved wasn’t wrapped neatly into a bow. He still had his loads of daddy issues caused by a father who didn’t know was a father and Wendy, his amazing long gone twin still wasn’t at his side. Peter figured that some good would eventually come to him, it couldn’t be all bad, right?

‘This is our most desperate hour.’

He had faith in that, so, when he was woken up by a burning sensation in his chest, he did his best to understand. The pain was so familiar, it was grief. But not his grief, no, this came from the connection he shared with his twin.

“Wanda?” he called out. Using her real name because she was calling to him. Because she needed him. Because she was somewhere all alone.

“I had a brother, his name was… Pietro.”

It was painful for her to talk about him, so he made sure to let her know through their bond that he was there for her, she just had to reach out. Wanda was confused to feel him, but her scarlet magic soon opened a portal. It might be a trap, there was no way to be certain, but Peter trusted his sister. He took and deep breath and ran into the portal without hesitation. She was alone and she was suffering, it was his job as her twin to help her.

‘Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope.’

#peter maximoff #pietro maximoff #Erik Lehnsherr #star wars #marvel #x men #marvel fanfiction #x men fanfiction #quicksilver #wendy maximoff #wanda maximoff #x men apocalypse #Charles Xavier #Evan Peters #Michael Fassbender #dadneto #wandavision

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shihalyfie · 2 years

Note

Hi again! Hope I'm not bugging you. I was just thinking about something Digimon-related that's stuck in my craw for a while. With 20+ years and so many entries in the franchise, we haven't yet had a female lead (other than choosable-gender game protags). It's especially annoying because Digimon's had so many great female characters! Any thoughts on why we don't get any gogglegirls? (Yes, I know it's a shounen, but in a world with Soul Eater and TPN, that's no excuse! It's 2021!)

No worries, I love getting asks so don’t worry about bothering me! Thank you for the insightful questions!

So the answer is indeed "it's a shounen", but more specifically, it actually is on statistical record that toys related to the female characters don't sell as well as those related to the male characters in a shounen anime (or at least they didn't at the time of Tamers). This is something Soul Eater and The Promised Neverland don't have to worry about because they're not toy-seller shows and are simply based on already well-proven manga, but 4-cour original anime lives and dies by its toy sales, poor toy sales being responsible for killing Digimon the first time via exponential drops during Tamers and Frontier. Unfortunately, in an era where a lot of boys (or, perhaps more accurately, parents of boys) don't want to buy Girl Toys, you do run the risk of damaging said sales by a not insignificant amount, and it's also presumably the reason why we've had a pretty huge number of cases of girls with masculine Digimon partners (since the partners are more closely tied to the toylines) than we have the reverse. As you've pointed out, the games are more lenient, and that's because people will be buying the same game regardless of whether there's a male or female protagonist. But for the anime, the protagonist-centric toys are the ones that make up the majority of the sales, so risking that percentage creates the biggest risk of overall financial loss.

Society is slowly changing and nowadays it's more acceptable and well-known for boys to be into feminine-coded things (case in point, magical girl series PreCure is said to be enjoyed by quite a few boys who watch it waiting for Kamen Rider to air on the timeslot right after it, and Kamen Rider itself is starting to more prominently show female Riders in the Reiwa era). But the problem is that, of course, it becomes a self-feeding loop. If you want real-life boys to be more accepting of female characters and their associated toys, it's good to help normalize that with more representation, and it's going to be slower to happen in the first place if you don't take the first step, so who's gonna give first? Even with Ghost Game, you'll notice that there's only one device instead of multiple different models -- in the past, when we had different models of Digivice toys, the ones associated with the female characters would sell noticeably less than the ones associated with the male ones -- and Angoramon and Jellymon's DiM cards are sold together to try and maximize sales in light of Ruli being a girl or Jellymon being feminine. But on the flip side, as many have pointed out, Kiyoshirou and Jellymon are our first prominent male Tamer-feminine Digimon pair, so steps are being taken. Maybe. At a baby steps pace, but nevertheless.

In the end, it's an issue that has a lot to do with the cause-and-effect of internalized misogyny in society as a whole, and unfortunately since Digimon is in a stage right now where it's still barely on life support and trying really hard to not die, I imagine the important first step will have to be taken by more prominent or financially stable franchises first (maybe Kamen Rider or Super Sentai will stop being coward and have a lead female Rider or female Red) before Digimon is comfortable trying it. Ah, capitalism.

#shiha's ask box #vethica

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jeankirsteinn · 2 years

Text

Alone With Numbers

Summary: Kisaki’s life up until now could be summarized with a word: lonely. The only things that keep him going are his extraordinary intellect and her. The ray of sun hitting the lonely, distant, cold moon.

Pairing: Kisaki Tetta x Hinata Tachibana

Warnings: spoilers?, alternative timeline, Takemichi goes back to the past, fan theory, angst, gang violence, bullying, degrading, nerd!kisaki, introspective, character study.

Words count: 3.4k

His tiny nervous hands scribble automatically on the thin paper, like them alone know the answer.

He double-checks the answer written on the last problem, adjusting the enormous glasses on his scrawny face. He’s sure, the two answers to find x^2 must be +1/2 and -1/2. Too easy.

Kisaki’s face detaches from the sheet of paper and his bright greyish eyes focus on the distant clock, right over the chalkboard. Technically he still has half an hour to finish the assignment, but he doesn’t need more time. He checked everything meticulously, plus he doesn’t have any sort of doubt over his answers.

He moves the chair to stand up and reach the teacher’s desk, but somehow the friction within the pavement and his chair’s legs cause a nerve-wrenching sound, making some of his classmates shift their eyes to his direction, giving an intimidating look that brings nothing but trouble. He’s been there, he knows what to expect.

“I’m sorry…” he whispers.

“Ugh, can you at least be silent, pencil neck?”

“Ssh Mimura, don’t talk to him or the four-eyed nerd will think you want to be friends with him.”

Kisaki slowly bows his head and goes straight to hand over his paper to the teacher. He’s not going to clap back to them even if he could. There’s no point in it besides getting in more trouble.

Their fate is also not up to him. Mimura and that other insignificant piece of scum, Usami, will get what they deserve, one day. They’re not particularly brilliant and they don’t put effort into what they study or their assignment. Their after-classes activities consist in doing nothing but wander around the same park, tormenting cats and small animals, or playing soccer with a rusty ball probably snitched from a convenience store. They have no perspective in life, they are already miserable and pointless, but he’s not gonna tell them that. He’s just a pathetic four-eyed nerd, right?

Oh but so brilliant.

“Kisaki-chan, done already? Well, not that I’m surprised.”

“Sensei, may I go to the toilet?” whispers with a thin, trembling voice.

“All right, but don’t run in the corridors.”

“Yeah don’t run, Kisaki-chan. You’ll break your tiny frail legs.” Scoffs Mimura. Others chuckle right after him.

Kisaki doesn’t want to stay a minute more in that classroom. As much as math is his favorite class to attend and likes to study he hates going to school. Mostly because of his peers. Always there to judge and be mean to him.

He did nothing wrong to them, so why do they dislike him? Why do they cut him out of their groups? Not that they would be the best company for him. He really doesn’t understand, and he’s not stupid, he knows he’s a prodigy. And he assumed everyone liked a prodigy like him. He doesn’t seem to understand people. Numbers are much easier to understand than people. He likes them, they speak to him as true friends would.

He also likes quiet places, quiet activities.

He likes to think alone. He likes a good book, puzzle games, math problems.

He likes to look at plants, even grow them, like that Pacific Wisteria hanging structure he installed in his back garden. Even his mother sketched a smile while looking at them. He liked his mother when he was younger. When she loved him as a mother would. Now she looks like the ghost of her mother, silently wandering in the house, doing the minimum effort to feed him and keep everything in order, and then off to work or wherever she goes during the day. Of his father he can say nothing at all, God knows where he is now. Kisaki is just aware of the emails with the same amount of money he sends once a month. Would he like him? From the one pictures his mother once made of him, he resembled him. A pair of cold grey eyes with glasses. He is a fine man.

He likes the taste of salted caramel ice cream. And he especially likes her…

But then again he hates everything else. He hates dogs that bark too much, he hates mint flavored things, he hates to sweat. He hates unrequited, messy things that don’t follow a plan, stupid people, mean people. He hates mean people so much.

A silent tear sheds from his eye, followed by many others “Oh no…”

He also hates crying in front of those mean people. He knows he’s a weak-looking kid, but damn he doesn’t want to make it that obvious!

“Kisaki-kun?”

This voice…

“Oh no, no…” whispers to himself. He can’t show himself like this. He quickly rubs the end of his blouse over his eyes, sniffing violently.

“Are you ok?” the voice is coming closer with a little jingling sound following the steps.

“Yes, thank you, Tachibana.”

“It doesn’t seem so. You’re…”

Kisaki stiffens his shoulders as she carefully poses a hand on his right one. He turns to look at her with red swollen eyes.

“What happened.” She sounds angrier than ever.

“Nothing really. The usual.” Says monotone, shifting balance with his feet.

“I don’t believe you, Kisaki-kun.” She puts on a pouty face.

“F-fine. You don’t have to worry about me anyway…”

“But you’re my friend. I worry for people I care about.”

See, this is why he likes her. Nobody worries about him, not even his parents.

He is alone with his numbers that never fail to reassure him. When he feels anxious he resorts to them.

For example: he still has 2 hours to finish the day and then off to cram school. The same goes for Hinata Tachibana, whose class is at the end of the corridor, approximately 30 meters from his. She’s always the first to exit school because she is the first to reach the school’s exit. In cram school there are 20 desks, but not so many people. 16, to be exact. Hinata reaches the class first for obvious reasons, and she usually sits next to the window, second row. Depending on Mizuki’s presence at cram school, which varies from day to day (usually on Friday there’s a 70% of probability for her to come, depending on her health issues) there’s a free desk next to her, second row, which Kisaki always, 100% of times, aims for.

That’s what keeps him going. Yes, to better his skills at cram school. But a huge part of him knows cram school would be completely different without her presence to light him up. He has a friend there. Someone that cares for him. And that’s too important for him to let it slip from his hands.

He cares for her too.

“That’s nice to hear... I do too.” Says him avoiding her eye contact, almost whispering into the wind the last part. He would love to scream he really likes her. That he would do anything for her. But has he the guts to do that? Has he the guts to really do anything for her?

“Well then tell me, who said what about you?”

“How do you know anyone said anything?”

“What?”

“Uhm…”

“I mean, in my class, there’s Mimura’s best friend… sometimes he comes to pay a visit. I hear them talk.” She blushes, scratching the side of her neck.

“Oh.”

“But don’t worry, I got you covered.”

“Don’t bother, if they find out you’re friend with me they’re going to pick on you too.”

“I can handle them. I do karate, you know?”

“Y-yes. That’s so cool Hinata…” he feels like his heart is in his throat, going to explode.

Of course he knows that. He knows everything there is to know about her already.

She chuckles, spinning around him and then looking back. The same jingle scratches the back of his brain so pleasantly every time she makes a step.

“I knew you cared about me too. See you at cram school?”

Kisaki’s bright eyes become possibly brighter. For once, he feels invincible.

“Of course. See you later, Hinata.”

Later that afternoon Kisaki finds himself sitting right where he wanted to, head bowed and nose immersed into the advanced math book.

It is summer and the window of the classroom is slightly open, letting a nice breeze surround the class.

That way he can feel Hinata’s peachy perfume on him, invading his nostrils and making his head light.

From time to time he shifts his eyes on her, just to remember how she looks like, to imprint her figure deep down in his mind.

“Uhh!” Hinata’s buff makes his head rise immediately from the surprise.

“I’m having troubles with this exercise…” she says almost talking to herself. She then looks at Kisaki with a doubtful expression, nodding at the book.

“Kisaki-kun, can I ask you to help me out? I can see you’ve already done that one.” Points out, blushing.

Kisaki’s heart stops. Never in a million years he thought she would ever ask him for advice.

“Uh, I… yes!” says him adjusting his glasses with a finger “Come closer.”

With that Hinata reaches his desk, planting her elbows near him with a pencil in her mouth and the cutest focusing face Kisaki had ever seen before. He starts scribbling on a new piece of paper, pointing out every passage like it’s a lullaby for little babies. Math truly has no secrets for him.

“Now you see here? We need to apply the formula we revised before.”

“Kisaki-kun you’re a genius! Thank you, I’ve finally understood! And sorry if I’ve bothered you. You were so into that exercise before…”

“No problem. It was useful to me too, revising old exercises.”

“Well then great!” giggles Hinata returning to her desk.

The last hour passes by and Kisaki feels happier than ever. The supervising teacher, after completing a round of control on everyone, fixes a flyer on the wall, right next to a giant poster with courtesy formulas written all over.

“Well kids, now you can go home. Remember to give your congratulations to Kisaki-chan!”

Kisaki lifts his head, looking worried for an explanation.

Hinata yeets herself to the flyer while the other kids abruptly reach the exit of the classroom. Nobody congratulated him on his achievement.

“Wow, you’re amazing Kisaki-kun! You placed first in the national mock exams, again!”

Kisaki collects his belongings, smiling timidly at Hinata: “Oh, just by accident.”

“Ooh… so humble.”

“Hina, let’s go.” Hinata’s friend is waiting for her on the doorstep, impatiently.

“Coming!”

Kisaki follows Hinata with his sleepy, emotionless eyes, slowly reaching the exit too. But he stops.

“How can you stand talking to him? He’s creepy.” Hinata’s friend scolds her.

Kisaki is not new to those cruel words. But he truly, deeply wishes to never hear them coming from her.

Please, if there’s a God, don’t let her say those things of me.

“Uh? Why? He’s a good kid.” Replies her seriously. He starts to breathe again, slowly following them.

“Smart kids like him seem heartless to me.”

But he has a heart. Maybe even bigger than all you bunch of idiots who hate on a kid for no good reason besides being quiet and academic.

The gates of the elementary school are getting closer and closer as Kisaki walks behind the two girls silently, watching his shoelaces dangling as he makes a step after another. Those shoelaces are too long, he’s going to stumble on them one day and make an embarrassment of himself, more than he is already.

Hinata and her friend are stationed right outside the gate, talking to each other.

Maybe there’s a thing he likes even more than cram school. His walk back home with her. It’s about 20 minutes from school and they spend it side by side, talking. Well, she does the most talking, Kisaki is afraid of saying things she might not like. If she starts despising him, it’s the end. And if she sees he likes her, like really much, maybe she would be disgusted.

Who would want to be with a boy that creepy, right? Silent with gloomy eyes scanning the surroundings, looking for her. Any detail of her life is precious to him, he treasures it like the rarest math formula.

He stops, clinging over his schoolbag as the girls finish their talk.

Hinata’s friend suddenly shifts her eyes onto him without a word.

“So, see you tomorrow Hina.”

She says it clearly worried. Almost disapproving of her behavior.

Kisaki looks back at her, piercing her soul with his greyish, glistening eyes.

“Bye bye! Kisaki-kun, let’s go!”

Kisaki feels the tip of his fingers tingle, almost as something terrible is going to happen. Suddenly he wants to go back at home as fast as possible. He feels like something wrong is gonna happen.

“Let’s take the short road, shall we?” asks him. There’s a shortcut, crossing a large park, that leads directly to their neighborhood without having to circle around a whole bunch of houses.

“Uh? Okay…” she seems surprised.

They start walking side by side and Kisaki is afraid Hinata will hear his heart pounding faster than normal.

“Kisaki-kun? Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“I don’t know why they are so mean to you. You are gentle and caring with me. There’s nothing more a person would ask in a friend.” She dangles her head, knocked out.

“I am used to it. People don’t like my presence, but I can’t do anything about it.”

“Mmm, maybe you should smile more! Sometimes you look spaced out and your mouth frowns. Like you’re really sad. I don’t want to see my friends sad, I would do anything to make them smile!”

He gives her a side-eye, sketching a little tiny smile.

She seems amused, in fact, she laughs “Yes! Like that!”

They both reach the park, Kisaki watching from afar a group of kids with a stick in their hands, poking something in the ground. What are they doing, grouped like that, watching the ground? Uh, people really are amused by anything really. Couldn’t be him, he’s a genius.

“Oh, this is unacceptable.” Grunts Hinata, accelerating towards them.

“Tachibana?”

“They’re bullying a poor little cat…”

True, how could he miss that detail? But what could he do? If he went up to them he would be beaten. He’s a loser no matter what, what’s the point in intervening against them? Hinata couldn’t do much more than him either.

Oh no. Now he sees them. Mimura and his friends. There's no way he's gonna stand up against them.

“It’s no use. You’ll get hurt… we should just go. Ta-Tachibana?”

She isn’t listening anymore; she is already far from him, approaching those morons.

Oh no, this is no good, this is trouble. He would love to make himself tiny like a bug and run away, not seen, right now. But would he do that knowing Hinata could get hurt? It's not a matter of possibility. She will get hurt, 100%. Those brainless idiots do not spare girls. He just knows.

His little legs freeze there, making him unable to take a step further, his heart still pounding like crazy.

“Hey!”

A voice comes from his back. Oh no, it’s one of the boys, it's Usami. No, it's Mimura? No, the voice doesn't match. Shit. They must have seen him, whoever he is, he’s ready to take him and beat the shit out of him.

Kisaki slowly looks back with the will of a god. No, it’s not one of them. He wasn’t in the bunch of those tormenting the cat. Another bully? A cousin of Mimura? Maybe they called for backup? Were they expecting company? He needs to relax in order to think clearly.

“What are you doing here?” asks the kid impertinent. It’s obvious what’s he doing there, he’s shit scared of them.

“W-what do you mean?”

If he had to attack him he would have done it before, when he had the surprise effect on his side. Not that Kisaki himself would stand up against him. He would still be beaten up by this random kid, even though he looks like a total dork himself.

“Aren’t you friend with that girl?”

Kisaki looks at Hinata, her ponytail wiggling up and down as she scolds the group of bullies. He cannot hear what she’s saying. He’s too far.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Well, you should help her, or she’ll get hurt.”

He is so upfront with him. He seems about his age, yet so mature.

“I can’t. Look at me..."

"What about it?"

"I'm weak, we’ll both end up beaten unconscious. Why don’t you do it?”

“Well, I suppose I’m weak too. I tried already being a hero. But I know she needs you right now. From a weak nerd to another… what do you have to lose?”

'What do I have to lose?'

Who is this kid? Why is he talking like he knows him... like he's been there before?

“Be her hero, Kisaki-kun. I’m sure she would appreciate that.”

“How do you…?” How does he know his name? He’s never seen him before. This is getting stranger and stranger, his rationality isn't able to process this conversation. But his instincts are telling him he kid's right.

What does he have to lose? He’s a loser already, right? He’s a mad creepy genius and a loser.

She needs a hero? That's what he has to do in order to not be alone? Be a hero.

He hears her sobbing. Mimura pushes her shoulder to make her lose balance.

“I’m a loser already, if I don’t go up to them I’ll lose her. And I don’t want to be alone.”

"Is it this then? You never wanted to be alone?"

"It's my biggest fear."

The kid suddenly smiles, like he finally understood something he wasn't able to figure out for years. Kisaki feels like a huge weight just shifted from that kid's shoulders. He could see that.

“Kisaki, be brave. Be good.”

“H-hey, punks!” He feels he’s about to vomit. He’s not doing a good impression at all “L-l-leave her alone!”

“Ew, what is this? Kisaki-chan coming to the rescue?!” scoffs Mizuki, a kid with an insane amount of freckles on his nose.

“Kisaki-kun…?” whispers Hinata with tears rolling down her cheeks. The cat escaped, so at least they accomplished something.

Kisaki holds his breath, then spits out everything, hiding his trembling hands in his pockets “Is your life this sad and miserable that your only goal is to torment poor animals and even girls?”

Those kids look at each other questioning what he just said.

“No, my life just got better actually, now I can beat you up too.” Mimura punches Kisaki right in the face, making his glasses fly far.

“Here you go, blind shit. What are you gonna do now?”

Kisaki flinches, breathing deeply with his mouth since his nose drips with blood. He doesn't see much now. But he's focused on Mimura's rotting shit brain.

“Leave us a-alonee.” He snaps from his position, running towards his bully, but the shoelaces betray him, tangling up and making him lose balance and fall on his knees.

They all burst into hysterical laughs, almost resembling hyenas. Mimura comes closer, lowering himself to Kisaki's face "What a fucking loser. Who would ever be your friend? I just hope you're not doing all this to impress the girl there... because I know she is ashamed right now. Always creeping up on her. Stupid incel."

"You know nothing at all." Kisaki feels the rage pumping in his veins, going through every cell of his being. It's automatic, spontaneous: he punches the kid back in the nose. He could perfectly see him from this close. Mimura takes a step back, whining and covering his nose.

“The little shit has guts!” grunts Usami in the back.

"Yeah, he told me even losers like us can stand up and become our own heroes."

“What the fuck is he talking about?"

"Who knows...Let’s make him spit his guts out, eh eh…”

One at a time they all use him as their personal punching bag.

Kisaki never got beaten up that badly. In the end, he feels like he went under a truck.

But eventually, they got bored and went away. Hinata was there, she was still with him, and she helped him reach his home. She expressed gratitude with eyes he has never seen before. She was not ashamed, because he did something good, something different. He showed to her, to himself, he could be a hero.

And that kid? He was the strangest thing that happened to him in a long time. He would love to meet him again. Another loser, like him. They would become friends, he could feel it.

He wouldn’t be alone ever again, alone with his numbers.

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liminalhollow · 3 years

Note

Okay, for the Spork AU, I know we're all excited about Eldrich Ghost Danny and everyone's reaction to him, but what about eldrich Sam and Tucker? Because Tucker is the reincarnation of a dead pharaoh and has been exposed to a not insignificant amount of ghost stuff. Sam, depending on where you wanna go with it is either a actual witch, a sort of hedge witch ala Overgrowth, or any number of disconcerting things for a human to be/able to do. Like, if you go with the whole 'Normal Danny is only a little ghostly' idea, Sam and Tucker could even be more ghostly/strange then him. And while I suspect any verison of Sam would be down for that sort of thing in theory, I bet actually having to face it would take a minute to adjust to. And I bet Tucker would horrified at what he could become. Idk, I just think its a cool idea, and I high-key enjoy the three of them being so attached at the hip they don't realize how others could see them. I also enjoy when they're written as being Codependent which I feel is a mood. Any ways, sorry for bothering you, and please forgive any typos, I didn't read this over after typing it with my thumbs on my phone. -♡♡♡

Oh heck I didn't think of that.

Why stop at Sam and Tucker? You could actually go all out and go all Mutant Town AU with this if you wanted.

The entirety of Amity Park being used to all this weird ghostliness just adds to the TUE, world-in-a-state-of-disarray vibe.

#Danny Phantom #Spork AU #ask #Also no need to apologize anon you're not bothering me. <3 #Sorry this took me a couple days to get to lol.

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spencerscoven · 3 years

Text

— dreams of another

about ; Since that night in the office you wander onto Spencer’s mind at all times, like clockwork.

gif by saramichellesgeller

CONTENT WARNING: unedited, smut, oral sex (male&female receiving), choking, unprotected sex, cheating, angst

a/n: view part 1 here.

The second time it happens, it's only a week that passes before Spencer finds himself on the floor of the humid conference room, his limbs entangled with yours, while the cool air settles on the sheen of sweat coated on his forehead. In the corner of of the room, he watches the navy blouse discarded carelessly on the top of a chair, similar in color to the marks between your breast.

The third time it happens, he tells you it's the last time, with his back facing you and his eyes gazing at entirely nothing.

The fourth and fifth time, Spencer doesn't say anything in the tiny space of your bedroom as he overlooks the buildings surrounding your apartment, then all the way to the concrete foundation down below, studying how insignificant everyone looked. How unknowing they were to the moral wrongdoings happening all around them.

"You live so high up. I live four floors down from here in my own building." You listened as he said those fruitless words.

"What does that mean?" You questioned, lips pursing together while your finger nails caught on the creases of the cream duvet beneath you where he laid only minutes before.

“People like you are meant to fuck people like me.” He mumbles, smirking, the vibrations of his voice upheld by the enclosures of cheap plaster walls.

The only thing left to do was to watch as the muscles of his back contracted, dancing in the lines of the darkness with the patter of his feet coming towards you. You monitored the direction of his hand as it reached for the band of his briefs, the other already latched around your neck.

The sixth time it happens, it’s in the bounds of his own apartment where he presses peppery kisses along the sides of your face, assuring you in confidence that she wouldn’t catch the two of you there. And he reassures you the only way he knows how, his fingers plying at your zipper and kneeling like he would at an alter, guiding the arch of your hips closer.

Two weeks from then was when the phone calls started. You began to understand the pattern, laying awake until the sweet pinnacle of dawn where he’d whisper your name through the receiver, exhaustion tainted in Spencer’s voice when he’d ask, “how was your night?” before he began to speak. You’d listen to Spencer talk about the good and the bad. About his mother, vintage cufflinks, and the bookshelf he wanted. Sometimes about the glasses or earrings in the store had reminded him of you. Often about how pretty you looked latched onto his cock. You wanted him to want to keep you.

You wanted him to want you first, to touch you before you even had to lay a finger on him, to grab the back of your neck and kiss you first. Anything he could do to prove that he wanted this too. Something in your head told you it was wrong to long for such a furtive thing. But you found yourself willing to be second best anyways, head stuck below sub zero while you prioritized the taste of his lips along with everything else that made him, him.

So in the shadows this thing between the two of you remained.

And the team began to realize Spencer now had a thing with being late.

They also began to realize that you didn’t drink nearly enough coffee to warrant all of your disappearances.

JJ malignly embarked on the observation of the two of you during meetings, where you never met Spencer’s eye properly but unconsciously leaned your body towards him with each interaction. And all at once it made sense to her, why he was more drawn to his phone, departing from bed at night in preference of hushed ringtones, his growing fondness to late nights. They had never agreed to a proclamation of love, not even on the days she relaxed on his dingy apartment furniture. JJ figured it was his way of waiting on her to feel the same as he might’ve, when in reality it was Spencer’s way of making sure you still remained in his life.

It was a Tuesday when she let the structure of your sin unravel in the bleak corner of the hallway with Spencer, confessing “i know” and chastening him,

“How many people are you willing to hurt?”

With the unequivocal decision pinned to the front of his brain, Spencer told you he didn’t want to hurt anyone else during the last call the two of you shared at night. The words became lost from your ears as you feigned deafness, thinking about how stupid you were to take him in the only way you could, thinking one-third of him be adequate enough.

So you hung up before he said goodbye, and it was easy to do solely because if love couldnt suffice, hate would have to.

It was odd to overlook the call that came immediately after, your eyes unblinking at the white screen. The weeks after that only came to demonstrate that finding a home within someone was overrated, even if you knew who was behind the blocked numbers that caused your phone to viberate so often it would fall off your nightstand.

Little by little you figured you’d forget and move onto your own devices, exhausted by the ability that you still moved through life, yet experienced none of it without itching for him next to you. You lusted after the idea you’d wake up with the intensity of it all slipped from your mind, forgetting how his arms felt, skin, pulse, the sound of his voice, or the soft ringlets of his hair that continued to grow as you wilted.

A harder idea to get out of your head was if he was okay, followed by if he ever thought of you at the same time you thought of him. Did he know you wouldn’t have minded resigning to another team? Or that you considered doing it, even now?

Spencer spectated your life, the base of his throat becoming caught when he watched you get worse, speak less, become smaller. You’d shrunken within yourself. Months passed, with him having too many inquiries about you to Morgan, who always gave him a disappointing look, but told him about you each time. That you hadn’t been sleeping, internal clock stuck on keeping you up until the crack of dawn, your mind regressing backwards solely because of him. He gave up on leaving those stupid sticky notes in your books that said “call me!” or even the ones that asked if you were okay, asking if you able to stand on your own.

He watched you so long that he began to see you get better, more social as you expanded, becoming a part of the team again. You were different, but you were you again. It was a bitter pill to swallow when he took heed that your life no longer included him, keeping his lips sealed at any revelation that would show he was still devoted.

So it was dull-witted when he found himself outside the door of your apartment, swaying back and fourth because every night since the last call his world had been spinning faster and faster, trapping him inside as a prisoner. For weeks straight Spencer had awoken with the feeling of bile ready to rise out of his throat, your presence always lacking even if you controlled the beat of his heart.

He knocked. And thought about how angelic you looked when you answered, the confused expression not going unnoticed by him as a celebration sounded somewhere in his mind because you looked as if you weren’t expecting anyone else. And Spencer knows he’d collapse right then and there if you had been.

“I’ve been thinking— it’s not like I can really stop it— for months. It’s been around sixty eight days since we last spoke,” He began, taking you in, enstilling trust in his brain to get a photo of you so well that he could have it forevermore if you didn’t want him anymore. If that had ever been the case he’d leave. He’d leave the state if you asked him to.

“Why are you here?” You only had four words to say out loud, the rest buzzing around in your head safely, unauthorized to rise out of your throat.

“We never really said anything about it but I think we both knew how we felt.” Spencer leans closer just in time for his lips to land beside your ears, lighting a match inside your chest that had stayed extinguished for far too long.

“Speaking was never our strong suit, anyway.” You replied, your lips pursed while your arms took on a defensive stance, pushing him back gently.

You were shipwrecked inside, pushing him back again, this time firmly because you knew you couldn’t stop him from coming closer, even if you wanted to. You were at a standstill as his hands brought yours to his shoulders, drawing circles on your hip with the tips of his fingers. He was in your doorway asking if he was yours, not trying to eloquently wrap you around his finger.

Your limbs acted before your mind did, digits moving across his adam’s apple and holding tight, restricting his airflow like he had done to you so many times while he fucked you into the mattress. You gleamed at him with not much in your eyes, trying to remembering when you had tried to cross the thin line between love and hate for him. Spencer’s eyes were soft and adoring, a look which he had a tendency to give you. So you held tighter. And he did nothing, knowing you wouldn’t go far but willing to die in your hands if you truly wanted to.

“I don’t know if you deserve this anymore,” Your lips ghosted over his, reprimanding him that he’d forgotten that this had began in a game of adultery.

“I don’t.” Spencer’s voice came out as if he was parched and you had been refusing him of a drink. Your hands released his neck and instead grabbed at his jaw, allowing his lips to mend together with yours, unable to speak back.

“If I loved you any less, I’d be able to talk about it more.” He pulled away just enough to whisper those words.

“You love me?” You questioned, a bit timid in the way it came out.

“It’s more than that. I adore you. Worship, even.”

You felt yourself moving the both of you into your apartment, swapping the publicity of the hallway for the privacy closely afforded to you. Your bodies only got so far, pushing each other against the wall next to the enterence, Spencer’s hands helping to arch your body into his, hands pressing down the curve of your back.

You enjoyed feeling him subtly grind his hips against you while he let out little whimpers, remembering the way he was so vocal and sensitive, yet dominant when he laid between your legs. You drew in a quick breath as he bit down on your bottom lip hard enough to draw the red liquid that ran through your body, conflicted as to why it only drew you closer, want intensified.

“I missed you so much,” Spencer’s voice ghosted in the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking along your throat and collarbones, pushing the palm of his hand harshly against your damp cotton underwear, drawing a shiver from you. “Are lilacs still favorite flowers?”

His fingers played along your slit, the pads of his thumb pressing on your clit and rotating above the fabric, watching your hips jerk from the subtle pleasure.

“I think you missed me too,” Spencer held you, switching places so you now were encased between him and the wall, knowing that soon enough your knees wouldn’t be able to hold you up. His index and middle finger filled you up in a way only he could, the tips of them curving in his direction as he hit the bumpy ridge inside of you.

You held his shoulder, uncaring that your nails dug into the expensive button up he wore, admiring that he always preferred quality over quantity. Your face contorted in pleasure as his fingers only pumped faster inside of your vagina, only smirking at the sorry attempt of a nod you gave to answer him because he had rendered you speechless.

You felt the climb of your orgasm rise in your stomach, reaching all the way to the rest of your limbs, making them feel as if they were just static attached to your body until his fingers ceased, sensing how you clenched around them desperately. Your mouth opened, protests ready to fall out while he grasped the back of your knees, signaling you to jump so he could carry you to your bedroom.

“Why are you always such a tease?” You groaned, endearingly grabbing the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I can’t just let your greedy pussy swallow my fingers and cum from just that...” he tosses you into your sheets gently, leaning down to take your top off and throwing it somewhere to be rediscovered again.

He watches silently as you lift your hips off the mattress, panties sliding down your calves to your ankles, and finally off. Spencer gazes down at you, your jaw in his two hands, staring up with puppy eyes. He let a line of swears spring from his mouth, wondering why you looked so innocent when your hands were planted on his hips, licking the precum that made a wet patch on the side of his pants.

“Quite unfair that I’m the only one with my clothes off, don’t you think?” Your hands settled on his belt buckle, the jingle of metal filling the room as you undid the button to his slacks as well. Tugging him by the band of his boxers to lay on the bed with you, Spencer caught the cue and laid against the headboard. He trailed his left hand along your thighs, lifting you to straddle him as his right latched onto your breasts, squeezing.

“Please sit,” He said, taking a nipple into his mouth, “On my face.”

You sat in a slightly worried daze, Spencer catching the clue to just move you into the position. You found yourself facing the mirror at the foot of your bed, your ass in his face as he grabbed at your hips, trying to bring you higher and get a taste.

“Are you sure?” You apprehensively twisted your torso to eye him, taking note that the two of you had came across something you’d quite done before.

“Yes, I need you to.” Spencer reached his arm around, gently rubbing your clit, and feeling how your whole body relaxed from above him, as he repeated affirmations against your back.

You watched from the mirror, your ass propped up in his face and lips swollen. You could even see when you began the swivel of your hips into him. He didn’t need to say much else before you arched your back, planting your pussy right above his lips.

“You’re so pretty.” He whispered, before running his tongue flatly against your pussy.

Your hips jerked back and fourth, riding on the surface of his tongue that enveloped your clit, sucking on it harshly until he flatly ran it up. His fingers were back at work, touching the places where his tongue couldn’t reach. You determined that this position was now one of your favorites, your hands that were once placed on the tops of his thighs reaching for the bludge in his boxers.

You tried pulling them just far enough so you could begin to run your hands up and down his cock. Spencer’s tongue only assaulted your clit harder when you leaned down, allowing him a new angle so you could push him into your mouth, collecting the precum that had spilt, humming in delight.

Spencer couldn’t stop the thrusting of his hips upwards, burying himself deeper down your throat, both of your moans viberating off the atoms in your room. Your eyes wandered up as you watched, hypnotized at the reflection of you two. It made you wanna take his dick deeper, taking him to the back of your throat as you felt his cum ripple out.

Your orgasm only took a few more seconds to follow his, your moan muffled from your jaw expanded around his cock. Your hasty breaths harbored his while you saw stars. You were casted out of your stupor when you felt the palm of his hand rub circles into your ass, hand coming down in a smack.

“This fucking pussy has me whipped.” Spencer sighed, pressing a kiss exactly where his hand last struck.

When you positioned yourself back across his abdomen, you kneeled, kissing him. You felt him twitch under you from tasting himself on your tongue, reaching down to line up his cock to enter you.

Spencer stared up at you, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of you slowly descending your pussy on his cock. His hands traced the hickies that dawned on your chest, then to his on his lower stomach, watching how the two of you connected. These were marks of possession— ones that he could finally show off.

You rolled your hips against his, slowly circling them and allowing him to hit the most sensitive parts of you. You felt so much fuller than usual, the feeling taking your breath away. Nobody else could reach those heights that Spencer gave you. Maybe it was also because nobody else could occupy your mind like he could, either.

He pulled you down so the two of you could reunite your lips, wearing away at the callouses that had formed around your heart. His thumb drew slow circles on your clit, pulling your orgasm out so you could cum above him. It took a few more thrusts before he came inside you, continuing to fuck his seed back into you from below for just a while longer. When Spencer’s hips stilled, he kept inside, basking in the embodiment of you that wholly consumed him.

He silently traced the outlines of your features, your eye lids fluttering as he reached to them. His fingernails scratched your scalp im a rythem that lulled you into hazy exhaustion. You feel his stare on your face as it occurs to him that he was doomed from the start. You were a wonder to behold.

“Spencer?”

“Yes?”

“Did you forget all of the things I remember?”

“I don’t think I could even if I tried.”

masterlist

#spencerscoven #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #mgg #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x reader #angst #bau #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic

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spideyspeaches · 3 years

Text

Pretty lies (ugly truths)

A/N: This was something I wrote as soon as I heard Clean also that was 2019 and @peterspideysstuff made me do it smh. I’m proud of it so don’t let this flop 🙂

WC: 3.3k+

Warnings: Please read these before going ahead- mentions of CSA (Skip Wescott), brief description of dissociation.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Masterlist || Taglist

It was the little things that you noticed in Peter. He was your closest friend ever, the best person to have ever entered your life next to Tony Stark, the man who had adopted you the moment he laid his eyes on you.

You always noticed when it came to Peter, the way he jumped around when he was in a happy mood, or when he scored a hundred in chemistry and he would flail his hands in the air and hug you as tightly as he could without crushing your bones with his super strength. You had met him when you were both eight- he had come with his uncle Ben to tour Stark Industries, and you both had snuck out to eat some pizza while the adults talked.

You would never forget that day, because it was the day the two of you became inseparable. He would often visit you since then, in Pepper’s penthouse, and you always cherished those visits. He shared everything in his life with you, he was an open book to you, a dog eared page that you could open with a flick of your fingers.

Coming back from the dead post blip was the final straw. No one could separate you two, and when May and Peter had finally agreed to live in the Lake House (only during the weekends though, since it was far from his school), it was the life of a party for You.

"And you three, don't wreck the house and if I found out that the kitchen is on fire-" Pepper said, fixing Peter's shirt and Morgan's hair at the same time, giving you a stern look.

May was out and it was only the three of you- You, Morgan and Peter, while Tony and Pepper went out for a vacation for the weekend.

They had trusted you to babysit Morgan, well You more than Peter.

“We will be fine Pep! Don’t worry I won’t let them burn down the kitchen, or let Gerald eat the goji berries. Now shoo!” You snickered, pushing Pepper with your hands on her shoulder, before she gave you one more look over her shoulder.

“Oh and if you need anything, Kyle will be here soon, you can ask him anything okay?” She said, making you stop in your tracks.

“Kyle? Who’s that?” Peter asked, shuffling to adjust Morgan, who was perched on his shoulder with her head buried in his neck, her soft snores barely audible.

“He’s Morgan’s babysitter, we can trust him honey, he’s been babysitting her since she was one.” Pepper said calmly, her eyes stiff as she wearily looked at Peter, her eyes flitting to You for a moment. They had all been weary of introducing you to change when you first came back, afraid what the change around you would cause you to break further. It ultimately lead to a heart to heart with Doctor Tumnus and You and Peter, one breakdown from each of you, and lots of cuddles.

“I thought he was in college?” You smiled, lifting your brows.

“You know about him?” He asked, his voice small. You didn’t answer him, choosing to nod your head instead.

Looking at Peter, you felt him stiffen, his shoulders tensing like the way they would whenever he was stressed or overthinking, his grip on Morgan tightening as if to protect her from whatever danger was about to come their way. Your heart sped at his look of frustration, his lip forming a thin line as he pursed them, your own confusion growing.

“Wh-why do we need him? I mean, Y/n/n and I can look after each other right?” He gulped, not meeting Pepper’s or your eyes. Morgan took that moment to wake up sniffing under her breath as she lifted her small head from his shoulder.

“Mommy is Kyle coming over?” She asked innocently, not noticing Peter as he gulped. You gripped his biceps, silently asking why he was acting the way he was.

Peter had always been shy when it came to strangers, choosing to stay in the circle of his own people. Heck he had taken almost months to warm up to you.

“Yes honey, he will be here soon, now, be nice for Peter and Y/N okay?” She cooed, kissing Morgan’s forehead and smiling at the little girl, grimacing as your dad honked from behind, shouting to make it fast.

“Okay mommy, have fun!” Morgan smiled sleepily, going back to her position on Peter’s neck, lifting her thumb to suck on. Holding her small hand, Peter softly brought it down to stop her from sucking on her finger. You smiled at how gentle he was with her, momentarily forgetting his ambiguous behavior at the mention of Morgan’s babysitter.

“So, wanna wreck the house?” You joked in an effort to dissipate the growing tension, watching the retreating figure of Pepper as she waved from the car. You waved back, smiling as you leant against the door jamb.

“Sure.” He said absentmindedly, holding his palm against Morgan’s head, tucking her in more firmly.

“Are you okay Pete?” You asked, scrunching your brows when he clenched his teeth, looking at you with seething eyes. You understood at that moment, why criminals feared him as your own heart clenched. He may be a doe eyed shy boy, but he could be angry when he wanted to.

“Can everyone stop fucking asking me that!?” He bellowed, looking at Morgan to make sure she hadn’t woken up. Walking to her bedroom, he tucked her in before keeping the door to her bedroom ajar, turning towards you,

“What’s crawled and died up your ass Parker?” You clenched, folding your hands as if in defence. You were getting worried, his behavior was not him. He was a naturally cheerful and chatty person, talking the ears off of the person who happened to be in his vicinity, now he was just, closed off.

“It’s nothing okay, it’s- it’s nothing. None of your business.” He said, walking away, leaving you with your jaw dropped and hands up in the air.

“Damn straight it’s my business! Why have you been acting weird ever since Pepper mentioned Morgan’s babysitter?” You snarled, shoulders sagging when you saw him tense up once more.

“Just, leave it alright?” He said, cursing your observation and not meeting your eyes before he turned the kitchen lights off, strutting to his bedroom. It was late at night and Pepper had wanted to have an early start, so they had decided to lodge at the tower before leaving for the trip.

“Alright, you don’t wanna talk am I right? See if I care next time!” You shouted pettily, huffing and moving to your bedroom, shuffling inside the covers, tears of frustration brimming your eyes as you tried to wash away the look Peter had given you from your brain.

***

Sleep didn’t come easy to Peter.

It wasn’t anything new for him, Ben had always said that his mind was like a whirlpool of thoughts- they churned at a very high speed and impared him from sleeping. But his insomnia had been causing problems as of late. Ever since he was little and his parents died, he had been prone to nightmares. Back then, Uncle Ben and Aunt May would do everything in their power to soothe him each time he had a bad dream.

Back then, when he was just a little boy, his uncle and aunt would snuggle up on either side of him and hold him until he fell asleep. Ben would sing with his gruff, slightly out of pitch but soothing voice, while aunt May would scratch the back of his ears, a sweet spot. It was the little gestures that reminded him of his childhood. The good parts of his childhood.

He tossed around in the bed, rolling his eyes to do a once over of his bedroom- the one that Pepper had designed when he had- when he had blipped along with You and three and a half million others. The word felt foreign on his tongue- why was such a catastrophic event named something as insignificant and fickle as “the blip”?

Scrunching his eyes shut, he groaned, tossing and turning around his bed. Heaving a frustrated sigh, he pulled at the bedsheets, kicking the covers off his feet as if he were five.

Peter was raised a city boy, living in the heart of New York, where nothing was really silent. Even before he gained his spidey powers, New York was never silent for him- the nightly noises of sirens and noisy neighbours was a constant in his life, so the sudden silence of living in the woods- where the only source of noise was Morgan and Tony in the morning and crickets chirping in the night was alarming.

Finally giving up, he decided to heave himself off the bed, shuffling his foot until he found the bunny slippers you had given him as a gag gift. Hovering his hands on the doorknob, he twisted it as slightly as he could, wincing when he heard the screeching noise of it twisting, as if it wanted to be as loud as it could just to piss him off.

Walking into the kitchen, he looked at the digital clock on his way, the red numbers glaring that it was well past three am into his retinas.

The room was dark, only illuminated by the small LED light in the garden. Picking up a glass, he looked over his shoulder to see if he had woken You or Morgan. Sighing when he heard your and Morgan’s minuscule snores (perks of having enhanced hearing), he opened the tap, filling the water in the glass before chugging it all up in one go.

“Fuck.” He muttered, slamming the glass down and wished the helpless feeling would go away. Ever since he heard the words come out of Pepper’s mouth, he couldn't think straight, all his thoughts strayed to him. He who had hurt Peter, he who was out of his life.

But who was he kidding? It was as if the universe was laughing at him by tossing another fuckery at his face, the ghost of his past lingering in his brain enough to cover the memories in a thin sheen of dust.

"Pete?" Your voice startled him, making him nearly drop the glass in his hand had it not been for his reflexes, "is that you?"

Your voice was heavy with sleep, fatigue evident as you appeared in his line of sight. Looking at him with squinting eyes as you flicked the light switch on.

"Yeah, just uh… thirsty. Wanted water."

“You have a water bottle on your bedside.”

He stayed silent, clenching his jaw as he looked at you. Biting his lips, he suppressed a chuckle as you failed to suppress a yawn, scrunching your eyes. You had a bad case of bed head, the strands of your hair all over your face. You were wearing your infamous strawberry pajamas, the shirt hanging off your shoulders. His eyes softened, you looked so young, all he wanted to do was smother you in a blanket and protect you from everything.

His gut twisted at the thought of protecting. He was supposed to be protecting Peter too.

“I can hear you thinking.” You said, your hands folded under your chest.

“So this Kyle guy, you know him?”

“Peter, you haven’t even met him, why do you hate him so much?” You sighed, rolling your eyes and wrapping your hands around his waist, laying your head against his shoulder blades.

“I- I don’t hate him! I just want to make sure-”

“Make sure what Peter?” You asked softly.

He gasped as memories flashed in front of him- that night when He had introduced himself to little Peter when He had come to babysit him.

Eight year old Peter had just wanted a friend. And Skip Wescott was a friend to him. He was cool and played games with Peter, showed him cool new science tricks and watched cartoons.

Aunt May and Uncle Ben were not home, they were late for work. Skip had been sending him small smiles the whole time.

“You want to see the big boy stuff now Einstein? I know you’re old enough.” Skip said, shifting uncomfortably close to Peter.

Peter’s smile fell off as he saw Skip’s eyes flash dangerously. And at that moment, he didn’t want Skip. He didn’t want to be friends with him any more and he wanted Aunt May.

“Nothing, go back to sleep.” He said, a lump forming in his throat, clutching the glass hard enough for cracks to appear on it. You left him be that night.

***

He didn’t notice when he fell asleep after that, the fear creeping up his spine in spite of knowing that Skip won’t be able to hurt him anymore- he was in jail, Ben had made sure of it. Yet he kept flashing back to his lowest points, when he had cried so loud, yet no one heard a thing.

In the end, he had won the case, yet the scars had remained fresh. His win felt futile, a defeat in spite of winning.

The smell of blueberry waffles invaded his senses first, his eyelids cracking open against the force of sleep. Scrunching his eyes, he let the world slowly come into motion, the walls coming into focus one by one.

He was startled into complete wakefulness by the sudden flurry of mass that had jumped on him, panic settling before noticing that it was just Morgan, her excited rambling bringing him back.

“H-hey Momo! You seem excited huh? Good morning to you too.” He laughed, inhaling as she jumped on his stomach.

“Petey you have to brush your teeth! Come down fast because I have a surprise for you.” She giggled, snuggling into his chest and getting up just as fast, pulling him with her tiny hand.

“I see you have a handy alarm clock.” You said from the doorway, smirking when you saw him

“A very cute alarm clock.” Peter cooed, pinching Morgan’s cheeks and leaving a big sloppy kiss on her cheek, making the little girl giggle, “Wait if you’re both here then who’s in the kitchen? Did May come back? Or is it Happy?”

“No May will be in Cali for a little longer, Happy visited her there so they’re having an impromptu vacation.” You smirked, knowing how much it irked Peter whenever you told him about May and Happy’s escapades. He rolled his eyes, scrunching his nose in disgust, just as you had expected him to.

“I didn’t need to know that, but whatever, who is it though?”

“Kyle’s here! He’s cooking waffles cause I told him Petey likes them very much! It was supposed to be a surprise but Y/n/n ruined it.” The little girl pouted, glaring at you with her adorable brown eyes. She looked exactly like Tony when she did that.

He felt a pang in his chest, an unearthed nervousness taking residence as he felt his stomach drop. He pulled Morgan closer, feeling your eyes on him as you tried to gauge his expression.

“Yeah.” You said simply, urging Morgan to come to you as he got up from the bed.

Walking downstairs after cleaning up, he stiffly sat on the table, watching as a short but lean Blond man cooked waffles.

“Hey kiddo! You must be Peter, Morgan and Y/N talk about you all the time!” The guy- Kyle probably, said chirpily. Peter clenched his fists under the table, noticing the look you were giving him.

“Hi.” He said shyly, ducking his head so he won’t have to see him.

“Well they told me you’re shy too.” He said, a smile evident in his voice.

“Y-Yeah.”

“Aw Pete don’t be rude! At least look at his face.” You joked, hitting him slightly in the ribs.

“Sorry I just, that smells delicious.” He smiled, finally looking up to blue eyes staring at him. He shifted nervously, sitting up straight.

“Thank you.”

He felt uneasy under his gaze, bringing the glass of water to his lips to avoid making eye contact.

“How long is he gonna stay here?” Peter whispered to you, avoiding to look inside the kitchen where he was cooking lunch with Morgan- the girl was perched on the countertop with her legs dangling and swinging.

You and Peter had retreated to the AV room after breakfast, opting to watch a movie instead of doing homework. Well it was You who had dragged Peter, because you knew he had already done it before coming.

“He’ll make dinner and go, again, why?” You asked him, fisting some popcorn and throwing them in your mouth.

“It’s nothing.”

You let it go again.

Dinner was an awkward affair. He couldn’t help but let his gaze linger onto him, how he interacted with Morgan. She seemed genuinely happy, jumping around the house till she was tired, enjoying as he lifted her up and played airplane with her.

He really didn’t want to think about it, but his spidey sense kept buzzing a headache in the bottom of his skull. He tried to distract himself, opening his chemistry text book to read ahead of class, but the worlds kept floating around as he saw you and Morgan laugh at something Kyle had said.

“Come on Einstein! It won’t hurt for you to keep that textbook and play with us eh?” Kyle said, winking at him as Morgan laughed, making grabby hands at him so he would come.

You want to see the big boy stuff now Einstein?

No, this wasn’t Skip. This was Kyle, Morgan’s babysitter.

He knew the comment was noncommittal, but he felt his heart race, the world zooming in and out of focus as it got harder to breathe, his book swimming in his hands. He felt floaty, the tingling in his hands intensifying as he felt someone’s hands on his back, dizzily startling him into reality.

“Hey, hey take a breath kid, it’s alright. Deep breaths.” A soothing voice said, cold sweat breaking as he dropped his textbooks. Tears ran down his face without meaning to as he pursed his lips. Instead of saying anything, he sat up and ran into his room.

He could hear you running after him, Kyle asking “Is he okay” as you reassured him. Tears were running freely now as he slammed the door, flopping on the bed and burying himself in the pillows, wishing that the bed would swallow him whole.

He didn’t know why he was reacting the way he did, Kyle was a good person, he saw the way he interacted with Morgan. He was gentle and loving, then why is it that he kept seeing him.

He heard the door creek, your footsteps echoing in his ears, drums rattling against his brain.

“Are you ready to talk now?” You asked softly, wafting your hands through his hair as he felt the bed dip with your weight.

“I had a babysitter, when I was eight. His name was Skip.” He croaked, breathing through his nose. He felt you stiffen as you seemed to connect the dots. Nudging him to move so you could insert yourself in the space.

“Did he hurt you Pete?” You whispered, rubbing his back.

“He did bad things to me, I just, I don’t want anyone to go through it again. Please. He may be in jail but- but sometimes I still feel like he’s here and I hate how I feel! I want him gone. I just want him gone and I want the memories to be erased.”

You remained silent, rubbing his back through his sweatshirt, unbidding tears appearing in your eyes. Someone had hurt Peter. You felt anger boiling inside you, swirling in a dangerous tornado at the thought of someone hurting the best person in your life,

You promised yourself that day that You would protect him at all costs. You couldn't do it in the past, but you would in the future.

“I’m glad you told me about this Pete.” You said, clenching your teeth as he met your eyes.

#peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x reader #peter x reader #peter parker x stark reader #stark!reader #spiderman x stark!reader #peter parker x avenger!reader #avenger!reader #peter parker x reader angst #peter parker x reader fluff #peter parker smut #spideygirl writes

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notcolleen · 2 years

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realizing how much i crave outside validation bc my current situation is: feeling really proud of myself for pulling myself out of a relapse that would have inevitably landed me back in treatment, but also being unable to fully voice that pride bc i never let anyone know how bad it had gotten lol

so that’s when i turn back to tumblr aka the social media platform that has honestly seen way too much of my Worst over the years (consider that a tw for ed behavior talk behind the cut)

[[MORE]]

for ppl that don’t know, i just got back from a ~10 day trip to oregon (half of which was spent on a greyhound, a nostalgic throwback to my Journey to Rainrock in 2014 lol) — and before i left, i was feeling really stuck because i was feeling better mentally (thank you ect and therapy) but also still trapped behaviorally with bingeing and purging and restricting/compulsive movement outside of that

i was in a virtual “emotional eating” dbt group, but i was not being honest with them because they made it clear that the group was for “disordered eating” and not a clinical eating disorder — and the director was someone i had previously worked with while inpatient, so she was very aware of my history, and i think on some level she knew i was holding back information lol but it was super anxiety provoking feeling like at any moment i could slip up with what i said and be kicked out

im technically still in the group bc they are able to hold my place for two weeks, but i also really need to go back to work and want to have full availability there so that i can actually get hours (and ultimately it wasn’t very helpful bc it truly wasn’t the right level of care) — so im gonna need to make an awkward phone call on monday and explain that i don’t need them to hold my spot (typing that out for accountability so that i don’t just ghost them, which is 100% my pattern 👀)

anyway, before leaving for my trip, my brain was 50/50 “you can use this as an opportunity to fully relapse and lose 46291846 lbs” and “you can use this as an opportunity to pull your head out of ur ass and start breaking patterns and build new neuropathways and all that fun recovery stuff” but either way the one thing i knew i needed to stop was the purging, bc it was destroying me physically and mentally and causing issues all over the place

so i can officially say it’s been 11 days without purging and while that seems insignificant in the grand scheme of life, i know how important those days are. this is one aspect where my black and white thinking is helping bc once i have built up any number of days, it’s easier (👀) to say “no this is not an option anymore”

(and yes the cheesy tracker apps are actually very helpful, especially when you get to collect trophies lol)

my brain is still a mess (every time i ate my mood crashed and the guilt i felt was ridiculous) and now i have to battle the part of my brain that wants to start recovering in the ✨healthy✨ way (aka quasi recovery) and im still struggling a lot with feeling the need to compensate with movement

but i also was able to create more safe foods (not in like a “black coffee is my safe food #anarecovery❤️ type of way, but in like a “i know now i can eat peanut butter and trail mix and other previous trigger foods and don’t have to purge”)

and i was able to have moments where i knew i overate (probably bc mentally, part of me was still like “okay after eating this im not allowed to eat until x and it will only be y foods and only if i walked z amount before !!” so of course my brain/body wanted the most food it could get in that moment lol and also because i was so used to overeating bc i knew i would purge after) but even with that, i still didn’t let myself purge so now i know i can survive if i do overeat. other aspects of my recovery might be iffy, and i feel like im constantly going back and forth with a lot of it, but i want to take purging off the table forever. and that feels possible rn 🙏

so that’s where im at with that. i also hid my scale right before i left (the next step is to donate it but i don’t want to be tempted when i get it out lol) so other than getting weighed when i have ect (although that was initially for them to send to my dbt group so idk maybe not) (also ultimately i want that to be blind weights but it’s hard to give up that sense of control in seeing my weight tbh) i won’t know my weight — and that’s kind of terrifying but i was never happy when i knew it anyway so ???

in other news, i shaved my head and i think i actually need to go even shorter bc right now i feel like a chia pet 🤡 and i have been called sir 3 times since shaving it, including being told that the mens rest room was being cleaned so i couldn’t use it (the woman ended up giving me my coffee for free after that bc she felt bad lol but tbh “sir” feels much better than “ma’am” to my gender confused lil brain 👀) which is funny bc other than the hair i think i present myself pretty ~femininely lol

in other other news, i love my cat and my cat loves boxes 🥳

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vivifrage · 2 years

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First Lines Meme

Tagged by @twixtandshout! Thank you, this looks fun!

List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

Let's see let's see what I can dig up... I'm not including the one out for submission, but I got original stuff other than it. Also these aren't necessarily going to be in chronological order, they're gonna be what I remember writing (and not Tumblr ficlet stuff, since the full thing is right here anyways).

The doorbell chimed. A Human strode in. (Our Family, An Ascension, Destiny 2, Scribe Eido & Misraaks)

Ragged breaths filled the temple, circulating air thick with sick-sweet infection. (Broken Open Revealing Hollowness and Vibrance, Hollow Knight, Hornet & Ghost & Hollow)

“Oh no,” he breathed. (Untitled Ficlet, Destiny 2, Saint-14 & Misraaks)

It was not splashy headlines or doomsayers. Not at first. (No Winter Could Compare, Original)

It was certainly brisk up on the Tower plaza this late in the year, the cool air even chillier high above the city. (Candles at Night, Destiny 2, Various relationships)

My shoulder ached carrying the weight of my ragged lump of a crewmate. (Merciful Steel, Original)

“So, when did you learn your…” Saint-14 gestured at the gauntlet on his arm. “Computer tricks?” (Untitled Ficlet, Destiny 2, Saint-14 & Misraaks, plus Mara Sov & Misraaks)

“I am not sure why you requested these now…” (Picture Books, Destiny 2, Taniks & Misraaks)

“Are you reading my work again?" (Untitled Ficlet, Destiny 2, Taniks & Eido)

Mithrax was not good at singing. (Sleeping Conditions, Destiny 2, Sjur Eido & Misraaks)

Of all the things Sjur had been, she could not say she would have expected "Eliksni babysitter" to join the list. (Untitled Ficlet, Destiny 2, Sjur Eido & Scribe Eido)

The festival pulsed and breathed and lived all around. ([X] Times Eramis and Athrys Fell in Love, Destiny 2, Eramis/Athrys)

The spider had grown tired, haggard. (Elegies, Memories, Things That Never Were, Hollow Knight, Various relationships)

Fifty years. Fifty years is insignificant to a machine. It's not a nice, neat number such as two, eight, sixty four. (A Puzzle of Myselves, Original)

A lovely day was a rare moment on the gray-green sea, but on those days, the ocean stretched into a glassy expanse, whispering to you as it rocked, like a mother and her child, if the mother were also willing to swallow the child whole and scour them down to picked bones in the depths. (Lighthouse Birb, Original)

We're gonna cut it there cuz that last one was reaching back to 2019.

Patterns:

I feel like these are all either really zoomed in or really zoomed out. It slaps one detail down on the table and maybe that detail is immediately about the characters or it's like the first shot of a movie where they're establishing the setting. Big, panning all around, the main character(s) not yet in sight.

Judging from like, Lighthouse Birb, BORHV, and A Puzzle of Myselves, I used to lean more into description, and that's been pared down in more recent works like OFAA, Candles at Night, or Merciful Steel. It's not all the way gone, I see touches of it in the Eramis/Athrys fic and No Winter Could Compare. I think part of it is like, a lot of the more recent stuff is short stories? Except for OFAA and Merciful Steel. APoM was also a short, but Lighthouse Birb and BORHV are/were longer. And, thinking of, I reused the same sort of concept for APoM as the story out for submission...

I think I also tend towards this one bit of advice I saw once, which was to introduce a question in the first line. Sometimes it's who is doing this - who is breathing raggedly, who is saying "Oh no?" That or why - why is Mithrax singing? Why is Sjur now an Eliksni babysitter? Or there's a what or two - what is it that wasn't foretold by doomsayers? What is fifty years and its difference from binary's "even" numbers about?

I kind of want to pull the descriptiveness back into my more recent stuff. That'd be fun.

Favorites:

4, 12, 14, 15

Gonna tag @shadowtriad @ruthlesslistener @publiccmenace @banyanas and anyone who'd like to give it a go!

#destiny 2 #hollow knight #jaxx writes

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silverandarsenic-hcs · 3 years

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GHOST BC x Very Real Fears

These are their serious long term soul deep fears.

Papa I: Being forgotten. This old man has always lived in the shadow of his narcissistic father from the moment he was born, and he’s been afraid his whole life that before he can really make a legacy for himself, his brothers will have overtaken him. He’s worried that he missed his chance at being the best Papa he could be, and now he’s only the first in a growing list of rulers, all better than him in some regard. It weighs on his mind pretty heavily, but he’d never dare tell anyone lest they think that makes him weaker or a lesser Papa for it. He’s worried that in a few Papas, maybe sooner than we think, he’ll be forgotten about. That he will be erased all together.

Papa II: Always being in his older brothers shadow. He’s picked up on how Papa I feels about himself and his ruling, but disagrees entirely. This man is horrified of never being able to live up to the standard his older brother has set for what it truly means to be a Papa. To rule with an iron fist, be diplomatic, and always make the right decision for the good of the church and it’s people. He doesn’t think about this often, but when he gets from from a long day at the church, and turns off all the lights except for a lamp by his favorite chair, he sits and wonders. The weight of his insignificance bears greatly on him, too much even to distract himself, until he falls asleep. He doesn’t let this happen often.

Papa III: His greatest fear is similar to that of his older brother: never being good enough. He knows he’s not like his siblings in the way that he has no real desire to be a feared leader. He knows that’s not who he is and never will be, but he’s always worried that rather embrace his differences, his family and the church would outcast him. He’s the youngest, and rather be babied as they usually are, he’s been almost entirely forgotten. He spends so much time worrying that he’s fucking up his Papacy that sometimes he forgoes it altogether and leaves for the day. The stress wears on him, but people will assume or he’ll tell them it’s just that he didn’t want to or didn’t care. The trouble is that he cares too much.

Copia: Our Cardinal’s biggest fear is failiure. He works so hard to prove himself every day. He also resents Papa III not only for being a Papa at all, but for being given his title by birth right, and making a mockery of all he was supposed to stand for. He knows Sister put his faith in him to become the next Papa, and stuck her neck out to Nihil on his behalf, so failure also means letting both of them down, which just isn’t an option to him. Copia has no plan b, no other options except for success and a new title.

Aether: The leader ghoul’s biggest fear is not being needed. He lives to take care of the ghouls, and make the plans, and keep things together. He doesn’t know his place without taking care of his friends and making sure it runs smoothly, and if they all just up and decided they can take care of themselves one day I think he’d be distraught. Chasing after Dew, taking care of Rain, dragging Mountain along, summoning the Ghoulettes, and reigning in Swiss is what he does, and no one could do it better. He’s also worried that if something were to happen to him, there would be no one to do his job, and that part scares him a little too much to think about.

Dew: The Stomp Goblins biggest fear is being ordinary. He knows he’d never be satisfied with anything less than a life filled with chaotic adventure, and he doesn’t want to be 200 years olds, bored, sitting in a rocking chair, thinking of all the fun he missed out on. But more than that, he’s terrified that the feral energy he emits is the only thing interesting enough about him to keep his friends around. He causes problems on purpose because he’s worried that when the dust settles his friends won’t love him for who he was underneath.

Swiss: He’s always so confident, and usually gets what he wants. He just knows how, and it comes pretty easy. His greatest fear is rejection. He’s always been pretty quick to assimilate to a new group, quick to make new friends, and been the first person to break the ice and get the ball rolling in a group of total strangers. He’s terrified that one day everything he normally does won’t work and rather than watch the outcasts, he’ll become one. Sitting on the outside looking in feels like a distant and cold way to live for him, when the in is so warm and loud and fun. Like hearing a party your neighbor is having while you’re making dinner for one and listening with half an ear to the radio. It’s just not nearly as good. He’s also all too used to walking up to anyone he finds attractive in a bar and making quick work of getting their number or even getting them home, so for him to walk into a room and expend every tactic and strategy he has for getting laid or at least being noticed and come up short, is almost unfathomable.

Rain: It’s no secret that Rain’s chemistry in the group wasn’t immediate. He’s a big on the shy side and it took him a while to warm up to everyone. While he’s definitely come out of his shell since his first ritual, the residual feelings of awkwardness are the root of his fear. He’s terrified that he may never truly fit in with the rest of the ghouls. From his perspective the connection the others have is deep and effortless. No matter how often the others reassure him that they love him, the thought that he may never really be one of them still keeps him up at night.

Mountain: Earth ghouls are admired for their quiet strength and stability, but many forget that for an earth ghoul to thrive they must also be given the freedom to change. Mountains biggest fear is confinement, both physical and emotional. He hates to feel restrained by anything, and is a firm believer that even moving backwards is better than not moving at all. For mountain stagnation is a fate worse than death.

Cirrus and Cumulus: The ghoulettes are both afraid of not being taken seriously. They’re off on their own section of the stage during rituals, they’re so often left out of group art or stories, and as the only women of the group it was difficult for them to find their space amongst the boys. They worked so hard to earn their place in the group, but they can’t shake the sensation that they’ll always have to be twice as good as everyone else for half the respect. At least they can always count on each other for support and understand when the fear feels like too much.

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sinisterlyhan · 4 years

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01. lee minho / 9486 words

fwb!minho, oral (f & m receiving), unprotexted sex, female reader, slight angst and fluff, romance, lots of kissing, mc being kind of a brat, minho being kinda dominant

a/n: ahh, i finally wrote for minho! i hope this is good ;;

the thee bags of sugar you poured into your cup of hot coffee have probably been completely dissolved by now, considering the obsessive way you kept stirring the liquid with your teaspoon and not actually drinking it.

keeping your eyes out the glass window by the coffee booth, you allowed your mind to drift off to a familiarly foreign place as you mindlessly watched the passersby.

your lashes fluttered along with each shift of your eyes, your gaze jumping from one insignificant person to another as you accessed the idea that people are literally everywhere around you—annoying kids, depressed students, tired parents, and the slow folks.

the concept, more than often, flies past you on a daily. therefore, when you sit down and truly acknowledge the number of people you brush past every day, it is quite a staggering fact.

but what’s more bewildering than that, though, was the fact that out of all these people you could meet and think about, the only person who has ever really been on your mind was lee minho—a nice classmate, a good friend, and a few quick fucks.

a few. you heaved a lonesome sigh and replaced it with a bitter huff of laughter.

you wished it was only a few quick fucks. you should have stopped after a few of them and you should have never picked your hand up and sealed his ‘fuck buddy?’ deal with a firm handshake. but you were lonely back then, dry and lonely.

you had wanted love, genuine or not, and minho’s seductive kisses down your body were the closest thing you could get to feeling appreciated, so you made the biggest mistake of agreeing to be friends with benefits with him.

it has been half a year since you two established the relationship; the sex was frequent during the first few weeks, and then the passionate nights started to space out a little until you two spent more time with plans to hang out than to fuck each other.

your immature mind hadn’t been smart enough to fathom the idea of you ever falling in love with somebody like minho, because you knew you weren’t the type to blatantly fall for someone out of your league. it was the kick that got your to seal the contract.

but alas, minho has been more than irresistible the past few months.

he wasn’t just a fuck buddy, he has never been just that from the start of it all. nothing about your new relationship was awkward despite you two being silent classmates for so long until a house party came and messed it all up. and unlike what you expected, he never tried to distance himself to keep that sole status.

he wasn’t aloof, nor did he act like a stranger. minho was a good friend, a good classmate, and a good fuck if you may say so.

he has helped you with your classes numerous times; printing assignments last minute for you in the library because you were too sleepy to do so last night, scanning his thorough notes for you unprompted because he noticed you struggling during class, reading through your materials out of his class time just so he could further explain something to you.

he’s also been the best emotional support you’ve had; he has never complained when you unreasonably snapped at him because of too much stress, he puts up with your constant overthinking and temper tantrums, and he gets you snacks on his own grocery run because he thought you might get some cravings sometime during the day.

and, of course, the sex has never once been dull ever since you met him, but it was in a lot of the little things he does that makes your heart ache the most; it was him always making sure you’re okay, and him constantly giving you praises. how he loves to make eye contact and hold your hands. how he knows exactly when to be soft and when to be hard.

when did he stop being just minho to you, you haven’t the faintest idea. but your feelings for him have changed drastically over these amazing months, and it became your downfall because he has not contacted you for weeks.

just complete radio silence, nothing, gone.

“i’m telling you he likes you, okay?”

you rolled your eyes as you snapped out of your trance. turning your head to look at jisung, you pursed your lips and shrugged in bland disbelief. “shut up.“

“no, you shut up and listen to me,” he leaned forward on his seat, his eyes glaring because he was sick and tired of being ignored by both of his friends. but now he’s got a fifty-fifty chance of being a matchmaker, so he planned to go all out. “i have known minho for as long as my fat baby legs can waddle to the sandbox in the park, okay. and not once have i seen him run away like this.”

“this, this thing that he is doing?” his finger excitedly jammed against the surface of the table as he stared at you pointedly, emphasizing his words with each jut of his jaw. “this is serious, and what serious thing can he be afraid of?“

you waited for him to speak, but the silence he purposefully left out was urging to be filled in. you looked away, baffled, and you scrambled your mind to think of something to say.

“i don’t know? faili–“

“wrong!”

“a dise–“

“terrible answer!”

“ma–“

“zero points for yo–ow!”

“knock it off, jisung!” you scolded with annoyance after you flicked his forehead with your fingers, shoving his head back to the cushion of the booth seat. “i know what you want me to say… i just won’t say it.”

“he loves you, (name),” jisung said, hiding every bit of uncertainty behind his persuasive facade—his presentation face, as he calls it. “i really think he does.”

and he wasn’t lying. jisung gave the situation a fair share of analyzing, and he concluded with the fact that minho might just have fallen in love with you. because one thing he knew about minho was that while he is kind, he is not nice.

there is a distinctive difference; kindness is selective, it is earned, it is given by choice. nice is blind, it is a mindless thought, a moral conscious.

anything that goes between minho and his goal, or his dignity, or some dramatic factors as such, minho will not hesitate to lash out. he is kind, not nice.

and you—you’ve been plucking the kindness out of him like he was a river that could never run dry.

disrupting his study schedule to tutor you? ditching his long-term friends to keep you company? apologizing first and being the bigger person in petty arguments?

minho was good to you when he didn’t have to, and he still was kind to you when he didn’t want to. he wanted to keep you happy, he gets the thrill of being able to take care of you, and you can feel comfortable around him.

jisung would even go so far to say minho was head over heels for you now, with his heart bleeding dry for your sake. and he’s running away from it because the concept, the feeling was foreign to him.

“just go to his house, find him. he probably misses you like crazy,” he urged tentatively. “talk it out, or fuck it out if that’s what you guys are used to.”

“do you think it’s that easy? like i can just go up to his home and kiss him?“ you asked, exasperated that jisung didn’t seem to understand the limitation of your tolerance for humiliation and appearing desperate to other people.

“sure, why not! i’d totally do that if i were you!” he boasted, clapping his fist to his chest as he huffed through his nose. “it’s not like he isn’t jerking off to the thought of you anyway! it’s either that or he’s crying himself to sleep at night!”

“that’s…” your voice awkwardly trailed off.

“too much?”

“no, no, just…” you hummed with a slight shake of your head, unable to break through his innocent gaze and not sure how to tell him you missed seeing minho in his naked glory. so instead, you chose to back down. “nothing.”

you blinked, still processing his previous words in your head as you finally brought your coffee up to your mouth to take a short sip.

the sugary taste was barely seeping into the bitterness of your coffee, the last three bags of sugar you added having done nothing to help you savor the taste. and you thought about how minho would probably switch his drink with you or offer to order you a new one if he was here.

jisung watched as you put down your cup and reached for another bag of sugar. he laughed, shifting his legs and leaning against the back of the booth. “the sugar is bad for you.”

“i know,” you muttered as you shook the bag and let the content spill all over your drink.

jisung watched with nonchalance as you picked up your metal spoon and started stirring your coffee again. and he didn’t say a single word.

minho pushed his glasses perched upon the bridge of his nose, and he continued with his note-taking as his eyes focused on the massive text displayed on his laptop screen.

it was all he has done this day. right after morning classes, he headed out for lunch by himself and simply went home. he tried to ignore the stubborn unfamiliarity of spending most of his time alone, hoping the ghost of your voice would eventually stop haunting his heavy steps into the local boba shop, or even just to the edge of his bed when he decided to take a short nap.

he woke up alone, dazed and annoyed. but he was mostly tired; tired of being alone when he knew you were a call away, tired of drowning in chosen solidarity because he wasn’t brave enough to confront his feelings, tired of being scared that you wouldn’t return the affection his heart discreetly held for you.

it was very unlike him, and the change was frustrating. minho never thought himself to succumb to romance yet here he was, making bad decisions and pushing you away when all he wanted was to hold your body close.

the uneven grip on his pen caused him a sudden scrape across the lined-paper. he glanced down the rogue tweak of the letter 'r’ and he clicked his tongue. dropping the pen, he rummaged through his crowded pencil case for a white-out, just in time as the doorbell to his apartment rang.

he furrowed his brows as he perked up, his head turning to look behind his shoulder at the door. discarding the matter at hand, he stood up and made his way to the front door, where he sung the door open and immediately revealed you standing before him.

“hi,” you breathed out when you met eyes with him, your gaze hardening slightly in sudden timidity.

minho gave you a quick scan before he nodded. he, too, feeling rather awkward at what felt like a confrontation to him. “hey.“

“can i come in, or are you going to keep shutting me out?” you laughed meekly, pointing into his apartment and letting your eyes move away from him briefly before returning to his face. “i’m already here anyway, you might as well.”

“i… yeah, sure, come in,” he said, taking a step aside as he opened the door for you. he watched you head inside, kicking your shoes off and shoving them to the side. he eyed the plastic cup in your hand, and he attempted to make light conversation out of it. “you got coffee?”

“oh, yeah. i was hanging out with jisung just then,” you said, turning to face him. you stuck your hand out, giving him the cup. “do you wanna try some?”

“no, i’m good.” he waved his hand.

you looked at him, a faint pout forming on your face before you shrugged and brought the straw up to your mouth. “okay then, it’s probably better for you anyway,” you sipped the coffee, “i dumped like… six bags of sugar in it.”

the change of facial expressions on his face was priceless. he went from processing your words in confusion, then his eyes widened in surprise, and at last his brows furrowed in dismay that you were still sipping the drink like you didn’t just turn it into a liquefied candy cane.

“okay, no, i’m confiscating it,” he said after allowing you a few more obnoxious sip. he grabbed the cup away from you and held it out of your reach, ignoring your continuous protest. “do you know how unhealthy that is?”

“yes, but it’s sweet!“ you complained.

“it’s sweet until you get type-two diabetes.” He rolled his eyes, turning around and heading over to the fridge located in the open area where the kitchen was. “especially when you don’t just drink one cup of coffee every other week, you drink it several times a week, which can toll up to a lot of sugar intake and i am not about to let you run around self-sabotaging your health–”

he stopped talking when he turned away from the fridge and immediately saw you standing before him. the proximity of your faces was a little too close for his liking—not his subconscious, just his stubbornness—and he didn’t know what to do when he was confronted with it so abruptly.

he hasn’t seen you in some time, which gave him no opportunity to create such intimacy. and even though he had missed being able to feel comfortable with you being close, he suddenly didn’t know what to do. he would love to keep his emotions in check, and he would love to not spill secrets he had no intention to tell.

you glanced down to his lips and automatically huffed. jisung’s words flew back into your mind then, telling you to just kiss him now that you’ve made a mistake of stepping into his personal bubble. it wasn’t like minho was actively pushing you out anyway. you could just try, and if it doesn’t work out in your favor, you could just play it off.

a gasp left his chest when you suddenly leaned in and kissed him. your hands went up to cup his jaw, bringing him closer to you when you felt him starting to reciprocate the kiss. you have longed to do this for so long, sometimes it felt like you’d forget the way his lips feel if you go without it for one more day.

the nervousness within was slowly started to vanish, but part of your brain registered how minho wasn’t kissing you with the same vigor he used to whenever you two share a kiss. it felt out of place to feel his mouth move so slowly against your own, and it was not in a harmonious way.

his lips slacked against yours because his brain wasn’t functioning well. minho has missed you more than ever and this—this was practically a dream come true! he was finally kissing you again, and he wanted nothing more than to keep going, to put roam his hands all over you again.

but he couldn’t. he couldn’t allow himself more depths to fall for you, he couldn’t keep digging his own grave with uncertainty and doubt.

he would rather guarantee he can still be friends with you after sorting out his feelings, than risk you not returning his affection and jeopardizing your comfortable relationship.

“w–wait, (name)–stop–” he pulled away from you, taking in a breath of fresh air when his lips detached from yours. the air was eerily cold, he didn’t like it at all.

your hands dropped from his face, your heart sinking to your stomach the same way. that was enough indication—him pushing you off pretty much told you everything you needed to know about how he felt, and god, you felt so conflicted at the discovery.

you were mad at yourself for letting him allow so much control over you. the sheer anger that bubbled in your chest when you felt tears brimming at the back of your eyes was immeasurable. you warned yourself about this, you warned yourself about him, yet you still fell. and now you felt weak and hopeless because he didn’t love you back.

you also felt wronged somehow. the fact that minho has been such a kind friend to you has given you the false assumption that he would at least give you an explanation. if he didn’t want to keep the sexual relationship, he should have just been truthful to you instead of trying to ghost you for weeks and leaving you to your lonely thoughts.

but you wouldn’t have cared if you didn’t like him. him ignoring you wouldn’t have been a problem if you didn’t fall for him.

“what is your fucking problem, minho?” you asked, your anger boiling up. but despite that, your voice was more leveled than ever, as if you were exhausted. it was all being suppressed in your chest, burning and rotting away.

you smiled at him a little, the forced kind of smile, and you sarcastically laughed when you spoke, “if you got bored of me, you could have just said so.”

minho opened his mouth, surprised. but the light glimmer behind your eyes created a new kind of chaos in his head. he has seen you cry before, and this time it was all him.

“i–no, that wasn’t the problem, i just–”

“did i do something then? are you mad at me, or something like that?“ you cut him off with a scoff, shaking your head slightly as you frowned at him. “because you left me alone for weeks. you were a terrible friend to me, and i had no idea if it was me or you.”

“i’m not bored of you, (name). neither am i mad at you,” he replied quickly, sighing as he looked at you with softened eyes. “it's—something personal happened, nothing was your fault.”

you pursed your lips together, feeling slightly less agitated as your questions slowly got resolved one by one. “what is it, then? what happened to you?“

“i…” i fell in love with you.

you waited for seconds for him to talk but all minho could do was look down at the floor, fearing for what would happen to you and him if he ever told the truth. a sigh left your lips at his silence, disappointed that he couldn’t give you a proper answer.

“fine, don’t tell me,” you said, turning around to leave the kitchen area.

“hey, wait, where are you going?” he followed suit, panic flooding into his eyes.

“away from you,” you muttered as you put on your shoes. “don’t worry about seeing me again, i won’t bother you anymore.”

minho hasn’t realized he was unintentionally ruining the relationship until this point. in his attempt to keep his feelings secured and hidden, all to prevent the breakage of your friendship, he failed to notice the damage all the avoiding did to it.

now you were planning to leave him forever, to walk out and completely cut him out of your life. and oh, he was scared. he could not bear to never seeing you again, or even just to stomach the thought of you hating him because of his stupidity.

“wait, no, hold on–” he grabbed ahold of your hand when you grabbed the doorknob. before you could fling him away, he turned you around to face him and, impulsively, grabbed your face to crash his lips against yours.

yes, crash. with the amount of force he was using, the word crash would deem fit. you tried to push him away from you, but your little fists were futile to his broad chest, and soon enough he had you weak at the weeks with the exasperating way he was kissing you.

you could taste this one, his emotions were vivid at the tip of his tongue as he finally learned to surrender himself into you. he was desperate, he was lustful, he was burning at the tips of his skin just to kiss you like there is nothing else he could mean more than this exact moment.

when he pulled away, he leaned his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes. it was intimidating and confrontational, everything he thought he couldn’t handle now being pierced through his action so he could prove a point.

“i didn’t…” he shook his head. “i’m so sorry for ignoring you, i did it because i… i didn’t want to ruin our friendship… because i realize i won’t be able to fall out of love with you if we keep being friends, if we keep sleeping together.”

that took such a drastic turn. you never thought things would turn out this way for you, but here minho was, looking so deeply into your eyes and telling you he avoided you because he was scared his love would ruin your friendship. what a damned miracle!

“you… you coward, stupid, dumb, annoying–” you lightly punched him across the chest, feeling such staggering relief that you felt like crying. “you didn’t even give me a fighting chance, you just assumed i won’t like you back.”

“i know, i’m sorry.”

“you didn’t even try to drop hints, how was i suppose to let you know i love you back?”

“i know, baby girl, i’m sorry.”

the shock within him vanished quickly. he didn’t have the time to express his delight the way he would want to. you were standing before him in all your glory—beautiful, genuine, emotional.

and he wanted you with him in a way that was much closer than this.

nudging his nose against yours, minho let his lips meet yours at a slower pace this time. he was gentle with you, his arms holding at the side of your waist to pull you closer as you two kissed.

your hands flew to circle his neck as you stumbled out of your untied shoes and into his chest. minho let himself linger on your lips for a while before he started to trail his kisses down your jaw.

your neck was a territory he has marked many times before, and he never fails to make sure he adds something new every time his lips touch the skin. his teeth grazed past your neck before he met at the crook of it, and he obnoxiously sucked a dark bruise on your skin just so you would whimper in surprise.

sigh—how he missed that whimsical little sound. it was always so heavenly to hear, even when the action that caused it was more than devilish.

he marked his way back up to your lips when his fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt. he slipped his hand under it, his palm touching your bare skin for a brief second before he retreated them to clutch at the fabric of your shirt.

“can i take your shirt off, baby?” he mumbled into your mouth, his hand already raising slightly in anticipation.

you nodded, raising your arms as he complied and pulled your shirt up. you two broke apart to allow it to go through before leaning back toward each again. minho discarded your shirt off to the ground, his hands couldn’t wait to finally meet with your torso.

he kissed you fervently, his fingers holding the same amount of enthusiasm as they glided past the small curve of your waist. up and down, a faint squeeze to hold you in place, and then he pushed you forward so your back hit the door.

putting a hand between the back of your head and the hard surface, minho reluctantly pulled away from you, this time with no intention to dive back to your lips again because of all the other access to your body you’ve given him.

he breathed heavily, his voice growing raspy. “i’m gonna make it up to you.”

“i expect you to,” you replied boldly, causing him to raise his brow.

that was not something you would otherwise say in a situation like this. minho would have put you in your place if you ever attempted to give him an attitude. but he planned to let it slide this time, after all, he did hurt your feelings and he was at fault here.

“good.” was all he said before he started to move down your body.

his lips met at your collarbones, then to your chest where he skipped over your bra and went straight down to your stomach. he planted light kisses all over your skin, his tongue occasionally swiping across to wet up your body a little more.

he was kneeling before you by the time his hands met the waist of your pants, and he looked up with brows raising teasingly at you as his hands circled to the front. his fingers carefully popped open the button before they hooked through the belt loops and slowly pulled them down to your ankle.

your knees trembled at the touch of his hands, gliding up and down the back of your thighs and ever so slightly tugging you toward him. your breath hitched in your throat when he leaned up to kiss your clothed core, the sudden touch sending a surprise jolt across your mind.

foreign but familiar—it just came too sudden. you hadn’t realized this was actually happening until your panties were dragged past your thighs, the cold air a stinging proof that you’re with minho right now, and his lips were getting dangerously close to where you’ve been aching to have him these past weeks.

his hands curled around your legs, gripping your flesh firmly to keep them apart as he liked it. he moved up your inner-thighs. he continued to send tingly sensations all over your body until he stopped for a second, as if waiting for a dramatic effect, for a lingering thought to vanish before he latched his lips to your pussy.

his tongue darted out to lick between your folds, feeling the wetness gathering at your entrance upon the pleasuring stimulation. your moan went straight into ears, lighting up the delight inside him, and he continued to lather himself all over your cunt, wasting no time to poke his tongue in and out of you rhythmically.

you grabbed a messy chunk of his hair, pulling at it as you desperately tried to rust against his face, taunting him to shove his tongue deeper inside your heat. the position made your legs feel sore, and the mere attempt to grind down on him was just difficult, but you could take none of those into mind that when his mouth mercilessly sucked at your clit until it was red and swollen.

he was luxuriating himself in you—in your taste, in your voice, in your movement. your essence dripping past his tongue in a slurpy motion, your walls clenching at the digits he had graciously slipped into your heat, and ecstasy took your voice up into a milky whine when his teeth barely grazed past your clit as he sucked at you.

the heat in your chest expanded and engulfed itself all over your body. without yourself even realizing, your legs have moved apart to give minho more access to touch you even more.

“fuck, minho, please!” you exclaimed, your head hitting against the door.

ahh, you still know how to beg. perhaps not as profusely as he would have wanted you to but you were polite nonetheless. not to mention, your fingers scratching through his soft locks was enough indication that he was doing a splendid job. and he couldn’t wait to hear more of you, to feel more of you.

moving his face down to your heat, he drove his tongue inside you once again while his thumb went to press circles on your throbbing clit. you let out a choked moan, the sudden change of stimulation a very pleasant surprise, and he has your climax pinned at his mouth in no time.

gathering up your juices into his mouth, minho finally pulled away from you and stood up. he didn’t bother to wipe your essence off his lips, he just went straight for your mouth as he pressed his lips against yours. and you were in too big of a haze to distinguish the taste of yourself and his saliva, still trying to come down from the orgasm you’ve missed having from him.

minho brought his hand up to your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb carefully as he contemplated his next move. perhaps he was putting a little pressure on himself to make sure this encounter would be perfect, because he thought it somehow needed to be after hurting your feelings.

but part of him also ached for a good fuck after so long. not just with anybody but with you. the scorching desire in his chest would ultimately fuel his instincts today, and maybe he’d not be able to keep his cool when he could finally be inside you.

just the thought of it made his insides burst. he should have never distanced himself from you. it was such a stupid idea.

“up,” minho commanded as he leaned down to tug at your thighs. and you listened to him, jumping up so he could catch you around his waist, your arms going around his neck as your lips moved past his face to run freely down his neck.

you were enjoying the feeling of his skin, kissing him all over in ways you wished you had been able to. your teeth bit down harder when you heard his tiny giggle at your almost amateur attempt on leaving him a hickey, a frown appearing on your face at the fact that he wasn’t taking you seriously.

he brought both of you over to the couch and he dropped you down on the surface, his body quickly hovering over yours as he got onto the couch as well. you looked up at him, your eyes smiling funnily in a way that made him pause his movement.

this was supposed to be a heated moment, yet somehow a single quirk of your lips was able to make his walls crumble.

“what’s so funny?” he asked, pinching your waist and causing you to squeal at the itch.

“nothing! it’s just…” you reached down for his hand and brought it up to your face, kissing his rough knuckles as you smiled at him. “i’ve missed you, that’s all.”

minho wavered, the glint behind his eyes dimming with a sense of being completely enamored. at the way your lips would smile, at the way your gaze held all of him, even just at how your smaller hand gripped his own. he was so infatuated, he could see no end to it.

“i’m sorry for suddenly leaving you,” he said, leaning down by dropping onto his forearm. your fingers still clung into his palm when he moved it up to your chin, his thumb tracing the tip of it before it moved up to your lips. “i promise i won’t do it again.”

his thumb traced your lower lip, a movement so sensual that you couldn’t think about much of anything else. just the mere fact that you got him back, and that he too has fallen in love with you, was enough to make you drop every ounce of your sanity.

you felt like you’ve got all you need already.

“kiss me, minho,” you pleaded quietly, opening your mouth more so his thumb would shift across your teeth.

he felt your legs move underneath his body, pressing together in a squirm. and he knew you wanted him between them, he knew you were waiting for him to pull them apart instead of doing it on your own. because everything needs to be done by his hands, that has always been the way you two worked, and you would obey him with ease.

flashes of your naked body came before his face. flashes he imagined when he was alone at night, trying miserably to replace you with a toy, or sometimes even himself. his lids dropped as he shifted to look down at your body, soft and awaiting his instructions, and he lightly growled to himself.

impatience suddenly took over him then, the previous moment gone in a blink of an eye. he leaned down to capture your lips, his hands going to your knees to spread them apart so he could place himself right in the middle.

you complied with him, kissing him back and tugging at his shirt as a signal that you wanted it off his body. minho huffed through his nose, slightly annoyed that he has to break away from you but he quickly yanked the collar of the shirt and pulled it over his head.

the flex of his arms was visible as he did so, and your eyes widened shyly without looking away. god, you’ve always loved the way he was built—just muscular enough to ogle at and not too much that they become uncomfortably distracting.

having second thoughts after seeing his toned chest, you decided to sit up from your spot and pushed your hands against him. minho frowned at you, his voice silent but his head-tilt asking a thousand questions. he was going to kiss you, why have you stopped him!

you grinned as you pushed him back, using your body weight to make him fall to the other side of the couch until he was under you this time. you laid on top of him, your small frame trapped between his legs as your head right at the crook of his neck.

minho was about to verbally ask you for your intention, but his eyes rolled up into a close when you kissed his neck. your hands roamed across his chest, your nails dragging ghostly against his skin in an unrecognized pattern as you peppered your kisses and kitten licks all over him.

he sighed in content, feeling your lips on every inch of his body, hot and loving. and he loved being treated this way, like he was being worshipped, like he was a god and you some mere peasant who had to rely on him for a living.

“(name),” he said, his voice sharp as he opened his eyes.

you perked up at him from the waist of his pants, your hands teasingly located near the middle. they had been scattered all over his abdomen, touch here and rubbing there, but never once did they meet at the middle where the obvious bulge of his pants was.

looking at his unsatisfied expression, you could only feel a sense of amusement as you pouted. your lashes fluttered up at him as you scooted back a little for better access. your smile was unfading when you leaned the lower side of your cheek right on top of his clothed member.

“what?” you asked, your smile widening at the hiss he let out.

“stop teasing me,” he said.

“hmm…” you pursed your lips, your finger dragging past his thigh to your face, then you palmed down on the shape of his member. “but it’s so fun.”

for someone with a waterfall dripping past your lips, you sure could find some time to be bratty like this.

rolling his eyes, his tongue poked at his inner-cheek as he turned away for a brief moment. when he looked at you again, his gaze was less hooded than it was amused. but it wasn’t your kind of amused. it wasn’t playful but degrading, the glimmer of it making you shiver.

“you want to say that again, baby?” he asked, his hand moving down to your head. he gently ran his fingers through your hair before he tugged at your scalp, his action light but not without harshness in it.

you whimpered under your breath, your brows furrowing helplessly as your head tilted to the side. “no.”

“good girl.” he released your hair then, gesturing toward himself. he nodded at you, smirking, “keep going.”

you didn’t mess around this time. your hand reached to the rubber waistband and easily pulled his sweats down to his thighs. you scooted your body up, your mouth salivating at the mere sight of his clothed member. you quickly tugged down his boxers, letting his cock spring out before you carefully grabbed its base.

minho sucked in a deep breath at your touch, your small hand covering around the base of his shaft. he closed his eyes with a blissful sigh when your lips finally touched his tip, giving him a little kiss before pressing them against him to dart your tongue over his slit.

licking past his red tip, you trailed your tongue over his shaft once before you went back up to his tip. then you finally took him in your mouth, your head bobbing up and down at regular speed as your hand rubbed the uncovered area.

minho groaned, his hand quickly flying down to your head. he let it lay there, only wanting something for him to hold onto as you sucked him off. great pleasure released from his abdomen, spreading all across his body as you hollowed your cheeks and licked him up as your head moved.

he opened his eyes to look down at you. for a second, you were focused on keeping him in your mouth, but you seemed to have felt his eyes on you so you glanced up at him.

he cursed at your wide-eyed, innocent—well, as innocent as you could look with his dick in your mouth, at least—expression then. his chest doing a flip as you slowly dragged your lips up to his tip to add stimulation to it, the smooching sounds you let out deafening to his ears.

there was something about your facade. it was the way he knew you were just putting up a naive front to rile him up, looking as pure as possible as your lips printed a smile on the top of his shaft, your tongue still poking out to lick him irregularly as if you get to be in control here.

(and, yes, to a certain level you do have control. to a maximum level, you have his utmost attention and all of his heart.)

holding onto the base of his cock, you tilted your head to the side and squinted your eyes mischievously at him. dragging the side of his tip against your cheek slowly, you let out a lewd hum, something like a relieved moan but it didn’t lack a tinge of questioning noise in it, and you watched him as if waiting for his patience to crack, waiting for his tough walls to fall beneath your feet.

he was falling. his face didn’t much show it, and either did his muscles tense under your body weight. but minho was completely surrendered to you; how could he not? you’re such a pretty thing, your warm mouth feeling heavenly as they moved up and down his shaft in an agonizingly slow pace.

his breathing was elevated now, he could feel his chest suffocating with deep arousal, and he wanted nothing more to have your walls wrapped around him now. forget your lips, he needed the tightness around him.

“okay, no,” minho spoke after a moment of thought. he attempted to sit up, his hands moving out to grab at your elbows. “you, get up, now.”

you listened to him, sitting up from your spot while he pulled at your arm. you followed his lead, letting him bring you onto his lap where you heat met with his hardened member. The confusion that once lingered in your head immediately faded away when you felt his girth snug between your folds, a whimper leaving your lips excitedly as you grind down on his member, wanting more friction out of a mere touch.

minho huffed, a tingly sensation fixated at his abdomen. his movements were beginning to get hasty but he has a general direction of what he wanted to do. he wanted you, that was all he knew. and with you sitting prettily on top of him, his mind knew exactly what he had to do despite the pitter-pattering of his heart.

although clumsy, he was precise when he gabbed you by your waist and hoisted you up with your help. he moved his hand down to hold up his dick, angling it right at your entrance before he glanced up at you through his tousled hair.

his eyes were striking, dazzling you as he waited for permission to handle you. you weren’t able to say much, a knot present at the back of your throat that could only be released when you could finally feel full again, full of him. so instead of talking, you brought your hands to your sides where his laid, and you lightly spread your knees further apart to drop onto his cock.

minho moaned lowly, feeling the warmth of your entrance as his tip got lathered up with your essence. he took that as a green light, and with a tightened grip on your skin, he guided you to sink on his length by pushing your body lower and lower until you were sat with him stuck within your walls.

your eyes shut when you felt his stretch, opening you up so deliciously that you needed a moment to breathe. you took all of him in you, his length a pleasantly erotic sensation inside your cunt that even a small scratch of friction could get your head all fuzzed up in a dream.

you felt full, oh so very full, in the most delightful way possible. you felt like smiling when you adoringly looked at him, because you loved him so and you didn’t think you could get this back again. your walls unconsciously clenched around him when you felt like shifting your position a little, and the little breathy sounds he let out a kind of music you adored.

he stared back at you after the sudden commotion and his heart melted. your faint smile was an undeserved treasure you somehow decided to grant him on a daily, and the fact that you always made him feel so snug and good, both chastely and sexually, was nothing short of a miracle.

his hand slipped from your waist to lace through yours, holding you softly as lust blossomed in his eyes.

it has always been the two of you who could make each other feel this way. the thrill of first love, the nostalgia of being intimate, the fear of losing one another—no wonder you two fell in love, it was a match made in heaven.

he brought you down to kiss him, and your arms instinctively flew around his neck. you allowed him a second of solace before pulling away just enough to speak, your voice small with praise. “fuck, you feel so good.”

he laughed, biting at your jaw where his face got draped over by the falling of your hair. “good, but i’m about to feel even better,” he whispered before reattaching his lips to yours. between the tangled lips, you could hear a needy whine sounding from the back of his threat, and you giggled into his mouth. he wanted you to move.

you carefully brought yourself up, your walls scraping past his cock in the process and catching up a burn. then, slowly but still at a non-torturous pace, you lowered yourself back down on him. you kept up with the speed, going up and down on his lap and moaning with every new stretch of your walls.

minho’s hands slipped from yours to caress all over your body, touching you gingerly as if you were his pretty porcelain doll. when his hands met your chest, he gave a small frown at the bra that was still attached to your body, and he quickly unhooked it to expose you completely.

your thighs stuttered when you felt him clamp his palm over your breast, the sudden jolt of pleasure hitting your head. his hands moved to cup your side, his thumbs reaching to press against your nipples and twirling circles with it. then he leaned forward to take your perky bud into his mouth after kissing around the bouncy area, licking your milky smooth skin before his tongue swiped across your nipple.

he kissed across your chest, his lips unable to remove from your skin as you relentlessly moved up and down on him. the plethora of pleasure, the immeasurable amount of enjoyment manifesting into this electrifying sensation all across your veins. it was all from the way minho felt so good inside you, and the passionate touch of his mouth on your everywhere.

“ahh–min–” you hugged him close with a sudden scream, only able to utter his name halfway. the jolt had knocked the air out of your lungs when his cock brushed against your sweet spot, making your knees buckle weakly and your movement halting to a messy rhythm.

minho raised a brow, feeling playful upon seeing your drastic reaction. he pulled away from your face, his eyes searching for your face. “hmm? min–what?”

you furrowed your brows then, a blush escaping to your cheeks at his seductive voice. as you struggled to keep up with the thrusts, you pursed your lips together and flashed minho a soft grimace before you squeezed your eyes shut again at the sensation. you didn’t plan on finishing your cut off sentence and you just wanted to keep hitting the sweet spot over and over again, because god, it made you feel so, so good.

but minho wanted otherwise. unfortunately, he has the upper hand here. he wasn’t the one who’s been moving rigorously the past minutes, he still got lots of stamina stored up for him to hold you in place. you whined when he did, his hands pushing down on your hips to prevent you from sliding up his dick.

you looked at him, your eyes wide as sweat glistened on your forehead, sticking the hair to your pretty skin. the arousal was dripping inside you, aching to be moved around, longing to be penetrated.

hoping to gain an ounce of sympathy, you pouted with a slump of your shoulders and pleaded, “minho, please.”

“hmm,” he squinted his eyes, lightly snapping his hips deeper into you. “please…? please what, baby.”

you clenched your fists, feeling the annoying pain of his slow, slow thrusts. part of you wanted to see how long he could keep up with this, this burningly slow pace. but hellish ache at your pussy overshadowed your tendency to be bratty and childish. all you wanted was to feel the pleasure again, so you begged as he wanted you to.

“please fuck me, minho,” you asked, desperation pumping out of your mouth like gold, “please fuck me–your cock feels good, i–i want more!”

minho laughed lowly, the moany sound hiding under the edge of his voice when he saw how you struggled to speak. the heat on your cheeks adding to the overall flair of his sight, your bare appearance the greatest art he’s ever laid his eyes on. and your words made him soar off the moon, you needy little thing! you’d break yourself with embarrassment to keep feeling the euphoric feeling only he could make you feel, wouldn’t you?

how pathetically adorable. maybe he should help you out a little, the moment a silent fulfillment to his own desire to pound himself quicker into you.

he gripped your hips tighter by digging his nails into your skin and he helped you up on his length. he waited for a moment before he forced your fragile body down on his cock, earning a chocked strangled whimper from you. he continued in a regular rhythm. occasionally, he would push his hips up to meet with your pussy, adding to the strength of the pound and making your moan louder with the strike.

you let loose of your muscles when you felt that you’ve lost the control, and you pressed yourself closer to him in hopes to regain the previous position. the magnified gratification came unknowingly like a ghost, his dick finally able to find your g-spot again, and this time stayed haunting you with every slick thrust.

as your pussy started to salivate more with each snap of your hips, the squelching noise was also becoming harder to ignore. it mixed in with your heavy breaths, the sound of sex reverberating around you both, and you could feel your orgasm approaching inch by inch, threatening your release.

minho was watching you carefully, his eyes fixated on your face as he observed every little movement. your jaw hung open at the constant moaning, your eyes barely able to open clearly because of the overwhelming sensation—everything about you made him feel confident, possibly even narcissistic at some point.

but he really enjoyed the fact that you succumb to him so easily, and you shamelessly showed it through your body without even knowing.

he wondered if you knew you were clenching incredibly tightly around his cock. it didn’t seem to be a conscious action, considering how you could barely string a coherent sentence together. judging by that, though, minho knew your climax was approaching close, and he planned to get you to it with as much care as possible.

pulling you off him suddenly, he sat up quickly and pushed you on your back. he hovered over your body, only laying on top of you after he re-inserted himself inside of you. your legs went around his hips, bringing him closer by the back while he leaned his head down to briefly kiss your neck.

“hey,” he smiled, his hand caressing through your hair as he looked down at you with soft eyes.

you raised your brows at him, silent breathes huffing in and out of your nose as he started to thrust into you again. you touched his face, squeezing his cheeks with a smile. “what?”

minho was right. he does feel closer to you like this.

his eyes shifted down to your lips and back up into your eyes. affection engulfed him quickly, it does every time he stares into your eyes. he gets reminded of the way he fell in love with you again and again whenever he does.

and he never minded the constant reminder. he enjoyed the process. it was a lot of emotional talks, playful banter, and a lot of good sex. all of which he felt like he could have with you for the rest of his life, he wanted to have with you for the remaining of his stupid lifetime.

he unconsciously pounded deeper into you then, his mind wanting you to feel all of him to the rawest sense. you moaned at the sudden change of force but you welcomed it by opening your legs a little more for him.

your toes were curling after a few more hard thrusts, your stomach churning impossibly at the way his cock felt sliding in and out of you. when you felt the tightening feeling in your chest, you looked up at minho and grabbed his hand, huffing out hastily, “min–minho, i’m close.”

“i know,” he hummed loving at you, picking up his pace to bring you over the edge.

you arched your back at the feeling, a silent scream leaving your mouth. he pinned your hands to the side of your head, his hands hugging your small ones, and when your head moved back down to face him, he wasted no time to put his lips on yours again.

god, it was like he literally cannot keep himself off you.

your mind was getting foggy. you weren’t sure whether it was from the passionately way he kissed or from the burn between your legs, but you felt like you couldn’t quite process anything clearly anymore. well, anything except for one thing.

when minho pulled away, he kept himself close. his lips were grazing against yours but he wasn’t close enough to kiss you. and you could feel his lips move against yours ghostly when he whispered, “i love you.”

you processed that one. the words hit you really strongly too, your heart practically sunk up to your throat at them. you wanted to say it back, you planned to say it back, but you only sucked in a strong breath when minho rammed against the sweet spot in you. your eyes rolled back at the unprecedented attack and your back lifted off the couch once again.

“oh fuck–minho, please, please–ahh!”

he continued with a few more harsh thrusts before you released around his cock with a whine, your hands tightening around his at the pleasure. he had his head buried at the crook of your neck, his hips continued to move as he drowned himself in the scent of your body. he was chasing his own high now, his cock twitching inside your warm hold as he pounded into you.

your walls slurped him up, tightening around him to add stimulation. and when he felt like he was about to come undone, he quickly pulled out of you and sat up. his hand moved to his cock, quickly pumping along his length as his eyes trained on your sweaty, delicate body.

you looked at him before slowly sitting up, you went on all fours and crawled closer to him before positioning your face before his cock. minho shakily breathed out a sigh when you nudged your face against his tip, then you stopped at your opened mouth, waiting for him to pour himself over your tongue.

“ugh, you’re gonna swallow me, baby girl?” he hissed out, and he bit his lower lip when you nodded, widening your eyes naively at him.

he groaned, his abdomen tightening at the mere sight of you, hot cum sprouting out of his slit and landing on your stuck-out tongue. you held your breath, feeling the liquid dripping past your tongue before taking it back into your mouth and rolling it around. when you looked back up at minho, you grinned a little and stuck your tongue out at him.

his lips twitted at the sticky substance lingered on the tip, little lines stretching from your lips to your tongue. fuck, you filthy thing! how dare you make his heart all disheveled and gone.

“fuck, you’re so hot,” he muttered under his breath as you sat back on your heels.

you laughed, wiping your mouth and swallowing the last of him. “thank you, you’re not so bad yourself.”

he rolled his eyes then, the corner of his lips turning up into a graceful smile. he tackled you to the couch then, your hot body pressed against yours, but the atmosphere was more romantically chaste than sexual this time. you two were just two lovers naked in each others’ arms, putting complete and utter faith in each other that you would be held safe.

you two went quiet, basking in the silence. but you could hear him, his heart and his skin, pumping and brushing along yours.

would you have thought of this months ago when you first met minho? no. you have dreamt of it, but you never thought it could be true. and the dream was shattered when he suddenly decided to ghost you weeks ago.

but it didn’t matter now. you were here with him, he was holding you tightly like it was the only thing he knew to do.

“i meant to say it back,” you broke the silence first, “i love you too.”

despite knowing the answer already, minho still breathed out a sigh of relief anyway. he pressed a kiss to your head, his eyes closing calmly as he nodded. “i know.”

you smiled. minho has been a lot of things—a nice classmate, a good friend, and a few quick fucks. but you never indulged in the idea of you and him together. the idea that minho could be you and him together, that he could be a partner, a boyfriend.

the idea that minho could be an ‘us.’

#stayhavennet #inkidz #stray kids smut #skz smut #minho smut #stray kids dark hours #skz dark hours #i came to a realization that i never know what to put in the description tag so if anyone has any suggestions #or if there are anything i am supposed to put down please do tell me ;;;

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