#actual athlete rotates

[sweetimpurity]

"I Think I'll Keep You"

NSFW MINORS DNI

“That’s it- c’mon deeper, you can take it” Miguel smirked from above you. He had you right where he wanted you. On your knees on his dorm room floor, his dick deep in your throat as he thrusted deeper, making you gulp and whimper around him. 

“Fuck~” He curses and his hand in your hair gets a little tighter, holding your head in place, taking your mouth for his pleasure. Your eyes close in concentration, trying to just relax and take him as deep as he was going. There was no use in trying to stop him. And you didn’t really want to stop him. You had dreamt of him, had a crush on him… for so, so long. Everyone in school did. But you never expected it to actually happen, especially not like this. Him taking your mouth so ruthlessly. 

You were a very good student, a nice person, a little too nice sometimes. Too nice to know when to trust people and when they were just taking advantage of you. Miguel had noticed you one day. You had been in a bunch of classes together but he had never really noticed you before. You were in the library tutoring a classmate for a big exam. That's sort of how you were known around school… smart… helpful… innocent. He saw this as an opportunity, ripping your number off of the flier in the hallway and inviting you to his dorm to study. It was a shock to you at first when his text popped up asking you to schedule a session with him. He was definitely the most popular person at school, athletic, captain of the soccer team and you recalled him being very smart. You thought he got good grades but maybe he had just fallen behind, needed some extra help. It wasn’t in your nature to turn people away when they were asking for help. Even if you were a little nervous to be alone with him. 

Miguel saw this as a challenge for himself. He challenged himself to get you on your knees as soon as he possibly could. This was never about studying for him. You just barely placed your textbooks on his desk before he was whispering in your ear about how he heard you liked him. Even if he was lying, he was confident enough to know that you did have feelings for him, how could you not? He knew you wanted him, or he could make you want him, and that made him excited. He didn’t want you, he just wanted one thing from you. And he was sure he could get you to give it to him. 

He had many people in rotation who would gladly give him what he wanted, but he wanted it from you, he wanted you, this sweet innocent thing, to give him exactly what he demanded. 

So here you are, right where he planned for you to be, looking up at him with glossy innocent eyes as he abuses your mouth with his thickness. Drool drips down your chin as he smirks and tilts his head back, relishing in the pleasure he’s able to take from you. 

“You look so pretty like this, so… so pretty..so…” He mumbles half-genuine praises as he moves his hips steady, his mouth agape and brow furrowed, eyes closed, gritting his teeth at the feeling of your plush lips and your warm mouth around him. His praises make you smile and moan around his cock, looking up at him so cockdrunk and happy that he would praise you like this. Even when he's taking advantage of your feelings for him.  

You smile around him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he picks up the pace, fucking your mouth. Your wet eyelashes flutter as you try to look up at him, see him writhing from all of this pleasure you’re able to give him. The pleasure he’s taking from you. 

“Fuck- fuck- fu-” He groans and gasps and you can feel his warm release down your throat. Swallowing multiple times so that you don’t choke. He stays in your throat for a few seconds, his chest heaving with labored breath. You try your best to breathe through your nose, waiting for it to be over, but never wanting it to end at the same time. He finally pulls out of your mouth, you gasp for air and swallow thickly again, a thick string of spit still connecting him to your mouth. 

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, placing your hands on top of your thighs as you look up at him. He knows he has total control. 

He looks down at you with a stern expression, he looks angry, but inside he’s just confused. He was looking at you in front of him, he had never really looked your way in the past, he only knew you as the smart, perfect teacher's pet. Not his type at all… right?

You gaze up at him trying to figure out what he’s thinking as he stares down at you with a frown. “Stand up.” He commands and you listen like the obedient little one you are. You stand up and he’s still so much taller than you, so you keep looking up at him to try and understand what’s next. Does he want you to leave? 

Your mind races as you watch his stern expression, observing as he steps closer and places his hands on your waist, moving them down to your hips. He decided that you were obedient and you deserved something in return. He didn’t usually do this but he was feeling strange right now. He was caught off guard by how well you just took him, how good you made him feel even when he was being so rough and ruthless. He can’t help but wonder what your moans sound like when his cock isn’t in your mouth to muffle them. He wants to taste your lips and he wants to be inside you to feel you gush on him and feel your legs shaking as he sinks deeper and deeper. He needed to know what it felt like to be inside you like that, how you’d react when he thrust his heavy cock inside your tight walls. He wanted to make you scream.

His hands on your hips grow strong and dominant as he turns you around, your back pressed into his broad chest as he uses his body to push you towards his bed. He felt conflicted, he wanted to keep up this rough invincible exterior, he was trying to make himself take you from behind so he didn’t have to see your face. He feared what would happen if he looked at your pretty face as he fucked you. But he couldn’t help but crave it. 

For now he pushed you to the edge of his bed, pushing you so the front of your thighs hit the edge of the mattress, your body squeezed tight between his body and the bed. The action almost made you fall forward but you grabbed his forearm to steady yourself, feeling his warm breath on the back of your neck as his fingers ran across it, pushing some of your hair back, exposing your neck to him. Your breathing grew heavier as he started moving his hand to your thigh, your hand still grasping his forearm as he did it. He liked the way your hand squeezed his arm as his large hand ran up your thigh and under the material of your clothing. He loved the way your pelvis squirmed when he squeezed the joint of your hip between his long fingers, your ass rubbing against him so perfectly. He’s determined to stay dominant, no matter how your small gasps and soft fingers suddenly make him want to kiss you softly and keep you for himself. 

To take himself out of his thoughts, he moves his hand suddenly to your underwear, not letting himself be gentle as he dips his hand under the material, making you whimper and squirm. He wraps his other arm around your waist to keep you still as you grip his tortuous arm and gasp at the contact of his thick fingers on your sensitivity. 

“Relax baby, you’ve done so well, don’t disappoint me now.” He hums soft and still somehow rough in your ear as two fingers plunge knuckle deep inside you, his arm tightens again around your waist as you melt and moan. “M-Miguel- ah!” You moan and gasp his name and a pocket of heat bursts in his stomach upon hearing you, waiting to bloom into a raging fire. But it was different this time, he’s not determined to take something from you like he had been planning, like he did successfully just moments ago when he forced his cock down your throat. He’s determined to make you moan his name like that over and over again. He’s determined to make you feel better than anyone ever had or ever would in your life. He can’t explain it, he just needs it… he needs for you to feel what he can do.

The force of his fingers and his broad chest against your back makes your knees buckle, making you almost fall forward onto the bed, but Miguel isn’t done with this yet. His hand moves from your waist, snaking up your chest and to your throat, lightly putting pressure there just to keep you upright, keeping you against his chest as he plunges his fingers roughly into your sweetness. His fingers are thick and experienced, expertly finding the spots that make your stomach muscles tighten and pretty moans rumble in your throat. 

“M-ah! Miguel…” He knows you’re getting close. From the way your hand tightens on his wrist to the way endless urgent moans vibrate against his hand that’s still clasped around your throat. When he feels you squirming he adjusts his grip, moving his arm so his fingers can reach even deeper depths within you, pumping his thick digits faster and harder. His hand on your throat splays out, his fingertips on the curve of your jaw, spilling onto your face and holding you in an iron grip. 

He can barely hold himself back seeing you like this. His arousal is growing once again and his cock presses against your lower back, heavy and needy. His head dips down to your shoulder, sucking and licking dark hickies into your soft skin. Marking you, even though he told himself this would be a one time thing, he’s not so sure he can keep that promise to himself any longer. 

“Mig- ah! I’m- I-“ You writhe and moan in his grasp, rolling your hips into his hand as your orgasm hits you. Your stomach burns and tingles, little snaps of pleasure going off like fireworks in your shaking thighs. Your sweet, grateful hole pulsing around his fingers, unable to fathom how you could feel this much pleasure.  Your back arches involuntarily and he loves to see you so undone, pressing his lips to your shoulder as he fucks his fingers into you through it all, heightening every sensitivity. 

You’re nothing but a teary, shaking mess by the time he pulls his thick, hot fingers from you. Giving you time to breathe and come down as he starts to strip you. He needs you bare, he needs to feel your skin. Miguel continues taking off your bottoms and your underwear completely, the liquid of your arousal dripping onto his hands and your inner thighs as he pulls them down and off of you. Your mind is fuzzy at this point, letting him do whatever he’s going to do. He pulls your shirt over your head and runs his warm hands down your arms softly, almost affectionately, bringing goosebumps to your back. He pushes his clothed, hardened dick deeper into your back, making sure you feel how badly he wants you. To take you. 

You feel the movement of him taking off his own clothing behind you, feeling the chill of the air on your back as he pulls away, only to be brought back again. This time, the warm bare skin of his chest presses into your upper back. His head dips down into the crook of your neck, blessing you with one kiss on your throat before humming low and deep in your ear. 

“You’ve been so good for me, little one… such a sweet baby…” His words send a shiver down your spine, and his hand moves to your neck again, giving it a light squeeze. His voice drops to a whisper. “I’m gonna take you… you’re gonna be mine…” He whispers almost like he’s talking to himself as his thumb rubs circles into the pressure point on your throat. He’s trying his best to keep this up, this dominant, rough exterior. But he can’t help it, you’ve managed to make him a little weaker. “But I want to see your pretty face…” 

Your eyes flutter and a slight blush fans over your cheeks at his words, feeling his hands as they rest on your hips and start to turn you around to face him. When you face him, it’s almost like you’re reminded of what’s happening right now. As if your mind has been made so mushy that you suddenly remember you’re here with Miguel O’Hara. It’s something you never thought would happen and best of all, he wants you. Badly…

And he looks ever so handsome with his face slightly flushed and some strands of his dark hair falling down over his forehead. Your eyes travel from his hair to his furrowed brow, down the bridge of his nose and to his perfect, parted lips. Makes your heart skip a beat seeing his perfect face this close up and knowing he was just knuckle deep inside you, making you squirm and cum with just his fingers. Your eyes flick up to look in his darkened eyes. His gaze is so piercing as if he’s trying to read your thoughts. 

And you’re surprised when he does that successfully, tilting his head down and softly kissing your lips for the first time, your lips parting in a small gasp of relief, feeling his plush lips against yours. Your shaking hands find a home on his chest, feeling his muscles move with every expansion of breath and his heart beating strong and steady under your palm. You feel as his hands splay out on your back, one hand moving up to the back of your neck as his tongue swipes your bottom lip and enters your mouth, dancing and tangling with your tongue in rhythm. 

Within a moment he anchors his arm around your lower back and lifts you up, not breaking contact with your lips even for a second as he moves you up onto his bed. Your knees naturally pull up a little and spread to the sides of his waist, squeezing his hips slightly to hold onto him as he lowers you down onto the sheets. You can feel some of his weight between your thighs as he hovers over you, resting on his forearms on both sides of your head, kissing you deeply, passionately. He cradles the back of your head in his large hand, it makes you feel so small and fragile in his hands. And it’s not because you are so tiny by any means. You’re not even what you yourself would consider skinny. But Miguel is just so massive, so big himself that it’s fun to feel small, even if you’ve never felt that way in your life. He makes you feel things you’ve never felt before. 

And he loves this. He loves being so massive that he can make you feel so tiny, it makes him feel powerful. 

His kisses deepen and move to your cheeks, your jaw and your neck as his hand moves down your body, squeezing at your soft skin and ghosting his fingers teasingly across the expanse of your soft, supple, fleshy stomach. Sucking hickies into your neck now, he presses his palm to the fat of your stomach, feeling the muscles of your abdomen clench and tighten. He knows you need him… and he can’t help but crave your body, which is just utter perfection in his eyes. 

The tension is building and neither of you can wait much longer. He moves to kiss your lips again, this time rough and breathy. He lowers his hand to your thigh all the way down to your calf and pulls your leg around his waist, doing the same with the other leg until your ankles are locked behind his back.

Staring deeply into your glossy eyes he rests on one arm, his other hand slowly pushes his dick down onto your sensitivity. Not inside you. Not yet. But close enough to have you moaning right in his face, desperate eyes locked as he massages his big dick through your sex. 

He kisses your lips once more, ghosting his lips over your cheek as he whispers to you. “You want my cock?… you want me to fuck you?” His words make you moan against his ear and grasp at his biceps, feeling his muscles move as he keeps slapping and rubbing his cock where you need him most. “Mm… yes… please” You whisper in agony. 

“You want to feel me right… here?” He asks softly, looking in your eyes and pressing his palm to your lower stomach again, right on the place where your orgasm bloomed just minutes ago, making you shudder and tremble. “Yes… yes please” You whine softly, creasing your brows in frustration and need, his questions making all of this harder to bear any longer. 

“You want me to cum inside you?” He whispers so softly, kissing the corners of your lips as you can feel the gummy tip of his dick pressing at your entrance, making your eyelashes flutter and your fingers dig deeper into his muscles. You whimper, almost a sob, with tears in your eyes. “Yes.” 

With your words of permission he nestles his hips between your thighs and uses the pad of his thumb to plunge his thick, heavy cock inside you. Stretching you with every inch while you whine and squirm beneath him, held still by his large hand pressing down on your tensing abdomen. Hot tears roll down the sides of your face as you gasp and moan at the feeling. He wraps an arm under your lower back and pulls your hips up a little so he can sink in deeper, watching your face as your eyes roll up into the back of your head. Once he’s buried inside as deep as he can manage, he pulls out entirely and pistons his dick back inside you, earning a pleasant cry from the back of your throat. Your legs tighten around his back in reflex and your head tilts back, whimpering in a beautiful mix of pain and pleasure. 

He does this a few more times, just to see how you react. Loving the urgent almost painful cries that come out of you when he does it. Over and over he does this, pulling out and then pumping back inside you, deep and hard. Maybe he just wants to see you cry more… maybe he just wants to hear you moan louder… maybe he wants to hurt you… He’s not quite sure himself, yet, but all he knows is that you’re squeezing him just right every time he does it, and he can’t bring himself to stop. With one last sob from your perfect flushed lips he starts a more steady rhythm, putting a stop to the torture he knew he was inflicting on you and giving you want you want. He wants it too. 

Your moans grow softer, dreamier as he starts this rhythm. His hips moving against you with just the right amount of pressure. He’s really good at this, you think to yourself. 

Rubbing his hand over your thighs as he pumps his dick into your sweetness, he leans down over you again, getting closer, grabbing both of your shaking hands in one of his big hands and pinning them above your head, causing you to whimper softly, eyelashes fluttering as you try to look up at him, only to see his brow furrowed, a stern expression on his face as he fucks you breathless. 

Supporting himself on his elbows, he keeps your hands above your head with one hand and moves his other hand under you, to the back of your neck. His fingers are so long that he wraps his hand from the back of your neck, to the sides, managing to put some pressure there. His thumb presses to your pressure point softly, knowing exactly what he’s doing. And he’s got you completely at his mercy. Trapped between his broad chest, his big hands and his greedy cock, all you can do is receive and let him take you. He won’t let you do anything but that. 

“Oh my- M-Miguel!” You moan and cry out as he changes the way his hips are moving. He tightens his grip on your hands above your head and starts rolling his hips into you. No more back and forth. Your stomach muscles tighten as he stays deeply buried within you, his thrusts getting slower but much, much deeper. Almost painfully deep. 

It makes you hiss, gritting your teeth and your brow creases looking at him. Your breathing gets heavier and more labored as he keeps pumping as deep as he can. “Mi- I- it’s-“ You start to say, you don’t know if you need him to stop or keep going. 

“Just take it… take all of it… it’s yours…” He says in his deep, smooth voice. You moan at his words and his head dips down to your chest, sucking into your skin and biting you anywhere he can. He breathes hot and urgent on your chest and you know he’s close too. You can only imagine what it feels like for him to fill you up with his offering. 

“I can feel it, baby…you’re so close, squeezing me so perfect…” He pants and picks up the pace, bringing both of you there. A raspy cry rumbles in your chest and in the back of your throat as your head tilts back. He takes his hand off of your hands, but you're too delirious to do anything with them so you just keep them up there for now. He moves both of his hands to your waist, holding you and pumping into you as fast as he can. One of his big hands splays out onto your tummy, pressing down slightly and it drastically increases the pressure for both of you. 

“Coming! I’m c- I’m com-“ You yelp urgently and your thighs squeeze his hips tightly. Your back arches off the bed and he leans down, kissing down your chest as it rises up off the mattress. He groans into your skin and you could have sworn you heard him growl. Deep vibrations reverberate in his chest. 

As your second orgasm of the night hits you hard you clasp your hands over your mouth, blocking the loud moans from escaping. You’re sure the entire residence hall could hear you if you let those sounds escape.

Miguel watches you and his brow slowly furrows again... He shakes his head and looks down, your eyes are closed so you don’t even notice all of this happening. He closes his eyes and thrusts into you hard, chasing his own release. 

Pretty soon his fingers dig into your hip and he’s spurting his hot cum inside you. Pumping you full and raw. It makes your eyes shoot open at the feeling. And you notice his narrowed eyes and clenched jaw, almost scowling as he pumps his load into you. When he comes down he stops moving. You look at him nervously, catching your breath and not understanding why he looks so angry. He just came inside you. Did you do something wrong? 

The tension is high all of a sudden, his silent stare making you a little nervous. Slowly he leans down again, his hand coming out to press down on your upper chest hard, pushing you into the mattress. You look up at him almost fearfully, him overpowering you completely right now. It’s in this moment you realize how strong he is. You knew he was tall and big but you had sort of forgotten he could snap you in half… hurt you if he wanted to. 

He lowers his face to be close to yours, his gaze piercing. When he speaks his voice is surprisingly soft and gentle for the way he’s glaring at you right now. “Now why would you do that, baby?” He asks you seriously, and you can’t seem to understand what the hell he’s talking about. 

“Do- what?” You ask innocently, you really didn’t know, you poor little thing. He shakes his head and his voice becomes sweeter, like honey. But there’s still a darkness to it. 

“You have a perfectly perfect throat, baby…” He says as his hand on your chest moves to wrap around your neck gently. “I would know…” He smirks to himself.

“So I suggest you use it” He seethes, almost in a whisper. His fingers increase the pressure ever so slightly on your neck, causing you to instinctively grasp his wrist. “Don’t ever cover your mouth again, do you hear me?” His hand loosens on your throat and moves to the back of your neck, lifting your head a little bit to have complete eye contact with him. 

“Yes… I-I won’t” You say softly, your anxiety levels all over the place. 

He smiles at you softly and brushes some fallen hairs off of your forehead. Then he leans down and kisses your lips softly, then your cheeks. Whispering to you between every kiss. 

“Such a sweet baby for me… but I need you to give me everything… wanna hear those pretty sounds I work so hard for…” He hums deep. 

“Okay…” You breathe out, your hands running down his triceps absentmindedly. You want so badly to give him everything. To be louder for him. You were just too nervous before. Scared someone would hear. “N-next time… I promise I’ll- I’ll try…” You breathe, your nervous darting eyes ping ponging between his steady stark stare. Would there even be a next time?

“Oh no, baby… you’re gonna give it to me now.” He whispers and leans down to kiss your neck. You’re shocked, and you’re already so sensitive. How could you possibly take any more? “Well, I-“ You start to say, not really knowing why you’re saying it, maybe you’re just nervous you’ll mess it up again. You know you shouldn’t have covered your mouth, you should have just kept your hands up where he put them. You know he put them there for a reason. 

“Shhh… it’s okay… just one more, baby that’s all I want. One more, okay?” He whispers and kisses across the expanse of your collarbone and your shoulders. He’s still inside you, he never left. And you can feel him getting harder, the pressure building up, stretching you out again even though he’s already fucked you once. You move your hips a little bit to relieve the pressure and maybe make him move a little bit. He feels this, smiles to himself and moves his hips too every so gently, tiny thrusts deep inside as you squeal and whimper softly from the heightened sensitivity you’re experiencing. 

You close your eyes and try to relax, you want to be good for him, give him what he's asking for. And suddenly he stops. 

“Not like this. I want you on your stomach.” He says in his normal voice and it makes your eyes open to look at him. He pulls out of you and the feeling makes you reach out and grip his bicep, whimpering at both the slight sting and the loss of him inside you. “C’mon…” He commands and puts his hands on your hips, helping you turn over as your head fills with a slight dread. You thought this was gonna be sweeter, but it seems like he’ll be even more rough than he was before. 

He flips you over completely and situates himself between your legs, his hands on your ass and running up your back as he leans down to kiss your shoulders. He grabs a pillow from behind your head, causing your face to lay flat on the mattress. Folding the pillow in half, he places it under your hips, angling your hips up a little bit to make it easier for him, and for you too. This way you won’t have to try and support yourself on your shaking knees, it’s actually a nice gesture you think to yourself. 

“Miguel…” You say softly, leaning up on your elbows and looking over your shoulder at him, he looks like an absolute predator right now, but his voice is like sweet melted chocolate. 

“Yes, baby?” He coos and leans over you to kiss your cheek. His hands massage your hips and your ass, moving down to your pelvic bones and pulling your hips up a little bit more. You’re surprised that he can do what he does and say the words he says all with that sweet gentle voice. It makes you think about what kind of boyfriend he’d be. Probably not a nice one, but would it really matter if he can fuck you like this? 

“Can- could you be gentle… I- I’m sensitive…” You request and your cheeks flush a little, feeling slightly embarrassed. 

He thinks for a few heavy moments, looking back and forth between your glazed, shining eyes before kissing your cheek again. “I know you’re sensitive, baby, that’s good… it’s gonna feel so good…”

“But-“ You start to say, he never said yes or no explicitly. 

“Shhh…” He leans forward and captures your lips in a kiss. Maybe to soothe you, maybe to shut you up, you’re not really sure and you don’t really care when his tongue is down your throat. 

“I’ll be gentle, if you’re good for me.” He suddenly says and it makes your nerves go up. You want to get it right this time, he’s not giving you any other option. You nod to him and let your head relax onto the mattress. His hand comes up to the back of your neck and into your hair, grasping slightly at the strands and forcing your head all the way to the side so he can see the side of your face. 

You breathe out gently and try to relax. You know it’s gonna feel good but you’re nervous about getting this wrong. You want to be good for him. 

He trails warm wet kisses down your spine, running his hands over the soft roundness of your ass, squeezing gently with his big hands. You close your eyes and relax into the mattress, your senses fill with him. The warmth of him, the feeling of his fingertips, the sound of his breathing, the smell of him invading your senses, calming you as it emanates from his bedsheets. He smells so good. He smells like a man. 

You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you hardly notice he’s kissing your cheek softly. His hand tugging your hair gently to keep your head to the side so he can see the side of your face. 

“You ready?” He hums softly next to your ear, his fingers brushing the side of your face softly. Your eyes flutter open, surprised by his words. A small smile crosses your lips and you nod your head. “Yes…” You reply. 

“Sweetness…” He whispers and kisses your jaw once more before receding back behind you. You feel his hands adjusting your hips and the pillow propping them up for him. You feel his fingers softly caressing your sex, almost in a soothing way. He knows you’ve had a lot already. 

Then you feel his hand on your back and the head of his dick at your entrance. Slowly he sinks himself into you to the hilt. Your knees bend and feet come up into the air at the feeling, your hips instinctively wanting to press down, escape him. But he keeps you in place. Whining and squirming, your hands grasp into the sheets, wanting to be good for him. 

“Oh, baby…” You hear him moan and feel him massage your ass as he sinks as deep as he can. He watches as his dick disappears inside you. His hand squeezes your ass harder. He’s holding himself back from doing something else. Something he doesn’t know if you’d like. But you feel so so good, it’s almost like his hands have a mind of their own.

He slaps your ass hard. A strangled gasp and a slight growl leaving your lips and your hands gripping the sheets harder. He rubs over the red mark on your skin with his fingers tenderly. 

“You like that?” He asks and your mind is hazy. You hum absentmindedly in response and nod your head against the mattress. “Do you actually like it or are you lying?” He asks and you can hear the smile on his lips. You open your eyes, realizing that he’s actually asking you, not just saying that just to say it. He leans over to look in your eyes and you’re surprised by the soft look on his face. “I-I… I don’t know…” You say sheepishly and he nods his head. “Okay… that’s okay…” He reassures you and leans in to kiss your lips. You’re pleasantly surprised by his sweetness at this point. Resting your head back down on the mattress and feeling as he presses his lips to your shoulder. He draws back his hips and pumps into you. The feeling of his cock squeezed in your sensitive walls makes your jaw drop. He moans into your shoulder and the sound gives you chills.

Your hands flex and squeeze down on the handfuls of bedsheets below you, soft whines coming from the back of your throat as he thrusts into you, his hand pressing down on your lower back, arching your hips up to him. 

He speeds up, the rhythm of skin on skin filling the room, your whines turning into small squeals, music to his ears. Your hand flexes and grabs the sheets, flexing again and hitting the mattress three times as your only way to release any sort of energy building up. He grabs your wrist and pulls your arm into your side, pressing your wrist down into the mattress so you can’t move it. This only builds the pressure inside you, making all of this harder to just take. Needing some sort of release, and he's making you hold still. 

You gasp and clench your teeth, pushing your face into the sheets, soft cries of overwhelming stimulation threatening to rip from your throat. It’s all too much, and he knows that. He’s panting like a hound behind you, holding your hair in his hand and your wrist to the bed. 

“C’mon baby…  c’mon let me hear you” He pants and dips his head into the crook of your neck. “I- I can’t…” You whisper and gasp against the bedsheets. Your knees bend, your feet coming up between his thighs as you squirm. Without even looking behind him, he pushes them down with his legs, holding you down completely. 

“Just scream for me… cry for me baby… please” He breathes out and presses his mouth to your shoulder as he pumps you ruthlessly. “I need to hear you…” He demands and your breath is tight in your chest. Your words stuck on your tongue. Your moans caught in your throat. 

You’re doing exactly what you told yourself you wouldn’t. You want to give him what he wants but it’s like you don’t know how. He feels so good inside you, so perfect, so full, it’s all you can think about. 

He growls at your silence and leans down, bringing his mouth to your flushed shoulder and biting down hard. His sharp canines and teeth leave a mark on your skin. An urgent squeal of pain and surprise escapes you and your eyes shoot open, a growl of your own vibrating in your chest. He smiles to himself and bites you again, harder this time. You moan loud and whiny, pushing yourself up completely on your hands in reflex and in turn your back arches further. And it’s like the bite unlocked something that was stuck inside you- now you just can’t stop moaning and crying over his cock no matter how hard you try. “Oh my god! Oh Miguel! Fuck me, ah! Ah!” You whine and cry and he smiles. 

At this change in position, Miguel supports your stomach with his big hand, finally letting go of your hair. He pulls you up, slowing his thrusts for only a moment as he pulls you flush against him. He’s kneeling on the bed now, your legs spread over his thighs and your back flush against his chest. Your head falls back against his shoulder, jaw slack and moaning out his name as he keeps pumping up into you, the feeling making your eyelashes flutter and your stomach muscles clench. He wraps his big arms around you, nestling his face in the crook of your neck, breathing hard and hot on your chest. 

“Oh, god…” You pant and whine, your head leaning to the side to rest on his head. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good…” He curses through a heavy breath against your neck. A high pitched squeal escapes your throat as your back arches against his chest and your orgasm hits you hard and fast. Your squeals turn into screams and cries of his name, how good he feels, how big he is, how much you love his cock. You’re babbling and thrashing in his arms and Miguel smiles, finally getting what he wants. Hearing your sweet innocent voice screaming out the dirtiest things as he’s plunged deep inside you. His climax is building up fast and you can feel his thrusts getting sloppier, his hands wrapped around the front of your shoulders and at this point he’s pulling you down onto his cock to keep the feeling going. Your orgasm has passed and you’re a soft moaning mess as he chases his own release. Snapping his hips up a few final times before his hips stutter and he’s shooting ropes of hot white inside you. Filling you up again completely, the extra dripping out and back down his shaft. 

He holds you tightly against him as you both stop moving and start panting to catch your breath. You’re glad he’s still holding you because if he let go, you’d surely face plant into the mattress. Your head rests back on his shoulder and he places small kisses on your shoulder as he snuggles his face into the crook of your neck, breathing deep and sighing out in relief. 

“Will you be mine, little one?” He asks softly and kisses your cheek. “Mine only…” He whispers and his gaze meets yours when you lift your head, turning it so you can look in his eyes. His finger strokes your cheek softly and it’s like he’s looking at the sun. He can try to close his eyes but the memory of you will always be seared into his mind. “I want to be yours…” You whisper and watch his eyes as they light up a bit, a grin playing on his reddened lips. “Good. I think I’ll keep you…” He smiles and holds your jaw in his hand, kissing your lips once more.

#miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara smut #smut #spiderman smut #i need him so bad #i want him so bad #miguelito

[sweetestdesire]

DRUNK ON LOVE

WARNINGS: absolutely none. Just some pure, sweet content.

PAIRING(S): Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: in which Fem!Reader takes care of a drunk Quinn Hughes.

Quinn was beyond drunk. It was a rare occasion, as he rarely drank never mind to the extent of it actually having any effects. He thought the hangovers were bothersome and it wasn't exactly recommended as a pro-athlete. But the team, specifically Elias Pettersson and Brock Boeser, had roped him into a few celebratory drinks after their win before Quinn had text Y/N a few hours later to pick him up early with a, “wanna come home now, I’m sleepy.”

Y/N knew Quinn had had enough when she watched him almost trip over his own two feet on his way back from the bathroom with a little "ow,” after denying just that before his looming stature was shuffling down the hallway and his head whipped up to blink at her with drowsy, lidded eyes in the hopes she didn't see. But she did, and just when his lips parted to grumble about it, she laughed. Her laugh was so warm and so pretty, and something that sounded so much like home, that it made him consider trying to actually fall just so he could hear it again.

Quinn made it three steps into the living room before there was a puffy cheeked pout on his face and his eyes were on Y/N as he mumbled out a, "Hey, quit laughing at me." His cheeks were painted red and his hair was messier than usual, but she’s always thought he looked pretty in the glow from the kitchen. He softened as he sighed sleepily and because she loved him, she caught herself sighing too, a content sort of sound.

“Hi, baby.” Quinn greeted, and Y/N could feel her heart melt. He was drunk, yeah, but the buzz was doing nothing to disguise the hearts in his eyes when he looked at her, his gaze glassy and half lidded.

Y/N reached out, brushing the hair off his forehead and he leaned into her touch, his eyes falling closed. “Hi.” She leaned over to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Did you have fun?”

Quinn followed her hand back down, letting his head fall against her shoulder, nodding against her skin.

“You’re home early, was everything alright? I thought you’d be out until at least midnight.” Y/N was running her hands through his hair slowly, pressing against his scalp as she combed through his hair, enjoying the feeling of him melting into her. He mumbled something into her skin, nuzzling himself into the crook of her neck. “What was that?”

Quinn lifted his head to look at her. “Said I’ve missed you. Left early.”

Y/N would love to respond to that, really, but it seemed as though she lost the ability to form words; he was drunk out of his mind, and was having a very, very rare night out with teammates, and he left early to come lay in bed with her just because he loved her. It was sappy and ridiculous, and she’s never loved anyone so much and probably never will again.

It was impossible to find an adequate response. Y/N leaned in, pressing kisses to his cheek, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth, and finally, his lips. She cupped the back of his neck, pressing him close before she rested her foreheads together, soaking in the fact that she was the lucky person that got the sole adoration of the kindest, sweetest, most loving person on the planet before pulling away, sliding her hand down to his chest.

"Are you sleepy, Quinny?" Y/N giggled, a little amused before she narrowed her eyes as he fiddled around with him phone in his hand, rotating the screen clumsily, but the sound of her voice brought his sleepy gaze back to her. He rocked forward with a few slow blinks and another cute pout before he stumbled towards her again, and he really looked like he was in love.

“May have overdone it.” Quinn grumbled from his spot on the floor, holding on for dear life as she was sure the room was spinning for him.

“You think?” Y/N teased, immediately feeling a pang of guilt when she was met with a pathetically needy face from him in return. “Oh, baby, it’s okay.”

"Don’t be mean to me." Quinn drawled, low and a little slurred the alcohol making his usual lazy tone of voice a little whinier before he slumped down between her legs to flop on top of her instead of returning to his previous seat next to her with a grumble.

He looked small like this, no longer her giant protector, but like a younger version of himself who just needed someone to take care of him. Y/N was happy to be that person, as he always was for her. It was a rare occurrence to ever see him like this. He always managed to know his limits, but tonight he just went off the deep end.

Quinn’s arms wrapped around her waist and she noticed the slight fogginess that still laid over his lidded gaze when he blinked up at her from her stomach. Y/N giggled again, shuffling under him and scrunching her nose at his sudden weight.

“Quinn, move over.” She grumbled and he only allowed his bottom lip to jut out into a makeshift pout as his arms around her tighten.

"Don’t want to, it’s comfier here." Quinn huffed, eyes dropping and he knew he was probably going to complain about the ache in his neck tomorrow given the awkward positioning, but right now, he nuzzled into her anyway.

"You’re squishing me.” Y/N added, voice lilting to a tease and he sighed, only moving slightly to guide one of her hands to smooth through his hair before he nuzzled into her.

"Give me some kisses and I’ll get up." Quinn sighed again, but he hummed when her fingers combed through his hair and she knew it was less because he was tired and more because he was home, watching him shoot her one of his more affectionate looks before he placed a softer kind of kiss onto her skin through her clothes.

"Do you wanna get up and go to bed?" Y/N laughed, craning her head to lean forward and place a kiss to his forehead and he yawned before he shook his head and his arms around her seem to squeeze even tighter.

"Nah, don't want to. Just want to stay here a little longer." His words were quiet and she smiled as he leaned forward to place a sloppy kiss to her lips before he rested his chin on her chest. "Pretty thing." Quinn mumbled a beat later, blinking up at her while his words still slightly slurred and she couldn’t help the snort that left her lips when the sudden tender confession left his pouty lips.

“How much did the guys make you drink?" Y/N replied, slightly teasing but she continued to scratch her nails through his messy hair anyway, just to watch him lean into her touch like he always did.

"Don’t ask." Quinn sighed, turning to place a tender kiss to her wrist before his eyes closed again, his voice smoother when it sounded once more like he was steadying himself.

Quinn groaned at the realization of what was coming when he wakes up tomorrow, but he hiccuped before breathing deep and softening. Y/N leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to the tip of his nose and she giggled at the way his eyes closed, feeling his fingers squeeze at the dip of her waist when she pulled away.

"No fair, I wasn't done yet." Quinn breathed, and by the tone of his voice she could tell clarity was slowly getting a grip on him again.

Y/N shook her head, amused and leaned in again when he met her half way with a pout, because Quinn taught her that happiness was just as simple as this. Him nuzzling into her stomach between slurred words and stolen kisses as her fingers smoothed through his hair. He was drunk, but he loved her everyday, just the same as always.

“You’re so pretty.” Quinn slurred, the messy pile of hair brushing across her stomach.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight.” Y/N teased gently. “You’re talking nonsense now.”

“Not nonsense.” Quinn mumbled argumentatively, a soft pout to his lips. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. Give me a kiss.” He said, and Y/N rolled her eyes once more, giggling as she cupped his cheeks and peppered kisses across his face, pressing one final one over his lips.

A small, barely-there grin erupted on his face as he leaned into her hands, and she brushed a thumb over his warm cheek. “There. Those enough for you?"

"Yeah.” Quinn happily nodded, head drooping forward as his eyes started to close, and this was exactly what she’d been trying to avoid.

Quinn had always done that. He fell asleep on the couch, slumped on the floor against the kitchen counter, in the passenger seat of her car, anywhere but their bed. Y/N can never managed to get him there in time, and a hungover Quinn with a sore back was never a fun Quinn to deal with.

"No.” Y/N warned, tapping his cheek to wake him. "Quinn, do not fall asleep.” She said sternly, and he huffed, lifting his head up with a scowl, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as she unbuttoned his shirt.

“I’m tired, baby.” Quinn grumbled. “And why're you trying to see me naked?"

Y/N stared at him with pursed lips as he looked up at her with a raised brow. "I’m not. Now, lift your arms.”

"You think I’m hot? Like what you see?” Quinn grinned, reaching up to poke her cheek. He missed and his body swayed forward as he lost his balance, making her grab him with a sigh. "Hey, keep your hands to yourself.” He snickered, and she almost thought she should let him fall forward to the floor, face first. But that would make him even more insufferable in the morning, and Y/N liked the idea of keeping the remaining bits of her sanity intact. Not that there was a lot of sanity left to keep when she was dating someone like Quinn.

"You are too much.” Y/N snorted, but still, there was fondess as she swept back sweaty locks from his face, tracing over the slants of his features slowly as he closed his eyes and relished in her touch. She didn’t get to take care of him like this often, so she was grateful he was a lightweight, even if he denied that fact to his grave.

"You don’t think I’m hot? Come on, I know you do just a little.” Quinn insisted, letting her finally peel his button down off his upper body.

Chuckling, Y/N threw his shirt across the room as she murmured, "Maybe I do think you're hot, but only just a little."

"Well, I think you're pretty fucking gorgeous.” Quinn poked her hip, sending her a sly grin as she swatted his wandering hand away with a warning glance. "Best I ever had."

"Oh, yeah? Who else you got to make the comparison?"

"No one. Everyone else sucks, so you're best by default.” He shrugged. Her heart melted a little, and she supposed this is what dating someone like Quinn did to her. Taking things he meant as an insult to others as a compliment for herself, but it warmed her up that he saw her as different, as good.

"You’re the best I ever had, too.” Y/N grinned. “How are you feeling?” She asked softly, scanning his face for discomfort or distress.

“I’m okay.” Quinn hiccuped back. “Just want to cuddle.” He always became exceptionally affectionate when he got this drunk.

His eyes fluttered open and closed without rhythm as he looked at her, his eyes glazed over with a glassy shine, and his mouth hung open slightly, like he didn’t have the coordination to close it. His pink cheeks were flushed and his skin had a sweaty sheen. His head had rolled off to one side and rested on his shoulder, like his neck had given up on holding his head up, and his arms fell heavy at his sides.

Y/N should have been at least slightly annoyed with him for acting like a college kid, drinking until he made himself sick. It should’ve gotten under her skin and caused a bit of anger to bubble up into her chest, but it didn’t. She was just taking care of her man. “Do you feel nauseous at all?”

“I promise I’m okay, baby.” Quinn said, making himself giggle. His lips lazily curled up into a smile and he dragged a lazy arm up to give the “okay” symbol with his uncoordinated fingers, before the heavy limb dropped back down to the couch beneath him.

They were quiet for a bit, Quinn fluttering his eyes closed as he hummed contently, and Y/N just admiring him in silence. She let her hand crawl into his, interlocking their fingers together before bringing it up to her lips and pressing small kisses to each of his knuckles. Her fingers ran through his still damp hair, initially just to push them up and away from his forehead and eyes, but continued when she heard the little happy mewls coming from him.

“You always take such good care of me.” Quinn said sloppily with a gentle tone, breaking through the bubble of silence they had created together.

“I always will.” Y/N pressed a gentle kiss to his salty forehead and settled back onto the cushions.

“I love you.” He gave her a gentle squeeze as he cheekily grinned.

“I love you, too.” She felt his smile against her skin, and it made her smile, too.

They hadn’t been together for long, with saying the “L” word still being pretty new, and still slightly foreign to both of them. But she meant it when she said it. She loved him, and her body always filled with a blushing warmth when he said he loved her, too.

“Will you marry me?” The question left his lips in his absurdly difficult to understand drawl and it took her a moment to process what he said, but when she did her heart stopped.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to marry him, because she did, but not now. It was too soon. There was still too much for them to do together, too much still to learn about him, and too much for him to learn about her.

“I will someday.” Y/N spoke gently, trying hard not to hurt his currently fragile feelings. She was now holding his face tenderly, like if she held him steady and close, she could lessen the blow.

“So, no?” Quinn looked up at her with his big puppy dog eyes, feeling guilt punch her in the gut.

“For now. Everything is just going so well right now, we don’t have to mess with it.”

“Just want to be with you forever.” He said softly and her heart began to melt. Quinn was such a soft person, who felt everything so deeply and with so much emotion. He was a sap, and she absolutely loved him for it. She pulled him closer to her chest, pressing soft kisses to his temple.

“And you will be.” Y/N breathed. “Forever will still be there down the line.”

“Why not now?” His lips held an adorable pout and she couldn’t stop herself from pressing a kiss to them. He tasted awful, like vodka and sweat, but the kiss was loving and sweet as she tried to pour all her love for him into it.

“Because we still have to grow.” Y/N watched the end of his mouth tick up, sure to make some sort of smartass comment about them both being grown already. “We have to grow together.” She finished.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Quinn mused softly.

“I promise that I will say ‘yes’ when we are ready someday.”

“Someday.” He repeated softly, feeling the words on his own lips. “I’m going to keep asking, you know?” He smirked up at her, his smile and joking tone signalling that she hadn’t broken his heart, just bruised his ego a bit.

“That’s perfectly okay.” Y/N sighed, a contagious smile finding its way to her own lips. “I’m going to keep saying ‘no’ until we’re ready, you know?” She teased, using his own words against him.

“One day, baby.” Y/N was pretty sure Quinn was asleep, as he was yawning the whole way through his response, and had promptly flipped over and snuggled into her with his eyes closed, but then she felt his lips press lightly against her neck. “Love you.”

She pressed a matching kiss to his temple, rubbing her thumb against his shoulder. “I love you more.”

#quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes oneshot #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x female reader #quinn hughes x fem!reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes one shot #vancouver canucks

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . NAGI SEISHIRO ; — nagi isn’t normally a drinker until he’s dragged out to karaoke with the rest of the team after a win.

warnings: sfw! tipsy nagi / alcohol mention, he’s a pro player, no other warnings just super soft! note: i’ve had this idea in my mind for a bit + i finally got round to writing it <;3

nagi seishiro is tipsy.

it was a rare occasion, he rarely drank never-mind to the extent of it actually having any effects, he thought the hangovers were bothersome and it wasn’t exactly recommended as a pro-athlete. but the team— specifically reo and isagi had roped him into a few celebratory beers with karaoke after their win before he’d text you a few hours later to pick him up early with a wanna come home now, ‘m sleepy :x

but you know he’s had enough when you watch nagi almost trip over his own two feet on his way back from the bathroom with a little “ow”, after denying just that before his looming stature was shuffling down the hallway and his head whips up to blink at you with drowsy, lidded eyes in the hopes you didn’t see.

but you did, and just when his lips part to grumble about it, you laugh—it’s warm and pretty and something that sounds so much like home, that it makes him consider trying to actually fall just so he can hear it again.

nagi makes it three steps into the living room before there’s a puffy cheeked pout on his face and his eyes are on you as he mumbles out a “hey, quit laughing at me.” his cheeks are painted red and his snowy hair is messier than usual but you’ve always thought he looked pretty in the glow from the kitchen. he softens, sighs sleepily and because you love him, you catch yourself sighing too, a content sort of sound.

“are you sleepy, sei?” you giggle, a little amused before you narrow your eyes at the striker as he fiddles around with him phone in his hand — rotating the screen clumsily as he tries to load up his game but the sound of your voice brings his sleepy gaze back to you. he rocks forward with a few slow blinks and another cute pout before he stumbles towards you again, and he really looks like he’s in love.

“mhm, ‘ts such a pain.” nagi drawls, low and a little slurred, the alcohol making his usual lazy tone of voice a little whinier before he stops just before you on the couch, slumping down between your legs to flop on top of you instead of returning to his previous seat next to you with a grumble. you hear his knees hit the hard floor beneath him as his arms wrap around your waist and you notice the slight fogginess that still lays over his lidded gaze when he blinks up at you from your stomach.

you giggle again, shuffling under him and scrunching your nose at his sudden weight “sei, move!” you grumble and he only allows his bottom lip to jut out into a makeshift pout as his arms around you tighten.

“don’t wanna, ‘ts comfier here.” he huffs, eyes dropping and he knows he’s probably going to complain about the ache in his neck tomorrow given the awkward positioning, but right now, he nuzzles into you anyway.

“you’re squishing me!” you add, voice lilting to a tease and nagi sighs, only moving slightly to guide one of your hands to smooth through his hair before he nuzzles into you.

“what a bother, gimme kisses and i’ll get up.” he sighs again and you’re surprised at the sudden straight forward request for affection from your usual lax boyfriend. but he hums when your fingers comb through his hair and you know it’s less because he’s tired and more because he’s home, watching him shoot you one of his more affectionate looks before he places a softer kind of kiss onto your skin through your clothes.

“do you wanna get up and go to bed?” you laugh, craning your head to lean forward and place a kiss to his forehead and nagi yawns before he nods his head and his arms around you seem to squeeze even tighter.

“nah, don’t wanna. wanna stay here a lil longer.” his words are quiet and you smile as he leans forward to place a sloppy kiss to your lips before he rests his chin on your chest.

“pretty thing.“ nagi mumbles a beat later, blinking up at you while his words still slightly slur and you can’t help the snort that leaves your lips when the sudden tender confession leaves his pouty lips. “how much did reo make you drink?” you reply, slightly teasing but you continue to scratch your nails through his messy hair anyway, just to watch him lean into your touch like he always does.

“hey, don’t be mean to me.“ nagi sighs, turning to place a tender kiss to your wrist before his eyes close again, his voice smoother when it sounds once more like he was steadying himself “alcohol ‘s such a pain, i just wanna play video games.“ he groans at the realisation of what’s coming when he wakes up tomorrow, but he hiccups before breathing deep and softening, mumbling this time when he blinks up at you “you gotta carry me to bed now, can’t get up.”

you soften, lean in, press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose and you giggle at the way his eyes close, feeling his fingers squeeze at the dip of your waist when you pull away “no fair, wasn’t done yet.” he breathes, and by the tone of his voice you can tell clarity is slowly getting a grip on him again.

you nod your head, amused and lean in again when he meets you half way with a pout, because nagi taught you that happiness is just as simple as this — him nuzzling into your stomach between slurred words and stolen kisses as your fingers smooth through his hair.

nagi seishiro is tipsy, but he loves you everyday, just the same as always.

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed #blue lock fluff #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #bllk x you #nagi x reader #nagi fluff #nagi x you #nagi seishiro fluff #nagi seishiro x you #nagi seishiro x reader

[velnna]

I remember you saying you liked drawing athletes for anatomy refs. Where you also a practitioner? And what other sports do you like/have you partaken in, and have they affected the way you draw bodies and movement somehow?

Yeah I've done sports all my life haha. My main sports were acrobatic gymnastics, athletics (medium-long distance and trail) and martial arts (krav maga and muay thai, though I did do a year of karate and have family very close linked to judo), but I've tried a shitton of others

I definitely think observing *and* practicing certain types of sports helped me a lot with my art and sense of volume/anatomy. Gymnastics in particular are all about understanding what muscles flex when, how balance and weight are distributed in your body and how joints bend and rotate relative to each other, etc. By observing you can learn a lot, but there's things you also sort of only get by trying it out

Now of course I'm not recommending do gymnastics to learn how to draw but it definitely did help me. If you're curious about this sort of approach (drawing athletes VS simple figure drawing), a thing that can help is to look at videos instead of static images! I'm very biased towards acrobatic gymnastics but will recommend it anyways because one thing that made me fixate on it was that, compared to olympic artistic gymnastics, routines have a lot more flavour and diversity to them, more complex static poses, etc. Some groups had a chemistry that kept me watching regardless of the actual technical bits heh.

Here look at how neat it is

#q&a #i havent been in the acrobatics sphere for a decade #but still love looking back at my old favourites hope theyre doing well

[a-998h]

Hi. What about the reader, who was a professional athlete, and when he got to genshin, he often told the characters about the Olympic Games and how he participated in them. To please him and to please the whole Teyvat, they decided to organize their own Olympic Games. Which characters could participate in which sport? And bonus points for the rivalry between the archons for the fact that their nations win more victories in these competitions. Feel free to ignore this nonsense

When you mention the Olympic Games, they thinks its an ancient tradition from a civilization you bared witness to. So obviously they'll now have to start doing something similar to these Olympic Games.

There was some debate over where these games would be hosted, until it was decided that which nation hosted would go in a rotation. In order to make this happen, money was needed and many people were willing to give money. Diluc, Eula, Ningguang, Xingqiu, Keqing, Yae Miko, the Kamisato siblings, Sara, Dori , Navia, and Furina, all the remaining harbingers offered their support and money. With all that money, the games could now start preparing.

Charolette would go to the games no matter the nation so she could get pictures. In Mondstadt that knights work as security for the events, same thing with the Millelith, Raiden Shogun soilder, Sumerus guards, and Gards. Whenever a certain nation wins, the archons get certain bragging rights. Venti and Furina would do a lot more outward bragging then compared to Raiden Shogun, Zhongli, and Nahida. The games are now a common event. In each of the stadiums there is a viewing seat specifically for you to sit and watch the games.

As for who would do which sport... I don't have a good idea because there are so many events in the actual Olympic games and a weapon choice for a character doesn't mean they can do a sport.

#genshin fanfic #cult au #sagau #sagau lore #creator!reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines

[viktoriakomova]

The thing is, we keep hearing the refrain of “it’s for optics/popularity/hype” as to why the judges are (allegedly) encouraged to throw crazy scores, but…… to normies, a 9.800 being mediocre is crazy. Like it immediately looks fucking stupid to people totally unfamiliar with the sport. It reeks of deeply unserious exhibition gala for a team ranked like 12th in the country to be whooping and hollering and high fiving for a rotation score of 49.40/50.00

I’ve convinced several normie friends to come to meets with me and they have fun and like to watch the ACTUAL GYMNASTICS because it’s objectively impressive to anyone unfamiliar with the sport. And then they start asking about the scoring in more detail and I have to explain to them that falling on your ass will get you a 9.3, which to their normie sensibilities reads as a 93% that’s an A !!! And then you explain that a routine done to completion starts from a 10 and is deducted from there for flaws and they seem to get it. But then you have gymnasts going OOB on one floor landing and taking a step on the other two and they get like a 9.80? That’s a joke and everyone I’ve introduced to NCAA gym basically thinks so too. It’s not appealing to new fans !!!!!!! New fans come to see flips (because flips are cool) and to participate in NCAA athletics rivalries etc (because that’s loads of fun across all sports). They don’t come to get excited over 9.9s they come to get excited about the routines and about the winning/losing. Which would be clearer and more legitimate if the judges took the fucking deductions oh my god!!!!

[rockatanskette]

I wonder what aliens would think of home team advantage.

I got into hockey a couple years ago to troll my best friend and immediately developed an undying loyalty to my team that goes beyond blood and water. The most surprising thing to me was when I got to go to a playoffs game in my team's home arena prior to the Sickness. Not being a sports person, I'd never been part of a crowd like that before and I could not imagine being a member of an away team skating onto the ice in front of a massive wall of their opponents' colors. It would be intimidating as hell, especially if you had literally no exposure to it.

And to an alien, it might not make sense. Imagine species who use sporting event as purely skill contests, with no social element. Sure, there's entertainment in watching, but only intellectually: watching a skilled person excel at physically demanding tasks. What if there were aliens that watch sporting events like documentaries, who build their "arenas" like black-box theaters, small and dark, and tailored to connoisseurs—and silent. It would be rude, after all, to distract the athletes from their competition.

Imagine these aliens realizing that humans also have similar physical competitions and being curious about if their two species can compare. They invite human teams into their arena theaters to compete with their own and they realize very quickly that humans are not very good at "sports." Even without the distraction of a talking crowd, the humans seem to distract themselves: they seem on edge, perhaps even uncomfortable, and while it becomes clear that they possess some skill, because they do manage to score against leading teams, they seem a far cry from the bombastic, playfully aggressive, overly competitive personalities that humans display in so many other contexts.

And then the humans are gracious enough to invite the aliens to play in their home arenas—and foolish enough to challenge them to bring their best.

"Watch out," one human player says to their alien counterpart, with a twinkle in her eye. "At home, we'll have home team advantage."

At first, this isn't so strange. They do actually have some understanding of what we would call a home team advantage, but only the contextual part: if you train in a familiar space, you will do better in that space because you are more familiar with it. But the aliens aren't worried. Earth has demanded their best athletes and with the humans' displays so far, it's clear that familiarity with the terrain will not do too much to give them an advantage.

They are provided with vids and research about human sporting arenas, which point out that they're made to accommodate massive crowds, but that doesn't faze most of the alien players. Perhaps the crowds are for educational purposes, since so many visual records show human young in the crowds—full family units in fact. It's a bit curious that they're all wearing the colors of the team's...crest? Insignia? But that's humans for you, always looking for groups to align themselves with, even if they don't actually participate. And so they don't think anything of it.

When they enter the building and hear the roaring of thousands of screams they fear something has gone horribly wrong. Some begin to panic, asking if they should leave, until their human interpreter laughs and explains: the voices are not afraid. They're excited to see their team play.

"Who?" The team captain asks, trying to regain composure.

"The fans." The interpreter is almost beaming now. They are wearing a very professional pantsuit and blouse—in the same colors as the team's insignia.

Before the aliens can wonder what rotating blades have to do with sporting events, they're pulled off to a locker room. They won't admit it, but they're already shaken by the sound of the crowd. They're used to playing in polite silence, punctuated by the occasional comment from the audience.

"Now, we know this is a very different experience for you," the interpreter says. "And human sporting events can be overstimulating to a lot of humans. So we've worked with your government to help create personal audio dampeners so you aren't overwhelmed by the noise. We've also requested that the stadium refrain from playing music or putting on any light displays. It'll just be you and the crowd."

That's not as comforting as she might think. And when the alien team comes out onto the playing field, some of them almost bolt. There are so many humans and they're...chanting? At first, the aliens worry that the chanting is for them...but then they hear the name of the opposite team in the rhythm of it and when that team enters, the resounding scream of joy almost breaks through the audio dampeners.

Not only that, the human team they faced only a few rotations ago is nowhere to be seen. Gone are the uneasy, self-conscious players from before. They're confident now, they swagger, and wave to the crowd and the crowd screams back and that only seems to give them more energy. Some of the players begin to remember, then, that humans are hypersocial creatures. Have even been called a hivemind by some, less charitable members of the alien species. But they don't put it together until they play.

The crowd transforms them. They score two points in the first half of the first round and the paper-thin defense that the aliens had broken through easily in prior games has become a solid wall. Even with the sound of the crowd dampened, the aliens can see its effects: the humans' newfound confidence brings out that oh-so-human desire to risk everything on a dangerous play and somehow it almost feels like the crowd betters the odds. But it's not just filling them with confidence and intimidating their opponents. The humans try harder in front of their crowd: move faster, hit stronger, endure longer.

At first, the team captain thinks it's just a fear of embarrassment, at failing in front of so many witnesses. But xi soon realizes it's more than that. They don't just want to not do badly in front of a crowd, they want to do well for the crowd. They want the crowd to scream in joy—and when a human scores the game-winning point they do, surging to their feet as one in a joyful scream that does break through the audio dampeners.

The alien team loses this time, and not just the game. The team captain and xir players have never had such a response to their game and while they don't need the same kind of constant social affirmation humans do, it is enviable to have a whole crowd of people get so much joy out of watching you play. Returning to the sporting theater is almost disappointing, especially when humans in the human team's colors start showing up in the audience. They don't get to yell in these spaces—some do and are quickly asked to leave—but they come anyway. The captain almost wishes to have their own audience. But that isn't done in xir culture and so they push it aside as foolish daydreams. Until they get the comm from Earth. A written message, with a visual component:

"Dear Mx. Aliens: My name is Seul-ki. It's nice to meet you! My friends and I watched the game you played against the Wildcats and thought you did well! I have watched a lot of vids of your games now and I think your team has the best defense in the interplanetary league. My friend Ashwani and I wanted to buy jerseys of your team but you don't have those so we made some. We also wanted to ask you to please let us be your official fan club, because we read you don't have one. Thanks for reading, S & A."

Attached is a picture of two human young smiling and wearing black clothing, with numbers on it. One of them wears the team captain's number and a bright intimidating smile with far too many teeth. A human smile. Xi has forgotten the old adage for dealing with humans: they will get attached to anything. It was meant as a warning, but at the moment, it feels like a blessing.

It would only be a boon to diplomatic relations, xi thinks, to include these youth in their sporting culture. In fact, xi considers with a growing excitement, perhaps xi could even invite the fan club to their home arena. It would be good to hear a crowd calling xir name.

#long post #humans are space orcs #i like sports #this was inspired by how a lack of crowds at the 2020 olympics totally fucked with everyone involved #humans are human #humans are awesome #hockey

[rosedominatesyou]

Bedtime Stories w/ Rose

ੈ✩‧˚ Record Breaker ‧˚ੈ✩

(Bedtime Story #1)

Good evening my little pups, mommy promised you a bedtime story and here it is <3 remember my rule! If this gets posted and it isn’t bedtime, you have to wait!!! Keep it in your likes until you’re curled up in the dark all cozy and sleepy.

Before reading: Everything I’m about to say is real and actually happened. I’ve withheld things like locations and last names to be respectful to the people in the story.

One of the details I have in my pinned post is that I have a personal record of making a girl cum 7 times in a single day. That sounds a little excessive, doesn’t it? It was. Here’s mommy’s story about that day, and in part 2, she’ll tell you about the boy she dated that almost made it a tie. 🤭🤭

~'*•.¸♡¸.•*'.・。゜✭・.・✫・。.'*•.¸♡¸.•*'~

Please listen to one of my favorite songs before you settle in to read mommy’s story. The song is called ‘House Of Mirrors’ by Softcult.

I was a very stereotypical lesbian growing up. I wanted to be every single label and description I had ever seen online, and I wanted people to know it everywhere I went. When I was 15, I went to a salon without my mom’s permission and asked them to shave my head. She didn’t talk to me for 3 days once she got home and saw me. I used to carry a peach around in my backpack at school just so that I could show other kids “what it looked like to eat pussy”. Yes, I bought a new peach every week for this sole purpose. I was pretty athletic, and I almost exclusively played softball throughout my adolescence.

But if you remember the mid-2010’s well, then you’ll recall that archery and the Hunger Games was all anyone was talking about. I had been feeling a little burned out from softball (I played catcher/left field), and I knew with my long arms and hand/eye coordination, I might possibly find archery appealing to me.

That’s how I met Taylor. I joined a club and she was the owner’s niece. Having already been doing this for over 10 years, she seemed so miserable and hated every second of being there, always complaining about something or hiding away out of sight.

I was drawn to her instantly. Almost a foot taller than me and eventually became my best friend, she wouldn’t admit her feelings for over a year. She was a virgin, and not out to anyone (even herself), so when I was finally able to pull those words out of her, it changed absolutely everything about our relationship. I had spent the night at her house before, but I decided I had had enough of the games and going around the way I can see I make her feel. We were laying in bed facing eachother, our arms and legs tangled up in such a romantic position that it’s crazy we thought we were fooling anyone. We were still hanging on to the “just friends” label, and right then I saw something shift in her eyes. She wanted to say it, but could never without my encouragement.

“You can tell me…” I say in a whisper, no other words had been said yet.

Her eyes go wide, trying to convince the voice in her head that it’s wrong.

I put my forehead against her’s, “What would you do if I tried to kiss you right now?”

She giggles, her answer more confident than I expected, “Kiss back?”

I kissed her, and that was it. Both of our world’s were changed. I had a few partners before her but Taylor and I would go on to have the longest relationship I had ever had at the time, and even though things ended badly in the end, the amount of new experiences we both gained from those days will always stay with me. She and I still occasionally talk to this day, though I try to keep my distance out of respect for her well-being.

Taylor and I were instructors at a summer camp for the club we were apart of once I turned 18, teaching archery to kids as young as 5 years old on 1 week rotations. It was my first real job, and I was working right alongside my new girlfriend. We were in our best days during this time, total honeymooners, and finding any chance we could to sneak away and make out. These were some of the best memories I have with an ex.

The job only lasted 3 months, and we usually always went over to her house after we got off of work. I’d follow her in my car and spend the night and then drive myself home in the morning. There were a few times I spent the night and we went right back to work together afterwards. And yes, if you were wondering, this girl was definitely no longer a virgin.

One specific week during the summer camp, we were just finishing up class and I was writing down ideas for the next day on a clipboard. She starts telling about how her parents were going away again for the weekend, and how we would ‘have the house to ourselves’.

“Andrew’s going too…?” I asked, my neck snapping up to face her. Her parents went up to the cabin they owned regularly, but usually her stupid younger brother would stay behind.

“Mhmm…” She bites her lip at me.

And so we’ve arrived at what this story is all about. We had another day until they would be out of town - another day of angsty classes where we tried unsuccessfully to avoid looking at eachother. I barely remember driving to her house once we were off. We had the entire weekend to ourselves, and I had big plans on how we would use it.

I don’t remember the first half of the day, I usually always just think about an Instagram selfie I posted of us in her bathroom as we got ready to go out to dinner. But…we didn’t make it to dinner 🥴 we took that picture and I immediately couldn’t handle how good she looked in her black dress, so I took her back to the bedroom.

We did everything on my list. I knew we might never get an opportunity to have that kind of alone time again, so I wanted to try all the kinky things that other people I had dated never wanted to do. Actually, some of these things we did are still things only she let me do to her.

Her metal bed frame was perfect for tying her hands up. There were posts at the end of her bed too so I had her ankles bound tight along with her wrists. I wanted to do a sort of hot/cold stimulation, so I had ice cubes and hot candle wax on the night stand that I switched off using. She would scream as I dropped the wax on her nipples while also dragging an ice cube over her pussy lips. The rope left deep rug burns on her skin as she struggled over my soft torture.

After a few go’s, I cut her free and we both laid exhausted on the bed, her head against my chest.

“How many times was that?” I ask.

“I don’t know…” She says with her eyes closed.

“Five? There were the…three? This morning?”

“This morning?!” She yells at me, “Uuuuhggg….maybe like….six then?”

“Six sounds right.” I breathe out, holding her in my arms, “Maybe you could do one more?”

“Fuck…no!” She whimpers.

My fingers are already feeling how wet she is, “I think you can…”

It takes her longer than the other times, my whole face covered in her juices as I’m basically begging her to cum again for me. I’m saying pleasepleaseplease as I’m ramming my fingers into her watching her shake under my grip. Taylor and I were together for a little less than a year, not counting the time we were just friends. No one knew we were dating, it was a secret to both of our families, but that all changed after one careless kiss in the parking lot outside the archery club. Someone recognized us and told her Aunt. Taylor called me frantically later in the day, saying that if I don’t tell my mom about us, her Aunt will. It was no fun having that conversation, because I wasn’t only telling my mom about my secret relationship with my best friend, but I was also coming out to her.

But that’s a bedtime story for another time 😊 I hope you enjoyed learning a little more about me, thanks for taking the time to read. Let me know what you think, and I’ll be making more posts soon about upcoming parts if you all liked this so much.

Sleep well babies 💗

~'*•.¸♡¸.•*'.・。゜✭・.・✫・。.'*•.¸♡¸.•*'~

#rosebtstory

[ladyfantasma]

Artbook translation: Chat Noir/Felix

Early concept Chat Noir

Chat Noir, who protects Paris with Ladybug, brings misfortune unlike how Ladybug brings good luck.

With the magical power emitting from the ring, he gives misfortune to the enemy by blocking its retreat or stranding them by setting a trap. With Ladybug’s luck and Chat Noir’s misfortune together, any case can be solved.

Chat Noir likes Ladybug, but he doesn’t know Ladybug is Marinette, who like his civil form, Felix.

To take the cursed ring off Chat Noir has to get Ladybug’s kiss, and he is not really interested in saving Paris. He is only studying on how to date with Ladybug.*

BLACK HOLE/BLACK STORM**

Early Chat’s Noir’s ability can be largely divided into “Black Storm” and “Black hole”. The two abilities both use the ring’s power, and with the ability Chat Noir can bring misfortune such as obstructing and destroying the enemy.

Early concept Felix

Under Chat Noir’s mask, there is Felix. Felix is Marinette’s classmate, and popular among girls.

Marinette has a crush on Felix, but Felix isn’t interested in Marinette. He loves Ladybug, whom he can meet when he transforms into Chat Noir, but he doesn’t know Ladybug’s identity is Marinette.

His specialties are athletics and boxing, and when he rotates the ring, he can transform into Chat Noir. Felix is much more cheerful when he transforms into Chat Noir.

(Early Miraculous Ladybug)

(Ladybug)

(Quantic Kids)

(Pergue, Mr. Pigeon, and Le Mime)

(Translation notes in readmore)

*This is actually in one line, but I cut it into two because keeping it in one line seemed awkward

**There is actually no subtitle for this page. Temporary subtitle I made for distinguishing pages

#miraculous ladybug #ladybug pv #2d ladybug #2d chat noir #pv chat noir #felix agreste #sorry for not uploading translations #planning to replace the other translations' pics #from camera pic to edited from scaned page #last thing to do is papillon

[fumifooms]

oh, sorry for so many asks, i also wanted to say too though i really agree so much with your chilchuck thoughts so far, even down to your personal headcanons about how things might go post-series. and you're absolutely right, i'll defend that little guy any day myself. you understand him so well and it's kind of relaxing to have someone else dish out this kind of analysis and already agree with all of it cus it's just so real, so thank you again for the Meal <- perhaps the perfect thing to say about dungeon meshi analysis when i think about it

i know you have playlists and stuff so i wanted to share a song i've been listening to that that reminds me of him: divine loser by clem turner

No worries, they’ve been a lot of fun! I do plan on getting back to each one btw, just gotta get through some other things first hopefully. Aaaah that’s really nice to hear 🥺 I do know the feeling haha, it’s always fun to have posts that Get It that you just nod along with 🤝 I’ve thought sooo much about Chilchuck I rotate him in my brain like rotisserie chicken more often than not, glad it all ended up being productive haha. Y’know recently my friends have been calling me a Chilchuck superfan/scholar jokingly and it actually made me have a realization moment of…

Bc I’ve always said Laios was my fave and like, he does mean everything to me idk if I’ve ever felt so seen as with Laios, I relate to him sooo much, but then. Okay alright that can be a different thing than a character being your favorite fine FINE I admit it Chilchuck’s my top blorbo. He’s so.🧍‍♂️I can’t even describe. He’s so….. He’s a clown but he’s also perfection in its best imperfect form I will not be taking further questions today. My friend called him my silly rabbit like that one meme and it makes me laugh sm

Thank you for the music rec!! I listened to it and yes agreed, sent straight to my Chil playlist. Songs are my bread and butter when I have character brainrot bc like with web weavings I feel like there are so many emotions and thoughts you can communicate about something so simply through one… (Which for anyone interested here’s my web weaving tag, got 2 about Chil). Gonna link all my dunmeshi playlists while I’m here: Dungeon Meshi, Chilchuck & his wife, marchil, Mithrun.

Ok everyone saw this coming but this ask ran away from me and I ramble about some song lyrics I associate with Chil & different facets of his life below the cut. Some people find my, ehem, heated rambles about Chil entertaining, this is your cue to get out the popcorn.

When thinking about songs for Chil I have 3 angles I take: About Chilchuck, about him and his wife, or about him & Marcille. Marchil is so engraved into me with their arcs together, that they’re like the concept of closure and letting go and letting yourself live again to me, sorry for all the non-enjoyers… I think currently my top song for him is Jackrabbit by San Fermin, because it combines all three it makes me go wild. It’s about trepidation… Throwing yourself into it even despite the fear (working with traps, survival in poverty where you have to rush & hustle), or just staying there paralyzed(not reaching out to his wife). Flight or freeze!! Saying goodbyes and saying hellos!! Not dying alone!! The life cycle of a wild rabbit living and dying, the baton pass race of life from generation to generation!! Chil and his daughters even!!! Going through life at a frenzied pace!! It is so Chilchuck and so marchil, and the music does give that hurried and scared energy to me too, and sigh the Marcille side to it with fear of death too…

Extra fun context but the other day on the discord server we were talking about what animal each character’s fursona would be as we do and I thought of a rabbit for Chilchuck: Quick footed, ‘cowardly’, small and frail and seen as weak 🙃, athletic and slender, pulls stunts, stressed out, has very fine hearing and has good instincts, etc. And ofc that fits really well with Marcille since she’s kinda associated with dungeon rabbits hehe~ But I think while Marcille’s 100% the cute round rabbit Chil’s more like a brown hare, more wild and like, more like a jackalope if we’re still doing monsters... I do lowkey find it more fun than his associated monster being mimics because he’s crabby, because they’re clever (with where they place themselves) and because of how he has a soft shell but soft insides, lol.

OKAY so that’s my song pick with the main 3 facets sure, now I’ll share some lyrics for each 3 sides separatedly 😈 Kinda summarizing my web weavings for him thus far. If we start with Chilchuck by himself we have… Enter One by Shelby Merry and Drunk by The Living Tombstone

With his wife, we have the bad end, and the good end for if they get back together with Lost Kitten by Metric and North by Sleeping At Last… Okay okay plus Love Like Ghosts and My Heart is Buried in Venice… Little Soldier by The Crane Wives for them also RUIN me

And Marchil… Marchil oh my beloved. Another buddy also made a full analysis on discord about Soap by The Oh Hellos for them lol, but these are Not I by I Fight Dragons and My Heart is Buried in Venice again~

Okay okay two more. Boats & Birds by Gregory and The Hawk, and Tummy by Tamino.

Finishing it up with quotes from, in order, A Softer World by Joey Comeau, Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky, Acknowledgements by Danez Smith, The Letter by Richard Paul Evans, and last but not least posts from dead tumblr account flintcoded. I keep looking around and finding MORE fitting quotes. Someone stop me- In loving me you hold a knife at my throat, in loving you I tell you exactly where to cut. Forgive me, memory is a rope around my neck. I need you to be happy, I need one of us to be happy.

Hand in unlovable hand…

In conclusion;

#Thinking Chilchuck (positive) thoughts today. Have Chilchuck (sweet) dreams. Have a very Chilchuck chewsday (Fumi it’s sunday- shhhhhh) #Ask #fumi updates #Dunmeshi memes #Marchil #Chilchuck tims #maybe i should make a masterpost about my dunmeshi posts and playlists and fics oughhhh noooo i don’t like organizing myself #character playlist #ship playlist #Marchil song lyrics #This is 100% my cue that it’s time for me to make a new Chil web weaving. #So much to do so much to say all the time… #Last time I had an hyperfixation that lasted this long it was Sonic the Hedgehog. YOU LAUGH BUT most my fanfics are for sth so!! #Gonna treat y’all to many more meals from my fancontent factory brain

[zaimta]

thinkin ab modern/sports au franky…

implied black!reader

franky who loves posting you on his instagram, most of his posts are of you it’s basically your second account

franky who’s pinned post is you during golden hour, he says that he saw it so the rest of the world deserves to see you too

franky who loves paying for your nails and hair he loves seeing how happy you look when you get them done

franky who is your number one hype man, he takes photo of you whenever you get something done, his lock screen changes often with pictures of you in rotation

franky’s team loving you more than him, when you come to visit they’re constantly in his facility to see you and not him

franky asking you of you could stop by and visit because his athletes whine about not seeing you in years (it’s been a week), they fake injuries to see you and chop it up in his facility

franky who loves seeing how well you get along with the team, when they ask about you he can’t help but smile

franky who takes you to a hockey game and explains the terms on the spot, even if you still don’t get it he loves spending time with you

franky who has a soft muscular dad bod figure, his hugs are legendary and he carries you around like you weigh nothing

franky who loves it when you spend the night, he loves when you lay on top of him and he wraps his arms around you or when you rest your head on his shoulder

franky who calls you “babe” more than your own name so when he calls you your actual name you’re running around in circles trying to figure out what you did wrong

franky who is also a mechanic and fixes everything and anything for you when it breaks, you thank him with a kiss and it always fuels him up

zai says: i’m so in love with him

#one piece x reader #cyborg franky x reader #franky x reader #franky x black reader #cyborg franky x black reader #cyborg franky fluff #franky fluff #one piece fluff #one piece headcanons #one piece x black!reader #one piece x black reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #cyborg franky x you #cyborg franky x y/n #franky x you #franky x y/n #cyborg franky x black!reader #franky x black!reader #zai talks ab: franky

[pixeldolly]

From Hopeville, With Love! 🤠 🌵

I’ve decided to try my hand at playing a LEPacy, which is a modified, goal-oriented Legacy Challenge where each generation focuses on the features of an EP. I like goal-oriented gameplay, and this is an opportunity to try out some of the lesser-used features in the game.

I’ll also be running the ROS once every rotation, to make things even more interesting.

The format will be a bit different from my usual posts - more picture-heavy, lighter on the story. This is me trying to focus on the actual gameplay and not get drawn into yet another time-consuming storytelling attempt. We’ll see how that goes.

Generation One Goals:

You sim must live in the main neighborhood.

Have the Family aspiration.

Reach the highest level in any of these careers: Business, Medical, Military, Criminal, Law Enforcement, Political, Science, Culinary, Athletics, Slacker.

Throw a Wedding Party.

Have all of your children attend private school.

Throw a Golden Anniversary Party.

#sims 2 #the sims 2 #sims2 #ts2 #sims 2 pictures #sims 2 gameplay #sims 2 lepacy #sims 2 legacy challenge #hopeville

[aloeverified]

i’m curiousss do u have any hcs abt bowie and lightnings interactions and stuff as brothers bc i’m rotating them in my head

omg i've been meaning to make headcanons for the new cast, so i'll use this to start me off 😼

lightning was 16 during tdroti, which took place about two years after total drama started if i remember correctly — so i think the two of them have a twelve year age gap with lightning currently being twenty-nine and bowie being seventeen.

bowie is constantly making jokes about lightning about to be turning thirty and how his hair is gonna go gray — it always terrifies lightning despite him literally having white hair.

"bowie" is a nickname meaning blond, which lightning started calling him and then the rest of the family and bowie's friends caught on and it stuck.

speaking of which — he decided to dye his hair blond to look more like his older brother, who he's always viewed as his idol.

despite their age gap, they're pretty close. lightning was extremely excited to have a younger brother and constantly yammered on about all the sports they were gonna play together.

when bowie was too little to actually play with lightning, he simply cheered on his big brother. lightning would take bowie to his football games and have him hangout with the cheerleaders, bragging about how his little brother motivates him more than any cheer team could.

lightning used to tease bowie about how he got to hang around with pretty cheerleaders all day... turns out, bowie was more interested in the uniforms than the girls!

bowie's parents always suspected he was queer. he liked playing in his mom's makeup and would have fashion shows in her clothes and heels. lightning was the only one who didn't catch on to that; which made bowie coming out to him the biggest shock of his life. after a bit of explaining on bowie's part about his feelings and everything, lightning burst into tears upon realizing his little brother choose him to be the first person he came out to.

lightning helped explain things to their dad since both of them knew he could be a bit stubborn and understanding at times. lightning was fully ready to have bowie move in with him (as he was already in his mid-twenties at this point) if anything went south, but their family was very loving and accepting of bowie.

they go to pride every year together, sometimes with their parents or some of bowie's friends.

bowie finds it a bit suspicious how lightning seems to study other men in the gym sometimes, but he keeps his theories to himself.

same as lightning, bowie is also very athletic. his best sport is track due to how tall and agile he is. the two of them would go on morning runs everyday whenever lightning was on break from university. lightning encouraged him to join the cheerleaders squad, but bowie declined due to "how gossipy those girls are." they then went into a two hour conversation where lightning told bowie about all the crazy shit the cheerleaders who would babysit him would do, and how, "cheerleaders are all evil. that's why you'd be a perfect one!"

bowie was about four when lightning went away for total drama, and he was absolutely terrified everytime he turned on the tv to see his brother being put in life-or-death challenges. his mother used to have to put him to bed everynight and assure him that his big brother was okay.

he still remembers how proud he was when he saw lightning make it to the finale.

if the two of them were ever fighting, lightning would force them to settle it with an arm wrestle since he knew he'd always win. this worked for a few years until bowie figured out the trick where you twist your opponents' wrist. lightning never understood how he always lost after that and eventually they found a new way to settle their disagreements.

lightning was having the craziest mood swings while watching the new season. on one hand, he was super proud of his brother, but on the other... WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS TO BE KISSING BOYS ALREADY? WHO DOES THAT GUY THINK HE IS TO BE MAKING MOVES ON HIS LITTLE BROTHER? TEENAGERS THESE DAYS—

anyways, lightning interrogated and scared the shit out of raj upon meeting him before completely falling in love with the sports loser he brother choose. bowie debated leaving the restaurant they were having dinner at just to see of they would notice or if they were too busy talking about the latest college hockey game to care.

lightning constantly brags about how the two of them made it to the finale in their first seasons on the show... too bad they shared the same outcome. whatever, lightning's a professional athlete so his brother doesn't need a million dollars — he makes that in a month.

#theyre so silly and special to me #total drama #td headcanons #td headcanon #td bowie #bowie jackson #td lightning #lightning jackson #td raj #bowraj #aloeverants #asks #hope these suit ur taste 🙏 #nathan spoilers #stunfiskz

[cinnamonest]

Sorry for the error to anyone receiving two notifs for the same post, I just posted this, noticed an error as soon as I did, and tried to edit the post, but it kept spinning and the chrome page encountered an error and closed, so I’m just going to repost.

-

The Childe high school teacher post and the last babysitter post has reignited my age gap love, I might make a sort of series eventually but for now I haven't done any Xiaoposting™ in a while so have this

 //Age gap, HS teacher/student, alcohol consumption, drugging

 (Also I know various places have a teacher-rotational schedule and not a student-rotational schedule but I just made it the latter because it worked better with the idea here, sorry)

  ----

On the bright side, working at one of these uppity private schools has its advantages. Better pay, more well-behaved kids, better facilities. The downsides are the snobbishness of some of the kids, and the area is not the best of climates, but it's worth the pay.

 Regardless, wherever you go, to some extent there will always be the same types of students. As a teacher, you can predict that, with each incoming class, there will always be one or two students who fall into a specific role. There's always at least one that, without fail, fills a particular "spot" of sorts. Even at a rich kid school, there's still athletic jerks and social butterflies and computer nerds and every other archetype you can think of. Some are more difficult than others, but you think you're adequately prepared to deal with whatever may come your way.

 Your subject is one of those standard classes, mandatory for each student to take, broad and standardized. So it's not like any one particular type of student takes it, unlike electives like art or theatre or specialty classes like advanced maths or sciences, no, you get all sorts of personalities. Not to mention you get a wide variety of investment levels -- some care, they're enthusiastic and enjoy the subject, some try their best but aren't particularly interested, and then some could not care less, putting in minimal effort, constantly checking the clock waiting for it to be over.

 You can tell a lot about individual students without ever having to speak to them, it's just in the way they walk, dress, their posture, where they choose to sit, their handwriting, the light (or lack thereof) in their eyes. You can even make pretty accurate assumptions about their personal wellness, home life, aspirations, personality, interests, and so on. Not that you don't also love getting to know each one as an individual, of course, you're particularly excited to meet and memorize each new face and name, and the individual attached.

 On the first day, the first student to enter homeroom actually comes into the room well before it's time to start the day. Most of the others are taking a bit of time, since many are talking to and reuniting with friends they haven't seen in a few months. There are, in your experience, two reasons why this can happen -- either he's new and for some reason transferred to a different school for his final year of high school, or, he is simply, as you would call it it, "that kid."

 It becomes almost immediately evident that it is the latter.

 He doesn't say anything himself, and almost seems startled when you chime a quick good morning! at him. He just looks up at you for a brief second, nods in acknowledgement, and then makes a direct beeline for that one seat in the far back corner of the room. Reaches it, sets his bag down with a heavy thud, and then sits down and slouches over. Right. You can make a few guesses about him, just from that brief interaction.

 You do pay attention to behaviors, of course, you're in this occupation because you do care and want to enrich the kids' lives and support them and all of that, so you're certain you'll learn his character as you do everyone else's. He just... fits a certain profile. The messy uniform presentation (shirt not tucked in, shoes all scuffed up, and so on), the dark undereye circles, the slouching posture, the silent brooding demeanor. Everything fits perfectly for that one particular type of student.

 You're perfectly on the mark, too. In the coming days, Xiao proves to perfectly fit the idea you had in your head of what he'd be like.

 He just weakly raises a hand during roll-call for homeroom, doesn't say "here" or anything at all. In your actual class, when you assign the occasional breakout group work, letting students pair up or get into small groups to complete an in-class assignment, he always chooses to do it by himself. Every take-home assignment is turned in horrendously crumpled or creased -- you've directly witnessed the fact that he just loosely stuffs all books and papers into his bag. Messy, but still legible handwriting. Everything lines up with the assumptions you made from the first few seconds of meeting him.

 But he's not a bad kid. Even if sometimes he turns things in a day late, he stills turns in everything nonetheless. Granted, his grades are not... the best, but he's not failing, and you can tell he's trying. That's what matters, isn't it?

You also try to pay attention to and keep tabs on students that seem to struggle a bit socially, so before long he's essentially your number one subject for said observations. You've never seen him interact with someone by choice. He's in this odd middle ground where he's certainly not popular, in fact you're pretty sure he doesn't have any friends... Yet, he blends into the background very well and doesn't stand out at all, so he's not getting bullied or anything either. The usual bully types find him too boring to pick on. They certainly tried; back in the middle school years they found that picking on him didn't give them the reactions they were trying to invoke. He just sighed and ignored them, so they quickly moved on to more entertaining victims, and now they no longer even acknowledge he exists, much less try to mess with him.

 Equally concerningly, and perhaps most frustrating, considering the time and effort you put in, is a slight academic challenge. He does try and all, but he's not the most attentive student, has a tendency to visibly space out and get lost in thought, completely blank thousand-yard stare. Usually when you call on him, you can see him snap out of it, and he more or less proves that he was in fact zoned out, because he needs you to repeat the question, and is observably completely lost. Other times, he just looks like he's on the verge of falling asleep. You figure part of it is certainly due to sitting so far away from the front.

 However, this issue thankfully is similar in nature to another issue you have with some other students -- since you let your students sit where they want, of course most students will sit next to friends. The issue being that, predictably, this leads to a lot of distractions and disruptions, costing you precious time and all. You hate to upset anyone, but for the sake of productivity, you move them around and make a seating chart, a few weeks in.

 It occurs to you that perhaps this could be an opportunity to get him into a spot where he has more chances to interact, out of his shell so to speak, and a brighter spot to help him not space out. Oh, you could put him next to one of those sympathetic, super social types that goes out of their way to reach out to the loner types and be their friend. That would be helpful, right? That's totally not an introvert's worst nightmare or anything. Thus, you leave a chart displayed at the front of the class the next day, so everyone can find their spot.

 You'd think you shot him in the chest, you can see his facial expression go through the five stages of grief when he sees it. Having to give up the treasured, the sacred, the prized back corner seat? To sit in the FRONT? Are you out of your mind? Not to mention, the back corner has a tall supply cabinet along the wall that casts a comforting shadow over him at all times, and now you're demanding he sit directly beneath the light. AND you put him next to one of those bright eyed, high-energy  people who's going to go out of their way to -- unsolicitedly! -- force their acquaintanceship upon him out of pity. He's not even next to a wall, meaning he has people on both sides. What kind of sadistic pleasure do you take from this.

 But begrudgingly, he sluggishly grasps the top of his backpack and drags it along the ground to the front seat, and sits without protest, although he certainly has a mopey expression for the days to come.

 You still check on him to ensure your choice had some positive effect... or maybe not. As expected, the outgoing kid you put him next to insists on working with him, but every time you look over said kid is talking a mile a minute, while he just sits still and silent with a glazed-over thousand yard stare... maybe that wasn't the best move...? At least it counts for interaction.

 You ask around a bit, talk to other teachers who have had him as as student for years, and they all say the same thing. He's just like that. Nonetheless, you can't help but feel some concern. Frankly, as weeks pass, you do worry a bit. He just has a constant melancholy vibe, gives off this air of depression and loneliness, and you can't help but wonder if maybe something is wrong, if he needs help in some way. In your experience, there's always some kids who really do need help, be it related to their home life or their friends or just their sense of self, and it's just as much your job to ensure their prosperity in life as much as in academics, right?

 So you do something about it. You ask him to stay behind for just a minute after a class -- at first, he seems nervous, thinks he's done something wrong, awkwardly fidgeting. But he seems a bit surprised when you ask him a gentle is everything okay? You just seem down, I was just wondering if I can help...

 He shakes his head, mumbles out that he's fine. Nothing wrong. Really. He keeps his eyes glued to the ground as he speaks. You can sense he's probably uncomfortable, so you dismiss him after that. But not without giving a quick reassurance.

 If you ever want to talk, you can always come find me, okay?

 He nods. Still doesn't look at you, his eyes just dart from wall to wall. He leaves -- more like scampers away as fast as possible -- when you finish speaking. You're fairly certain he was barely listening, and will completely disregard you, even maybe doesn't have anything wrong. Maybe talking to him wasn't the best idea, even, he might have just found it awkward or strange... so you assume he won't actually take you up on the offer.

 Until he does.

 It's after school lets out and most kids have already started to go home, a few days after your interaction, you're just sitting at your desk and typing when you hear footsteps coming up to your door. Then they pause, and move back in the other direction, then back towards you again, then away again, as if the person in question can't make up their mind and is hesitating... But finally, you see his head quietly peek around the doorframe, quickly retreating when you look up, but coming back around again when you tell him to come in.

 He's awkward and quiet as he makes his way in, stands there stiffly in front of the desk until you encourage him to sit down. He sits backwards in a chair, folding his arms over the back and resting his head on top of them, legs sprawled out. You try to make him feel more comfortable by smiling and speaking in a soft voice. So, what's going on? Did you have something you wanted to say?

 He pauses for a moment. He still doesn't look you in the eye, fixating his gaze instead on where he has his hands clutched together against the back of the seat.

 ...What are you working on?

 He doesn't seem to actually have any sort of problem he wanted to talk about, no, he just wanted to talk to you, apparently...? You were expecting venting or dumping heavy emotional stuff on you, but it turns out he just asks about your work. What class is that for? Do you like that class? What's your favorite class you teach? Do you have a lot of work? Are you usually here late? He asks each question one by one in a fairly low voice, and then waits for you to answer. And then waits quietly a little more, as if waiting for you to say more, prompting you to continue speaking, and only then does he move onto the next question. All in all, you end up having to fill several minutes of what would otherwise be silence before he asks another short question. You continue this back-and-forth for quite a while.

 A normal conversation is not exactly what you had in mind when you said you could talk, but you figure that this undoubtedly still helps, just having someone to talk to can have a positive impact on someone's life. Maybe he doesn't want to talk about specific things bothering him, or isn't ready to yet, you think, but he still wants some kind of connection and interaction. When someone is depressed or upset, just having a person to talk to is good for the mind, so you've heard. So you're still helping, you reason.

 Eventually, though, after a few hours pass, you do need to go... You softly ask if it's okay if you can continue tomorrow. He nods, seemingly startled by realizing how much time passed, and apologizes for taking up so much of your time, but you reassure him that it's no trouble at all and that you'd love to continue talking tomorrow. You don't want to discourage him or make him feel unwelcomed, of course, so you emphasize that you'd want to continue. It's good for him, right? Clearly this talk was helpful to him in some way. Emotional support and all that.

 He does come back the next day, but still has nothing in particular to speak of, just more general questions and light conversation. You don't give him the same talk at the end of the day about how he could come back tomorrow, but you assume he knows he's welcome. But he seems to be in a better mood, so you think maybe you've effectively accomplished helping him.

 Except he does come back a third time anyway, which is totally fine of course. This time, he comes to your door during the lunch period, asking if it's okay to eat in here with you (rather than the empty classroom he usually finds a quiet place in), and of course you say it's fine. No big deal, you don't mind. He... still comes back after school as well, though.

 And that repeats the next day. And the next day. And the... next... day...

 You quickly realize there has been a bit of a misunderstanding. What you meant was that if he had some kind of problem, he should come talk to you about it... but apparently he interpreted your words to mean you were open to regular conversation on a daily basis. That is, if it can even be called "conversation," since it's mostly him asking random questions and you answering. And if your answer is short, much like the first time, he just sits silently waiting for you to say more, so you've learned to draw out and elaborate on your answers. You figured at first that he would eventually come out of his shell so to speak and talk more, and he is, just... very slowly. After your first conversation, he starts to speak at a normal volume and with much less awkwardness, which is a good start, it's just still a very solemn tone... that you soon realize is just his normal voice.

 Still, you don't mind. You're helping. You're doing something good. So you aren't bothered at all. You smile and engage with him and try to make him feel comfortable and listened to.

 And he latches on like a leech.

 Every day now, like clockwork, when the lunch bell rings, you have a matter of a few minutes before he quietly shuffles his way into your room for your daily talks. And once the final bell of the day rings, sure enough, once again it's only a short time before he appears at your door again. It's always the same routine, he comes to sit at the same chair, sits the same way, hunched over with his head resting on his folded arms, sleeves muffling his voice. He asks about your day first, each and every time. And likewise, each and every time, you give the courtesy of repeating the question back to him, only for him to respond the same way: 'good.' On rare occasions, if something particularly interesting happened, or if something is especially irritating him, you might get a longer answer, but never more than a few sentences. He's far more interested in listening to you, but you do want to get him to open up as well.

 Which you do, to the best of your ability. It's difficult at first to converse with someone who's average number of words per sentence could be counted on one hand, but you find ways over time. The trick is to get him onto something he likes, and then he lights up a bit, and will talk much more. You've learned how to distinguish his emotions -- he doesn't emote very much, doesn't really smile or talk excitedly, rather, you've learned the tells of happiness for him: his eyes get a bit wider, and he speaks a bit louder, and in several sentences at a time, even though his facial expression and tone stay about the same.

 You've even been able to get him to ramble a bit by asking about those games he always carries around with him, since he's fond of bringing one of those handheld consoles to school each day and pulling it out at every conceivable opportunity rather than, you know, speak to another human being. You have absolutely no idea what he's talking about, but it makes him happy, and you're glad to see him actually look excited and enthusiastic about something.

 You still do worry for his sake on a wide variety of matters, though, because that's more or less the only thing he's particularly invested in. You briefly asked him what he plans to do after graduating, which only earned a shrug and an I don't know. He doesn't seem particularly concerned about the matter either. You're fairly certain he hasn't spent a single second thinking about his future in any way.

 Not to mention his physical health. He reveals, through a bit of prodding about his attentiveness tendencies, that he gets an average of maybe four hours of sleep at night due to staying up... but it's okay! They have energy drinks in the hall vending machines, especially helpful since his body has developed such a tolerance for sugar that soda is no longer enough to keep him awake. After you express concern, he reassures you that he limits himself to less than five a day, not to mention, he drinks water too, which balances it out so that the sugar he drinks doesn't have any negative effects... or something like that. You make a mental note that the sciences appear to not be his strong suit.

 Another factor for your concern is that it turns out he lives all by himself. His father is some big important business type, always off on work trips and only home once a month or so, so he spends all that time in the evenings alone. You can't help but worry about what effects that level of isolation would have. You at least assumed that he was going home at the end of the day and got to talk to parents or maybe siblings if he had had any, but after learning about his living situation, you realize that that means you are more or less the only person he has any significant interaction with.

 It's quite frequent interaction, though. He has a quiet but constant presence. Often, he ends up startling you, since he has such quiet footsteps and lingers silently beside you until you turn your head and jolt because you didn't even realize he was there. But he's there, by your side. He's always, always there. There's school events where they gather everyone into an auditorium, and no matter where you sit, he soon finds his way to you (he's supposed to sit with his current class, but you let it slide). There's those sports festival or field day type of events, too, during which he's always sneaking off to come be with you, and it's too much of a bother for the other faculty to come looking for him, even if they notice his absence. Even once when there was a fire drill, he slinked off from his own class and came over to talk to you... that time it actually did cause quite the inconvenience when he wasn't present for the head count, and the other teacher ended up panicking looking for who was missing for a good ten minutes.

 Despite all the time spent by your side, you feel a bit guilty when you have to leave for the day. He stays until you dictate otherwise, and it's always awkward when you finally have to gently make it clear that you need to go home for the evening, and that by extension he should go home too. If you didn't decide when you both leave, you're pretty sure he would just stay indefinitely.

 On the bright side, he's very low-energy, doesn't drain you quite like a lot of students would. And he helps! The first time you casually asked a quick 'hey, would you mind going over to that cabinet over there and handing me the stapler?', you're pretty sure he nearly knocked the chair over with the speed he moved to perform the task. If you ever need anything at all, he always scurries off to drop off some papers to the front office or pick up this or that from the printer or whatever it is that you need. You're pretty sure it makes him happy to feel useful, so you get him to help with those simple tasks pretty often.

 Sometimes you run out of things to talk about, and end up just sitting in silence. Sometimes he has things to work on, homework to do... and sometimes he doesn't. In which case, he simply likes to stare. It's unnerving, to say the least. Sometimes you're almost glad when another student comes in to disrupt the silence.

 Which is an issue in and of itself. Xiao is only one of many students you teach.

 Other kids need help just as much. They come to you for help during study halls or after school... but now, they start coming less and less often. Either they pass by your door and see you're sort of occupied and don't want to interrupt what they assume is you assisting someone else, or, as you're starting to realize, they're a bit intimidated. The few times students do come in to ask a quick question or drop something off, you see their eyes dart to the side of you before they stiffen up, and soon after seem in a rush to leave. You're not even the one on the receiving end, and you're not looking in that direction, but you can feel his glare from beside you.

 Which, in his mind, is fully justified. They're taking his time with you away. Every second counts. You were having an important conversation (or silence, but that's still an important moment between you two), and this person just outright barges in and interrupts with no shame? The ones who just drop things off are perhaps forgivable, but others come in and consume literal minutes of your time together. They even sometimes make quick small talk or a joke or something like that and try to consume your time for pointless reasons.

 Hmph. As if they have put in nearly the amount of time he has with you as if they know you well enough that they can be doing such things. They don't even know where you're from, your birthday, your favorite foods, your habits, none of the things he's learned either by observation or pried out of you with his many questions. It's unfair that they can talk to you so casually, when they aren't nearly as close to you as he is, haven't put in the time with you he has. The privilege to be so casual and friendly with you feels like something that should be earned, and he's the only person who has earned such a thing. Since when have any of them put in effort to get to know you? And more importantly, have any of them ever received a direct invitation to talk to you? Of course not. They and himself are on completely different levels, but these kids want to act like they have just as much of a right to such interactions when there is such a clear distinction between them.

 Besides, they can talk to anyone. They have families to go home to, friends to talk to, anytime they want, and yet they still feel the need to intrude on what little he has to himself. It's bothersome. So of course he can't help but glare at them. They're clearly bothering you, too. You're just so nice you don't tell them to leave. But they should know better than to waste your precious time. Don't they know you have work to do? It's incredibly inconsiderate to just assume they can consume your time like that. But you're so sweet, you wouldn't want to send them away, so he tolerates them. Barely.

 On your end, your worries only grow and expand. Not that you don't enjoy your time with him, because you do, it's just that it can't be good for him to have no peer interaction with people his age. Not to mention, he's developing a blatant dependency issue. You once remembered to tell him the day beforehand that you would be taking a day off for family related matters and would have a substitute, and his face looked as if you had told him you were quitting permanently, almost distraught. Even the day you come back, he's at school early, standing in the front lobby, staring out into the parking lot to see when you come in, and strides up to you the moment you enter... a habit that, from that day forward, becomes the norm. That incident in particular strikes you as one where you really began to feel... overwhelmed by him.

 You don't mind the arrangement you've fallen into, no, you're happy he trusts you and wants to talk to you and all, and he's a sweet boy, it's just... it's... it's a bit too much. And you have things to do, and you really can't afford to be doing this every day. You have actual work that needs to be completed, and due to your time with him, you end up having to take additional work home with you. You often stay up late working on various tasks, and you get home much later than you'd like.

 But you don't have the heart to tell him that. The fact that he keeps coming back means that this is important to him, and you can tell he's eager for each day's conversation. He's obviously attention-starved and desperate for any notion of affection and praise. You can't bring yourself to push him away in any capacity. So, you simply deal with it.

 There's one more big, glaring issue, though, that you feel gradually creeping up, one you can't just deal with. The most significant one, actually. You begin to sense it early on, you try to ignore it. You've heard of similar situations happening to teachers, and tell yourself maybe you're being paranoid after hearing of those, and reassure yourself it's not like that.

 But it's hard to feel like it's not like that.

 You're not sure if he's trying to or not, but even if he is, he's doing a terrible job. Even besides just his general obsessive attachment and need to be in your presence. He comes right up to you and stands beside you regardless of who is around. In fact, seeing you talk to someone else more or less ensures he'll latch himself by your side within seconds. He has a blatant glare and creates a tense aura emanating from him towards whoever the other person may be, be it a student, another teacher, a faculty member, anyone. You've gotten phone calls, even, during your time together, and he always seems to find it appropriate to ask who the other person was and what they wanted to talk about the moment you hang up.

 As time goes on, he starts to increasingly get far too physically close, to where you're almost touching. He's always in your room at every opportunity, always trailing you. Every single second class isn't in session, wherever you are, he's certain to be right there too. Even more time passes, and he gets even closer, sometimes to where you brush up against each other. At various school events, he starts to sit closer and closer to you on the benches or bleachers, closer and closer still until eventually it reaches a point where your thighs just barely touch. You resolve to not say anything for now... you're not sure how to.

 He's desperate for the slightest notions of approval and affection. One time, more subconsciously than anything as you were focused on something you were reading on your desk, you had him get something for you and, after a brief thanks, you reached out and patted the top of his head. You felt him freeze up and go wide-eyed, and he stood stiff for several moments before sitting back down. At first you thought it was unpleasant, and thus tried to remember not to do that again, but the next time he completed a task for you, he sort of... leaned forward and tilted his head down just a bit... just ever so slightly... you took the hint, and now it's become a habit.

 He even brings gifts. You offhandedly mentioned you liked some certain snack and sure enough, there was a bag of it on your desk the very next day. On one occasion, specifically your birthday (his knowledge of which was apparently acquired through some unknown means), he even bought you a gift, a small necklace. You told him it was unnecessary, but he kept insisting, so you did take it... only to realize it was solid gold, and that while he removed the primary tag on the front, he forgot to scratch off the jaw-dropping price tag on the bottom side. You're in an awkward position, you can't give it back, that would hurt him, and yet you feel horribly guilty. You just resolve to wear it each day so he knows it's appreciated. It just adds to the growing gnawing feeling that this is getting out of hand, but you don't know what to do without hurting him in some way.

 But more importantly, all of these occurrences serve to more or less confirm the creeping and very rapidly growing feeling that it is, indeed, like that. And that is a problem you do not know how to go about dealing with.

 It doesn't take long for people to notice. They cast glances whenever you two are together, whisper back and forth. Even the other teachers do it. When you walk from place to place with him quietly following behind like a duckling, as is the usual, you can see some kids smile in amusement and snicker amongst themselves. You knew it was coming, but still feel horrifically embarrassed when you're pulled into the supervisor's office to talk about the matter, being told that other teachers and students alike have picked up on it. You have to reassure the headmaster over and over that there is nothing illicit going on, and promise you're actively trying to address the problem, and they finally let you go under the assurance that you're handling it. You feel you're reaching a breaking point.

 And as for him... he knows it's all pity. He knows he's starting to become annoying. He knows he's burdening you. But he can't help it, can't bring himself to stop. You're so nice. You make him feel special and appreciated. You make him feel warm and happy, like a sort of chemical high that's utterly addicting.

 But he's also worried. Time is passing quickly. Months go by. The end of your days together is approaching quickly. And then what?

 Well, he can deal with that when the time comes. He'll just... have to convince you to keep seeing him outside of school. Which will be awkward. But he can do it. And he can probably convince you to agree to it. Hopefully. Maybe then... he doesn't allow himself to indulge in unrealistic fantasies, but maybe, just maybe, he can hope for something to work out.

Or so he thinks, until you off-handedly mention something one day that completely changes everything.

 You're excited to see his class graduate, you say, on one afternoon like any other, towards the very end of the year.. You say you're really proud of them all (and him especially, you add), and that it's an exciting new chapter of their lives, blah blah... and that you're glad you got to have this year here, seeing as you'll be moving to a new school next year.

 Oh. Well, that's not too bad. It's probably that other private school nearby, right? So he asks. But you say no. No, it's much further. You're moving completely, out of the area and all.

 You can't miss the expression on his face, distraught as if you just told him the most horrible news in the world. But you'll keep in touch, you add quickly to reassure him (even if you have no real intention to do so -- surely he'll have moved on by that point, after all). Besides, he'll probably be somewhere else anyway, soon enough.

 His face softens. He shrugs. I guess so... but you can't help but think he seems unusually tense, even for the rest of the day, and well into the next few days. Surely it's not that bad, right? He already wouldn't be able to see you every day anyway... well, you're at least fairly confident he wasn't planning on coming in to visit you daily even next year, although you can't say that with complete certainty.

 Once he gets out into the world, you tell yourself, he'll move on and forget about you. He'll find someone his own age and be happy. You think. You hope. It won't be a problem. Surely, even if he does have some raging teacher crush, he knows it will always be just that, and he acknowledges it's unrealistic, you're sure.

 So when he makes a request of you a few days later, even one that might be a bit questionable, you agree.

 See, he has no one coming to see him graduate, he tells you, his father is busy, so... you know how everyone else goes out to celebrate with their parents and stuff? Maybe... if you don't have anything to do...

 He's never been quite so forward. But that must mean it means a lot to him, and it hurts your heart to think he'd be alone that night, so you agree. It won't be too bad. And after that... well, graduation night is pretty much the last time you'll ever see him anyway. It can't hurt.

 So you agree. You attend the ceremony and all that, meet up with him afterwards. You expect him to be happy, big life milestone and all that.

 But he seems somehow more quiet than usual. Almost nervous, even. Looking all around, avoiding eye contact, mumbling, barely speaking... he's a bit shaky, even, you can see his arms tremble a bit. He says he'll take you "there", which you assume to be some place of choice to either eat or drink or something along those lines. See, he even borrowed his father's car this time! After dropping the keys and failing to insert them correctly several times due to trembling hands, he manages to drive you away into... a not very urban area... it's actually getting quite rural... you only realize as you turn into a driveway that he actually, in fact, meant his house. Ah. That, well, that's not what you were anticipating, but... you're already here, and you'd crush his heart if you refused so...

 It does cross your mind that a lesser person doing this might be intentionally manipulating their knowledge of your pity to encroach on your boundaries, push you into a position where you can't bring yourself to say no. But then you think back to all the time together... he's overly-attached, sure, but he's good. A good kid. He wouldn't... do that. He's just socially lacking in awareness and all that, doesn't realize that this was probably an inappropriate move. But technically, he's no longer your student, so... you can let this slide this time.

 You're reminded that there's a reason he's at the school he is -- the place is very expansive and ornate. He almost seems out-of-place, in a way, it's almost as if it's unfitting for him, despite it literally being his house. He's still very jittery, nervous in his movements. He's probably not used to having people here, you assume. He says something about getting you something, that his father keeps a bunch of wines somewhere around here... and he's off before you can say it's unnecessary, footsteps thumping down the stairs to a basement. He comes up with a bottle in hand, walks into another room you assume is a kitchen, since you can't see inside. Comes back a few moments later, glass in hand, extends it out to you. His movements are mechanical, almost, hyperfocused on the task, forced and rushed. You smile and thank him in some attempt to calm his nerves or whatever is making him behave so tensely. It seems so... strange. He's always been not talkative, yes, and awkward, certainly, but he was never the type to be so anxious, not outwardly at least.

 He's staring very intently at your hands that grasp the glass. Probably wondering if you'll like whatever it is. It's rather nice, actually, you can tell it's of some degree of high quality. Nothing particularly unique about it in taste or anything. You briefly ask, and he pauses, abruptly stands up and shuffles back into the kitchen, only to return to name it for you. It strikes you with some oddness that he wouldn't have known, since he presumably picked it intentionally, otherwise what would be be so nervous about, if not that it was good to you?

He says something else, but you can't quite understand. You ask him to repeat what he just said. The words don't come out of your mouth.

 You try to shake your head to drive away a sudden wave of tiredness you feel coming on, but your head won't move. When you open your eyelids, everything seems to spin and blur. Your limbs feel heavy.

 You see him stand up and move. But more importantly, you're still acutely aware of touch. You can feel the glass slipping out of your hand and onto the floor, and your head tilts towards it, but you just find yourself blinking, unable to move. Your brain commands your arm to reach out, but nothing happens. You see him pick it up and put it on the table, not bothering to do anything about the red seeping into the carpet.

 You feels hands on your upper arms. Turning your body. Gently lowering you down. His hands are cold. You can feel each contact of fingertips to your skin. Your arms. Your thighs. There's cold touch under your clothes, to your waist, your ribcage. The air of the room is cold on your bare skin as it's gradually exposed.

 Are you okay?

You find something strange about being asked such a question, not to mention that he sounds far away. Your head lolls to stare straight up, and you open your mouth, but no sound comes out. He's too blurry to make out his face.

 The roughness of fabric sliding down and off your skin. Cold touch to your shoulders, your hips. But his body is warm. You can feel it close to yours. You can feel heat from where his breath hits your neck. You can feel heat at your inner thighs. You can feel some faint, sharp frictional pain. You try to say something again, but you hear your voice come out as only a muffled groan. You feel everything fade away, and come back, and fade away again, slipping in and out of consciousness.

 You're still limp. There's soreness inside your body. You feel yourself come to just enough to sense the quiet stillness, and then everything feels far away again, except for touch. You feel yourself being lifted, firm arms behind your back and under your knees. Thumping footsteps up a set of stairs. There's a soft, but solid surface beneath you again, and you're warm. Warmth envelops your entire body. You feel the faintest sense of negative emotion, panic and confusion and shock and whatever else all muddled together, so faint it fades away with ease, even when you hear a click as something wraps around your ankle. You feel so, so tired, utterly exhausted, so when warmth presses up against you, it's easy to lean into it, to let yourself fall into unconsciousness. Warm... oh, in bed. Your thoughts clear just enough to process it. He must have put you in here since you're so tired... that makes sense to your muddled brain. How sweet. Always such a nice boy.

 He is concerned for you, too. He checks to make sure you're breathing all right. Puts a still-shaking hand to your neck to check your pulse. Makes sure you're not positioned awkwardly in a way that would cramp your muscles anywhere. He cares, of course... and perhaps this helps to alleviate the crushing feeling of guilt. But... you made nice noises... so that's, that's good right? So he doesn't need to feel as bad... maybe when you wake up you'll actually be okay with it. Maybe. Probably not.

 But... he resolves to tell himself, at least for right now, that you will. He can believe it for just these few precious moments, climbing in beside you and pulling you close. However you may act tomorrow, right now you're warm and soft and you don't stiffen up or push him away when he shuffles forward and presses up against you, wraps his arms around you. Such a wonderful feeling... who knew he could feel so happy. Whatever is waiting tomorrow can just be dealt with then.

#sorry for two age gap posts in a row aaaaaaa #ive had this sitting around like 90% done for a month and after the last post and the post i was tagged in i got inspired to finally finish

[riptide-if]

What are the fashion senses of the ROs? What do they wear on a day to day basis?

ANON. im seriously so glad u asked u dont understand.im actually going to attatch the long descs i wrote of their everyday outfit (like in a vn..) also theres more fashion/makeup inspo on their boards on my pinterest! there's also boards for bg charas on there:33 so if u r interested in lee's band or aria there u go;p

HILO: an orange tank top with a ruffle trim paired with an off white maxi skirt. A pair of dark brown double strap sandals are on their feet. A gold ring with an infinity symbol is on the pointer finger on their right hand, accompanied by two thick threaded bracelets; the first one being yellow and orange, and the other [MC fave color] and orange. They have long almond shaped acrylic nails; colors varying. They tend to get a new set every three weeks. They wear a pair of orange bead earrings with a gold moon charm on the left ear and a gold star charm on the right ear. A pair of gold hoop earrings goes through their upper lobes in both ears.

LEE: a black shirt that’s cropped just above their stomach, with a graphic of a black skull outlined with white. A black zip-up hoodie is either halfway zipped up, tied around their waist, or discarded. A black and grey striped fingerless glove is covering one hand the other is covered in an assortments of rings including a silver skull ring and a silver ring with a red garnet stone, gifted to them by MC on their one year anniversary. Elijah wears short black cargo shorts while Elaine wears a black cargo miniskirt. They both have (optional) distressed tights underneath them. They wear two black earrings on each upper ear, a pair of silver skull earrings, two black rings on their lips, silver eyebrow stud piercing, silver septum piercing, and a silver star shaped tongue ring.

NOEMIA/NIKITA: a white long sleeved compression shirt is worn underneath a yellow, purple, and white color block windbreaker; either unzipped or balled up and put in their bag. A pair of black athletic shorts with a white adidas logos in the corner is covering their legs. They normally carry a yellow crossbody bag with an assortment of different pins on it (bisexual flag, mang, surfboard, bmo, spiderman, no pain no gain, shark, pufferfish, wave). They wear a pair of green pair of star skate shoes over a pair of colored socks; always mismatched. An anklet with white beads is around their right leg, a similar one with teal beads underneath it. A gold ring with a white teardrop shaped opal ring given to them by their grandma sits on a leather chain around their neck. Two to three hair ties are always around their wrists.

ARLO: an untucked white short sleeved t-shirt is usually worn under his rotation of lightly colored button ups, sweater vests and cardigans. A pair of light denim overalls is over it; with some barely visible paint stains here and there. He wears a pair of black oxford shoes with this. On his wrists are a few braided leather bracelets. He wears a gold vintage coin necklace around his neck along with matching small gold hoop earrings. A thing elastic headband is sometimes holding back his bangs while he works.

as for key words in my notes i have; hilo is whimsical, lee is emo (lol), n is sporty, and arlo is cozy!

#inbox #about: hilo kalua mahoe #about: lee ferguson #about: n azevedo #about: arlo song #arlo's is kinda short but he's a simple guy #hilo actually dresses very nice looking! #as in approachable #but if ppl ask where their shirt is from they WILL gatekeep #n is an army btw.. if u even care #PLEASE LOOK AT THEIR BOARDS THO

[a-chip-in-inosukes-nichirin]

The Kamaboko Squad at the Gym

Kamaboko Squad + a few extras

Tanjiro:

This boy didn't even think about going to the gym until he and his siblings started to get bullied, and now he's there in all his free time. Tanjiro was active before, but now he focuses on endurance and strength so he can be the Ultimate Big Brother and protect everyone, even if he hates conflict. Everyone at the gym loves him- employees and other gym goers alike. His bright attitude and kind demeanor brighten the whole atmosphere of the place, and he has mediated fights between some of the other gym goers to keep the peace. He wears loose joggers, and sometimes tight athletic wear with loose basketball shorts and t-shirts over them. Will drink protein shakes but only if they smell good.

Nezuko:

Started going to the gym with Tanjiro because she wanted to be able to protect herself and others too. She looks harmless but has been doing weight training and is able to lift as much as her brother is, although her lower body is undoubtedly stronger than Tanjiro's. Nezuko loves hanging out with Mitsuri at the gym when she's there and will drop her workout plans for the day to do whatever Mitsuri is doing that day. Doesn't drink protein shakes or pre-workout, but brings her pink water bottle everywhere, and will add cucumbers and mint leaves to it. Nezuko prefers to wear leggings with shorts over them, and tank tops with a jacket that she can remove when she gets overheated. Tanjiro has to remind her to put her hair up when she's working out, since Nezuko has a habit of leaving it down.

Zenitsu:

Only goes to the gym because his grandpa made him, and because there are girls there. He spends half his time whining and following Nezuko and Tanjiro around, but when he can be convinced to actually work out, he's a beast on the treadmills. This boi can sprint like nobody's business (he's got to be able to run fast to get away from all of the people who want to wring his neck for being a creep at the gym). Zenitsu *can* do weights, but the groans and whines that consistently escape his mouth while doing so irritate everyone in the vicinity. Zenitsu drinks pre-workout but not protein shakes (says protein makes him gassy).

Inosuke:

Goes to the gym because he genuinely enjoys it. The desire to be the best at everything make him pretty well rounded when it comes to working out: Inosuke has done a bit of everything. He is loud and frequently found challenging or demeaning others. Tanjiro's intervention and supervision in the only reason he hasn't been kicked out of the gym completely, especially after he was found in the wrong locker room (Tanjiro believes he was sincere when he said he didn't realize there were segregated changing areas; Zenitsu did not). Inosuke will eat or drink anything you give him, and *will* steal other people's drinks. He refuses to wear a shirt and it's a fight to make him take off his mask.

Genya:

Wanted to be strong like his brother, and so started showing up to the gym, only to realize he liked the atmosphere. He's incredibly shy, but has a scary face, so people tend to leave him alone. Tanjiro is not one of those people and greets Genya every time he sees him at the gym. Genya sticks to a routine of rotating weights and cardio and wears loose athleisure clothing at the gym. Drinks protein shakes and occasionally pre-workout.

Kanao:

Shows up to the gym, does her workout, and leaves. No one has ever heard her say a word, and her headphones usually are on full blast (heavy metal or pop music; very little in between). She wears shorts and a long sleeve zip-up to work out in and tends to stay on the treadmills and stair steppers. Drinks water only.

Tamayo:

Works the check-in desk at the gym. Knows everyone by name, and can tell you pretty much everyone's workout schedule. Always has tea on hand. Has never been seen working out, but despite this has physically thrown out men twice her size.

Yuishiro:

Also works at the gym. He's Tamayo's coworker and assists with keeping things clean and orderly, as well as checking people in. Anyone who gives Tamayo the slightest inkling of a hard time gets the stink-eye from Yuishiro, and a spot on his shit-list.

#ubuyashiki owns the damn gym #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer headcannons #tanjiro kamado #nezuko kamado #demon slayer #zenitsu agatsuma #inosuke hashibira #genya shinazugawa #kanao tsuyuri #tamayo #yuishiro