#its getting bad i keep hearing the sound effects play in my head

[theygotlost]

good afternoon here's my big rant on my pet peeves for subtitles in movies and tv

This is a post that I’ve thought about making probably for years now but never got around to. I might add more later if I realize I’ve forgotten any

When it comes down to it, the purpose of subtitles is this: to reflect exactly what the audience can hear, precisely when it can be heard. If you fail to do this, your subtitles are bad and you should feel bad. Although I don’t have concrete examples for most of these off the top of my head, I promise I have experienced them all firsthand at least once.

-> Watch for spelling and typos. Obviously.

-> Syncing issues.

This should go without saying, but the captions should be synced as closely as possible with dialogue and sound effects. Subtitles that are out of sync are worse to me than no subtitles at all. They’re unbearably distracting and I have to turn them off. I’m fortunate enough that I can keep watching without them, so imagine how frustrating this is for someone who needs to keep them on no matter what.

-> Jumping the gun.

This is basically an example of out-of-sync subtitles that are slightly too fast, but it gets its own category because it ruins the viewing experience in its own unique way. In particularly dramatic scenes, actors will often draw out their lines or pause between phrases. Captions sometimes fail to reflect this by displaying the entire sentence all at once, allowing the audience to read what someone is about to say before they actually say it, which deflates all the dramatic tension of the scene.

-> Phantom captions.

This one is less self explanatory, but it’s kind of similar to syncing. Sometimes there will be significant intervals of time between lines of dialogue, especially after a scene ends and a new one begins. The interval may include music, sound effects, or complete silence, but what I’m calling a “phantom” is a caption that stays on the screen after that last line of dialogue is delivered until the next line is spoken. I don’t remember what I was watching, but there was one that was glued to the screen for SEVERAL MINUTES over what was supposed to be an atmospheric break between scenes and it drove me nuts. In my experience this happens more often with older subtitling for DVDs and some old videos and less with modern streaming. 

-> Straight up spoilers.

Sometimes, a character will speak whose true identity has not yet been revealed to the audience. If I’m not supposed to know the character’s name yet, don’t just… tell me right there in the captions whenever they say something. Descriptors like “disembodied voice”, “man”/”woman”, “mysterious figure”, etc. will suffice.

-> Lack of musical descriptors.

It usually helps to describe the genre or emotion of the music that’s playing rather than just writing [music] or 🎵. That being said, if there is a song playing that’s particularly well known in the mainstream, I think it’s useful to actually include the name of the song. This one I do have a concrete example for: in Arrested Development, Gob always blasts The Final Countdown during his acts. But the captions on my DVDs for the show always describe it as [stagy pop]. Like yeah I would say that song is some pretty stagy pop, but I think a lot of the humor comes from knowing that it’s specifically The Final Countdown by Europe because it’s such a perfectly corny selection that Gob would make.

Another musical failure is not transcribing pertinent lyrics. If the song is playing in the background, then that’s understandable and it can be kind of distracting if there’s dialog happening on top of it because the audience isn’t actually meant to be paying close attention to the song. But if the song is front and center, like for a musical number or montage, then the lyrics can be pretty important. Last year when I watched Arcane on Netflix with my family (a recent, high budget production from the biggest streaming platform ever), the show had the nerve to write [man rapping] over a musical sequence. Imagine if all subtitles ever just said [person speaking] for the entire movie.

-> Affectations.

If a character starts using a silly voice or accent, or if the sound of their voice changes in any way, describe that. If the audience can hear the difference, the subtitles should reflect that difference. And they should reflect it informatively and accurately; for example, don’t just say [mock accent], but specify [mock French accent]. 

-> Paraphrasing.

I don’t even know why this is an issue, but it’s alarming how many times the subtitles just… straight up don’t match what the characters are actually saying. It’s like the transcriber was forced to write all the captions from memory, so they kinda sorta say the same thing, but the wording is different and some sentences or phrases are missing. When I brought this up with my mom she theorized that the transcriber was working off the script for the movie because hey, that’s all the dialogue already written down, right? But it completely fails to account for revisions, improvisation, or actors delivering their lines even slightly different than how they were originally written.

And last but certainly not least, one of the biggest offenders in bad subtitling…

-> [Speaks foreign language]

If someone says something in another language, please, for the love of god, do not just write [speaks foreign language]  and call it a day. Specifying the actual language is an improvement, but this descriptor only works if the audience members are truly not meant to know what’s being said (which is sometimes the case). If a character is only saying a single word or phrase in another language, transcribe it. As in, write down the actual words that they said. If you don’t speak that language, find someone who does. You are insane for transcribing a character saying “hola” or “abuela” in an otherwise English sentence as [speaks Spanish] (real examples I saw respectively in Rango and JANE THE VIRGIN. THERE’S SO MUCH SPANISH IN THAT SHOW). 

If the audience is supposed to know what someone is saying in another language, English subtitles will usually be hardcoded. DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, LET THE CAPTION SAYING [SPEAKS FOREIGN LANGUAGE] COVER THESE UP. This is actively impeding understanding, not helping it. Jesus christ

* Please keep in mind that I’m not deaf or hard of hearing and I don’t have auditory processing disorder; I almost always watch movies and tv with subtitles whenever the option is available because it helps me absorb information better. If I don’t even strictly NEED subtitles and these are issues for me, I can only imagine how much more difficult it is for those who rely on them more heavily. I invite you to add your own perspective!!

#mine

[babydollmarauders]

Airport blurb! For any of the Hughes brothers or Trevor them accidentally hitting their girlfriend with a puck

you would think that after spending the past few months playing hockey, the Hughes brothers would spend their few day christmas break relaxing. but no.

instead i currently watch on the side of the outdoor rink as my boyfriend and his brothers play a game of 3 person hockey. no goalie, just them trying to get the puck away from each other and into the net.

Quinn tried to get me to play goalie, but Luke assured him that that’s a bad idea, and i have to agree.

i keep my eyes on my boyfriend as he gracefully skates across the ice, handling the puck. but it’s not long before i’m broken out of my trance by a yell of my name. i whip my head towards Quinn but his face is morphed in horror. it doesn’t take more than a second to realize why, as something smacks straight into my nose.

i hear a crunch and searing pain spreads throughout my face, starting at my nose and working its way throughout the surrounding area. i drop back, falling on my ass on the snow behind me, and i can hear the sound of skates scraping against the ice as the boys rush over to me. tears fall from my eyes, dripping onto my cheeks as Luke drops down beside me. my hands grip my nose and i can feel the blood quickly coating them.

“baby, i am so sorry. are you okay?” Luke’s hands come up to cover my own, pulling them away so he can assess the damage. “shit.”

“ahh fuck, that’s definitely broken.” Quinn hisses. i glance over to find him wincing.

“oh, that doesn’t look good.” Jack cringes. “i’ll go get mom.”

“i’m so sorry, babe. i didn’t mean to, i swear! it was an accident! i- i-”

“it’s okay, Lukey. it happens. i probably shouldn’t have been standing so close to the ice.” i tell him through tears.

“no! don’t try and blame yourself in order to let me off the hook. not this time. it was all on me.” Luke assures me, holding my face in his hands. “fuck, i feel so bad.”

“being a hockey girlfriend has its risks. i didn’t necessarily think this would be one, but it’s okay. i promise.”

“here comes mom and Jack.” Quinn exclaims, and Luke drops his hand from my face as i look over to find Ellen.

“oh, honey.” she coos, holding out a hand to help me off the ground, which has now effectively soaked my jeans with melted snow. “let’s get you to the hospital.”

Luke groans at the word ‘hospital’, obvious guilt eating away at him.

“she’ll be fine, Luke. maybe just a couple stitches.” Ellen tells him. “it’ll all be okay. why don’t you boys go inside and do something more calm while us girls take a trip to get her fixed up?”

“no, i wanna go with.” Luke tells his mother, and Ellen looks towards me, an eyebrow raised in questioning, silently asking if that’s okay.

my hand reaches out to clutch Luke’s, pulling him towards me.

“i want him to come.” i say.

“hey, wait! i wanna come too! i’ve broken my nose several times, maybe i can be some help.” Quinn chimes in.

“well if you’re all going then i wanna go to!” Jack pipes up, obviously not wanting to be left out. Ellen sighs at her sons, shaking her head a little before speaking up.

“fine. Jack go run and grab my keys and everyone’s wallets. Quinn, Luke, take your skates off and we’ll all go get in the car.” Jack takes off running towards the house, being the only brother with his skates already shed.

i stand by Ellen, waiting for the boys to unlace their skates, slipping into their shoes that were waiting for them by the ice. we meet Jack by the car, who holds six wallets. handing them to each of us as we get in the car.

“why do you have your fathers wallet?” Ellen questions as she starts the car.

“you said to grab everyone’s.” Jack shrugs, sticking Jim’s wallet in his own pocket.

“why would that mean- nevermind.” Ellen shakes her head, pulling out of the driveway and starting the route to the hospital.

“how did you even get that from him?” i wonder, turning in the passenger seat to look at my boyfriend’s brother.

“took it from his pocket while he slept on the couch.”

#luke hughes x reader #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes #nj devils #faithlynn’s airport blurbs #faithlynn’s writings <3 #nhl blurb

[nico-di-genova]

In My Mind, You are Safe

Chapter 3

Alternate link to read on A03 Chapter 1 Chapter 2

“He knows?” Lance manages to ask the night after he wakes up, motioning with his head to his dad who slept snoring deeply on a leather couch in the lounge. “About us?”

“I did a bad job of keeping it secret.”

Lance thinks he maybe had too, what with the ass grabbing played as camaraderie and the way he couldn’t stop staring at Fernando during debriefs. His father wasn’t a dumb man, but rather a very observant one. He’d known Lance was smoking pot at fifteen not because of the bloodshot eyes and the smell, though those would have been the obvious giveaways, but because his reaction time during training took a hit.

‘If you’re going to smoke weed, you better do a damn better job of hiding it,’ He’d demanded.

Lance never touched the stuff again, he knew he’d get caught.

But with Fernando he thought he had maybe been a little better. They had rules about it. No kissing in the paddock, the garage, not even their drivers rooms unless it was a special circumstance – the circumstance always ending up being Fernando was needy and Lance was bored. They didn’t go to each other’s hotel rooms until it was late enough that no sane fucker would be wondering the halls. Nothing obvious could be left above the neckline, because Lance had already gotten looks from his father after the weekend on Fernando’s ugly yacht where they spent half the time naked and the other half sipping champagne. All those rules seem to have been thrown out the window the moment Lance ended up in intensive care.

Intensive Care

The word makes him shudder.

Fernando sees the movement and presses a kiss to Lance’s knuckles, “Cold?”

“Kinda.”

It’s not really a lie, the AC is set on Ice Box and he’s got nothing but a thin sheet, a stiff blanket, and bare legs beneath a hospital gown to protect him.

“Here,” Fernando pulls the Aston Martin sweatshirt from the back of his chair and helps work it over Lance’s head. It takes an extreme amount of maneuvering, and gentle tugging, and he can’t put one arm through the sleeve because of the IV in his hand. It kind of sucks at providing any actual warmth, but it smells like Fernando so that’s a comfort all on its own.

“Thanks,” He rasps.

“Of course, Lancito.”

“I missed you,” Lance blurts out, which doesn’t really make sense because he was just with Fernando in the paddock. Just with him in his driver’s room. But Lance also thinks he maybe remembers the dark. The emptiness. The distant voices that sounded like they were right beside him and yet a world away all at once. He thinks he remembers being scared.

“I missed you too. Stop talking, you will irritate your throat.”

Lance wants to make a joke about Fernando not wanting to hear him speak, but that would take too many words and he already kind of feels like he’s breathing around fire. Instead, he accepts the water Fernando offers him and sips slowly through the straw to draw out the soothing effect. He has to be careful with how much he drinks, and he can’t have solid foods yet, which Lance chalks up to normal post coma recovery, but might also have something to do with the abdomen injury as well.

He knows it’s serious because when he’d asked the doctor how long until he could get back to racing she hadn’t given him an answer. And Fernando couldn’t look him in the eye. They don’t lie to each other, brutal honesty has always been their forte. That, or steadfast avoidance.

“Careful,” Fernando chides when Lance sips too quick and chokes on the liquid, some of it escaping his mouth to dribble in a cool line down his chin.

Lance rolls his eyes. Fernando should be used to the sounds of his choking by now, he’s certainly gagged himself on worse than a few drops of water.

“Brat.”

Lance smiles around the straw, all innocence and fluttering eyelashes.

“You are lucky you’re in a hospital bed.”

Which, he isn’t, far from it, but for the moment things feel almost normal so he ignores the remark.

--------

There is an argument about who Lance will go home with.

Lance’s Switzerland apartment is out of the question, his agency being robbed by the injuries his body is still trying to adjust itself to. His dad knows he can afford better around the clock care, people to help Lance with everything from changing his bandages to holding his dick while he pisses. Fernando knows Lance doesn’t want that, knows the humiliation of it would probably kill him faster than his car in the wall should have. They don’t ask for Lance’s opinion on the matter though as he sits silently in the bed between them. Watching them fight for custody of him, it’s familiar, reminds him of being small and wondering if he was going to have to have two bedrooms after his parent’s divorce.

“He needs help Fernando. Doctors, nurses, staff – not just you.”

“I have taken care of him before. I know what he needs.”

Healing from a head wound and a piece of carbon fiber tearing through his body isn’t really the same as a cold, but Lance appreciates Fernando’s commitment. He doesn’t say this of course, because neither one of them seem to really notice he’s there, just continues sipping slowly from the cup in his hands and picking at the starched blanket over his lap. His throat doesn’t hurt anymore, swallowing doesn’t take as much effort.

“You think you know better than me? I’m his father,” his dad states. As if it needs stating. As if Lance wasn’t born with Lawrence’s name over his head and a silver coated thumb in his mouth. As if there were any injury out there that would make him forget who he belongs to, down to the blood and marrow of him, the very making.

“I am his-” Fernando pauses. They never really put a name to it. There hadn’t been much discussion about what he and Lance were before he started bleeding out in Fernando’s arms. Not that he would remember that of course, doesn’t remember much about barreling into the wall at top speed. The doctors say that’s probably for the better.

“Boyfriend?” Lance supplies helpfully around the straw in his mouth. He’s continuing his bad habit of gnawing on the plastic, the taste reminiscent of the tube he had woken up choking on, but also of the bottle he would carry around during race weekends.

Fernando motions at him appreciatively, “Yes. This. I am this.”

His dad’s scowl deepens, “This isn’t a fever and some rest. It’s physical therapy, cognitive therapy. He will need someone 24/7.”

He is sitting right here, and he doesn’t necessarily agree. Lance is needy in the same way a cat is, he craves attention only as long as it is wanted, too much and he will probably begin scratching at you. But there hasn’t been much in his control since he lost the wheel at Silverstone.

“Okay. I will do that.” There’s not a hint of hesitation in Fernando’s tone, when Lance knows there absolutely should be. Whatever unestablished thing is between them, it’s far from stable enough to rest Lance’s entire laundry list of medical issues on, or at least Lance thought it was.

“I can hire someone too, Lawrence,” Fernando pushes, “You are not the only man with money. Lance has not lived with you since he was a child, yes? He needs familiarity. Routine? That is not in your mansion. Let him come home.”

Home.

Is that what Fernando’s place is to him? Most of his memories there are the sort that speak less of a home and more of the flat you wake up in after a one-night stand. Strewn clothes and half-finished bottles of beer on the kitchen counter, The warm press of Fernando’s body along his bare back. Would he be healing on the same sheets they routinely fucked on? Propped up on the pillows that know the shape of his teeth?

Is home where you have a drawer and your PlayStation hooked up in the living room? Or is it the childhood space where you keep a collection of Pokémon cards and karting trophies to collect dust? Lance isn’t sure, mainly because he’s never stayed in one place long enough to really understand the feeling.

His dad throws the last card in his arsenal, the thing they all three have been wondering at.

“And what about the season? You’re done then?”

Fernando bites his lip, thinks on it.

“I go back when he does.”

No one wants to state the obvious, least of all his father. Fernando has played the winning hand, deploying the same dirty tactics he’s fond of utilizing when behind the wheel.

Lance stops chewing on the straw. He stops picking at the blanket. Instead, he just stares blankly at the fabric and tries to tune their bickering out. He’s getting a headache, the kind of stabbing pain that only comes when he tries to think too hard about a memory that has escaped him. It’s easier to blame the pain on the bright fluorescent’s, or the way Fernando’s voice is starting to rise, instead of the crack in his skull.

In the end, he goes with Fernando. He asks to go with Fernando, because as much as he loves his father, he cannot stand the thought of trying to make himself fit in a space that no longer knows the shape of him.

“We did get along, so you know,” Fernando says when Lance is buckled into his passenger seat, groggy from the meds they’d dosed him with. Supposedly, they’re supposed to help Lance with the nausea, manage it during the ride.

“When I was ‘sleep?” Lance slurs, still not calling his coma by its name. He’s got his head resting on the car window even though the nurses had warned him not to do that. He’s supposed to be focusing on stationary things within the car, like the warm weight of Fernando’s hand on his thigh, not watching the trees whip by outside while his skull rattles against the glass.

“Yes,” Fernando says, focused on the road with an intensity Lance has only ever seen him possess when behind the wheel, and therefore does not realize the implication of his answer. That he and Lance’s father could only get along as long as Lance was the unconscious white flag waving between them. He tries to backpedal. “No, that is not-.”

Lance shrugs, lethargic, “S’okay. Go back to sleep for you then.”

“Querido no, that is not what I meant,” Fernando actually sounds pained, the nickname rolling of his tongue with an ease Lance did not realize could be familiar to them. Lance just feels exhausted. Consciousness actually takes a conscious effort these days.

“Lance?”

“Hmm?”

“I did not mean that. You know I did not mean that, yes?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

He’ll probably forget the conversation by the time he wakes up anyway, memories leak out of him now the same way his blood had.

--------

Surprisingly, Lance has more at Fernando’s UK home than he remembers. Or, unsurprisingly, depending on how much you take his brain injury into account.

He’s got half a bottle of shampoo in the shower, a razor and toothbrush at the sink, most of his hoodies and a good chunk of his sweatpants. Somehow, his favorite pair of socks has even ended up here, thrown in with Fernando’s dirty clothes and discovered by the cleaners. He takes to padding around the place in the loungewear, hood pulled over his head and keeping his hands tucked into the hoodie pocket – subconsciously splaying a palm along his stomach as he always has, but now pressing at his healing abdomen with newfound curiosity.

Fernando will catch him doing it sometimes, grab him by the arm and then the wrist until he can pull Lance’s probing fingers away from the tender skin and entwine them in his own.

“It won’t heal if you pick at it.”

“Feels weird. Itchy.”

It also sometimes hurts so much that Lance finds himself crying silently into the pillow while Fernando sleeps soundly beside him. The phantom pain of an injury he does not remember. When Fernando checks that the healing is coming along nicely, Lance deliberately does not watch. He hasn’t actually seen the incision since he accidentally looked while a nurse at the hospital was cleaning the wound, and nearly lost his light lunch of applesauce and pudding at the sight. It’s ugly, disgusting, and Fernando seems completely unphased by it.

Fernando squeezes his hand, raises it so he can press a kiss to Lance’s knuckles, a quickly forming new habit for him, “I’m sorry, cariño.”

Apologies flow from him easily now. He apologizes for splashing Lance with water when they’re washing dishes. Apologizes for grabbing Lance when he slips in the shower. Apologizes for the simple way the words seem to flow off his tongue now. It’s strange to Lance, stranger than waking up choking on a plastic tube with your dad on one side and your long-term fuck buddy/partner/boyfriend/mentor on the other. Stranger even that it’s coming from Fernando Alonso of all people, who notoriously does not apologize.

Lance is used to arguments between them ending in mutual silence on either end of the couch, not Fernando pressing a kiss to the furrow between his brow and asking for forgiveness.

“Stop doing that,” Lance grumbles, for what must be the hundredth time.

“Sorry.”

“Fernando.”

“Sor- okay,” and then he kisses Lance’s cheek with the gentleness of atonement anyway. Lance misses when Fernando would just slam him against a wall, crowd him against the marble of the kitchen counters, and talk Lance into sinking to his knees. Not that it ever really took much talking to begin with.

Fernando doesn’t fuck him anymore, which he thinks is maybe the biggest travesty to come out of all of this. Instead, he trails careful fingers down Lance’s side, presses kisses to his neck, his shoulder, his jaw with a tenderness that should be considered foreplay. Then he pulls away, leaves Lance half-hard in his sweatpants, and pretends he doesn’t notice the pout on Lance’s lips. Lance doesn’t beg, at least not before Fernando has gotten him undressed, and he’s not going to ask Fernando to suck his dick while the man is on his knees making sure Lance’s abdomen is still healing properly. So it becomes another thing they just don’t talk about. Lance is worried he’s picked up his father’s habit for avoidance.

--------

Nearly three months after his crash, Lance’s morbid curiosity gets the better of him. His therapy is going well, all three of them. The physical therapy for his legs, because they’d gotten fucked up too, though on a much smaller scale, and for his hands and for – well, for every part of him, is almost familiar. He’d done a few rounds of physio for his wrists after his bike accident, though those had been high intensity because Lance actually had a deadline. The cognitive therapy is more of a challenge, because his memory is still shot to shit, but he can remember Chloe’s birthday again so at least there’s that. The therapy therapy is kind of annoying, only because Lance has never really seen the value of shrinks picking apart his mental state to begin with, but it’s easy. Sometimes they play Jenga, sometimes they talk about how Lance is scared he’ll never be the same again, sometimes Lance excuses himself to the bathroom and screams until his voice is as hoarse as it had been once the intubation tube was removed. It’s all a process.

But he still doesn’t remember the crash.

He can see the reflection of it in Fernando’s eyes sometimes, the fear, the shame. The guilt is the worst, usually brought on when Lance jerks awake from a dream he cannot remember and finds Fernando watching him in the dark with eyes shining.

“You okay?” He will ask, propped up on an elbow and tracing a finger along Lance’s spine. The touch sends shivers through Lance, want and need all bundled up in the foggy confusion as his brain tries to reorient itself.

“Fine.”

“You are sure?”

“Definitely.”

Talking was never their strong suit. But Lance has always been able to read people, an ability fine-tuned after years of rejection. He likes to know when people are planning to turn on him before it happens, doesn’t want to be blindsided by a journalist asking him some probing question only to see if they can get a response. He can see Fernando’s guilt, and eventually he caves and searches for the why.

F1 TV, or his father, or maybe the FIA have made a herculean effort to scrub the full footage of the crash from the internet. But Lance has grown up in the age of the digital, so it doesn’t take him long to find it on YouTube, under a video titled “Canadian Buries it in Wall – ’24”. Inventive.

What he remembers is this, sitting beside Fernando in the pre-race briefing. Both of them trying to listen to Mike explain the stacked pit strategy again, but also occupying themselves with each other. Lance, dick still aching from being teased in his driver’s room, was feeling particularly vindictive. He’d been inching his foot slowly up Fernando’s pants leg, his hand up the inside of Fernando’s clothed thigh.

Fernando hadn’t responded. Sat ramrod straight in his seat and kept his eyes glued ahead. Until Lance just barely brushed his knuckles along the bulge in Fernando’s pants and received a sharp pinch to his own thigh in response.

“Ow!” Lance had yelped, loud enough that a few engineers turned to look at him.

Lance had blushed, “Hit my- hit my knee, sorry.”

And then he’d woken up in the hospital. The irritation to his thigh replaced by the throbbing pain that occupied his entire body.

He wants to remember, and so he hits play. He watches himself drive like he’s analyzing onboards for where he can maybe improve, with the same detached feeling. There’s Fernando behind him, and Russel ahead, and Lance in the middle of it all holding his ground. Fernando’s given the order to back-off, told not to fight because Lance’s tire management has been better, and he’s got the speed and clean air for now. Their fight is with Russel, except that Russel was six ahead and Fernando wanted to play sooner rather than later.

The commentators say Lance is driving surprisingly well, he tries not to grind his teeth.

And then Fernando pulls out of the slipstream, makes a charge to overtake in the straight, and Lance sees himself move. Just a twitch of the car, a fraction of movement in an effort to defend, before Fernando’s front right tire clips his back left and Lance spins. He can see himself try to overcorrect, but then the car goes sideways, the tires leave the track when he skitters across marbles, and he’s flipping until there’s only the wall to stop him.

The red flag is immediate, so is Fernando’s stop when he pulls into the gravel and doesn’t even hesitate to book it to Lance’s on fire car.

“Lance. Lance are you alright? Lance. Respond. Confirm you’re alright,” Andrew’s voice comes through the broadcast, but Lance’s own response does not. It’s eerily quiet, especially in the empty space of Fernando’s house when the man isn’t there to bring life to it.

They play a message from Esteban who drives by, the Frenchman’s voice laced with worry as he asked, pleaded, for Lance to be okay. Lance understands now why Esteban had looked so pale when they’d spoken last. When Lance had been curled up on Fernando’s couch, shrouded in shadow because the lights hurt his head, and Esteban had been sat in the chair across from him. He’d thought it was maybe because they were in Fernando’s house, thought the strangeness of the setting might have just had Esteban on edge. He hadn’t realized it was because his best friend had seen his on fire car and thought for a moment he might not get out.

It's suddenly a little hard to breathe. He blames the tightness in his chest on his ribs, even though those have healed by now.

“Lance?” Fernando’s voice in the doorway, quiet, worried.

Lance jumps, winces when he pulls at something sore, and slams the laptop shut with enough force that he’s a little scared to open it again. His eyes dart to Fernando’s and-

Oh. The guilt. He’s drowning in it.

“Fer, I’m sorry, I- fuck. I just…I didn’t- I’m sorry,” and now he’s the one gushing apologies, wanting so badly to tear his gaze away from the tears building in Fernando’s eyes. He shouldn’t have looked. It was easier when he didn’t know the shape of his body in the wreckage, when he didn’t know it had been Fernando who ran to him, who crashed into him. Pandora’s box and all of its contents are spilling across the mattress.

“I’m sorry,” Lance says again, because Fernando still has not moved from the doorway and he’s not sure what else he could do. He can’t walk to him, his leg is still aching from physio, hence the whole curled up in bed watching his own life-threatening crash while Fernando was supposed to be out picking him up a ridiculously overpriced smoothie from his favorite place down the road.

“No,” Fernando chokes, “No. Lance. No. I am sorry. I am so, so sorry. I-“ Fernando chokes again and then he’s sobbing. Lance’s spirulina, coconut, gold flaked smoothie still clutched in one hand and his free one wrapping around himself as he doubles over in the doorway.

Lance does go to move then, sore muscles be damned.

But when he grabs Fernando, the man only sobs harder. He doesn’t pull away though, he needs Fernando for the support now. His thigh is killing him.

“Fer, Nano, baby, please. It’s okay. I’m okay.” He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, because Fernando doesn’t cry. He bottles everything up, ghosts Lance for a week, and then comes back as if nothing was ever wrong in the first place. Lance doesn’t know how to comfort him, and he doesn’t think that’s something to be blamed on the memory loss, he’s almost certain this is entirely new to them.

Fernando collapses against his chest, Lance stumbles under the weight of them both. His body protests the sudden movement, something sharp and hot spiking it’s way through him, starting in his leg and moving to the incision scar on his stomach.

He gasps, tries to breathe through the pain. It’s kind of like how his wrists were after a race, before he plunged them into a bowl of ice, he can manage.

“I’m okay,” he says, and hopes it doesn’t sound too tense. There’s sweat breaking out along his brow. He kind of wants his smoothie. “I’m okay, Fer. I promise.”

Fernando’s tears are soaking the fabric of his hoodie. Lance cradles the back of his head, and ignores the damp feel of them against his chest, ignores the warm heat of Fernando’s breath as he tries to find air.

“An accident,” he wails, “I swear, Lance, I swear.”

“I know.”

He saw, just now, could clearly see himself moving and see Fernando slamming the brake to try to stop it. He sees Fernando running. Running to him. People who hurt Lance intentionally are hardly ever concerned enough to check on him afterward, some of them think he deserves the knife twisted inside him simply because he can afford the medical bill. He knows Fernando would never try to hurt him, but he also knows nothing he says could absolve the guilt.

“I know, dude. And I love you, but could we maybe move this to the bed? My leg is killing me.” Fernando, thankfully, lets himself be maneuvered until Lance is sitting on the edge of the bed and Fernando resting solidly in his lap, knees bracketed on either side of his thighs. It’s the most contact they’ve had since Lance woke up, it’s making him a little heady.

Fernando rests his cheek against Lance’s shoulder, cries into the crook of his neck, and Lance tries to soothe him as he takes intermittent sips from his smoothie that he’d pulled from Fernando’s grip before it ended up spilled across the sheets. He rubs a hand along Fernando’s back, a pantomime of how his dad used to calm him down when he had a rough race and had to blow off steam in his driver’s room. It’s not working very well. Lance is maybe bad at this.

“I shouldn’t have watched the stupid video,” he grumbles. Knowing the how has not brought him any peace, only made him realize the true severity of his injuries. His therapist might have been right in saying to stop pressing at the wound, Fernando too for pulling his hand away.

“I could have killed you,” Fernando cries, “I almost killed you. You- you were-“

“I know, Nando, I know. Please, just- just stop. Please.”

It’s too much too fast. Fernando’s guilt, his own brain trying to process it all, the headache forming at his temples and the exhaustion crashing down on him. He’s tired all of the time now. And not in the lazy way he once was, like a big cat stretching in a patch of sunlight, more like someone who’s been crumpled in their car and extracted without all of the pieces smoothed back out.

He wants to sleep. He maybe wants to cry himself.

“Thought I would lose you,” Fernando mumbles, miserable and quiet, his stubble rough against the soft skin of Lance’s neck when he speaks.

“You didn’t. I’m safe. I’m right here.”

Lance hadn’t realized he was Fernando’s to lose, didn’t really put the pieces together until now that he maybe belonged to someone other than his family. He didn’t think anyone would ever actually want him. It’s a weird feeling, makes something beneath the scarring and the healing wound in his gut twist.

“You have me. I’m right here. I’m safe. I’m here.”

I’m okay, he thinks, and he starts to believe that it will be true.

#there may be a chapter 4 actually #I wanted to write more but I didn't want the chapter to be stupid long #strollonso #strollonso fic #my fic #lance stroll #fernando alonso

[phoenix-downer]

Touch Cravings Chapter 2

~1320 words. Set post-KH3. Terraqua, Aqua and Ven friendship, and background Sora/Kairi. Grief, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Touch Starvation, Friendship, Romance.

Summary: Aqua is dealing with the effects of her time in the realm of darkness and then the grief of losing Sora. Thankfully, she has Ven and Terra to help her get through this chapter of her life.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

(Companion piece to Touch Hunger [Chapter 1 | Chapter 2]).

“Can I come in?” Terra asked. 

Aqua’s face was flushed with embarrassment, but she nodded. She had wanted to see him, after all, even if she would’ve preferred less awkward circumstances. 

Terra had to stoop a little to get through the door. Their rooms were in an old wing of the castle, which meant they were built back when people were shorter, and Terra was not a short man.

Aqua gulped as he drew closer. She was wearing baggy sleeping clothes and didn’t look very put together. Her bed had about five crumpled blankets on it too. These rooms got drafty at night, which was why fireplaces were in each of them. To distract herself, she quickly summoned her Keyblade and mumbled a quick Fire spell under her breath to light the fireplace. Now there was a warm, crackling fire in the corner, and its familiar sounds were relaxing and soothing.

Terra stood awkwardly by her bed. He likewise was dressed more comfortably than his usual attire: simple sweatpants and a t-shirt that still managed to be form-fitting because his muscles made it impossible not to be.

Her face flushed again, but for a much more pleasant reason this time. She patted the spot next to her, and Terra carefully sat down, making the bed creak.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so standoffish lately,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about everything and getting lost in my thoughts. But I want to be here for you and Ven.”

Her lips parted. She still wasn’t used to him being so open and honest. But he and she and Ven had talked about what had driven them apart, and bad communication was at the top of the list. So now they were all trying to get better at good communication. Which meant she should be honest too.

“Thank you,” she said. “I want that too.” 

“To be honest, I don’t really know what to do next,” he admitted. “Being back feels better than I could’ve dreamed. Being myself again, being free of Xehanort for good, being whole…it’s like I’m getting a second chance at life. But with Sora gone, it feels wrong to be happy.”

“I know what you mean. Why are we here when he’s gone? I keep replaying what happened in my mind, over and over again, thinking about what I could’ve done differently.” She smiled bitterly. “Something I’ve always been good at. Ruminating over past mistakes. I don’t need other people to torment and torture me, I do it to myself just fine.”

“You and me both,” Terra said, his head drooping and his voice heavy. “I can’t help but feel like Sora’s death is my fault.”

“I feel the same way. I told Ven earlier that that means we’ll just have to save Sora. But I have no idea how.”

A few long moments of silence passed as Terra searched her face. “We could…we could go to the realm of darkness,” he said at last.

Aqua shuddered. It was a possibility she’d considered. That place had so many ties to death that it would be silly not to at least check. But the thought of returning to that hellish place where she’d been trapped for over a decade? Her stomach roiled at the thought of it.

Playing with one of the blankets on the bed, she said, “I know it isn’t rational, I know you and Ven would be with me, but I…I’m scared of going back. I’m scared of something happening and getting trapped there and winding up alone again.”

For so long she’d been on her own. Going back to that existence was her worst nightmare. She hoped Sora wasn’t alone. She wouldn’t wish the solitude on her worst enemy. It ate you up inside, made you crave something, anything from another living being. A kind word. A gentle touch. After a while she started hearing voices and fantasizing about past touches, hoping they would happen again. Haunted by the ghosts of her own memories. No wonder she’d created a phantom out of her fears.

“You won’t be. I won’t let that happen,” Terra promised, his voice low and determined. The look on his face as the flames from the fireplace flickered across it…she knew he was deadly serious and would keep this promise with his life.

Oh how badly she wanted to touch him. Her hand twitched as she restrained it. She hadn’t realized how much she would miss human touch during her time in the realm of darkness. But after returning, she realized it wasn’t just any touch she craved the most. It was his touch.

“It’s messed up, I know,” she admitted, “but after a while…even a stray Heartless brushing up against me during battle felt good. I sometimes…I sometimes let them, even if it meant I got clawed. Just to feel something.”

He rested his hand over hers, and a pleasurable shudder went through her whole body. She noticed his hand trembling a little too. Maybe he’d been touch starved in his own way too. He’d been in the realm of light, sure, but not as himself. His heart had been trapped inside that guardian, and how often had he really gotten any sort of physical affection?

“Thank you, that feels nice,” she murmured. He tenderly stroked her fingers, and it felt even better.

“You’re not alone, Aqua.” He caressed her arm, and her breath caught. She was no slouch in the physical strength department, but his hand was so much bigger and stronger than hers and yet so gentle.

“I know.”

He cupped her cheek, and now her breathing really was shaky. It felt so good and he was being so bold and everything was overwhelming. But a good kind of overwhelming. So very, very good. She just wasn’t used to touching again yet, especially not like…like this.

He smiled as he caressed her cheek, and she rested a hand over his. She wanted to touch him too. Wanted to give him what they both craved. They weren’t alone anymore, and why not celebrate that fact? If it would help her face her fears and go back to the realm of darkness to search for Sora, then there was nothing wrong with enjoying this closeness with Terra.

No, that wasn’t it either. She wanted to be close to him for the sake of being close to him. Might as well be honest with herself about it.

“Aqua,” he murmured, running a thumb over her lips, and her breath hitched. A part of her felt like this wasn’t real: the look in his eyes, the feel of his hand, the warm fire crackling in the corner. The fact they were in her room, alone, together. That he wanted her and she wanted him and they both craved each other’s touch and company. But it was real. It was real, and she wanted to savor every moment.

He leaned close, and her eyes fluttered shut. His lips brushed against hers, and all the bad memories fighting for her attention melted away. In this moment only the two of them mattered. She wasn’t alone. She was here with him, and in these stolen moments they could make up for lost time.

She wrapped her arms around him as he deepened the kiss, and he did likewise. Embracing at last. Oh, they’d hugged before, but never like this. If she’d been starving for all those years, she was now at a banquet for two and not entirely sure where to begin. But they would figure it out together, she was sure of that.

She’d saved him all those years ago, and now, in his own way, he was saving her. Or maybe it was more accurate to say they were saving each other. Ending the loneliness and solitude and longing for affection that had plagued them both.

Whatever it was, she was glad they had each other.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Thank you for reading!

#kingdom hearts #terraqua #terra x aqua #terra/aqua #aqua #terra #kh aqua #kh terra #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #touch starvation #touch hunger #touch hungry #touch-starved #friendship #romance #kh fanfiction #phoenix writes #phoenix-downer #touch cravings #chapter 2 #long post

[doexoeyes]

Venomed

Summary: What once was a beautiful relationship with Peter, turns quite venomous…

Warnings: Blood, violence, swearing, death.

Notes: We finally made it! The last part to Venomed! It's been along time coming and I'm just glad to finally have it out for you all. I'm really nervous about it as this has definitely been the most difficult part to write by far, but I want to thank each and every one of you who stuck by this story and give it all the love that you have. It means the whole world and I'm very grateful for every like, reblog, and kind comment. Thank you all and I hope you enjoy ♡

Part 5

Part 6

Your heart is hammering in your chest as you enter the swinging doors to Oscorp.

You can practically hear it beating in your ears, and you’re starting to think Peter can too, because he slips his hand into yours and gives you a small squeeze.

You look up at the face of the man you love and your heart falters for a moment at the clear adoration he has in his eyes for you.

“Whatever happens, we’ll do this together.”

You know in your heart that Peter means it, but you don’t think he truly understands the absolute hell that would come with staying with Venom permanently. Despite your conversation together, you’re not so sure you’re willing to subject Peter to a life of pure chaos.

“This is a bad idea,” Venom echoed in your head.

You try your best to keep your face stoic so Peter doesn’t notice that anything is off because the uneasiness you feel whenever Venom speaks to you, within you, is still very much prominent.

“Something isn’t right. Turn around. Now.”

“Shut up,” you whisper under your breath, head turned to face the escalator steps you were now on, and you feel Peter’s eyes on you.

Your eyes remain forward.

• ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊° .☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊° .☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊°

“Thanks again Doc, for doing this,” Peter says as you both follow Octavius down the halls to his lab.

His hand is still wrapped tightly around yours.

“Of course, Peter. You know how much I appreciate all the work you’ve done for me. This is the least I can do.”’

Once he unlocks the door to the lab, you all step into the room and spot what looks like a large, glass box in the middle of it.

“What’s that?” you ask, walking along the sides of the box, looking in closely to see absolutely nothing inside of it.

“Ah, that, my dear, is where you’re going to step inside of in order to begin the process of extracting the symbiote out of you,” he explains simply, and it’s amusing how both yours and Peter’s brows furrowed at the same time, giving each other a silent look.

“So..you’re going to cage me in in order to get this parasite out? How is that going to work?”

Dr. Octavius chuckles at this. “It’s not as terrifying as it seems, I promise. After doing some research and taking our incident with the CT scan machine under consideration, I’ve come to the conclusion that the symbiote is sensitive to high frequency sounds. So, if that’s the trick, then you’ll be isolated in there with nothing but the sound playing from speakers I have placed inside. The reason for the glass walls is so we can supervise you and ensure that the symbiote doesn’t escape. Don’t want it to get its claws on Peter here, do we?”

Your eyes go straight to Peter, the thought terrifying you.

Your fear isn’t important right now. Dr. Octavius could claim that jumping into a snake pit would be the solution and you’d jump. Whatever it took to get Venom out of you.

Whatever it took to keep Peter safe.

“Ok. Just let me know what you need me to do,��� you say confidently, although Peter’s face looks unconvinced.

“Wait. Is this going to hurt her? Is this even safe?” he asks, choosing to examine the glass box more closely.

“I assure you that this process will have no lasting effects. Think of it as listening to music at full volume in your room. Or being at a concert. It’s the most painless process possible given the circumstances,” he reassures you both, but you can tell that Peter still isn’t convinced.

“Hey, it’s ok. I promise I’ll be fine. We have to do whatever it takes to get it out of me, ok? That’s what I want,” you say as you grip his arm, turning him towards you.

Peter stares down into your eyes and you can tell he’s searching for something to prove that his hesitance is warranted, but you muster up as much confidence as you can and he has no choice but to sigh and nod.

“Don’t do it. Don’t step inside.”

You ignore Venom, nails digging into your palm as you try to control your emotions as he continues.

“Leave. Now.”

You really hope this process works, because you don’t know if you can live your whole life with a voice that doesn't belong to you echoing in your head. As if sensing your anxiety, Peter takes your hand and lifts it up to his lips, giving it a gentle kiss.

“I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re going to be ok. I'm right here,” he reassures you, voice like honey and it makes your chest feel heavy.

Please god, the universe, whatever being that is up there in control of everything, please let this work.

You can’t lose him. You can’t.

You discard your jacket on a nearby chair as Octavius leads you into the box, but just as you’re about to step inside, you’re no longer able to move your feet.

“I-I can’t move,” you state.

“Come on, sweetheart. There’s nothing to be scared of,” Otto reassures you with a light chuckle.

You shake your head, swallowing. “No, I mean I literally can’t move. I think…I think Venom’s not letting me.”

Peter is quickly at your side while Otto tilts his head slightly.

“Venom?”

“That’s what it calls itself. The symbiote,” Peter clarifies, lightly gripping your leg to drag it forward.

You groan in frustration, the ordeal of the past few days catching up to you. You hardly even notice the angry tears glistening in your eyes .

“Let. Me. Go,” you grunt between gritted teeth, closing your eyes as you put in all your strength and concentration on moving.

Just one step. One. You can do it.

“Do not go inside.”

You can feel the immense concern flooding Peter as he now holds your hand, choosing to be a source of emotional support instead of a physical one. It hurt him to see you so clearly frustrated. There’s nothing in the world he wanted to do more than to give you peace of mind once again.

If he could beat Venom up without any consequences to you, he would do so in a heartbeat.

With another grunt, you’re finally able to move your leg and use the momentum to fling yourself inside. You land on your knees, arms spread out to catch yourself and you hear the door to the glass box slam shut. You look up to see Peter on the other side, eyes wide. In a split second a sound blasts out of the speakers and you feel an excruciating pain travel throughout your body. Your insides feel like they're burning and you can’t help the screech that escapes you. You cradle your head in your hands, curling up into a ball on the ground. You don’t notice it but Peter is banging his fists on the glass, trying to call out to you, but to no avail.

“Doc, turn it off! It’s hurting her!!” he yells to him, but Otto remains still, watching you with zero expression on his face.

“Hello?? Are you not seeing what’s happening in there?!” Peter’s concern is turning into anger as he approaches Otto, fire in his eyes.

“Peter, this is simply part of the process. I believe that a little bit of pain is far better than the hell you two are enduring with that parasite consuming her from the inside,” he states, unfazed by Peter’s close proximity.

Peter’s throat bobs as he stares at Otto silently. He then turns his head and watches helplessly as you cry in pain. He hates that he has to turn his back to you, tears filling his eyes, the scene too much for him to bear.

….

A minute feels a lot like an hour when you’re in the worst pain you’ve ever been in.

You think maybe you passed out or dissociated, because you only come to when silence finally hits your ears. You weakly pull yourself up from the ground, sitting up.

You spot Peter still standing on the other side, eyes on you as his mouth moves rapidly, as if yelling something, but you can’t hear him. The grogginess you feel is all consuming and you almost lay back down again until you feel some kind of presence behind you.

You turn around slowly and, to your horror, a black, slime-like substance is moving erratically behind you.

You scream and scramble to get on your feet, the substance launching itself to your direction but you're quick enough to move out of the way, running towards the door of the glass room. Peter immediately opens it and you throw your whole body out of it, just mere seconds away from the substance grabbing at your ankles. You fall fully on the ground, Peter slamming the door shut, and you pant rapidly as you try to regain your breath.

“What the…what the fuck is that?!?” you say in between breaths, staring at the seemingly conscious black slime that was now once again moving erratically, almost angry like.

Peter rushes over to you, on his knees as he tries to help you up.

“That is your little symbiote friend that set up camp inside of you. What did you call him again? Venom?” Dr. Octavius asks.

You cling to Peter’s arms, watching with wide eyes at what you now knew was Venom itself. You try to regulate your breathing, seeking refuge in Peter’s chest as he holds you tightly.

“So that’s it then? It’s..it’s out of her, right? It won’t control her anymore?” he asks Otto, head lifted up to look at him.

Dr. Octavius nods. “Yes. That should be the end of their partnership. As for possible side effects, I don’t think there’s anything you should worry about,” he says, but you’re too relieved at the first part to even bother caring about what else he had to say.

You let out a shaky breath, a watery smile forming as you turn to look at Peter. He stares at you with the same happy, relieved expression, beautiful brown eyes lit up in joy. He immediately leans his head down to lay gentle kisses on your forehead, arms still wrapped tightly around you.

“You did it. You’re free. I’m so proud of you sweetheart,” he says, excitement still evident despite the low volume of his voice.

You giggle as tears slid down your face, nuzzling your head into his neck as you breathe him in deeply. You both stay like this on the ground, arms wrapped around one another, trying desperately to get as close to each other as possible.

You never want to leave him, and now you wouldn’t have to.

• ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊° .☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊° .☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊°

You’re walking down the hall with Peter, his arms wrapped around you with your back to his chest, showering you with kisses as you giggle and try to not to trip.

“Peteee,” you whine, although you were enjoying the affection.

You missed this. You missed him.

Peter shakes his head, peppering kisses down your neck. “Nope, I’m not stopping. And you can’t make me,” he says as you manage to turn around in his arms to face him.

You leave a little kiss at the tip of his nose and smile up at him. “Good. ‘Cause I don't want you to stop. Ever.”

He’s looking at you with that light in his eyes that makes you feel like you're the most important thing in his world, and you instantly get butterflies. Just as you're both leaning into one another, a sudden realization pops into your mind.

“Oh, crap. I left my jacket at the lab,” you say, slightly embarrassed by your forgetfulness.

“No worries, we can just go back and get it real quick. And right after that we're going straight home because we definitely need to catch up on missed time,” he suggests with a wiggle of his brows and you laugh, slapping his shoulder lightly.

“Peter, we’ve only been broken up for like two days,” you state, and he kisses your forehead, smirk on his face.

“Two days too long,” he adds, unwrapping his arms from around you before taking your hand in his, walking back towards Dr. Octavius’ lab.

He knocks on the door but receives no answer after a moment. With slightly furrowed brows, he knocks again, you gripping his hand a little tighter, nervous about bothering Otto for a silly jacket after all he’s done for you.

The door finally opens, Otto only holding it halfway as he offers a smile. “Oh, you’re back! Please tell me there isn’t anything wrong?” he says and you shake your head, a sheepish look on your face.

“No, sorry Doc, I just forgot my jacket. I’m sorry if we….” you stop mid sentence, a sudden uneasy feeling over taking you.

You feel goosebumps in the back of your neck, your hand reaching to feel it.

“W-what's going on…” you say under your breath, and you feel Peter’s eyes on you while Dr. Octavius laughs.

“What are you talking about?”

But you ignore him, instead pushing the door to open more, allowing you to see inside the room.

“Hey hey hey, what are you…” you hear Peter start, but he stops when he notices the same thing you do.

There’s a man inside the glass room.

Right where the symbiote was left in.

Your eyes widen as you push past Otto, entering the room.

“No no no…what are you doing?! Get him out of there! It’s going to kill him!” you yell, bolting towards the glass.

Peter enters the room along with Dr. Octavius who just watches on silently as the man inside the glass voluntarily walks closer to the symbiote. It begins to become erratic once more, seemingly taking notice of the man behind it.

You bang your arms on the glass, screaming at the man to move, get out, anything for him to understand that what he was doing was a big mistake. But whether he can hear you or not, the man continues to inch towards the symbiote.

You can hear Peter yelling at Otto but you’re too focused on the man to even pay attention.

Just as you feared, the symbiote latches onto him, causing the man to scream as he is tackled to the ground. The symbiote forcefully enters through his mouth and you watch in horror as black veins pop out visibly throughout his skin. His body begins to shake and contort violently as his screams turn to gurgles and you let out a shriek when his neck snaps, killing the man instantly.

The symbiote escapes from his mouth, sliding its way towards you and latching itself on the wall.

You turn around, horrified and sick, and look towards Peter and Otto with teary eyes.

Peter exchanges the same disturbed look with you before you both turn your attention towards Otto.

“Hmm, interesting,” he states simply.

“W-what?” you ask, the fear still evident in your tone along with your new found annoyance with him.

Did he sacrifice that man’s life on purpose?

“It seems like the symbiote refuses to begin the process of symbioses because it still desires you as its host,” he explains, facing you.

There’s a chill that runs down your spine at his look.

Something’s not right.

“It looks like there’s only one solution to that,” he states and he gives you a smile that makes your stomach twist.

“I’m going to have to kill you, sweetheart.”

Before you can even process his words, you’re immediately pushed out of the way, Peter having shot a web at you to pull you into him. You gasp, taken aback by his action, but when you lift your head up, you notice a metallic looking arm coming from behind Dr. Octavius, shooting in the direction you were once in.

“Peter Parker? Incredible. I always knew there was something special about you,” Dr. Octavius states and you watch anxiously as three more metallic arms snake their way out of his lab coat.

“But being Spider-Man? I never would have guessed it,” he says, shooting another arm towards the two of you.

Peter shoots a web up at one of the pipes on the ceiling, using it to lift you two up as he swings out of the way. You gasp into his chest, his arms keeping you against him.

He lands back on the ground on the other side of the room, mouth on your ear as he frantically instructs “Run as fast as you can. Get out of here.”

You’re shaking as he pulls away, but manage to give him a nod as you make your way towards the exit.

You can hear Peter shooting webs towards Doc as you push open the doors of the lab and run into the hallway.

“Why are you doing this?” Peter questions as he shoots at a cart full of lab materials and flings it towards Otto, who catches it effortlessly with one of his claws.

“Because a species like that, an extraterrestrial parasite that can give its host enhanced senses and abilities, has the potential to change the world, Peter. And if I show the board of Oscorp this, they will continue to fund my research and give me the tools I need to make an impact. Can’t you see that’s what this is about? This is what it’s always been about. To make an actual difference,” he states, and Peter can tell that he truly believes every word he’s saying.

It scares him.

“Doc, I know you’ve only ever cared about changing the world, but this is not the way! That’s a dangerous symbiote that we know nothing about and you’re going to sacrifice so many innocent lives just to even try to understand it. You can’t possibly think that’s worth the risk,” Peter tries to explain, but Otto once again shoots a metal arm at him, succeeding in slicing his chest.

Peter screams and it echoes down the hall you’re in and makes you stop altogether.

What are you doing? Running away while Peter was left to handle that psycho alone?

You know if he was here, he would yell at you to keep running. He’d probably say turning around was incredibly stupid and he would have a better chance at defeating Octavius if he didn’t have to worry about you.

But, there’s only one thing you can truly think about.

“Whatever happens, we’ll do this together.”

Dr. Octavius flings Peter across the room and he lands on a desk, breaking it completely. He groans and gets up shakily, catching his breath before launching himself back in the air, feet out towards Octavius and wrapping themselves around his throat, choking him as he uses his upper body strength to keep himself up on Octavius’ shoulders.

Dr. Octavius struggles to get Peter off, metal arms trying to grab him, but he’s able to dodge each one, putting in all his strength into choking Octavius out as he manages to shoot webs at the claws at the same time.

Otto then rushes into a nearby wall, causing Peter to be slammed against it, hard, knocking him off of him.

He takes in a breath, ensuring oxygen enters his lungs once more, and then hovers over a clearly injured Peter, ready to strike.

Suddenly, something heavy hits the back of his head and he yelps in pain. He turns around and sees you back in the room, head throbbing as he looks down at the microscope you had just thrown at him.

“Really?” He asks, irritated as he rubs his hands on his head.

You try to reach for something else to throw but he shoots a metal arm and it immediately grabs hold of you.

You scream, legs kicking wildly in the air as you try to wiggle out of his grasp but he brings you closer to him, chuckling.

“Oh, I see why you like her so much, Parker. Loyal. Fiery. Beautiful. Wonder how beautiful she’s gonna be once I crush her,” Otto muses, eyes glaring at you as the claw begins to squeeze you tightly.

Peter immediately lands a kick from behind him, taking advantage of his distraction, which sends Otto flying towards the glass box in the middle of the room, but not before his claw releases you, causing you to fall on the ground with a grunt.

A large crack appears on the glass wall he lands on and he hisses in pain.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch her,” Peter warns, shooting web after web at him, sticking him and his arms to the wall.

After making sure Otto showed no signs of being able to escape, Peter runs over to you, helping you up before gripping your shoulders.

“Why did you come back?? I told you to run! He was after you, not me,” he says, the anger evident in his tone clashing with the relief in his eyes.

“That doesn’t mean he wasn’t willing to kill you to get to me. Besides, you’re in this mess because of me and you said it yourself, whatever happens, we’re doing this together. I’m just keeping my end of the bargain,” you state, ready for Peter to argue once again, but instead, he wraps his arms around you, head placing itself atop yours.

“You’re so infuriating, I swear,” he says as he lets out a breath and you can’t help but to laugh lightly, embracing him right back.

“It's what you deserve,” you sigh into him.

You both stand with your arms wrapped around one another, holding on tightly as if the other person were to slip away if you didn't.

“I love you,” he says and you can feel him smile.

“I lo-“ but your words drop automatically when a gasp escapes Peter and you feel him become rigid in your arms. He moves his head down from resting atop yours, and you notice his brown eyes are blown wide, something close to fear and pain swimming within them.

You take in his expression, scared and confused, while also feeling a weird case of lightheadedness.

You notice Peter’s eyes drop down and he lets out a heartbreaking whimper that makes you frantic. Your eyes follow his gaze and upon doing so, you realize the reasoning for Peter’s sudden change of being.

A closed metal claw has penetrated through the lower part of your chest.

Once it shoots out of you, you immediately fall to your knees, eyes remaining forward, overwhelmed with shock and excruciating pain.

Peter immediately turns to look back at Dr. Octavius and sends a nearby item flying to him with his webs, effectively knocking him out.

He then collapses with you, arms cradling you in his lap as his hands scramble to your wound, failing to keep the blood from flowing heavily out of you. There’s tears rushing out of his eyes and he’s shouting panicked phrases at you but you’re unable to make sense of his words, feeling heavy and distant.

You’re gasping for breath, struggling to get it through with the immense pain you were experiencing. You’re unable to keep the small whimpers from escaping you, which fills you with shame, because you can tell how much the sound is setting Peter off.

He’s a mess, crying and calling out for help, hoping someone that heard the commotion in the lab decided to check it out, but it’s no use. If there was anyone in the building, they certainly evacuated at the first sign of trouble.

He doesn’t want to risk leaving you alone and he also doesn’t want to carry you out, knowing any kind of movement could trigger you to lose more blood than you already had. He’s stuck watching you fade away in pain, and Peter’s losing his mind.

“Please, please, please, no…NO! Don’t leave me. You can’t leave me! Oh my god oh my god…”

Peter’s heaving, hands bloodied as he continues to apply as much pressure as he can, but it only makes you cry in pain louder.

This was his worst nightmare.

Tears well in your eyes, Peter’s handsome face becoming nothing but blurs of color.

“L-love…you..,” you’re able to finish and you can hear Peter sob, failing to keep them in check.

“I love you so much. So, so much. And you're gonna be alright, ok? It’s gonna be fine, you’re fine,” he tries to reassure you, hands moving to stroke your cheek, staining your skin with streaks of crimson red.

Your whimpers quiet down, nothing but ragged breaths leaving you as your eyes begin to feel a little too heavy to keep open.

“Yeah, you’re fine baby. You did so good, you’re so brave. It’s going to be ok.”

His words put you at ease.

And then there’s black nothingness.

.

.

.

.

.

Peter’s hysterical, sobbing into your neck as he shakes his head.

“No no no, please. Stay with me. I need you..”

He feels the worst pain he has ever felt, the same kind he felt that night at the clock tower with Gwen.

This couldn’t be happening to him. Not again. Not another person he loves.

He’s shaking uncontrollably, clutching your body tightly as he refuses to lift his head up from you.

It’s the reason why he doesn’t notice the symbiote escaping through the cracks of the glass wall and moving closer to you.

When Peter feels a presence near him, he lifts his head up slightly away from you and catches the black substance.

“Stay away from her!” Peter screams, face red and eyes watery as he holds you tighter in his arms, glaring daggers at the symbiote.

“Don’t even think about touching her, you did this! You killed her!” he states, voice cracking as he begins to sob again.

The symbiote is frozen in place, looking as if it was genuinely listening. Peter digs his head back in your neck and the symbiote takes the opportunity to move closer, slowly entering inside your ear.

Peter notices too late, but before he’s even able to say anything, he catches the blood in your chest stopping. Lifting your shirt up a little with shaky hands, he notices the wound beginning to close up, his breath catching in his throat.

His whole frame is a trembling mess, watching with wide, teary eyes as the skin slowly begins to repair itself. He looks down towards your face, breath heavy as his palm cups your cheek.

“Come on, come on,” he breathes out.

Peter never really believed in miracles. Or at least, if he did, he didn’t believe they would ever happen to him. With all the losses and hardships he’s gone through in his life, it was hard to think that anything good could truly happen to him. But, the moment your eyes fluttered open and he could sense the life in you once again, he realized he finally received one.

“P-peter?” you call to him softly, and Peter lets out a relieved sob.

He gently wraps you up in his arms, crying into your neck, words of love and relief pouring out of him.

“You’re ok. You’re ok. I’m here. I’m always going to be here.”

A true miracle.

• ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊° .☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊° .☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊°

“Peter, you really don’t have to do this,” you state as he opens the door for you.

You enter the inside of an Italian restaurant, the same Italian restaurant Peter had left you crying in front of no less than a week ago.

It was almost unbelievable to you how a week had passed since the incident at the lab and your misadventures with the Alien symbiote.

Peter has barely left your side since, practically moving into your apartment despite the fact that he lived right across from you. He doted on you continuously, making sure you were fine and not experiencing any side effects. You knew at the end of the day that it was, in a way, more for him than for you, understanding that seeing you slip away like you did had triggered the fear of losing you. But you reassured him tirelessly that you were in fact, still very much here and always would be.

He closes the door of the restaurant behind you before intertwining his fingers in yours, leading you to the private table he had reserved at the back of the restaurant. He brings your hand up to his lips as he gives you a gentle kiss, to which your cheeks warm at.

The gentle intimacy with him was always something that made you feel butterflies.

“Oh, but I do. I know I can't take what happened back, but I can at least try to make it better,” he says, pulling out your chair for you to sit in.

You smile gratefully at him, taking a seat.

You spend the rest of the night talking, laughing, and stealing kisses from one another. After all you were put through, things were finally back to how you both wanted it; just you and Peter. Nothing and no one else mattered.

“Can I say something?” Peter asks, interrupting your thoughts.

You nod, putting down the glass of wine you had been sipping from. “Y-yeah. Of course. Go ahead.”

He grabs your hand from over the table, fingers stroking your knuckles gently. There was a nervous energy about him all of a sudden that confused you. You could even feel his leg bobbing up and down beneath the table so you squeeze his hand in reassurance, smiling up at him.

“What’s up, Pete?” you ask softly.

“It’s just…my life has never been easy. There was even a point in my life where I…I didn’t even want to live it anymore. I thought, what was the point, because all I ever felt was the pain and the burden and it felt like too much..darkness. But then, ever since that day you left brownies on my front door, I started to feel like life was livable for those moments. The moments where you bite into the best brownie you’ve ever had in your entire life. The moments where you find yourself genuinely smiling and laughing till your stomach hurts. The moments where you’re with someone who helps you, not forget, but accept and move on and helps you live again. I know that I’m seen as a hero to many people, but, to me, you’re my hero. You’ve saved me more than you can possibly know. I love you with all my heart and I never, ever want to lose you.”

Suddenly Peter stands up from his seat and approaches you, getting down on one knee as he pulls out a box from his back pocket.

You gasp, staring at the diamond ring now held in front of you.

“Will you marry me?” he asks, looking at you with a face so unmistakably full of love and sincerity.

You’re crying as you nod rapidly, a smile breaking out despite the tears. “Yes!”

He places the ring on your finger with shaky hands, a wide grin on his face and tears in his own eyes.

You can’t help the wide range of emotions you’re feeling and just throw yourself at him, unrestrained. Your arms wrap themselves around his neck and you rest your head on his shoulder.

When you’re finally walking out of the restaurant, you’re holding hands and smiling lovingly at each other, giddy and love struck. Peter’s proposal came as a surprise to you, but it was one you very much were ecstatic about. A forever with Peter was all you ever wanted.

Something seemingly makes your expression shift, eyes looking far away and troubled for a moment. Peter notices this and furrows his brows, looking at you in concern.

“You ok?” he asks softly.

Realizing he’s noticed, you quickly compose yourself once again, smile returning as you pause your steps, looking up at Peter.

“Y-yeah. Of course. It’s just..I love you, so much,” you say, as if reminding him, looking into his warm brown hues.

His expression softens, a dazed like smile shared with you.

“And I love you. Forever and always,” he states, leaning his head down to yours.

“No matter what?” you ask him quietly, right before his lips met yours.

“No matter what. I promise. It’s you and me forever, sweetheart,” he reassures you and kisses you sweetly.

.....

...

..

"Oh, you are in so much trouble," Venom's voice echos in your head with a chuckle.

• ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊° .☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊° .☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊°

DUN DUN DUUUUUN

Possible sequel? :o

Thank you once again for reading this story, I'm very grateful and I hope this ending was ok enough. Till next time 🤧🤍

♡ Tag List ♡

@infp-t-rhi @xx-narcissa @kiki-ren @bambiswriting @edgycatx @supergasming @silverwindptv @bellaiscool @bella-vasquez216 @ginger-swag-rapunzel @marvel-mental-state @thegayseance @friendly-neighborhood-spideyman @train-wrecc

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker #spiderman x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x y/n #tasm spiderman #tasm imagine #tasm peter parker #andrew!peter parker #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield spiderman #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #venomed #venom reader #venom fic

[suffarustuffaru]

🛒

What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

MY BAD it has taken me a little while to get to every fic writer question ive been asked pfft but i appreciate all of them and theyre really fun to answer :o and alright ok common things—character psychology is a big thing in all of my work :o aa every time i write a characters pov i try to do at least some research into their personality, backstory, etc etc bc my writing is almost always like?? character study type things?? i Really like delving deep into how characters think!!! :o so a lot of my works are like. you Will hear almost every thought in their head HAH. ive been told i have a very recognizable writing style widndnd but i do try to switch up internal dialogue at least a little bit depending on the pov character. i dont know how effective i am at that but i try HAH plus i think its fun trying to capture how someone thinks in the same way that youd try to capture how they speak in their dialogue. i think the most obvious example is probably my recent reinhard stuff—i tried to sound more formal with him? even with little kid reinhard i wrote his internal dialogue kind of formally because i figured that Might be able to create that bit of Dissonance that reinhard has as a character, you know? hes uncanny.

and uh because i focus on internal dialogue a lot, by the nature of things i kind of Have To slap the unreliable narrator tag on the vast majority of my fics HAH but unreliable narrators are fun and i love playing with them!! and i think its realistic in the sense that even a character thats very fair and just and honest may still have the wrong information at times or have emotion cloud their judgment or be a little unreliable for those reasons. that and i tend to pick the mentally fucked characters (which is pretty easy with the rezero cast HAH) whenever i write Very detailed internal dialogue so!!! unreliable narration and spirals into madness it is!!! i just really like exploring like. the humanity behind each character and all their nuances <3 and i Love having to squint at internal dialogue and add that up with a characters thoughts and actions and figure out who this person Actually Truly Is Like?? its like a puzzle :o !!

as for themes. i went into this a lot in another fic writer ask thingy but Definitely like. when characters change as a result of shit hitting their fan and/or their own choices and now theyre Different from the person they used to be. they came back wrong so now what are they going to do? how are the people around them going to treat them now? how will they treat the people around them? i just really like going into like. identity crisis… and um…. suffering that triggers massive self searching bc. the character changed in some way in order to survive through it physically and/or mentally. like seeing characters change for the worse and seeing them either try to crawl their way out or they. keep going down. it can be hopeful or very tragic!!! (bc i love hurt/comfort and tragedy a lot ajdnd) and complicated relationships are a huge favorite of mine to tackle. fascinating multi-layered stuff that i want to study under a microscope!!! i like when multiple contradictions exist within a dynamic or like. a character and their journey. the complexity feels very real to me and i find it intriguing :o

i also love queer themes but due to um. some of the toxicity in this fandom i do hesitate to do stuff with that in this fandom but i DO love queer themes its just not in most of my work atm but thatll change eventually 👍 ill at least slip in a little bit every chance i get 👍👍 (i have exactly one fic with queer themes atm wjdnd)

motifs/random imagery i use a lot also!!!! mostly bc i find them cool and fun but. yes theyre there for a reason. in my first pride otto fic i used second person pov and avoided using his name at points to emphasize that hes 1. being dehumanized and 2. hes dehumanizing himself too as a result. i uhh have also used star related things for subaru a lot bc Of Course. butterflies and moths for emisuba things…. economics themed titles for my pride otto multichap…. bugs for general pride if things…. comparing the knights uniform to bird wings in my reinhard and heinkel fic… i like to describe outfits in general too (pride otto vs main ottos outfits, also felix not wearing blue in the 2 seconds of screentime he has in my pride if fics atm wkdndn) etc etc :o

#this is such a long response but wkdndnd hope this all made sense HAH #i almost decided to study psychology in college!!! atm i am not doing that but it is still a possibility i suppose. #i have no idea what im doing. but anyway!!! yes this is a good summary of the stuff i usually like writing pfft #i will like the skrunkliest characters im so sorry thats why i keep otto and heinkel posting KANDNDND #but it IS nice writing side character content if only bc ur one of the only people doing it in the fandom on ao3 so its almost kind of?? #free reign??? they dont have as much like. fanon tropey things bc theyre not as Big. u know?? so absolute freedom to go buck wild writing #fic for them wofndndnd #and im also so starved of content ill make it myself just so i dont starve 👍 #like its def a little less of an uphill battle to write uh for example. otto pov vs emilia pov. bc at least with otto pov i dont feel like #im fighting against loud fandom opinion + tappeis opinion. if that makes sense. #like i try to be as canon compliant as possible at all times but WHAT do i do with emilia is 14 yrsand 18 yrs and 100+ yrs at the same time. #sometimes i want tappei to shut up a bit HAH #i do hope to see more content for side characters tho fr 🙏🙏 otto fics where are u… #ask #and also rip if ur writing in depth content involving any rezero kids bc u have a 99% chance of having to wade through tappei being weird #about kids. cries.

[adw520]

Better Dylan Info Post (aka Dylan Lore Dump 1)

because I realized in the light of day that my last post was not very well organized or worded (I was very tired)

First off have another picrew. Baydews' character creator is my favorite one out there. Djarn's comes in close second, but I haven't made Dylan there yet.

☆ Her full name is Dylan Strand. For etymology nerds like me, Dylan is from the Welsh prefix 'dy', meaning to/towards, and word 'llanw', meaning tide/flow. Strand is from the Old Norse word for beach. Assuming the site I used to get this information is accurate, anyway.

☆ On a slightly related note, apparently Dylan isn't really used for girls outside the US? I wasn't aware it was such a unique thing.

☆ Her birthday is Summer 21. I used a random date generator and converted it to Stardew time. I think I still have the calculations somewhere in my phone's notes.

☆ She's 5'10", which is a little on the tall side. She has her mom to thank for that.

☆ Blue Moon Farm is on the forest map, which is without a doubt my favorite farm map.

☆ Dylan's mom lives off the east coast of the Ferngill Republic. Dylan and her dad moved to Zuzu City when she was about 6 to be closer to her grandpa, but returned to visit every year for Dylan's birthday. Her grandpa loved to talk about Blue Moon Farm and show her pictures from its heyday. He passed the year she graduated high school.

☆ She loves to fish and can rival Willy in skill. Some might think it's magic, but she's actually just had a lot of practice.

☆ While she generally follows the universal gifts, she loves Golden Coconut, Dragon Tooth, and Seafoam Pudding. She likes all kinds of fish as well as Sea Urchins. She's neutral about all Tackle, Bait, and Monster Loot, as well as Fairy Dust and the Tea Set. She only dislikes Joja Cola, but she hates Qi Fruit.

☆ She likes bright colors. Her favorite is yellow.

☆ I mentioned before that Dylan has trouble localizing sounds. In humans, the shape of our outer ears plays a big part in localizing sound. Dylan has no real outer ears, and her inner ears are structured a little differently to help with hearing underwater. If she were to keep her fins out, they'd do a fairly decent job of helping to localize sounds. However, they're more effective for that purpose underwater than on land, and they're not much help at all held flat against her head and hidden by her hair.

☆ Her fins are pierced! She normally wears a pair of large gold hoops, but she owns a few different pairs of studs for times where there's a risk of the hoops getting yanked out. She also likes necklaces, but isn't a fan of bracelets or rings.

☆ The effect of the full moon isn't entirely because of her heritage. There's a psychological aspect to it as well. The spring tides from a full and new moon have equal pull on her, but because new moons lack the light of a full moon, she doesn't have that visual indicator. With a full moon, it becomes a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. She's so worried about giving into the pull that it happens. Her umbrella is a visible barrier between herself and the moon to help put her mind at ease and keep from working herself up into an unplanned nighttime swim.

☆ I'm putting the Stardew lunar cycle at 20 days. It's a lot longer than a direct conversion would have it, but 9 days seemed a bit short for my liking. I'm also aware that spring tides are technically the high tides the night after a full or new moon, but I'm choosing to ignore that. My made-up lore, my rules.

☆ She has some small scales scattered around with her freckles. She also has gills hidden under her jaw. They seal themselves when she's above water, and open when she submerges.

☆ The forest magic the wizard gave her almost made her sick enough to go to the clinic. Fortunately, her body adjusted to it before it could get that bad. A full ocean spirit wouldn't have been so lucky.

#adw's ramblings #stardew valley farmer #stardew valley oc #stardew valley

[unlockthescrambler]

NEVER “play hard to get” unless you do THIS first…

I bet you’ve heard this advice:

– “Girls want what they can’t have”

– “You got play hard to get”

And the advice is true…

…When you do it RIGHT.

Unfortunately most guys get this completely wrong.

And just come off as disinterested, gay, or too

shy to make a move.

Or worse, they completely eliminate themselves from her radar.

I’m sure you’ve heard the expression:

“If a tree falls in the forest and

no one is around to hear it… did it make

a sound?”

Well, that is sort of how I view most

guys attempts at playing hard to get.

You can play hard to get all you want, but

if she doesn’t notice you, or isn’t paying

attention to you…

Its all for NOTHING.

Let me explain what my friend Bobby considers

the ultimate secret to playing hard to get… and the

ultimate secret to making a girl fall in love with you.

(and THIS WORKS even if she wasn’t that attracted

to you to begin with.)

Here it is…

She MUST think about YOU when you’re not around.

Pretty simple.

The more she thinks about you (good or bad)…

the more she starts to anticipate seeing you.

And its up to YOU to give her things to think about.

Things to analyze and obsess over.

Things to keep YOU on her mind.

How do you do this?

That’s what Bobby explains in this video explains.

Fortunately, there is an odd, but extremely effective

“Mind Game” you can use on a girl that will completely

take control of her thoughts and have her obsessively

thinking about you.

Its called The Scrambler, he’ll teach it to you in the video.

you’re going to learn how to plant a “tiny seed” in her head that

In the video you’ll learn powerful ways to…

– Make a girl think about you constantly (even become obsessed)

– Have her eagerly anticipate seeing you

– Have her fantasizing about sleeping with you

Discover the “Scrambler” now

P.S. I bet you already know the first girl you’re going to use it on.

So, hold that picture of her in your mind, because in this video

unlocks a hidden desire for you..

Click Here NOW

#relationship relationshipfacts relationshipfails relationshipfights relationshipfail relationshipfact relationshipadvice #relationship #acne #love #love quotes #love fashion #lovefailurequotes #relationship advice #dating #boyfriend #international relations #unlockyourpotential #long reads #skincare routine #michael cera #motd #mua #natural hair #ryan gosling #rwby #short hair #skincare #relationship advisor

[bbboar]

weird asks: ALL hehehe

chaotic good, i love it!!

who is/are your comfort character(s)? Dont rly have comfort characters but during the 2020 lockdowns Breq Imperial Radch was my comfort character bcs i was going through some shit and she was a force of nature and justice Basically i get why Seivarden was down bad.

lighter or matches? Dont smoke

do you leave the window open at night? Absolutely not. It does not close properly and theres spiderwebs outside!

which cryptid being do you believe in? None of them but love to hear stories

what color are your eyes? Brown

why did you do that? What?

hair-ties or scrunchies? Ive never used a scrunchy so i cannot judge effectively

how many water bottles are in your room right now? Only one (i have 2 metal water bottles, one for home and another for work)

which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee? Depends on the season! Hot for winter but cold for summer.

would you slaughter the rich? i understand the craving for violence but personally i think it would be more torturous to have them watch as their wealth is redistributed and they have to live like normal people and work and have a budget and shit lol Like i know i doesnt sound bad but the way some of these people live....theyd be crying screaming shitting throwing up etc

favorite extracurricular activity? Girl im 27, i dont go to school anymore. All my activities are extracurricular

what kind of day is it? Thursday. Actually its after midnight so its Friday now

when was the last time you ate? Like 5 hours ago, i had some chocolate

do you love the smell of earth after it rains? Yeah!!!

are you a parent? (all answers qualify) no

can you drive? No but god do i need to learn to make my life easier

are you farsighted or nearsighted? Neither to my knowledge

what hair products do you use? Lmao none?? Unless im curling my hair and using hair spray. Oh i also use a hair mask each time i shower.

imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails? omg of course, bestie!

do you say soda or pop? Im Australian, i say fizzy drink

something you’ve kept since childhood? I have a sonic tshirt that ive had since i was 12 years old and i will not throw it away until it comes apart

what type of person are you? Vampire coded werewolf

how do you feel about chilly weather? I get sad when the weather starts getting colder bcs summertime is my favourite, but after that transition period, i think its fun to go into cozy mode! I love my big comforting jackets and my oodie and having tea every day.

if we were together on a rooftop, what would we be doing? Looking at the starts, laughing, having deep conversations.

perfume/body spray or lotion? Personally i dont use perfume or body spray. The only lotion i use is moisturizer bcs my skin is dry

a scenario that you’ve replayed multiple times? So many of them, lets not get into it

about how many hours of sleep did you get? Yesterday? Probably ~7

do you wear a mask? Yeah although not as much as i used to ngl

how do you like your shower water? Warm.

is there dishes in your room? Nope. The most there is at any given time is 1 tea mug and maaaybe a plate if ive had a snack or smtn

what type of music keeps you grounded? This doesnt apply to me

do you have a favorite towel? Not really?

the last adventure you’ve been on? Took public transport to an area id never been before last week. To me thats an adventure lol

is there a song you know every word to by heart? Yeah, theres a bunch where as soon as they start, ill know all the lyrics and be able to sing along but if the song isnt playing? Head empty.

what’s your timezone? Australian Eastern Standard Time

how many times have you changed your url? Over 5 for sure

someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years? Damn i think ive known Kieran Teeniepaws for 10+ years (Kieran if youre reading this sorry for not tagging you, this post is sooo long)

a soap bar that smells good? I dont use bars of soap??? I dont find them that practical. But ive sniffed a lot of them in shops and like 80% of them smell rly good

do you use lip balm? I have to bcs my acne medication gives me super dry lips

did you have any snacks today? Yeah i had some chocolate after dinner

how do you take your coffee? I just have a regular latte no sugar unless its more bitter than im used to. Then 1 sugar

an app you frequently use besides this godforsaken site? Twitter lol, podbean, spotify, youtube and as of recently pokemon go

what’s your take on spicy foods? i love spicy food! i actually bought some sriracha the other day bc i missed having it

you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it? who are you? The fbi? Im not going to tell you

can you remember what happened yesterday? woke up, took the bus, went to work, kept thinking about touchstarved (game) while at work, tried to play some sneaky pokemon go during work bcs i ran out of pokeballs and needed to spin the local pokestop to get more, went home, made dinner, made a touchstarved thread on twitter, went to sleep

favorite holiday film? Not to be a grinch but i dont like holiday films and im sooo sick of the xmas films that come out every year.

what was the last message you sent?

when did you first try an alcohol beverage? Pretty sure i was 14,i had a glass of wine and fell asleep almost right after lol

can you skip rocks? I think its fun to do but i am bad at it

can i tag you in random stuff? If youre a stranger? No. If youre a mutual, sure! Go ahead.

#thanks naja #boogerwookiesugarcookie #ask #reply

[the-letter-horror-lover]

confused by shikastemari

Anime » Naruto Rated: T, English, Romance & Humor, Boruto U., Sarada U., Words: 1k+, Favs: 49, Follows: 15, Published: Feb 27, 2019

5

The proximity was too much for Sarada.

Sarada did remember the day Boruto babbled about wanting a bigger bed, she recalled all the missions he'd complain about his tiny bed and how he didn't have enough space to rest. So, when he managed to save enough money to finally buy a king-sized bed, he invited her to come over. There was something strange about receiving an invitation to get to know someone's bed, but Sarada decided to ignore it.

So, there was the reason why she found herself laying on his bed, playing one of the stupid games he used to play with their friends when they were younger. Their heads were touching slightly, so as their shoulders and she was just too aware of it.

"And then you push this one." Boruto put his hand over hers. The sudden movement just brought him even closer to her, making hard for her to keep focusing on the game in her hands.

Sarada breathed deeply. "Okay, I think I get it now. Let me play." She pushed Boruto away with her shoulder and his hand let go of hers, but he still kept himself close to her. Close enough to her feel his breath on the cheek.

"What do you mean?" Sarada didn't look at him, but she just knew he was frowning. "I didn't even start with the tips."

His hot breath now found its way to her neck. She sat straight in the bed, quickly, as an attempt to run away from him. Too bad Boruto never actually understood the meaning of personal space.

Something in her head, though, did thought too good. She shook her head slightly as she felt him sitting as well.

"Do you mean the game hacks you use to win easily? I'll pass." She shrugged, pressing play at the game. Some guy started to attack her and Sarada just raised her eyebrow.

"What? No! They just help you to-" Boruto leaned in to grab the game, but Sarada didn't let him, turning her back to him. The smile of victory plastered at her face didn't last long when two long arms appeared, each at one side of her.

Sarada brought the game closer and hugged it against her chest like her life depended on it. She knew Boruto would never dare to take it from her when he could accidentally touch her.

"Boruto, you're invading my space! Stay on your side." Sarada tried to moved, but Boruto managed to lock her inside his arms very effectively. When the blond came closer to her, pressing his front to her back, Sarada felt the shiver that ran down her spine and hoped he couldn't feel it as well.

"The whole bed is mine, all sides are mine, including the one you're currently laying." He whispered on her ear and her breath hitched on her throat. "You're annoying, Sarada. Why did I decide to teach you this game again?"

Sarada elbowed his rib, making him to push himself back. "Because I saved your ass on the mission. Now let me go and shut up so I can concentrate."

"Excuse me? I won't shut up. You're playing my game!" Boruto exclaimed, exasperate.

"Fine then."

Sarada looked around his room, searching for something Boruto had always carrying with him no matter where he went. She found his black and orange earphones next to his desk and she got up from the bed, aiming it. They fit perfectly on her ear, but Sarada wanted just to mess around, so she connected it to her phone and pretended to press play on her music. Boruto just frowned.

"What?"

No answer. The girl sat on his computer spinning chair, moving side to side while her gaze was locked on her opponent.

"Sarada!"

No answer.

"Are you seriously ignoring me? It's my game, damn it."

Sarada grimaced, pretending to be focused on the game when all she was trying to do was basically not laugh at him. He just sounded too cute when he was frustrated.

"Seriously, why on all girls in this whole world I had to fall for the most stubborn one?"

Sarada froze. She could hear the noises of battle coming from the advice in her hands. She heard when Boruto fell on the bed with a thud. The singing of the birds outside. Even Himawari's giggle from the next room. So, she still was hearing things clearly.

But had she just heard what she thought she did?

Turning her head at this direction, she spotted him staring at the ceiling, his eyes closed. For a moment she didn't actually know how to ask him what he was talking about. After a while, Boruto opened his eyes slowly to see Sarada looking at him, eyes widened and mouth agape.

The girl saw the exact moment Boruto realized she had heard his last words.

"What did you say?" She questioned him.

"Nothing?" He tried, his cheeks turning a deep shade of pink, highlighting his whiskers even more, but the girl had no time to admire the scene before her.

"Did you just say you fell for me?" She pronounced every word slowly, as if afraid of actually saying out loud. For a moment, Sarada expected Boruto to laugh and tell her she has finally lost her mind. However, Boruto looked like he wanted his bed to swallow him.

"No! Wait, what happened to the earphones?" Boruto got up from the bed, grabbing the earphones and putting to his ear. After thirty seconds, he closed his eyes and sighed. "You never actually turned the music on, did you?"

"I didn't turn the music on." Sarada had problems to think straight. "So, what was that supposed to mean, Boruto?"

She got up from the chair, placing herself next to his bed and looking down at him with the most confused gaze on her face. Boruto, on the other hand, just kept turning more flushed by minute.

"Give me five minutes to think of something." He whispered, scratching the back of his neck.

Sarada threw herself in his direction and grabbed his shirt, pulling him so his eyes were at the same level as hers. He kneeled in the bed in front of her. "Boruto!"

"Fine! I like you, Sarada. Happy?" He placed both of his hands on his hips, looking away. Sarada felt the butterflies in her stomach making a party.

"What do you mean by like?" Sarada tested the waters one more time. She couldn't be possibly be hearing her lifetime crush to actually say he liked her back.

"Seriously, and you call me the slow one? How to put this into easy words for you?" He poked her nose, trying to annoy her but still not being able to stare back. "Every time you smile, my heart melts. Fuck, every time you look at me, I just know I'm doomed. It's not my fault if you're incredible, amazing an-"

Sarada didn't know what she was doing when she killed the distance between the two of them, smashing their lips together. His arms wrapped her middle, pulling her closer and Sarada felt like she was meant to be there. She let go of his shirt to tangle her fingers on his golden locks.

Boruto was the one to break the kiss. "I can't confess if you keep kissing me." He laughed.

"For once in your life, stop talking." Sarada leaned in to capture his lips one more time, but Boruto dodged his face.

"We could get caught." He bit his lower lip and it only made her want to kiss him even more.

"Who are you and what you did to Boruto?" She teased, narrowing her eyes in a playful manner.

Boruto kept staring at her for what felt an eternity. He used one of his hands to take away a strand of her hair off her face. "You didn't say it." He said finally.

"Say what?" Sarada asked, confused. It was amazing the amount of time he could make her feel like this.

"Your feelings. Are you kissing me because you like me back or out of pity?"

It was like his eyes were piercing to her soul. In that moment, Sarada would say yes if he asked her to marry her, even though they were so young. Never in her life she felt something so right and yet, she couldn't put it in easy words so he would understand.

"Do you seriously have to ask?" She felt the cheeks burning and she was sure tomato wasn't a good look on her.

"Well, yes." Boruto frowned.

Sarada sighed, trying to find the right words to say. "I like you, Boruto." She didn't think it was the right words to say, but it was a good way to summarize it.

"How much?" The smile on his face made her heart beat faster.

"How much?" She repeated, leaning in to press a long kiss on his lips. "This much."

"I like this much." He stated, already pulling her closer again to kiss her one more time.

"Good." She smiled, before his lips found his way to hers again.

Boruto had never made her feel so confused, but at that moment, all the confusion was simply worth it.

#boruto fanfiction

[oldgooddaysoldgooddays]

113

On Sunday M and I change it up and I drive to south east London, rather than his usual journey to my studio. This suits me, my legs and upper back are telling me no, even if my inner workaholic is telling me yes Something about driving in perfect weather feels wildly indulgent - I purchased this car to shield myself from bad weather and rampant disease transmission - but fuck it. I used to rebel against my parents, now I just rebel against myself. M’s neighbourhood is a battleground of early 20th century apartment blocks and glassy new-builds, seemingly erected in a rush as though meeting some imagined climate change deadline. Some look occupied, and who can blame a young man in finance with an expensive bicycle looking to squeeze in a view of the river before the fall. We walk past a small garden called, creepily, “Twinkle Park” and M says he has been thinking about flooding a lot. I tell him I don’t, but make a mental note to remind V that when she builds our women’s retirement commune in the countryside, to put it somewhere forgiving and high up. I say that Twinkle Park sounds like it was either named BY pedophiles or it’s a park FOR pedophiles. FPBP. I keep hearing people refer to child porn by its acronym, CP, and wonder why, when the syllables are the same both ways We smoke in a church yard in Greenwich and I notice how dry and brown the grass is everywhere since the heatwave, and how many confectionary stores London has, and how many candidates there are for Love Island walking around on a Sunday. We pass a bronze statue of Peter The Great, made to look inhumanly tall - far above NBA height - yet with a tiny head. M sits in the bronze throne next to him and I take photos. He notes that there used to be a dwarf beside Peter The Great, which has mysteriously been boxed up. Was this an act of municipal political correctness? And if so, does the censoring of a dwarf not have the opposite effect vis a vis body positivity? Are we to pretend Peter The Great did not, as one Reddit thread I find says, “find small people absolutely hilarious”? That he didn’t keep dwarves for entertainment purposes, have them leap naked from pies? I cannot stop picking at the skin on my arms and chest, and I test in my brain how realistic it is to tell people in New York next month that these are mosquito bites. Somehow I think if I’d slashed my body with a razor it’d be easier to explain, when in truth I can’t even self harm well. M is patient and doesn’t draw attention to my compulsion, even when the hand holding my cigarette burns the skin the other hand is picking at. He plans to stop by Uzbekistan en route home from Korea and I envy his traveller’s spirit. There is also something nice about international Grindr scrolling as a way to meet a local I mainline cold brew and M tells me Kate Winslet married a relative of Richard Branson who legally changed his last name to “Rocknroll”. We talk about Brendan Fraser’s weight gain being mostly in the neck. I explain a game we would play on Halloween when I was a child where you have to eat a donut suspended on a string from the ceiling, he had never heard of such a thing. We speculate on what earwax is made of. Plan to visit Bekenscot model village next weekend. On the way home I disobey my Waze and get caught in unfathomable traffic over Blackfriars bridge. Plus I drove in the congestion zone, the price of which is a hefty sum leaving my bank account via direct debit. I notice I have cold brew residue around my mouth in my car mirror. I keep it, own it

[wooahaes]

Not to be hopping from one blog to another but it's the layton/fe anon and I hope it's ok to stop by

I was done with my work for the day and thought okay let's start with UTS before sleeping. So I read the pre-story now and sjybs I'm hooked 😳 I felt a lil reminded of maze runner with people appearing without memories and stuff. But shdhs you did it so well?? And the way you portrayed them and their interactions and their effects on each other - I'm just incredibly soft for it all. Like I don't know it felt so warm? Can't wait to continue when I have the time~

So sorry to hear abt your docs appointment, I hope it's rlly just a reflux (which ofc can still be very frustrating though!) Either way I hope you'll feel better soon :)

And since you mentioned fe au - idk if you are into three houses or if you only like the more classic fire emblem games. But I might have had some thoughts on a svt au recently bc them having three units just fits too perfectly

(Also big yes to seungcheol with a sword. Also sniper minghao lives in my head rent free or alternatively - completely ignoring that it's a female class only - songstress hao. Maybe I just wanna see him dance with a lance)

... okay i am so sorry for coming into your ask box with this giant text. I hope you have a good day and tysm for writing uts<3

omg noooo!! dont be sorry!!! i always love getting asks (esp long asks) and ur ask to ae was super cute so it's absolutely okay to drop by if you ever feel inclined to <3

that's not the first time i've heard the maze runner comparisons tbh! june explained it to me (thank u lovely, if u see this <3) so i can def see it :0 i'm not sure if it's spoilers to say but the end goal between UtS and tmr is definitely separate imo? + tmr has more of a sci-fi vibe which is absolutely cool lmao just not my cup of tea

but tysm! i kinda hope to keep showing their interactions and how they've impacted one another more as i go on both between the individual parts + the poly ending but idk how much i'll actually be able to do there <3

ngl i was telling family abt the appt and they said the reflux thing sounded right considering the way she explained it to me (which was basically just "shit sits there while ur asleep, esophagus goes ouch ouch" i'm pretty sure lmao)! i have some medicine tho that i'll probs start taking after i double check that its not a sulfa drug (i didnt see my normal dr and neither the nurse or the lady i saw confirmed my allergies--better safe than sorry). thank u tho <3 i woke up feeling fine today but i figured i'd go ahead and see someone in case shit happens again

imma be honest with u the only fe game i've played to completion was birthright. i own all the fates games + awakening, but i'm bad at strategy lmao i've considered playing three houses tho! i had a pal recommend it for me and i was gonna eventually try to get it from gamefly :0 but pls absolutely feel free tos hare thoughts abt a svt au!! im honestly fine w spoilers haha

just. clenches fist. cheol w sword lives rent free in my head.

honestly hao having a different class but working like shigure from fates could always work tbh? just with dancing ykno :0

again pls dont be sorry!! thank u for the long ask omg i love getting to talk to people <3 i hope you have a good day/night as well!! pls feel free to stop by whenever you feel like it nonny

#wooahaes.ask #asks.anon #also if u want a specific anon tag feel free to let me kno in the future!! :0

[insertcommonnoun]

I keep playing w people called Dad in Splatoon 2 and the mental imagery of a boomer dad playing salmon run is really funny to me

#splatoon #i got the game last week and i have 10 hours (i dont play games that much) #its getting bad i keep hearing the sound effects play in my head #i wake up and the bomb noise is stuck in my head #i wish the current rotation didnt have weapons i don't like using

[lys1]

Congratulations! You waited so patiently <3 This is another Asra x fem!reader for you. NSFW. 5218 words. 

Playing With Potions

—————

The late spring morning air was warming up to be a balmy 75 degrees. You had your skirt pulled down and up, tucked in the back of the waistband, forming makeshift shorts. The shop was somewhat quiet, yet the din from the streets made its nimble way through the open windows.

You descend the ladder to the box of ingredients you were unpacking. They had come in the previous evening and Asra had promptly asked you to “organize them later”. Of course you said yes, the two of you shared this shop after all, and the work that came with it.

Asra himself was bustling behind the counter, sweeping the wooden floors free of the dust and fallen ingredients. He stops momentarily to pick up his cup of tea and take a long sip. The jasmine tea's steam billows into his face as he sighs with content pleasure.

The floorboards creak as you step down and Asra looks over at you, gaze soft. "How's the supplies look, dear?" He asks curiously, returning the cup to it’s coaster.

"Ah," you muse, counting the small containers in your hands. "Looks like we will be all set on lizard toes for a while, I think our supply captain read 1000 instead of 100." You can't help but chuckle, it couldn't be helped, at least you wouldn’t have to order more for a while.

Asra's eyes open a little wider, "oh my." He laughs, "I suppose we won’t". He sets his broom to rest against the counter and bare feet pad over to you, his deep-purple eyes examining the products.

You feel his hand settle on your waist subconsciously; a side effect of being close to one another. You breathe in lightly, smelling the sweet scent of coconut and honied biscuits wash over you. Asra's breakfast choice was apparent.

"Mm," you say, turning so the two of you were face to face. "You smell delicious."

Asra smiles, box in his hand now a little less important. "Care for a taste?" He teases, eyes falling to your parted lips. He sets his lizard toes aside and joins his other hand at your waist. You look up at him through your eyelashes and nod.

He is a mere millimeter from sealing the gap between you when the bell of the shop jingles merrily.

"Ah jeez," you huff good in good nature. "I forgot we have jobs and responsibilities."

Asra laughs at your obvious disappointment and steals a small peck. "Unfortunately, we have to eat somehow." He then turns away and walks back to the counter to greet the customer.

The man is short and has a little round face. He looks extraordinarily nervous, and this catches your attention. Yours and Asra's shop is well known in the city and the townsfolk trust their magicians. You hadn't seen anyone come in here looking so nervous, and maybe even a little embarrassed.

"What can I do for you, sir?" Asra asks charmingly, resuming his position behind the counter. Briefly you let yourself admire how nice he looks, comfortable in his shop and expertise, before turning back to the box you were supposed to be dealing with. Not, however, letting your ears miss the conversation.

"I," the man starts, already fumbling with his words. "I, well look. I need help." He finishes plainly, nervously clutching his shirt between his pudgy hands.

Asra smiles kindly, "many do." He says, tilting his head and examining his new client. "Are you here for a card reading? Need to get some answers?"

The man groans as though he is already exhausted with the conversation. "No, I already know what I need. I have the answers. I've heard about this place. The ways you can help people. I live an hour out of the market and I made this trip just to see you."

"We're flattered, for sure." Asra says calmly, you can hear slight annoyance in his tone from all the ambiguity. The visitor is none the wiser though. "To help you though," Asra continues. "I'll need to know what you need."

"Alright I need a potion," the man finally reveals. "One that will help me... with performance." His cheeks are redder than a bell pepper in the sun.

Asra raises a white eyebrow, "performance? Are you an actor?"

"No!" The man's voice came out in a strangled whisper, obviously trying to keep it down. You roll your eyes, chancing a glance over your shoulder. The shop floor wasn't that big, of course you were going to hear everything.

"No," he said again, this time a little more composed. "What I mean is... my sex life performance." The truth comes out. Your visitor wipes his forehead with a dirty rag from his pocket. "My wife and I well.. we've hit a slump," he explains. "And I've heard of potions that can help with that kind of thing. Stuff that will completely change the game." His eyes are shining now, imaging life post-performance potion.

Asra looks uncertain at best. "I see," he starts, shooting you a glance. "That.. does exists. But it takes awhile to make. And the price isn't cheap either."

You shove the last of the crow feathers into their designated drawer while listening. You have never heard of such a potion, but you were also still learning. Asra sounds a little unsure though.

"Price isn't an issue," the man sounds desperate. "I'll pay anything."

Asra sighs, he feels bad for the man wringing his hands before him, practically crying for a cure. "Alright," he finally concedes. "I'll make it, but you'll have to come back in the morning. This kind of thing takes all evening to brew."

Your customer nods vigorously, "I can wait." He says. "Tomorrow morning, yes! I'll be here!" His excitement apparent, he bows a few times while backing out of the door, tripping over his own feet.

The door closes with a sharp bang and the bell rings furiously. Asra blows air out of his mouth so that itf ruffles the curls between his eyes.

"Well," he says after a moment. "A sex performance enhancing potion was not what I was expecting to make today." He rubs his temples, eyes closed and looking thoughtful.

You grin at him from the shelf as you pick up the empty shipping box and rest it on your hip. "That's quite the name, I've never heard of a potion like that."

Asra laughs and opens his beautiful eyes to look at you. "Yes, you'll have to forgive me for not teaching you that kind of magic, it's not the.. safest." He ends uncertainly. "I don't even know how this guy found out about it. It's not talked about much amongst us magicians.. and it's certainly not a common one."

Immediately more questions than your mouth can keep up with flood your brain. "So how did you find out about it? And why isn't it safe?" You ask the two more important ones, eyes following Asra as he finds a piece of paper and quill to use.

He dips his quill in the register's ink well and starts scratching down what you presumed to be ingredients. "I've been studying magic for years, my love." He says simply, "and before you ask, no I haven't used it on myself." He looks up at you, mischief dancing in his pretty eyes. "I'd like to think my sex game is up to par." He adds innocently, licking his lips seductively when your ears tinge pink.

You brush imaginary dirt off your shirt sleeves and huff. "I suppose it's pretty good." You mumble. It almost feels like a lie to just describe it as "pretty good" but Asra doesn't need you to stroke his ego right now. You do that enough falling to pieces beneath him every night.

Asra is well aware of your attempt to keep him humble and laughs lightly. "And to answer your other question," he says, turning back to his ingredient list, "messing with ones body like this can be dangerous. You have to be very precise."

You nod as he explains, it makes sense.

Potions are always brewed in pots over a magic fire so you put yourself to work, removing a medium sized iron pot from a hook on the wall and carrying it to a fire stand. Asra is busy himself, opening various drawers and adding seemingly random ingredients to a basket he has looped over his arm. Iris petals, newt eyeball, and some shimmering gold flakes. You smile watching him, your gorgeous magician; smart and able.

In no time at all Asra has a bubbling pot of sweet smelling liquid stirring before him. You stand beside him, observing curiously.

"Why are you wearing gloves?" You ask, taking note of the large leather gloves that clad all the way up your lover's forearm.

Asra continues to stir and looks over at you, happy to hear your eagerness to learn. "I can't risk even a drop of this touching my skin. It's so strong, and will immediately absorb into anyone's skin, leaving them..." He shakes his head and trails off, amused. "That's why it has to brew so long, to burn off some of the potency."

Your mouth opens in amazement, taken aback by the idea. This is the real deal you decide, stepping back a couple inches in precaution. After watching the potion bubble for a couple more minutes you stretch and grab the watering can sitting by the floor of the door.

"I'm going to water the plants," you inform Asra, waving your hand briefly until the can is full of cool, crisp water. Gods knows there are at least three dozen inside and outside of the shop.

Asra is humming in confirmation that he heard you as you open the shop door to the plants hanging outside. You don't get very far before you're blindsided by a streak of purple darting through your legs.

Escape!

"Faust?!" You yelp, dancing around the squirming snake as she winds her way under and into the open shop. A loud, booming bark makes you jump again. This time a large hound dog is rounding the tight corner from the side street and barreling full speed towards you.

All hell breaks loose. The water can is up in the air, crashing wildly into the side of the building. You are thrown back onto the dusty floor and a mass of fur and teeth race past you, paying no mind to your yelling.

Help!

Faust is racing around the floor, narrowly avoiding the jaws of the angry dog she seemed to have aggravated. There's a large crash from inside and you cringe, hearing bottles break and wood crunch. You look back, scared at what you might find.

The shop is a disaster, papers strewn, vials broken, and potion pot toppled. Asra is groaning on the floor, obviously doing no better than the rest. You glance at him worriedly, taking quick notice of the potion he had been making spilled everywhere, even on him.

You snap your fingers and the dog's growl, who was cornering Faust by the bookshelf, turns into a whimper as you lift him up with your magic. "I'm sorry pooch," you sigh, "but we can't have you eating our friend." With a wave of your wrist the hound is out the door and down the street in an instant. The hinges creak and bell rings as the door is once again closed to outside.

Thank you!

Faust wriggles happily, red eyes glowing in relief. You guess she got up to some trouble with the local fauna. She slithers up the stairs quickly, leaving you to look around at the ruined shop.

"Ah, fuck," Asra's words cut through your thoughts like a knife. He's laying flat on the floor, chest heaving as though he just ran a marathon. Sweat glistens on his tan skin, covering him from head to toe.

You step over the broken bottles and kneel at his side. "My love?" You ask, unsure of what to do. It was obvious what had happened, it didn't take an expert. The potion that was supposed to be for your customer was now soaked into Asra's glowing skin.

Asra opens his eyes and you swallow hard. You know that look, and it nearly makes you start trembling where you sit. Lust is prevalent, clouding Asra's eyes until they're a dark amethyst color.

"You-" you start to speak but are cut off by Asra sitting up abruptly. His face is close to yours and his breath washes over your lips, hot and wanton. He looks positively desperate, just the sight of you sitting before him doing wonders.

"Please," Asra's voice comes out low and husky, he watches your chest rise and fall quickly as a result. "Can I please have you, right now."

You could almost call him asking like that soft and innocent, if it wasn't for the raw, hungry look he was giving you. His eyes were traveling everywhere across your body, leaving an invisible line that you could almost feel burning into your skin. Your lips parted and you let out a soft gasp, the power that kind of look had over you was astonishing. You shifted your legs under you subtly, feeling the result of the hot atmosphere low in your stomach.

"Tsk, tsk," you had to tease for a moment. "Closing the shop at midday for some fucking?" You reach up and cup Asra's cheek, feigning uncertainty. His skin on your fingertips burns white hot and you have to hide your amazement.

Asra's eyes narrow, he knew you too well. With a quick flick of his wrist you hear the deadbolt on the door slide into place. It's only a second later and both of his hands have found a place on either side of your hips.

"Why do you torment me?" he asks, pulling you close so your legs straddle him. "Can't you see I'm getting enough of that from this damn mistake of a potion?" His words are almost shaky, as though he can barely speak anymore. He presses his hips up to meet yours, and a soft sigh escapes his lips as he finally gets a little friction.

You dig your nails into his shoulders and gasp, the feeling of Asra so obviously in need is enough to make anyone go wild.

You can't resist grinding down lightly and Asra's eyes practically roll back at the sensation. "How can I say no to such a pretty face," you whisper, completely in love with his reaction.

That was enough for Asra and without added words he gathers you up in his strong arms and lifts you both. Your head falls back pleasurably when his lips find your neck. It only takes a few quick steps on his part to bring the two of you into the plush back room.

The purple cushions lining the cozy futon sink in gently as your back hits the mattress. The room has a slight pleasing haze as sandalwood incense burns at the table. The smell washes over your senses and a new wave of sensuality comes over the room.

Asra's hands hold you firmly as his lips continue to press lovingly into your skin. He hovers over you, one leg pressed between your legs, causing your hips to involuntarily move along his thigh.

"I need you out of these clothes," Asra groans, lips being stopped at your chest where your shirt has suddenly become a hindrance. He's already tugging at the hem, untucking the loose fabric from your waistband. You raise yourself to your elbows and help him pull the shirt over your head. At once it is thrown over Asra's shoulder and his eyes are set on your bare skin, drinking in the sight of his lover.

You smile at his admiration and lay back again, stretching your arms above your head and arching your back. You feel his hands on your stomach, traveling up to rest on your breasts. Your skin prickles with desire, flesh lighting on fire from his ministrations.

"How did I get so lucky," he breathes out, looking down at you with a look filled with love and passion. He rests the tips of his fingers on your nipples and swirls them lightly, leaving you to twist in torturous pleasure beneath his touch. "Everything about you is beautiful." Asra continues to flatter, lowering his head so his curls tickle your stomach. He licks a long line from the dip of your hip up to the valley between your breasts.

After a few moments of tasting your supple skin he moves his hands to the top of your skirt and tugs. You lift your hips in compliance and the fabric slides down your legs easily. Asra licks his lips as your body is finally fully presented to him.

"I could feast on you," he announces, voice lowered with need. "And I wouldn't go hungry in a lifetime." These words he whispers into your inner thigh, they tickle your skin softly.

You watch with bated breath as the man before you adores his lover. It's hard to keep your moans controlled as you feel his sinfully good tongue lick you in a way that can only be described as ecstasy.

Asra shifts into a more comfortable position, lying on his stomach and he brings your legs to lay comfortably over his shoulders. You shudder as you feel his hot breath flutter over your dripping slit. He doesn't waste anymore time and lowers his face to enjoy you.

Your thighs squeeze his head lightly as your body arches in response. Asra is devouring you as though you were a feast and it was the only meal he is to have in a lifetime. He grips your legs tightly to keep you from moving and covers your slit with his mouth, sucking for a moment on the tight nub at the top. He groans happily into your skin before moving down to lick your hole.

"Oh please, yes," you run your trembling hand through his hair and raise your hips up to meet his greedy mouth. He laps short, quick strokes first, stimulating you into madness.

After a moment he slows his tongue down to swirl languidly, looking up at you. You make eye contact and groan at the erotic scene of him eating you out. "That mouth of yours is too skilled for its own good," you whisper, fingers digging into his scalp, trying desperately to savor every swipe of his tongue.

Asra smiles against your folds. "I live to make you feel good, my dear." He says, pausing a moment. "You intoxicate me. Your smell, your taste. I couldn't get enough even if I had all the time in the world." He presses his lips on each one of your thighs with hot, open mouth kisses.

You blush at his words, feeling amazing under his praise. "Come here," you command softly, pulling on Asra's hair lightly to guide him back up your body. He kisses every inch of skin he passes before finally reaching your lips.

"Mm," he hums, taking your face in his hands. "But these lips, are like the finest honey in Vesuvia." He lifts your head so your mouths meet. It's a hot and feverish kiss, full of staggering amounts of love.

You press your body into his and relish in the feeling of kissing Asra. Your mouths are opened to one another and your tongues meet in fiery unison. While you enjoy the kiss you allow your hands to roam. Your fingers find his shirt buttons and you start to undo them as best you can, only a little distracted. It takes just a minute and you sigh happily into his mouth when you finally remove the annoying clothing.

You part a moment to admire the divinity of his body; prostrated before you. He was calling himself the lucky one, but you could probably make a pretty good argument for it being the other way around. He looked absolutely glorious in the hazy glow of the room.

As you reach for the waistband of his pants and rest your fingers playfully on the skin above it Asra breaks out in goosebumps at the fluttering feel of your touch.

"Ah," he breaths out, raising himself to his knees and closing his eyes. Clearly, he's enjoying the attention finally being on him.

"You are the one with the potion affecting them." You say, drawing a line from one hip to another. "It'd almost be criminal to ignore you for any longer." Your eyes fall to the bulge straining under Asra's pants, just begging to be free. A smile plays across your lips as his breaths quickens significantly.

"I.. wouldn't complain." He finally manages to say in a strained tone.

You smile, maybe a little too satisfied, and hook your fingers under the band. "I know." You chuckle, pulling. The trousers catch a moment on Asra's hardened length before slipping down to his knees. You take time to admire the sight before you, licking your lips. Asra is panting slightly, looking down at you lustfully as your eyes graze over him.

He grabs your head on either side and looks into your eyes. "Please," is all he can croak out.

You swallow thickly and you feel yourself dampen even more at his begging words. “I’d like nothing more" you say; need dripping heavily from your words. You lean forward and kiss the tip of his leaking slit lightly. Asra's body shivers with pleasure when your soft lips meet his aching shaft.

You take a breath before closing your mouth around his tip. Your cheeks hollow and you suck in deeply, enjoying the small sounds of pleasure emitting from Asra's lips. He groans even deeper as you finally swallow down his whole length, tip sliding down the back of your throat.

"Ah fuck, baby," he stutters through gritted teeth, fingers threading through your hair. He thrusts into your mouth without hesitation, reveling in the way you feel around him. The pace is fast and vicious, leaving no time for extra room for breathing.

You choke back your gasps and feel the involuntary tears prick at the corners or your eyes. Your hands fall to your sides as you let Asra use your mouth how he pleased. Licentious noises ring around the room as he sinks his member into your mouth relentlessly, moaning at each stroke and the salacious feelings that come over him.

His grip tightens in your hair as he pounds into your face. You open your mouth as widely as you can and take him in, ignoring the slight pain of labored breathing. The feeling of being used so mercilessly is intoxicating, and you close your eyes, enjoying the pleasure that overtakes you.

With a loud pop he pulls out of your drooling mouth, leaving you to be the one groaning in disappointment.

"I'm sorry love," he huffs dazedly, need heavy on his features. "But if I don't stop this now I'm cumming in your mouth."

"That doesn't sound so bad," you complain, sticking your tongue out so Asra can view how much you want it. His eyes darken considerably and he looks ready to break.

He takes a breath in sharply, steadying himself before holding your face gently in his hand. "As much as I want you fuck your face, that pussy of yours I know is dripping for me and I have to comply." He chuckles, running his thumb along your lip.

You whimper at his words, practically climaxing at the suggestion. You meet his eyes in a needy manner and nod. "Oh, Asra," you start, already seeing excitement flit across his face at the mention of his name. "I want you more than I can even describe to you."

To this Asra inhales sharply, thumb still hooked in your mouth. "Tell me how you want me," he says, barely able to contain his own desire.

"I want you to fuck me from behind," you begin, knowing exactly how to please his ears. "I'm going to cry and moan, and beg you for relief but you will know better." His eyes widen in ecstasy but you continue anyway. "I want you to give everything you can to me, without holding back."

Asra seems to snap right in front of you. His features immediately seem to plead for consolation. "You'll get what you ask for." He growls, fingers tightening in your mouth. You lick his thumb seductively and the action throws him over the edge.

Asra's hands fly to your waist and hold you firmly, you're flipped over; ass to the heavens greeting him. He swallows at the sight and digs both palms into the flesh, enjoying the feeling immensely. "So needy and ready for me," he groans, finger finding your entrance and slipping in easily. You gulp at the warmth of having fingers enter you. Asra is unrelenting and curls them cruelly against your walls.

"Just fuck me already!" You cry, unable to hide your desires anymore. You hear Asra laugh behind you, yet despite this you know he is dying to sink himself into you.

"Alright, alright." He concedes, taking your hips in his hands. "If you insist."

You feel his tip slide against your slit and shudder, craving the feeling of him inside you. It doesn't take more than a moment before you feel him start to enter you. You lay your head down, turning your face so you can watch Asra take you from behind.

His lips are parted in a silent moan as he relishes in the feeling of your walls around him. You sigh softly as he fully sheaths himself in you, a small tremor passing over your body from the pleasure. One moment, two moments pass as you both bask in the feeling of being connected.

"Give me your hands," he commands, slowly sliding in and out of you, giving no care to his agonizingly slow pace. Soft gasps are falling from your lips as you try to register his request.

Carefully, you cross your arms behind your back. It's no use to keep the blush at bay as you take in the dirty scene. Your face is pressed to the pillows, unable to move much as Asra takes your wrists and pins them to your back. Your ass is raised in the air to meet his rhythmic thrusting.

Asra grips one of your thighs with a free hand and quickens the pace a little. Your eyes shut tightly as your body responds. You can feel his tip hit deep inside of you with each snap of his hips. It's unrelenting and you have to catch yourself from begging for more.

You feel the fingers around your wrist tighten a bit as Asra's breathing speeds up behind you. You know that he's set on giving you as much painfully slow torture as he can manage himself, but you also know that potion is working against him. There's nothing he wants more than to let go and pound you into the mattress.

"Baby," you choke out, words bouncing along with your bodies. "I know you want to fuck me so good right now." Your voice is deep with seduction. "Please just fill me up like I know you want to." You finish your plea, watching his face with satisfaction. His eyes are darkened with desire. He takes just a few more strokes before slowly to a stop inside you.

"You asked for it," he warns. He only takes a moment to let go of your wrists and flips your body so you're facing him. He cages you in on either side and licks his lips as he stares into your eyes. His hungry mouth meets yours in a kiss full of fire. You can melt into it for only a second before you feel him grab your hips and pull you flush against him; Your cries drowned by his lips as he sets an erratic pace, skin meeting with loud slaps.

"Fucking hell," he groans, still kissing you between words. "You feel like heaven on earth. You're so hot, and I can feel your insides squeezing me." He explains, hot breath falling over your face. Your cheeks burn at his descriptions.

You loop your arms around his neck and press your chest into his. Your skin meets, shining with sweat and burning from love. Asra presses back, savoring the feeling of your nipples brushing against his.

You start to feel that familiar blossom of unreleased pleasure pool in your lower stomach. Asra's shaft is hitting you just right, sending jolts of satisfaction right to your core.

"Oh-" you stop and whine pleasantly when he shifts angles. "Fuck. Please yes, don't stop!" Your arms drop and nails dip into his biceps and you grit your teeth from the hot delight searing through your body.

"I couldn't even If i wanted to," Asra answers, words strained as his grasp on himself starts to crumble. His breath is leaving his lips in short pants now and you can almost see the resolve to hold on slip away before your eyes.

He falls into you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and thrusts into you with all of the strength he can muster. You bury your face in his neck and take hold of his hair. You can feel Asra's body shuddering to not let go.

You bring your lips to his ear and bite his lobe. "Won't you come for me sweetheart? Please empty yourself in me." You whisper.

Asra takes in a sharp breath and you hear him choke at your words. They were enough to push him over the edge and he rams into you with a low, strangled cry.

Your head falls back and your mouth opens in a silent scream as Asra lets himself go in you. Your legs shake violently of their own accord as you feel your orgasm wash over you, leaving your body in euphoric fire.

Asra's lips immediately find yours as you ride out your orgasms together. You kiss him passionately, all of your senses in overdrive. His kisses are soft, and sweet, a clear declaration of his love. Happiness rushes in like a flood as you enjoy the afterglow. After a minute Asra removes himself from you and joins you in laying down, sides still heaving from the activities.

"My dear, how I love you." He says with a smile, running his fingers in slow, soft circles on your stomach.

You turn on your side and look into his eyes. He looked content, and his cheeks were dimpled from his growing grin.

"I love you too," you return, hand falling into his. His skin was still warm. The two of you lay there for a while, out of breath and simply enjoying the presence of one another.

Eventually, Asra sits up and looks down at you with humor in his eyes. "Well, I think I can tell our buyer that we did an extensive review of his product and it does, in fact, work."

Your face breaks into a smile and you laugh at Asra's words. "Oh goodie, I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear all about it."

#the arcana game #asra alnazar #the arcana #asra lemon #asra smut #asra x reader #asra x female reader #writing #fanfic #arcana smut #arcana #arcana fanfic #asra fanfic

[jenomark]

➔Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Smut ➔Warnings: Oral (F+M) + Penetration (F) + Cursing ➔Word count: 3,659

➔Summary: Two realtors who play together, stay together. Whenever you and Jaehyun work together, you make a little bit of a mess in the homes you're trying to sell for your clients. After all, no one ever said you couldn't have a little fun on the job.

“Your boyfriend is so charming.”

You were showing a married couple around a brand new house, built in a neighborhood they most likely could not afford. While the husband was checking out how the door handles jiggled on every door in the place, his wife leaned in close to your ear, her voice deeper than the fake customer service voice she had in the beginning of the tour.

You could hear the accusatory tone, her words felt through every layer of your reserve, “How did you get a man like that?”

If she could have circled around you, like a huntress ready to take her prey out, she would have taken the chance. You held your ground, so used to the way women acted around Jaehyun. But there was a certain amount of fun to be had when you were bored and waiting, your day's work blemished by couples who believed they were hot shit.

“Just between me and you,” you purred, leaning in closer to her and stroking her arm with your finger. “He’s not my boyfriend. We just like to fuck each other at work."

You never blamed any of the women for looking at Jaehyun like he was a prized hog in a show. He was handsome on the outside, his face so valentine sweet, his smile disarming even the most hardened of ladies. He wore a tailored suit nicely, too, which made the effect that much cavity-inducing. On the inside, though, he was a filthy, filthy man, and he would never go for someone like the wife, as much as she wanted him to.

No, Jaehyun wasn’t your boyfriend. Jaehyun wasn’t even your partner. He came to the house dressed up in the part of a wholesome realtor, his eyes following the wife across the room, forcing eye contact that would make her feel warm underneath her collared blouse. He did it because it was fun for him. He did it because he could.

It was a game. Jaehyun eye-fucked the wife to tease you. He liked when you wore jealousy like a proud bib. He waited for you to take possession of him, which you always did in the subtlest of ways. Watching the wife back away from you after claiming that you and Jaehyun fucked- a tale met with disbelief- was a way to piss all over your territory.

That's mine.

Of course, you could have pushed Jaehyun harder. In doing so, the husband of the pair was a viable conquest. He looked at you with his dumb look when you ran your hand up your stockinged thigh, his jaw slack as you hiked up your skirt inappropriately and unprofessionally high.

However, it wasn’t very fun for you. You could tell the husband was too in love with his wife to ever flirt with you. You gave up quickly, your annoyance waving like a red flag whenever the wife breathed in your direction.

“Are you almost done, sweetie?” you called out to Jaehyun.

“Yes, sweetheart.” Jaehyun said, sticking his head out of a doorway.

You shot a look at the wife, her full attention on Jaehyun as he walked towards you both. She might as well have started taking off her clothes where she stood. She was fanning herself with her hand and wiping sweat from between her cleavage, the telling signs of someone who really wanted to know Jaehyun's cock felt like.

“Your husband is insisting on checking every nook and cranny of this place.” Jaehyun said, a brilliant smile stretched across his face. “I keep telling him there is no need. You won't find a place like this in the city.”

“I’m sorry for his behavior.” the wife said. “He does this all of the time. Nothing is ever good enough for him.”

“I can’t blame him.” Jaehyun said, his eyes roaming down the legs of the wife. “We men love being thorough.”

You slapped a hand against Jaehyun’s chest and tugged on his tie, hoping it would tighten against his throat. “We should get going soon, don’t you think, Jaehyun?”

“Oh, I think we can spare a few minutes, baby.”

The wife was completely ignoring the fact that you were in the room. She took a step towards Jaehyun, batting her eyelashes and pushing out her sweaty breasts. Jaehyun ate up the attention, his eyes practically fucking her right in front of you.

“You are absolutely shameless.” you said, walking away.

You walked through the fully furnished and staged home, finding the husband in the downstairs bathroom (one of three in the house). He wasn’t ugly, but he wasn’t really your type. Still, he gave you the attention that made it easy for you to ignore all of that. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

“Like what you see?” you asked, moving one leg out in front of you so that your skirt rode up. “With the house, I mean.”

“Yeah.” he said. “Might be out of our price range. I'll have to check.”

You walked further into the bathroom, your heels click-clacking on the tile. It took only a few seconds for Jaehyun to find you, like it was a mating call, appearing in the bathroom doorway looking relaxed and ready to fuck. You knew the wife was soon to follow, a look of disappointment on her face that Jaehyun didn’t stick around to flirt with her.

You often wondered what women were thinking when caught with alone time involving Jaehyun. Were they imagining him bending them over the kitchen sink and fucking them? Did they think they were special, that he would sneak away from his dull job for an illicit affair with them? You could be sure that they were mentally undressing him, that they were not at all in tune to the fact that Jaehyun, in the end, only had eyes for you.

“If my girl here hasn’t sold you on the house, we would be delighted to show you to others on another date and time.” Jaehyun suggested.

Jaehyun’s words were final. He wanted them to leave immediately, to take their shit and go. You could hear the sour puss in his voice, the slight quiver in sound. He threw his arm around the wife and brought her closer to him. He let a smile consume him, one that made you grit your teeth. The four of you walked out of the bathroom quarters together, back to the open plan living room to discuss things further.

“You smell wonderful.” Jaehyun murmured to the wife of the pair. He let her go. “Anyway, the price isn't negotiable, but we’ll see what we can do if it’s what you really want. You may have to extend your budget further. If not, there are always others, like I said.”

The wife and husband agreed that the house would never be in their budget before leaving. The husband checked out your tits, and the wife cast one last longing look at Jaehyun over her shoulder, her pink tongue sensually gliding along her lower lip. With a serene smile, Jaehyun shut the door behind them, shutting the world out from you and him.

“You could have charmed the panties off of her.” you said, crossing your arms against your chest.” Pretty sure she would have blown you in front of the fridge if you had stood in the kitchen any longer.”

“Is that why you walked away?” Jaehyun said. “Scared of the competition?”

“Please.” you said. “I just really wanted to get fingerbanged by the husband over the toilet.”

“I can make that a reality.” Jaehyun smirked.

You walked into the kitchen and sat on a stool, smiling to yourself when Jaehyun followed you like a dog. “It’s not fair what you do to them.”

Jaehyun held on to either side of the stool and kept his face inches from yours. “You’re just angry because I win every time.”

“The husband always loves his wife too much.”

“And the wife is always ready to get fucked raw.” Jaehyun said. "By yours truly, of course."

“Maybe I should just start fucking the wife.” you said, peeling Jaehyun’s fingers from the stool.

“I would very much like that.”

“I know you would.” you said, pushing him away.

Jaehyun was pushed back feet from you. He yanked at his tie until it was loosely hanging around his neck. He ran a hand through his sandy brown hair, the ends sticking straight up in some places. You watched him, knowing it was what he wanted. You could see his chest hair peeking out from between the now unbuttoned portion of his dress shirt. The heat began to cover your body like a warm blanket of sin, as you thought about tangling your tongue up in those hairs.

“I can feel you on my skin, even though you haven’t touched me yet.” he whispered.

Jaehyun rolled his neck around, cracking it in some places. When his eyes met yours, the shade of brown appeared somewhat darker. You could feel that look rolling all the way down your stomach until it settled in its depths, curling up in itself. Your nerves felt shot, your confidence gone.

“Doesn’t it just feel so good to give in to me?” Jaehyun asked, his voice a little rough. “Don’t you want to play with me in this big, bad house?”

He came to you, only stopping by the length of your knees. He tucked his fingers underneath your chin and brought your eyesight up to his. He caressed your cheek with the back of his hand. He let his palm run smoothly down your throat, giving it a little squeeze. Your body was unmoving underneath his touch. Sometimes, you would absolutely vibrate with pleasure when Jaehyun touched you. Other times, you would become still like a steel fortress in the wind, wanting him to work a little for your affection, to open up your doors to him like an open house.

The house was empty, but so full at the same time. Jaehyun got down on his knees in a moment of submission, his head down like he was praying. He hugged you, his arms resting on your thighs, his whole being in your lap. It lasted less than a minute until he was back on his feet, a rare sweetness in his eyes as the rest of his body became unfamiliar and rigid.

“Stand up.” he said, his voice cold, the sound of it rattling through the bones of the house. Though there was a faint grin on his lips and a playful eyebrow raised, Jaehyun wasn’t allowing himself to be played with anymore.

You were not quick enough. He took you by the sides of your shoulders and pulled you from the stool. Your knees buckled but Jaehyun caught you in time, the move making your nipples harden. He could see the reaction through your work shirt, your two little buds staring him in the face. All you wanted was for him to touch you, but he wouldn't.

It was fun playing the game with him, since you two were so alike. There were times when you dominated Jaehyun, making him eat you out and cum before the new couples would arrive at the house. If he failed, he would be punished and have to do something embarrassing for him. If he passed, you would both be in a great mood and would usually get a house sold. Then, like now, there were times when Jaehyun took control, which would usually be followed by a lack of sales disappointment. You could always feel those times coming, the excitement unable to be contained.

Jaehyun took your hand and whisked you off through parts of the house where he knew prying eyes wouldn’t find you. He ran up the stairs eagerly, tugging you along behind him, not bothering to see if you were tripping up.

“The master suite.” Jaehyun said, stopping in front of a door. “Wait here.”

He left you standing in front of the closed door for over five minutes. You kept checking the time on your phone, your eyes roaming up and down every detail of the white, wooden door. If he was trying to tantalize you, it was working. You were very impatient, trying your best not to bust through the door and hop right on his dick.

“Come in.” Jaehyun said.

You held onto the handle, the image of the husband jiggling that very handle less than an hour ago fresh on your mind.

“I won’t tell you twice.” Jaehyun said.

You opened the door and saw Jaehyun sitting on the edge of a model bed. He had stripped it of the crisp sheets and fluffy pillows that were adorning it. He was shirtless and his dress pants were unbuttoned, his brown leather belt hanging by his sides.You drank him in like that, the impatience waning away.

“Come closer.” he said.

“So bossy.” you smiled.

You walked closer. Since you knew that you affected him as much as he affected you, every step felt delicious. You stood in front of him, ready to rip your business skirt off if he just said the magic words.

“Good girl.” he said, standing up.

He was looming over you, the heat from his body making you hot. You wanted to press your hands to his sweaty chest and push him down onto the bed. You wanted to bite his shoulder so hard that it made him cry out. You wanted to sit on that strong jaw, rocking your body over him until he was suffocating.

“Look me in the eyes,” he said. “Don’t look at my body, like I’m a piece of meat.”

“A little bit of disobedience never hurt anyone.” you said, meeting his eyes.

It was difficult to keep your eyes trained on his when you could hear him unzipping his pants. Each click of the teeth made your clit throb, like his tongue was already gliding over it. You could hear his pants falling down to his ankles, and from the corner of your eye, could see him shift slightly to step out of them until he was naked. With your imagination, you thought of him stroking his cock, pumping his fist up and down his shaft.

“Are you with me?” Jaehyun breathed. “Be with me right now.”

You nodded as the sounds of him masturbating heightened. Jaehyun moaned and let his eyes disconnect from yours. Though he was looking down at his cock, you were looking at the top of his pretty head. There were thousands of hairs you could tug and pull to get him to comply, to have him give you his cock. You could feel the tip of him and his fist rubbing against you as he made it upwards, each stroke nearly punching you, because he was so close.

You looked down, the top of your head skimming his. He was going at it slowly, moving his body like he was fucking his own fist. It was so sexy that you could feel all the nerves in your body tingling. Though his pleasure didn't happen to you, you could feel every grain of it. You breathed heavily with him, your body going through the build up with Jaehyun.

Your eyes met him again. Yours were, no doubt, asking him why he was being so cruel. It took a minute for him to stop, for Jaehyun to set his mouth in a grim line, and to cock his head and look lost in thought.

“This isn’t about you.” he said. “This isn’t about your pleasure. On your knees and put my cock in your mouth. Don’t stop sucking until I say.”

As you got slowly to your knees, your lips slid down his stomach, your kisses rushed before he could decline them. You grabbed hold of his cock, the tip of him resting on your bottom lip before you looked up at him. He held your side of the neck before moving to the back of your head and forcing his cock down your throat until your eyes watered.

Fucking in a place that didn’t belong to you was thrilling. The owners could come back any second and catch you in the act. There could be cameras installed, or nosy neighbors coming to check up on the people who owned the lone car that sat in the driveway.

“Is it good?” Jaehyun asked, his voice velvety smooth. "How do I taste?"

You sucked his cock without stopping, testing him with both lips, tongue, and fingers. You brought him back so far into your throat that you choked and took him out with a string of saliva. You swallowed that, too, so grateful to have him in any of your holes.

Jaehyun pulled his cock out and teased himself back inside of your mouth slowly. You let your jaw hang open and laid your tongue flat while he fucked your face. You gripped his thighs and let your fingernails dig into him before he came on your tongue, grabbing a handful of your hair at release.

When he ordered you to stand up, he was still leaking. He wasn’t stopping for anyone, not even when you made a show of wiping his cum off of your chin with your finger and slipping it into your mouth.

"It tastes yummy." you said.

“Clothes off,” Jaehyun said, ignoring you. “Kneel on the bed.”

He wasn’t losing his erection. He treated his cock like it was delicate, holding it in his hands and stroking it gently. You watched him as you stripped, taking a little too long with the stockings. Jaehyun ended up ripping them from your legs and tossing them aside. Without saying another word, he grabbed your ankles and pulled you down to the edge of the bed, nearly making you faceplant on the mattress.

“Fuck.” you whispered, your body jerking in surprise as Jaehyun started eating you out from behind.

He wasn’t shy about it either. He was licking you, moving his head side to side and up and down, just to get every bit of you. His lips were so warm and you were so wet, that you had to sink your upper half onto the bed and place your forehead against your arm. Jaehyun squeezed your ass cheeks and pushed you forward, his tongue lapping up all of your wetness.

You didn’t want to break, to crumble. You wanted to be strong and not moan or give in completely. You didn’t want to let him know that he could bring you down with just a lick, but it was hard not to.

“Beg me.” Jaehyun said, coming up for air.

He smacked your ass and you turned around until you were on your back. It was rough and forceful, and it turned you on. Jaehyun kissed your ankle before moving his lips down your thigh.

“Beg me.” he repeated. “Fucking do it now.”

The hotness on your inner thigh as his mouth got higher was enough to make you call his name. “Please, Jaehyun.” you said. “Don’t stop.”

Jaehyun ate you out, slipping his fingers inside of you. He would occasionally stop and kiss his way up your body to leave hickeys on your neck, and catch glimpses of your face to see if you were enjoying it.

“Not about my pleasure, huh?” you asked, nearly laughing.

Jaehyun groaned. “Don’t ruin it.”

“Too late.” you said, moaning as he fingered you. “You smell like her.”

You kissed his neck and got the bite you wanted from his shoulder. You held him against you, making sure your scent was all over him. His mouth tasted like you, though. You kept kissing him and grabbing at his hands to make sure they didn’t stop fucking you. You were a tangle of bare limbs, holding him against you, and fighting for dominance.

Jaehyun lifted his fingers from your pussy and held himself up over you. He looked you in your eyes, his gaze falling to your lips before he kissed them. He moved his body and slipped his cock inside of you, knocking the air from your mouth.

Missionary position was not your favorite. It was too romantic, not as wild. You wanted him to break your back, to bend you into positions that made your legs wobble the next day. You wanted risk. You wanted it rough. But having Jaehyun’s weight on top of you in that way felt different. You let him move over you, holding your hips as he drilled himself inside of you.

It didn’t last long until you were wanting to flip him over, until you could be on top and ride him. Jaehyun smirked when he realized what you were doing and said, “I don’t think so.”

He leaned up until his sweaty body wasn’t clinging to yours anymore. He spread your thighs apart after pulling you closer to him. He let you get a good view of his cock disappearing inside of you.

“This pussy is mine.” he said, touching his fingers to your clit. “Say it’s mine.”

“It’s mine.” you said.

Jaehyun fucked you faster, his cock hitting your cervix a little rougher. You winced at the discomfort you quite liked, immediately wanting him to keep fucking you deeper.

“Say it.” he said, moaning with each thrust.

“Or what?” you challenged, breathlessly trying to hold yourself together.

Jaehyun gripped your wrists and brought them above your head. He got close to you again, his body smothering yours, and his cock fucking you in a way that was too good to stop.

“I’m yours.” you said. “It’s yours. All of it is yours.”

He smiled when he got what he wanted, the same charming smile that seemed to have most women on tenterhooks, wondering if they would give them something else of his. Jaehyun never would, though, because everything of his was also yours.

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