#and i payed 400 for this. 400 that's so much and it was supposed to be treatment not make everything worse i :((((((((( | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

michaellangdonswhore · 8 months

Text

warnings: again, smut. put me in a fucking hospital.

word count: 5.5k

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You were, by far, Jonathan Crane's least favorite student.

You knew it, and it was complete bullshit. You were always on time, always in every class, and always completed the work. You had always had such good grades in every class, but not with him.

While not giving you the worst grade imaginable, you were never able to get over an A-, which pissed you the fuck off. Obviously, to any other normal student studying psychology, they'd take the A-, but not you.

And again, nothing over an A-. There was the frequent B+, sometimes B, and when you really pissed him off he would go as low as a B-.

You've done everything you could to get him to like you. You would ask questions, clearly put extra effort into the homework, and even applied to laboratory studies that he ran. You hated not being liked.

However, at this point in the year, you had given up on trying. You still did everything you were supposed to do, because you wanted a good grade, but you hadn't bothered participating or showing any interest anymore. You had decided to focus more on your other classes. Due to this, you had been working late into the night, causing you to be exhausted for your 8 AM lectures with Crane.

You were exhausted, trying to pay attention. Your head hurt so much for looking at a screen for so long last night.

Crane is flipping through a slideshow, and you find yourself dozing. It's not that this stuff bored you, you had just already learned it back when you took AP Psych your sophomore year of high school.

You snap back into reality when you hear your name being called.

Crane is singling you out with an annoyed expression on his face. You turn red because everyone, all 400 other people in the class, are staring at you.

"I'm sorry. Is this boring you?" He puts his hands on his hips.

"No-" You begin.

You're stammering. You normally don't have such a rough time with public speaking, but being downright exhausted and being singled out for nearly falling asleep in class is extremely embarrassing.

He pauses for a moment and stares you down.

You feel as if you were naked, as if you were completely exposed to him. You didn't like him looking at you like that, like he was taking into account every imperfection.

"As I was saying..."

Thank god.

He resumes to what he was talking about before and you're more alert, heart pumping full of humiliation. You're taking notes now, typing quickly and probably annoyingly loud (you can tell because he keeps shooting you small glares every time you hit the spacebar).

Finally, the hour is up and he reminds everyone about the homework due that Friday. You collect your stuff and head out the door. You don't realize, but he watches you leave.

Everything you do irks him.

Maybe it was because your first paper challenged his psychological beliefs, or because your intelligence challenged him in general. But literally everything about you pisses him off.

Your loud typing, your questions that challenges his lectures, how you turn everything in on time, how you flawlessly converse with the other students. He is so desperately waiting for you to slip up.

As previously stated, you were putting less effort than before into his class. He picked up on this. You were turning your papers and chapter readings in the last minute, you weren't asking questions, and you were even falling asleep.

You had three days to complete a portion of the assignments given. You completely forgot about it.

Due to your tiredness and your weakening desire to try for the class, you had forgotten to write down the homework in a planner that you always checked daily.

Crane is a quick grader, and usually he always grades your homework first; more specifically, as soon as you turn it in.

You realized you didn't do the work as soon as you woke up that morning for your 8 AM class. You had never ever missed an assignment. Ever. And you had no time to do it and make it to his class on time. You were freaking the fuck out.

It's okay. Maybe he hasn't graded it yet.

But no. He was such a strict grader. He was harsh.

Whatever. You may as well hope for the best.

To distract yourself from your predicament, you talk to the boy who sits next to you in the class. It's just smalltalk about the workload and about an upcoming test.

You stop talking when Crane clears his throat. You shift back in your seat and open your laptop.

"It's a Friday. It's 8 AM," Crane begins. You think this is going to be the introduction of a psychological speech. "For all 399 of you that did your homework last night, go enjoy your Friday morning."

People being looking around and whispering, not sure if this is a trick, but you know it's not.

You're freaking out. Your heart is racing and you cannot believe that he would actually do this to you. Usually teachers will just give you a bad grade and call it that, but to single you out and have the entire class leave except for you is an all time low.

"I'm not messing with you," Crane continues. "Go. You know who you are."

He's looking at you dead in the eye and you stay put as people slowly get up to leave, looking around to make sure others are doing the same. You avoid his gaze, looking at your computer screen.

Soon enough, everyone is out of the large lecture room, some looking back to see the one person who didn't do their work.

Once the door is shut, and everyone is completely out of sight, Crane locks both of the doors and looks up at you.

"Are you deliberately trying to fail my class?" He questions. "I thought you wanted to be outstanding."

You can't find words to say. He scoffs and moves to his desk, shuffling through papers and bringing out a decently large stack to over to you. It feels like hours pass by as he walks up the steps to you and drops them onto your desk.

You look at them, confused.

"This is the homework that was due at midnight." He explains.

"It's never so much..." You stammer. You can feel his hatred burning into your skin.

"It's what's due next Wednesday, Friday, and the following week too. Let's see if you can get this done by.... hm," He checks his watch. "By the end of the period?"

"All of this?" Your eyes widen.

"When's your next class?" He asks.

"You're my only one today." You continue to avoid his eye contact.

"Then you can stay." He says. "Until you finish all the work."

"But-"

"I can't trust that you'll do it." Crane says, taking a step back from you. "You need to complete it. In front of me."

"Please, Professor," You try to defend yourself. "I've been-"

"I can assume what you've been doing, you've almost fallen asleep in my class." He scoffs.

You feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment over him getting the wrong impression. Does he really think that low of you?

You take a deep breath. You'll just have to deal with this.

"Do you have a pencil?"

He grabs a black pen from his desk and looks up to you, motioning to sit in the front row. Close enough. You swallow your pride and grab your things and the stack of paper, walking down to the seats in the front.

The class itself is an hour, but it took you almost five to complete the amount of homework he gave you. The readings were long, and the quality of work was demanding. You were eager to do well, to prove yourself.

You hate that he hated you.

His eyes were on you the entire time you did your work. The silence was loud, but you pushed through it. You got three weeks of homework done, and proudly put the stack back onto his desk.

"I'll see you Monday, Professor," you smile, then walk away.

After that, you tried harder; harder than you tried compared to every other class you took. You did this, not to get him to like you- but to get back at him with the fact that you knew your shit; you were a good student. You sat in the front, did side research, and spent nights studying for his endless quizzes. And he wanted to fail you to make you stop what you were doing, but you were getting all the answers right and you both knew that. He wouldn't want you taking anything to the next level.

With you in the front, it made it harder for him to not be distracted by you. Mid speech he would find himself locking eyes with you, disrupting his words and leaving him stammering for a brief moment. Ever since you've upped the eye contact, you've gained more control of the situation.

You arrived in class that Wednesday; the situation in which Crane forced you to stay and do two weeks worth of work in front of him occurred around three weeks ago. You're sitting in the front in between two empty seats; no one likes to sit in the front in Crane's class. It's usually only filled with around three to four people. Crane isn't in class yet, which is weird considering he's always there early, before anyone else even gets there. The class is almost about to begin and he's never been late.

Soon enough, it's one minute after the class is supposed to start and he's still not there. You start feeling antsy, wondering where he is.

Finally, he walks in; two minutes after class is supposed to start. So unlike him.

He places his briefcase on the desk and begins setting up his computer while everyone takes out something to take notes with.

"Now, you all know what I specialize in, I hope," He states, not breaking eye contact with his computer.

He specialized in phobias. Apart from dedicating his time to teaching you, he was a therapist mainly for fears.

"I'm sure we all know what exposure therapy is, correct?" He asks. Pretty much the whole class nods in unison. "Good. For those of you not on the same page, it's the type of therapy which someone is exposed to their fear or trauma."

He begins flipping through his slideshow, giving more and more information and lecturing about it, but you can't help but notice it's an almost bias review.

You're left with homework to write a review on some boring documentary on the history of exposure therapy and a pretty long excerpt of the textbook you all were reading.

So, you did your work and followed all of the instructions. You wrote a review on exposure therapy.

The next Monday, you get to class and you sit in the front row. There's a big stack of paper on Crane's desk, and you assuming that you're getting a pop-quiz, but no, that's not the case.

Crane's waiting for everyone with his shoulder rested on the large stack of papers. Once the time hits 8, he begins.

"I printed out all of your outlines," He begins. "I've made some comments and given some feedback. We'll spend the class working on them."

He starts calling out names and one by one, people receive their papers. You're sort of anxious- you left a pretty negative review on exposure therapy, something that he seemed so passionate about.

"Y/N Y/L/N." He says, saying your voice with more of an annoyed tone than the other students. You get up and grab your paper from his hands, tugging harder due to his firm grip. Clearing his throat, he continues calling out the following names. You go back to your seat, nervous to look at the paper. When you sit and look at it, your stomach dropped.

There's nothing on the front page. Then you look at the second.

See me after class.

There is literally nothing but a see me after class.

Oh my god.

What did I do?

Was he offended at all by what was written? Surely, that wasn't your intention... yes, you wanted to piss him off, but you had some respect for him. You didn't want to actually maybe- make him insecure about his work?

Class seemed to take hours to go by; you didn't even know what to do about your paper. He gave no other feedback other than to see him after class. How were you supposed to work with that?

You looked around at your classmates typing away. You're annoyed that he actually helped them.

See me after class.

At least give me feedback on my fucking paper.

Everyone then realized the time and began to pack up. Crane stood up from his desk and took his glasses off.

"Remember, papers are due Friday!" He manages to get out before people start heading out the door.

You put your things in your bag, trying to act out to your classmates as if you were leaving. You felt so embarrassed. You hated how he kept embarrassing you and how he had the power to do that. It was infuriating. You felt him staring at you as you packed your stuff up, moving slower, nervous that he would call you out.

You took your time, though, waiting till everyone was out of the room.

With everyone else there, you felt so confident. You were one of the smart ones and you at least had witnesses, but alone with him? You were completely inferior. He could quite literally ruin your life with a bad grade and could easily tarnish your image, being the head of Arkham and all that.

"I found your paper quite interesting," He says, emphasizing quite.

"I'm sorry-" you begin. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"Offend me?" He scoffs. "You think you offended me?"

"I just- I know this is what you do, right?" You stammer.

"I'm interested in your point of view." He says. "About the pain, how it's long term. I'm interested as to why you seem so against it."

You shrug.

"What's your biggest fear, Y/N?" He asks you. "What is it? Failure?"

"I'm not trying to fail."

"Oh, yes, you've proven that." He clicks his tongue. "Sitting in the front, turning things in quickly, wearing shorter skirts. Don't think I don't notice what you're doing."

"What?"

"You write intensely about the struggle that people with PTSD-"

"Wait," you interrupt him. "What did you say?"

"I'm trying to discuss with you what you've written."

"Professor, my clothing choices have nothing to do with me wanting to do well in this class," you say. Now you're offended.

Instead of apologizing, which is what you think any decent person would do, he looks you up and down and scoffs.

"You're wearing tights."

"What?"

"Surely, those must be uncomfortable. You're not wearing those to satisfy yourself," he says.

You grow red, and angry.

He keeps humiliating you.

"Who are you trying to impress?"

"Will you stop?" you groan in frustration. "Why don't you just let me get by like you let everyone else get by? I do everything you ask!"

"I want to know who you're trying to impress."

"I'm not trying to impress anyone," you hiss, finally looking up at his crystal eyes.

You know it's disrespectful, but you turn to walk away and to leave.

"No, no. We're not done."

You ignore him, walking towards the door, but he quickly beats you to it, shutting it and locking you in.

"I said we're not done." He said, completely composed. "Sit."

"I want to leave."

"Your biggest fear is failure, yes?" He questions. You don't nod or shake your head, but it is pretty much true; you hate failing. You need to succeed and be good at everything you do. "Sit. I can very much make that fear come true."

"I do everything," you repeat. "Everything. I do it on time, I'm here always, I'm prepared for everything."

"Can you just fucking-" He pushes you down onto the seat next to his desk. "Sit?"

You weren't expecting him to physically force you to sit down, but you could pick up on the pent up frustration he had with you.

"The off the cut sweater, no bra-" He points out.

You weren't wearing a bra. You were surprised he had picked up on the fact- you could've been wearing a strapless, but no. He was right.

"Are you even wearing underwear?" He whispers.

You're flushed.

What the fuck was going on?

You thought he hated you.

And yeah, you knew he was an attractive man, that's what made this whole thing pretty exciting, but you never thought you would be sat down with him leaning over you saying things like this.

"Let me see."

"Professor?"

He grabs you off the chair and pushes you onto his desk, spreading your legs for you. Everything was moving too quickly; this all felt like a fever dream.

He tugs at the middle of your tights, ripping them open to expose your- and he was right- bare pussy. He lets out a chuckle.

"You're not trying to impress anyone?" He questions, again, peering up at you.

You try moving your thigh to cover yourself, but he forcefully keeps them open.

"Who was that boy you used to sit next to... Tim, is it?"

To be honest, you really didn't know that kids name. He was just someone you sat next to out of habit since you had picked that seat the first day of classes. But you hadn't been sitting with him for weeks at that point.

"Is Tim who you're trying to impress?"

"No!" You argue, still trying to fight the grip of his hand off your thigh. "I told you... I'm not trying to impress anyone."

"Hm." He says, placing two fingers on exactly the right spot of your clit, slowly rubbing in circles. . "You're not even trying to impress me?"

You stay silent, for a brief moment.

"Not in this way..."

But it's past that point now. He's already touching you, rubbing faster, and your exposed pussy is laid out right in front of his face. You're embarrassed and self conscious. He's too close for comfort.

"Yeah?"

The fingers once on your clit are now entering you. You still can't comprehend the situation.

But for him, he was putting you in your place. It was enough of the looks in class, the semi sexual and revealing clothing, the obvious need for his approval and to show him she was as smart- maybe even smarter than him himself.

"Is that why you're letting me touch you like this?" He asks, using the two fingers to pump your pussy.

It's out of your control but you're getting wetter the longer and faster he fingers you. It's beginning to show, beginning to drip down his fingers and onto his wrists. He notices this, then stops and looks.

"Disgusting," He huffs before licking his fingers clean.

"That's disgusting," You repeat at him, glaring a little, but you can't help but want his finger- more of him back inside you. You feel empty, desperate for his hands back on you.

"I don't see you asking me to stop."

You're silent, again.

He smiles, kneeling back down and spreading your legs open again, this time with a more forceful grip. He doesn't use his fingers this time, devouring you with his hot mouth and basically digging in.

He was really good at this. To be fair, no one had ever actually eaten you out, but you had never felt anything like it. He moves his fingers towards you again and fucks you with them as he sucks and licks at your clit. He was freakishly good. You felt something drip down your thigh; you didn't know if you were sweating or if you were fucking leaking. By the sound of it, probably the second one.

He removes his fingers and dives deep into your pussy more, making obscure sounds as he does so. He stops and looks up at you.

"Take your shirt off. I want to see your tits," he demands.

You comply; he's already seen a lot.

"Fuck, they're perfect." He says, now standing over you, playing with them and poking and twisting at your hardened nipple. He's pushing his hardened clothed dick into your bare pussy, giving you some friction has he sucks on your neck and plays with your nipples.

He grabs your hips and flips you over, putting you on your stomach and leaning you over the desk.

He kneels back down, eating your pussy again; he can't get enough of it. He can't get enough of the small whines escaping your throat and the way you leak and how you shake when it feels good- or when the pleasure becomes too much.

He adds his fingers in again, this time three, and you let out a louder, but not too loud, moan than usual.

"Professor-"

"You can take it." He assures you. "You better take it. If you can't take this how can you take my cock?"

You just weren't used to it- you had been fucked, but not for so long. He keeps licking and devouring your clit while pumping in and out of you. You feel so full- on the brink. You feel hot, and god you feel good. You don't even realize it, but you're riding his mouth and his fingers.

"You know, I wasn't going to let you come," Crane begins between breaths, keeping his face close to your pussy so you could still feel him. "But now that I think about it... I want you cum drunk on my dick. I wanna make you cum over and over again until you're a fucking mess."

He goes back to sloppily and messily eating you out again. It was so dirty; the noise, what was leaking out of you. You then felt that familiar feeling and you couldn't stop it; no matter how wrong this felt or how humiliated and exposed you felt, you couldn't stop yourself from moaning like a mess and cumming all over his mouth.

You needed a second to recover, but he stood up and grinded his clothed dick against you. You weren't ready for the friction, wincing over the contact with you sensitive clit. He grabbed your neck and pulls your back to him, kissing you, continuing to grind.

He unbuttons his pants and undoes his boxers, his large thick cock springing out, begging to be touched. He pushes one of your legs up onto the desk to give him better access to you.

"You're fucking soaked," He says as he teases himself some more, collecting what's came out of you as some lubricant.

He keeps rubbing your clit and the outside with his dick, back and forth. It feels good, but it's not enough. He pushes harder with his dick on your clit, continuing to hump you.

"Professor, please," you look back at him, trying to guilt him into giving in and fucking you, but it's not that easy.

"Shut up, and let me take my time." He says. He continues this for a little, before getting a new idea. "I want you to cum on my cock without me fucking you."

"What?"

He pulls you towards him then on his lap on the chair next to his desk.

"Grind on it." He demands, holding you in place by your hips. "Get it soaked."

You hesitate, but he's impatient. He pushes you down and moves your hips for you until you begin to do it with him. You grind your pussy against his cock, stimulating your clit once more. It didn't feel as good as his mouth, and god it probably didn't feel as good as his dick would feel inside you, but it felt good. And you were so fucking horny, you were on the brink of cumming again.

"Yeah, yeah, you got it," he praised you, rocking your hips back and forth. He digs his nails into your hips, definitely leaving some cuts in your skin, but you didn't care. You were so close. He begins to bounce up, pretending to thrust into you, adding to your pleasure. "That's it, you- oh fuck, yes, cum on my fucking dick."

You're dripping onto him as you ride out your high, clenching around nothing. It seems to last for a while, wrapped up in all the pleasure combined with his dirty talk.

He angles his cock towards your entrance and pushes into you- he feels hot and he's sensitive due to teasing himself. But no- he doesn't want to cum yet. He wants to put you in your fucking place. And even if he does cum, he has no issue continuing and even fucking a baby into you. Then, you'd have to walk around with the shame.

He gently picks you up, but then harshly slams you up and down repeatedly onto his cock. You've had no time to readjust after cumming a second time, and you were extremely sensitive.

"Slower, professor, please," You cry, burying your face into his shoulder. "It hurts..."

"Shut the fuck up."

He grabs you by the neck and pounds up into you, rubbing your clit as well to add to the sensation.

Yes, it feels good, but it's so overwhelming you can't help but tear up. Crane notices this and it goes straight to his head.

"Are you fucking crying?" He scoffs. "Fucking crying for me?"

He picks you up, keeping you firmly attached to his dick, and throws you over the desk again. He's fucking you deeper and at an animalistic pace; like he fucking needs this.

"Keep crying for me. Keep fucking crying."

He harshly grips your tits, twisting your nipple in the process.

"Fucking perfect tits, perfect pussy, perfect everything. You fucking strive for perfection- but you're letting me fucking ruin you. Is this how far you'd go for a good grade?" He laughs, fingers deep in your clit.

You can only moan in response, but this doesn't satisfy him.

"Fucking answer me."

"Yes," you cry out.

"Yeah, you're just a fucking whore who'd sleep her way to the top if that's what it took." He says, tugging your hair back, your sweaty bodies pressed closer together.

His words are filthy, but you're fucking cumming again.

He's laughing, mocking you for doing so.

"You fucking like being treated like a bitch, don't you?" He says, fucking you through your third orgasm. You don't know how he's not tired. As you expect, he doesn't give you a fucking break. You're worn out at this point; almost numb.

"Professor, I don't know-"

"You don't know if you can keep going?" He questions. "Yeah, you can. I'll fucking make you keep going. What was that... your third orgasm? Let me see if I can double that."

"Professor..."

"I'll stop when you give me three more."

You feel like you're going to pass out; the pleasure had become too much, but you were so fucking sensitive that a fourth one had come quickly. Your pussy was so swollen and red, but he had not gotten off of you.

"You're fucking..." He brings you back to the chair and places you on top of him. "You're fucking leaking all over me, fucking hell. So wet... do you hear yourself?"

You could hear yourself. It was disgusting. It was filthy.

"Aren't you embarrassed?" He asks. He slows down his pace, and you know he's teasing you. "Embarrassed that you're whoring yourself out to me like this? To a professor that so clearly disliked you? This is what you do for my approval."

He slows his pace some more.

"Would you do this for any other professor, Y/N? Let them fuck your pussy till you have nothing left to give? Bounce on their cock the way you do for me?"

"No, professor," you shake your head, trying to bounce faster but he keeps your hips in place, restricting you. He had succeeded- made you cum drunk and fucked you stupid, but this wasn't enough. He needed more. "No, no, only you. I'd only do this for you."

You're squirming around on his dick. He's stopped moving at this point, just staying in you.

"Stop fucking moving around. Don't you want to impress me?"

"Have I not?" You begin to regain some of your strength with this somewhat of a break he was giving you. "Have I not impressed you, professor?"

You give him puppy eyes as you gain some control of the situation, his grip loosing and you bouncing on his cock at a pace you like.

"I want to impress you, professor," you say seductively. "I want to- fuck!"

You start chasing your high again, you didn't even realize that you'd ever be able to cum this many times.

"Fuck!" You repeat. Crane is letting you take control, enjoying the show of you riding his cock, using him for your pleasure. "Do you like this, professor? Do you like when I fucking bounce on your dick like this?"

You had never heard yourself like this, or ever expected to talk like this. You had never felt so confident.

"Have you imagined this professor?" You continue. He's obviously at a loss for words, not expecting this side of you. "Have you imagined fucking me? Have you imagined bending me over your desk and eating me out till I came all over your face? My tits? Putting me in my fucking place?"

His hands found your hips again and he's helping you ride his cock. He's loving the words coming from your mouth.

"God, I think you wanted this more than I did," you laugh. You're so close. You wanted him to talk, but his reactions to your words were enough for you. "Make me cum again, professor, please. I- fuck!"

He's pushing into you and bouncing you up and down quickly and you're riding out your fifth orgasm.

He pulls you off of him and lays you out on the desk again, licking up your sore pussy. He hums while doing this, telling you how you taste so good. You're so- so sensitive, though, and you can't help but cumming on his tongue again not even seconds later, letting out a string of incoherent words.

That's six.

You look at him, but he's positioning himself in you.

"You said six-"

"I say a lot of things. I want you to cum on my cock again." He says, kissing your neck. "Last time. I promise."

He pumps into you, at a softer, but still quick pace. You feel so incredibly numb, but he still manages to work you up quickly while fondling your breasts and pressing hot kisses into your neck.

"Ah- fuck." He pants, fucking himself into you. "Fuck... gonna cum in you. Want you to fucking carry me around for the rest of the fucking day."

You don't object- your hearing was probably a little impaired at this point.

"Yeah, you want that, don't you. It's like a fucking award to you."

He's holding you closer now. You both are so sweaty and sticky.

You're about to cum again, but he grabs your throat tightly.

"Fucking wait for me. Don't be impatient."

As hard as it is, you listen to him. He speeds up, becoming sloppy before he cries, "Fuck, cum! Cum all over my fucking- ahhh, yes, fuck."

He shoots hot loads into you as you clench around him, milking more out of him. He doesn't stop, continuing to fuck you until every last bit of his seed has marked you. Even after he's done, he gets a few more strokes in before he pulls out, showing the combination of you and him leaking out of your pussy. He pushes you onto the floor and presents his dick in front of him.

"Clean it."

You obey, wrapping your mouth on his cock and licking away the filth that the two of you made. He groans and pulls you off of him.

"You'll get me hard again." He says.

He puts all his clothes back on and hands you your sweater. Your nipples are hard, poking through them now.

"I look forward to your next draft of your review." Crane says calmly, as if what just happened didn't happen.

"You- um..." you stammer, brushing your fingers through your hair. "You didn't give me any notes."

"I didn't?" He questioned. You shook your head. "Well, stay again after class next session. I'll go over it, personally, with you."

"Oh." You blush. "This wasn't a one time thing?"

"Y/N..." Crane looks at the floor. "I'm your professor."

You felt awkward. Of course it was a one time thing; how could it not be?

But then he looks back up at you.

"You don't want to fail my class, do you?"

#jonathan crane #dc scarecrow #scarecrow #the scarecrow #batman imagine #the batman #batman #the dark knight #cillian x reader #cillian murphy #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x y/n #cillain murphy #jonathan crane smut

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s-4pphics · 25 days

Text

uhh yeah brainrot took over and i scribbled like i do not care…… MILF!ELLIE ORGASM ……….

this shit like 400 words who cares it’s literally ellie getting her shit beat in by her daughters babysitter….

“You like this, huh? Sneakin’ around like a whore?”

Ellie flinches when your aggression hits her cheek in gusts. She never would’ve expected that a nasty phone call with her psycho ex-fiancé would’ve ended with two — three, fuck three — of her babysitter’s fingers shoved inside her pussy. The night’s been such a blur: screaming contests, threats of lawsuits, hours of crying from a baby that she loves and would happily die for… and now she’s getting wrung out by someone half her age against the front door that she pays for.

The springtime is prurient…

“I-I love it.”

You grin like a doll. A cursed one with dried blood between every crochet. The white of your teeth get the hairs on her neck reaching for the ceiling. She does love it; loves how you treat her like nothing. Completely stripped of her only identity. A mere vessel for you to use for taunts.

Your thrusts are stealing her soul; fast and hot and determined to get her to break. “And I love this pussy. She deserves so much love.” Ellie’s cheeks heat when she catches herself chasing your mouth for a desperate kiss, but you pull away whenever her nose brushes yours. So close, yet not at all. “I bet she’d hate it if she knew.”

Her chest stings, “Don’t talk about her.”

Ellie’s teeth grit at your cackle, “What? You don’t think she’d be mad?”

She knows so. That’s why she doesn’t wanna fucking talk about it. Nothing ruins a nut like thinking about getting cheated on by your first and only love… at 7 months pregnant. The mention of her will always leave a fiery sting in her gut.

“Who could abandon such good pussy?” You coo against her throat. “She takes everything. Does exactly what she’s supposed to. Pushed out a whole fuckin’ person and still traps whatever goes in.”

Ellie whines when her pussy squeezes down on you in confirmation. Every punctured grind of your fingers is calculated and pushes her into oblivion against white painted hardwood. She can hardly hold herself up. A shaky hand lands on the doorway in attempts to steady herself, eyes capturing glimpses of her brain going into overdrive.

“Don’t stop, don’t sto — fuckyesyesyesbaby — !”

“Uh huuuh, there’s my pretty girl, gimme what I want… that’s it tha’s it—“

You’re pulled so close when her walls suck you in sporadic pulses, milking your fingers at an alarming rate. She’s screeching her little head off into your shoulder, wetness spreading all over your wrinkly digits and down to your palm. Stress leaves her body with every harsh jerk of her clit under your thumb. You’re guiding her through the pleasure that’s crackling beneath her bones and she swears she’s in love.

Time melts. She only gets seconds to recover before her brain turns to mush when you drop to your knees in front of her, head traveling under her oversized shirt in search of roses. When you locate it, you swallow her whole, and she goes cross eyed at the slick that dribbles down your chin.

She’d give you as many children as you want if you always treat her this well.

MEEEP

#ellie williams smut #ellie williams #ellie williams drabble #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #lesbian #milf!ellie #works 𖧧࣪

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formosusiniquis · 1 year

Text

inspired by this post by @ruelogy

ao3

Eddie knows he got to Hawkins a little later than everyone else. He wasn't born and raised in the six miles of town with the same eight people his whole life. There was a whole social services kerfuffle that meant he didn't land in this small town hell hole until he was the ancient age of thirteen. He knows he's destined to forever be the freaky new kid with the shaved head and the group home eyes who joined in the eighth grade. But even without all that he is fucking positive that there was no Henderson in any of his three graduating classes.

Yet here Henderson the supposed younger sits painting him a mystery week after week. Steve said this, Steve did that, Steve may very well be a delusion if the way the others giggle and sigh every time he gets brought up is any indication. Cause it goes like this: Henderson comma Dustin is a fellow Hawkins transplant. Son of a single mother -- divorced or widowed, Eddie knows enough now to be sure that fueled the Hawkins gossip mill for weeks -- who brought her young son with her. Son, singular. Dustin joined the first grade class of Michael Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, and William Byers and that is as they say history. If there had been sons, plural, this mysterious older brother should have by all of Eddie's figurings joined Hawkins junior high right around the same time as a miserable Eddie. There should have been whispers about two new kids, there should have been someone for him to commiserate with, befriend.

Yet week after week young Dustin sits at Hellfire spinning yarns of a brother who was, what, homeschooled? Sent to a private military academy? Boarding school? Stayed at home with the mysterious father that Dustin doesn't mention -- and Eddie knows enough about fathers that go unmentioned not to break the silence -- but suddenly decided after he graduated to come join his mother and brother in Hawkins? Cause the thing is, Hawkins isn't that big. If pressed he's pretty sure he could name at least 90% of both of the classes he was supposed to graduate with and at least 75% of the group he's stuck with this year. He'd at the very least recognize them on sight, and not just cause he's dealt to the greater portion of the high school. Eddie pays attention, there are only like 400 students at the high school at any time, he should by all accounts be able to say, "Oh yeah that scrawny, bespectacled loser is Steve Henderson."

Except maybe there is no Steve Henderson, he's already faintly sure there's no Suzie so what's one more fictional friend from Dustin Henderson. Maybe this Steve is just the product of a fractured mind brought on by too much hands on parenting. Eddie knows people think all of his bad behavior is the product of underparenting, but if the opposite causes imaginary siblings he'll take the hand he got thank you very much.

Cause, sure he's doing his best to be third time lucky with this whole high school thing. He does know that compared to the should be starry eyed, but actually unsettlingly wary freshmen he is an ancient being of chaos. Yes, he feels every ounce of the five year gap between 19 and 14 when he speaks to them. But beyond all of that, he is still young. Still capable of swooning now and then; and the now is when Dustin describes his big brother and the then was all the other times Henderson the older has been detailed.

"Well that's cause I'm not really sorry, Mike," Henderson is on a tear already when he makes it to Hellfire, "I told you I have plans already."

"It's not that big a deal," Lucas placates, "we can do it another day."

"My parents won't be out of town another day," Mike sneers, "Will, you wouldn't ditch out on an all night Nintendo marathon for a date with Steve would you?" He says it like Will is the voice of the populace or something.

Maybe he is, and going by the way Will flushes a bright pink up to his bowlcut the voice of the people would in fact rather go out with Steve Henderson than hang out in a basement playing video games.

"It's not a date, he's my brother, and yeah dude I'm gonna skip out on watching you scream at Mario to go to an all night Stephen King movie marathon." Dustin says.

And swoon. That sounds like a dream.

"Like Steve would ever do something that cool, you can just say your mom won't let you come over cause my parents aren't gonna be home." Mike is surlier than usual, a trait he has noticed happens a lot when Henderson the elder gets broached. Eddie's theories range from misplaced sibling jealousy to repressed queer crush on Steve.

"C'mon kiddies save the tantrums for your mommies," he doesn't have a taste for it regardless of the answer, puberty is a bitch he's glad to be seeing the back of and Wheeler can go from being an angel to the kind of brat you do want to narc on just a little. "The rest of us have hoards to slay, maidens to save, things that don't involve listening to your play date fall apart."

He desperately wants to ask Henderson where they're movie night is taking place, because it sounds amazing and not at all because he wants to finally see this mysterious brother.

“It wasn’t even mine!” Henderson is moaning by the time Eddie makes it from O’Donnells to the cafeteria. He wasn’t that late, five minutes to plead his case for his grade at most, but Henderson could monologue with the best of them and it took about as much to get the kid going as it did Eddie, which was saying something.

“And you and Erica made fun of what was under my bed.” Lucas says with a smirk and a roll of his eyes.

“What was under your bed?” Will asks.

“We are not going to let Dustin get out of the fact that his Mom found his Star Trek porn that easily,” Mike shrieks, he sounds like he’s trying to mind his volume but it’s still too loud for a public venue, “You gave me shit for weeks about that Penthouse you found under my bed.”

“We gave you shit because you stole it from your dad,” Lucas corrects, not that anyone but Eddie hears it.

Cause as Lucas speaks Dustin is shouting, “It wasn’t fucking mine! It has to be Steve’s but try telling my mom anything about her favorite son.”

Three sets of disbeliving eyes look over at Dustin, but it’s Mike who says, “There’s no fucking way anyone is gonna believe it was Steve’s dude, just give it up.”

“I don’t even like Star Trek that much!”

Eddie has been having dreams of a mystery boy with a gorgeous head of hair and Dustin’s sweet smile. He likes horror but will pretend to get scared so he has a reason to hide his face in Eddie’s neck, and when he gets there he’s a biter. “Now, now Henderson, what kind of self-respecting nerd doesn’t enjoy the dulcet tones of Mr. Spock.”

Henderson wrinkles his little nose, what a twerp or maybe he’s thinking of his brother’s zine again, “It’s okay, but who goes to sci-fi for philosophy when you could watch space battles and deathstars.”

Eddie spares a prayer for Dustin’s English grade. “Well at least one Henderson has taste.”

He’s never had a younger sibling in Hellfire before, Gareth and Joey are only children and Jeff is way older than his miracle baby sister, so it is a treat to watch the way Henderson goes red, white, and then green as he cycles through a series of emotions surrounding his brother so fast it gives Eddie a headache.

“Dude, he probably bought it for you not knowing what it was,” Mike says, “it’s not like Steve is watching Star Trek.”

"You didn't see it."

"Maybe it was a prank?"

Eddie tunes them out, returning to the Steve in his imagination. They're slipping out of the movie they just finished, the one they bought tickets for, Steve giggles -- Eddie thinks he'd have a nice laugh, thinks he makes his brother laugh a lot -- and tugs him into The Voyage Home. "You gonna think of your favorite captain while we hide in the back row, Stevie?"

"Kirk is an Admiral now, he has been for three movies. Some fan you are."

He wonders if it’s creepy, this mental file he’s compiling on Henderson’s brother. It’s not like he knows the guy, truly a backwards fucking miracle in this two stoplight nothing of a town, but Eddies’ always liked something that he can sink his teeth into and pull apart. That’s what Steve Henderson feels like to him, like if a rubix cube was also a steak. He’s lost track of the metaphor in his own head, it’s whatever.

Cause Steve Henderson loves horror movies, but watches sappy romance flicks with his mom when they both have the same day off. Steve Henderson’s favorite color is yellow, but he only wears it on days that he can barely get out of bed; Dustin says that like it’s a warning sign for the others “Steve has his yellow sweater on today,” explaining away his absence at the arcade that afternoon. Steve Henderson could have any girl he wants -- this factoid Eddie takes with a salt, lime, and tequila -- but he never goes on dates anymore and only hangs out with his best friend and coworker. Steve Henderson baked a brownie so good Jeff moaned in the middle of Hellfire but can only over or undercook pasta when he tries.

Dustin loves his brother. Dustin thinks he’s the worst person to ever grace this side of the planet.

That Eddie thinks is at least typical for siblings, barring the Byers who seem to be so close knit they’d put the Bradys to shame.

“Henderson, my man, why the long face? We’re about to begin the most dangerous leg of your quest yet!” Hellfire was getting a delayed start -- the drama club was actually using their prop closet, go figure -- it was just him and Henderson lurking outside so Eddie did have to find his fun where he could get it.

“Steve and Robin went up to Indianapolis and they’re gonna be gone the whole weekend.” And yeah, he probably could have guessed it was about big brother Henderson. Dusty has the cutest case of hero worship when he wasn’t wishing big brother dead. “They say they aren’t dating, and it’s just for her birthday, but a weekend trip seriously it screams romance.”

“And you’re mad they didn’t bring you?”

“I could have been out of the way! Do you know the kind of specialty tech shops they have up there? I need some things you can't get in Hawkins to improve Cerebro and it's twice as much to get them mail order. I could make myself scarce for a couple hours so they can get it on.

He smacks the bill of Dustin’s cap, knocking it down over his eyes, but nobly refrains from giving him a noogie, “Dusty if you ever want to pop your little Mormon girl’s cherry, maybe don’t say shit like ‘get it on.’”

“Suzie is an angel, don’t be crude, man.” Dustin’s hands are quick as they smack him away, that must be another little brother trait.

“An angel, huh, another point in the ‘girlfriend isn’t real’ category. How many imaginary friends do you have, kid? A girlfriend in Utah and a brother that no one but your party has seen.”

The rest of Hellfire starts to trickle in, having used their time waiting for their table more wisely than Eddie has. Dustin’s comment is delayed only momentarily as he says hi to the rest of the freshmen that he definitely saw only a few minutes ago. “For the record, Suzie is very real. And you…” It’s the way he trails off that makes Eddie nervous, the way a light goes on in his eyes that sets the hair at the back of his neck on end. His danger instincts are finely honed and that's the same, 'I'm smarter than you look' Henderson was wearing when he managed to sniff out half the traps Eddie had laid out last session. "You should meet Steve, I bet I could get him to pick us up next week instead of Nancy."

He thinks this must be what the raccoons behind the trailer park feel like. The obvious trap of the shiny silver cage that's been baited so sweet it's hard to resist walking in anyway. "Sure, Henderson, tell the mysterious brother to stop by. Have him bring one of those zines that definitely belongs to him."

Dustin is especially vicious as dispatches with every creature that Eddie throws at him that day. It’s hard to be that upset, he’s feeling pretty fat and happy sitting in whatever animal control rodent trap Henderson thinks he’s got him in.

The next week’s session comes in a haze of vague daydreams and intense session prep. He’s had Steve Henderson on the brain for so long that he all but forgot about his little tête-à-tête with Dustin the week before. Forgot if not for the way that Baby Henderson is vibrating at the Hellfire lunch table when Eddie arrives.

“Steve is coming to get us from Hellfire today!” Eddie personally thinks this doesn’t quite deserve the level of reaction that it’s getting, but Henderson is so worked up no one even needs to prompt him to keep him going. “He had to leave right after his weekend trip to go deal with lawyers and shit.”

“Are they still..?” Lucas trails off, he’s clearly concerned but for all that Eddie hates that the kid is looking down the barrel of jock life he is extremely emotionally adept.

“Mom and Steve both said it was handled now. They won’t answer me when I ask any questions.”

Ominous, everything about Steve Henderson was so fucking weird. A kid who didn’t exist all through high school, that he’s never seen in town, who has lawyers now?

“Maybe Hop could,” the kid started to ask, hopeful.

“Mom says that it’s Steve’s business and we should all stay out of it unless he asks for our help.” Will responds by rote, something he’s clearly already tried before.

“So the infamous Steve Henderson is going to grace us with his presence today?” Eddie knows the answer already, but like most of his vices he can't resist indulging.

"He's taking us all out for ice cream after," Dustin agrees, "you could come too Eddie, I'm sure Steve wouldn't mind!"

"Steve minds everything," Mike grouses.

"Steve always buys your triple scoop sundae."

Eddie thinks Steve Henderson would have elegant fingers. He thinks about how they might toy with the straw of his milkshake while he smiles, coy and teasing, at Eddie, who he's charmed by. This Steve lets Eddie snatch the cherry from his drink, blushes when he gets his stem returned tied in a knot by Eddie's tongue.

"Well if Steve is buying, who am I to refuse an invitation?"

He does not end Hellfire early because Steve Henderson is coming.

He does, by pure coincidence, need to piss 15 minutes before things are set to wrap up. If that gives him enough time to clean himself up a bit that's just luck. This isn't for Steve Henderson.

His bathroom break, and definitely not pre-date primp session, puts him at the back of the pack when Steve Harrington's maroon beemer pulls into the lot. It feels a little bit like sophomore year again. When his hair was in another awkward stage of growing out and curled around his ears, he didn't have his mom to help him with the curls anymore and he didn't know what to do with them now that they seemed to twist and turn in new directions post-buzz. He caught the sweetest looking boy with puppy dog eyes staring and he'd been so embarrassed about getting caught he'd touched his own locks. Hairsprayed into oblivion and locked firmly into place the touch was ripped away and a shy, 'what can you do' smile was shared between the two of them. It feels a bit like junior year when Steve Harrington broke the keg stand record as a sophomore. Rounding the corner from tipsy into drunk or maybe bypassing it altogether for blackout, he wandered over into Eddie's domain. He had that same shy little wave, but a stronger confidence. He sidled up to Eddie and wrapped a curl around a finger. He tugged, just a bit, the way kids do when they want to see if it'll bounce back. "Yknow you'd be pretty if you were a girl." The slip slide of his definitely drunk tone didn't take Eddie out at the knees any less.

The car curves up closer to the front steps and Henderson is shaking like a rocket leaving Canaveral. He actually starts to take a step toward the still moving car when four hands clamp down on him saving Steve last-name-to-be-determined from a vehicular manslaughter charge. Eddie is the last to release him when he hears that car slide into park. The engine has barely had time to rumble to a stop before Steve Harrington is out of it. A toothy smile splits his face and, hidden behind Byers and Wheeler, Eddie watches as Steve Harrington proceeds to engage in the nerdiest fucking handshake he's ever seen. Steve Harrington finishes dying by what seems to be lethal lightsaber disembowelment and waves at the other three teens.

"Alright let's rock n roll if you twerps want ice cream before I drop you off. Joyce will kill me if you're late."

"Steve, can Eddie come with us?"

As Henderson asks Eddie now sees the exact size and shape of the trap he is in. The actually dweeby, dungeon master and drug dealer forced to watch the hot, once cool older brother bow to the obligation of Midwestern courtesy now that he's been ambushed with Eddie's existence. Or worse he'll have to stand there and pretend to be unbothered while King Steve shoots both Hendersons hopes and Eddie's dreams in the face with one curled lip.

He never could have imagined the furrow of confusion between his brows. The way lips wrap themselves around his name, tasting it. He hadn't, in his many fantasies, pictured golden brown eyes though he often thought of them snapping up to him like they were now.

A rosy blush blooms across Steve's face. He has the same shy finger wave he did as a freshman. "Depends, Dust, are you gonna give up your shotgun dibs or are you gonna make your troop leader sit in the back with the rest of the Party.”

He watches as if in slow motion as Henderson lunges for Steve, the elder is laughing as the younger wraps his arms around his neck. There is something very intensely attractive about the lingering jock of it all. How Steve is still upright even as his teenage brother dangles from his neck. “You know it’s Dungeon Master, you get it right with Erica!”

“I have a lot of respect for Erica, the things she does with goblins and kobolds is masterful. You asked me about the lead up to a trap so obvious it felt like an eagle scout showing his little cubbies poison ivy." It's bitchy and nerdy in all the best ways, and then Steve H- Steve looks up at him and winks, "No offense, Munson."

"None taken, Stevie." That seems to catch them both by surprise, the lack of a certain last name to fall back to -- and weeks of imagining what it might be like to interact with the guy who is and isn't right in front of him -- has Eddie overly familiar. "I drove here though." His van stands like a monolith alone in the middle of an empty parking lot.

"Oh."

"But I could meet you there? Are you going to the Dairy Queen by the library or the haunted one?"

"It's not actually haunted," Byers pipes in with frightening sincerity.

"But yeah, the haunted one," Steve says with a boy next door grin.

"Then I will meet you and your charges there Sir Henderson." He bows and only immediately regrets it, now that the once Harrington lord of the school is out of his line of sight. His brain feels like it could short out, faulty wires sparking against memories and daydreams and general hormones.

A sheepie he saved from the slaughter snorts, another - probably Mike - whispers "Gross." There's a grunt that Eddie hopes is the traitor catching an elbow from one of the others.

But it doesn't. fucking. matter because Steve Whatever laughs, practically giggles at Eddie and his antics.

And Dustin's rocket has come in for a rough landing, "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

Steve's hand envelopes the top of Dustin's head, he nearly palms it. It's not quite a noogie, more like he shakes his head for him. "Dusty-bun, why would you regret introducing me to your Dork Mother?"

"I'm gonna tell Ma you're being a bitch again."

"She won't believe you, I'm her favorite." He shoots another wink toward Eddie, a joke he's being allowed in on.

Level headed Dustin Henderson, who explained to him, in depth, how getting overly emotional impairs higher level critical thinking, stomps his foot. "You're so full of shit."

"I am. She chose me, she got stuck with you."

"Steve!"

He laughs at the despair he's caused, ruffling cap covered hair again until Dustin stomps out of reaching distance to climb in the Beemer with the other boys. Brown eyes are bright with mischief when he looks to Eddie, and he's struck by a thought. He was right, he hadn't ever met Steve Henderson before today. This is not the same boy who sat in the cafeteria with a closed mouth smile listening to Tommy H. and Carol. "Let me walk you to your car?" He asks.

"It's right there, Stevie, and do you really want to leave that band of miscreants alone with your car?" He's playing with fire, but the fear of getting burned has never stopped him before. He leans in close, whispers, "They might steal it."

Steve pales, a haunted look in his eye. He shakes it off, squeezing his eyes shut tight, and that soft smile slips across his face again. "Let me watch you leave then." That smile slides into a smirk, as he looks Eddie up and down.

He was right about getting burned, his face feels like it's on fire as he flees the scene. His tail is definitely not tucked between his legs because Steve is absolutely staring at his ass right now. He doesn't remember how walking is supposed to feel, but it's probably not like this. It would be embarrassing, the fact that he probably looks like a baby deer discovering he has knees for the first time, if it weren't more important that he makes sure each foot is planted so he doesn't acquaint himself with the ground below him. Safely encased in the van, he chances a look through the windshield and confirms that Steve is watching him.

He waves, and yeah it is gratifying to see the guy who at one point had half the girls in school fawning over him duck his head like he's embarrassed at getting caught staring. Sinclair leans up from the back seat, Eddie watches him clap Steve on the shoulder and make a comment on… something, probably him. It makes the rest of the car laugh and Steve thunk his head down on the steering wheel. The horn sounds, an echoing burst of noise that cuts off just as quickly as it starts when Steve jumps in his seat. The seat belt stops his jump short, and he sends another flustered wave Eddie's way when he notices him still watching.

Maybe he'll mention this to Little Red, his new neighbor has mentioned stealing young Henderson's brother and making him a Mayfield instead. A joke that makes a little more sense now. Sinclair has been making moon eyes at her and baby Hopper at lunch for the last week. That will be a better punishment than anything Eddie could do to him at the table.

He waves back at Steve, gives him his most winning smile -- the one he practiced in the mirror for charming pretty boys if he ever got out of the armpit of Indiana. Mimes driving like he's in a bad movie. Across twenty feet and two windows, he can't hear Steve laugh, needs to get to somewhere where he can. He can see the smile though, the dorky thumbs up.

He lets the Beemer pull out in front of him, watches it for just a moment as reality sets in. Reality. He's going to meet Steve Henderson for soft serve. It's a dream come true.

Arwen shifts into gear, and he slides out behind Steve and the sheepies. A whole new world of daydreaming unlocked.

Maybe next week Steve Henderson will let Nancy pick the kids up next week. He'll slip in the back doors of the school, unnoticed by everyone. Stealth bonus obscene for a fighter class. Eddie is moving slow as he moves minis and graph paper maps into the tackle box Wayne gave him, back to the door he misses his rogue slip through the door until he's already grappled.

"Was it a good game, Munson? You win?"

"It's not like one of your sports, Henderson, the wins aren't as clear cut."

Hands start to wander, "Isn't any time you pull one over on the Party kind of a victory?"

"In which case I do stand victorious, your sweet baby brother lost his brand new axe to a mimic."

"Hmm, you know what we used to do after a victory in my 'sports?'"

A hand has migrated to an especially interesting place. "What?"

"We'd hit the showers."

Eddie shakes himself out of the daydream, easing just the smallest bit harder onto the accelerator. He needs something to cool himself off with. He also really wants to see Steve again, to make up for lost time.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #steve henderson #eddie munson #ruelogy #inspired by another amazing tumblr ficlet #it put worms in my brain and then this happened

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disillusioneddanny · 2 months

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DPxDC Negativity

Hey this is just a friendly reminder that I'm going to put in the plainest terms that I can.

If you are telling people how they should and should not participate in fandom you are GATEKEEPING

If you are telling people that they need to read more comics before writing fanfic you are GATEKEEPING

If you are telling people that they need to do more research into canon in any form, whether that be reading wikis, reading comics, watching shows, whatever you are GATEKEEPING

If you are telling people that what they are writing is not canon compliant and therefore not a valid way to participate in fandom you are GATEKEEPING

Fandom is supposed to be fun

Fanfiction is supposed to be fun

We are not writing these stories for anyone but ourselves. And to tell someone that they are participating in fandom wrong is GATEKEEPING

There are plenty of fanfics in the DC only sphere and the DP sphere that are so far away from canon it's unreal and that's totally okay!

People are allowed to enjoy fandom in however the hell they please. If that means they are writing a crap ton of Batfam/Danny Phantom content and not very much Justice League/DP content, that's totally okay.

If someone read the Wayne Family Adventures Webtoon and decided that they want to write Danny being adopted into a loving and crazy Batfamily that is totally one hundred percent fine.

If someone wants to write Danny with abusive and neglectful parents guess what? they can.

If they want to write Vlad as being a nurturing and loving godfather to Danny, they can.

What I'm trying to explain to you all is that it's okay to write things that are not canon compliant. It's okay to write things that are so far away from canon it's not even recognizable--I mean have you even read a fantasy au or a no capes au? That's basically just slapping a characters name and face to an OC. And guess what? THAT'S OKAY.

It's also okay to want to see more people interact with the canon lore, to want to share resources and tell people about your special interests. But the moment you start doing it and it makes people feel bad-- even if that is not your intention you are GATEKEEPING.

Gatekeeping is defined as the activity of controlling, and usually limiting, general access to something.

By you telling others what they should and should not write, you are being a gatekeeper.

I get it, you want to share lore, you want to show that you know all these cool things about DC. You want more than just batfam and DP content. That's totally valid and really cool.

Do it yourself.

Don't take someone else's joy away simply because it's not what you want to see. They aren't writing it for you, they're writing it for themselves. You're just a lucky person who gets to see the beautiful works that they are putting time and effort into.

When I joined DPxDC I knew absolute shit about DC. Over the last year, I've read over 400 issues of the Batman comics, read all of the Red Robin series, and a smattering of random other comics with plans to read others. But when I started writing? I knew jackshit. My knowledge came from the Teen Titans cartoon, the Batman animated series, and vague memories of watching the Justice League animated series as a kid.

And if Dis from a year ago saw this gatekeeping shit, they would have never started writing for the fandom because they would have been too scared to be told they were doing it wrong.

Now? I'm writing DC only fics based off of what I learned in the comics and it's a lot of fun.

But I did that because I wanted to, I was starting to get more and more interested in DC and I wanted to know more. And I had access to pay for DC Infinite so that I could get access to the comics. Not everyone has that luxury.

Not everyone has the luxury of being able to read them from free sites either. Maybe they have to use a public computer that doesn't have ad blockers. Maybe their local libraries don't have access to the comics. You don't know what their situation is.

Maybe you're being well intentioned. Maybe you're just wanting to share your wealth of knowledge with the fandom. But remember, if just one person is getting hurt by your statements, that means you're no longer being helpful. You're being harmful. You're scaring off a new fan who was super insanely excited to start sharing their headcanons.

You're making people feel unwelcome. And that's not fucking cool.

Fandom is supposed to be a welcoming space for everyone, it's supposed to uplift and bring joy. Not make people feel bad for not knowing enough, or for feeling too anxious to even begin figuring out where in the 75 year history of DC they should start reading.

I know that's what kept me from reading the comics for a long time. it was just too overwhelming. It still is overwhelming for me and thats with having friends telling me where to start and what comics are best to read.

Before I end this super hella long rant I want to remind you of one last thing.

You don't know what someone has read or researched before writing their fic. You don't know just how much they know about that character or universe. For all you know, they may have read, watched, consumed every single piece of DC media in existence. But they may still interpret it different than you did and that does not mean that their Bruce Wayne is OOC because it doesn't align with how you interpret Bruce Wayne. it just means that they view his character differently than you do.

And that's such a beautiful fucking thing don't you think? That a single character, a single universe, a single fucking line can be interpreted hundreds of different ways by hundreds of different people and it's still valid.

It's what makes fandom so freaking cool in the first place.

Like one day someone woke up and they were watching Danny Phantom and they thought hm, what if I had Danny Fenton go to Gotham one day and hang out with the bats? And next thing you know, now we have thousands upon thousands of different fanfics, fan art and HCs, all because of it. All because someone had that one idea and shared it and others saw it, interpreted it their own way, and decided to create even more.

And now we're here! And this fandom is beautiful and thriving. There are so many amazing and lovely people in this fandom. There are so many discords to talk about fandom, there's so many events, a DPxDC Bang is the works, a DPxDC fanzine is in the works.

That's so fucking cool and we should be celebrating that! Not making others feel bad for not knowing as much as others.

#dpxdc #dis has opinions #dis writes #dpxdc crossover #negativity

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reasonsforhope · 1 year

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Toledo City Council just approved a plan to turn $1.6 million in public dollars into as much as $240 million in economic stimulus, targeted at some of the Ohio metro’s most vulnerable residents.

“It’s really going to help people put food on the table, help them pay their rent, help them pay their utilities,” says Toledo City Council Member Michele Grim, who led the way for the measure. “Hopefully we can prevent some evictions.”

The strategy couldn’t be simpler: It works by canceling millions in medical debt.

Working with the New York City-based nonprofit RIP Medical Debt, the City of Toledo and the surrounding Lucas County are chipping in $800,000 each out of their federal COVID-19 recovery funds from the American Rescue Plan Act.

The combined $1.6 million in funding is enough for RIP Medical Debt to acquire and cancel up to $240 million in medical debt owed by Lucas County households that earn up to 400% of the federal poverty line.

“It could be more than a one-to-100 return on investment of government dollars,” Grim says. “I really can’t think of a more simple program for economic recovery or a better way of using American Rescue Plan dollars, because it’s supposed to rescue Americans.”

How It Works

Under the RIP Medical Debt model, there is no application process to cancel medical debt. The nonprofit negotiates directly with local hospitals or hospital systems one-by-one, purchasing portfolios of debt owed by eligible households and canceling the entire portfolio en masse.

“One day someone will get a letter saying your debt’s been canceled,” Grim says. It’s a simple strategy for economic welfare and recovery.

RIP Medical Debt was founded in 2014 by a pair of former debt collection agents, and since inception it has acquired and canceled more than $7.3 billion in medical debt owed by 4.2 million households — an average of $1,737 per household...

Local Governments Get Involved

The partnership with Toledo and Lucas County is the third instance of the public sector funding RIP Medical Debt to cancel debt portfolios.

Earlier this year, in the largest such example yet, the Cook County Board of Commissioners approved a plan to provide $12 million in ARPA funds for RIP Medical Debt to purchase and cancel an estimated $1 billion in medical debt held by hospitals across Cook County, which includes Chicago.

“Governments contract with nonprofits all the time for various social interventions,” Sesso says.

“This isn’t really that far-fetched or different from that. I would say between five and 10 other local governments have reached out just since the Toledo story came out.”

What's the Deal with Medical Debt?

An estimated one in five households across the U.S. have some amount of medical debt, and they are disproportionately Black and Latino, according to the U.S. Census Bureau...

Acquiring medical debt is relatively cheap: hospitals that sell medical debt portfolios do so for just pennies on the dollar, usually to investors on the secondary market.

The purchase price is so low because hospitals and debt buyers alike know that medical debt is the hardest form to collect...

The amount of debt canceled for any given household has ranged from $25 all the way up to six-figure amounts. Under IRS regulations, debts canceled under RIP Medical Debt’s model do not count as taxable income for households...

Massive Expansion Coming Up

After not one but two donations from philanthropist MacKenzie Scott, totaling $80 million, RIP Medical Debt is planning for expansion.

It’s using a portion of those dollars to create an internal revolving line of credit to expand to places where it can find willing sellers before it has found willing funders.

The internal line of credit means the nonprofit now has new, albeit still limited, flexibility to acquire debt portfolios from hospitals first, then begin raising private or public dollars locally to replenish the line of credit later and make those funds available for other locations.

“People often ask, do you only work with nonprofit hospitals, or do you work with for-profit hospitals? And I’m like, I just want to get the debt, regardless of who created the debt. If it’s out there, I want it,” Sesso says.

Fundamentally, they are not solving the issue of medical debt, but easing its pressure from as many lives as possible — while also upping the pressure on lawmakers and the healthcare industry.

“We’re intentionally taking the stories of the individuals whose debt we have resolved, and putting their stories out into the world with intention in a way that tries to push and create more of that pressure to fundamentally solve the problem,” she says.

-via GoodGoodGood, 4/6/23

#toledo #ohio #chicago #cook county #new york #medical debt #healthcare #healthcare access #united states #us politics #debt crisis #debt relief #hospital #nonprofit #good news #hope

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rothjuje · 2 months

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Help me make a decision. Our girls (4 and 7) share a room. Currently 7 year old is in a twin and 4 year old is in a transitioned crib. We desperately need to get Gen a new bed. But this our dilemma: Alyssa wants a full bed. The room is quite large (identical to our living room actually, it’s directly above and the same dimensions). But a full bed and a twin bed is kind of bulky/won’t look even and they will lose a lot of floor space. Justin is in camp each girl gets a twin bed, end of story. And yes, growing up we all had twin beds. But nowadays a lot of kids have full beds, even from the start, especially up here. All my friends’ kids are in full sized beds. Anyway Alyssa’s reasoning is that she can’t sleep well because she’s afraid of falling off her mattress, which is a completely valid fear because she tosses and turns a lot and she is very tall for her age.

We’ve looked at bunk beds, Justin thinks the weight will be too much on the upstairs floor (our floors don’t seem super stable). A trundle bed is also an option, but Justin and multiple friends feel like it’s not fair that Gen technically wouldn’t have her own bed. But the plan isn’t to stick Gen’s bed underneath everyday, they play a lot on their beds and I think it would give them a lot usable space. Both bunk beds and trundles have full/twin options.

I overthink everything and can never make decisions. I guess we could put full sized bed in the corner and twin against the long wall and maybe I need to just move on, that there isn’t a perfect solution.

Anyway. When they excavated for the retaining wall two things happened.. our side and back lawn were annihilated but we also gained a large bonus space in the back. We are desperately prepping the side and back lawn to lay sod and to pour concrete in the bonus area. And I say we, but so far it’s been me digging up rocks for 3 hours a day. Which I kind of enjoy and it’s the best workout ever, I think I’m just so glad not to be trapped inside the house anymore.

The bonus area will be a circular firepit area. I was thinking stone or pea gravel, but Justin is set on the concrete. It won’t be the prettiest but I like that the kids will have somewhere flat to ride bikes/scooters. When does one even lay sod in MA? I know fall is the more popular option but I can’t survive spring and summer with a mud pit again.

Cookie season is officially over for our troop. It’s our first year/first cookie season. We thought we would make about $400. We made about 4k after the cookie debits. That is insane. But we do have 30 scouts so I guess it’s not super shocking. We actually don’t even know what we’re supposed to do with the money. We make the parents pay dues to cover project supplies, per Girl Scout rules (there are a lot of rules). And I know we are supposed to donate the donations (but that’s only $150). I know I did field trips in scouts, I’m assuming cookie money covered those. We are all just so surprised. I know we can save it but seems sad not to use yearly because then the girls who leave the troop/help earned it won’t benefit from it. I’m sure we will use some and save some, but we definitely have enough to plan a really fun adventure with our scouts!

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prettyboykatsuki · 2 years

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don’t hold it | m. fushiguro

★ tags ;; 18+, piss, dubcon-ish(consent is implicit but he is tipsy), alcohol, implied sub!megumi, humiliation and shame, a handjob, public-ish sex (they're in an alley), gn!reader, age gap / power imbalance, aged-up characters, tsundere!megumi

★ wc ;; 2.1k (GOODBYE!!!!)

★ a/n ;; i started writing this in nov of last year and it was only like 400 hundred words. how did this even happen. i dont even want to talk about it,

★ synopsis ;; your offer to megumi does bad things to his head. he really should never drink alone with you.

Megumi doesn’t like to drink often.

Partially because he’s well aware that drinking with you is a little dangerous. When he’s tipsy with his guard down, you tend to mess with him a little more than he likes. You always get off on teasing him. It’s in character for you to do so, to the point he's expecting it every time you hound him for a drink or two.

Aside from that, he doesn’t like not being in control of himself. Alcohol is good for people like Yuuji or Nobara who like getting loose. Their personalities aren't reserved to begin with so the extent to which they can humiliate themselves is limited. But Megumis always been reserved at best. He likes to keep quiet, make sure no one is paying too much attention to him and be in his own space.

So, his decision to go drinking tonight wasn’t really his. It’s Yuujis birthday and after some light-hearted accusation about being a bad friend, he was eventually convinced to go. Begrudgingly, he tells him that he’ll be in attendance. He only finds out you’re going after the fact - likely a purposeful decision on his best friends behalf.

His relationship to you is complicated. You’re three years his senior and above him in pay grade, so he’s supposed to be a respectful junior to you. It's not that Megumi doesn't respect you, you're good enough at your job that you've earned some bare minimum respect.

He address you with the correct honorifics and looks to you for advice and critique on his own moves. You two have similar curse techniques so it's a pretty natural thing.

Really, if it wasn't for your need to pick on him - Megumi can't find any faults with your character. Objectively he knows that. You're a little bit all over the place but you're a good senior to have. But he's really a little wary of you no matter what anyone says. You've given him plenty of reason to be.

Megumi can't answer whether or not he likes you. He thinks he does, but the way you always manage to make him squirm is not an entirely pleasant experience. He doesn't know how to react to your cheeky flirty other than flat-out rejection. You know that he's not really rejecting you though, that his prickly engagement is just a sign of tolerance. Maybe even enjoyment, and your ability to see through that always makes him feel a little dizzy.

So, he avoids you. He hasn't been able to unpack that and he doesn't plan too any time soon.

He's managed to make it outside for a breath of fresh air, scurrying away from you before you finished making greetings. You always sit next to him at outings, and now that he's officially tipsy - he can't imagine it going well.

He leans on a wall. The cold night air makes a wave of goosebumps appear on his skin. He's never been to this bar before so he doesn't have any idea where the bathroom is. It's a little crude but he thought maybe he could find a patch of grass and go out there.

A familiar voice breaks him out of his train of thought.

"Woah, Fushiguro," You peek your head out of the door before popping in "What are you doing out here?"

Of course you would show up when he's explicitly trying to avoid you. He sighs.

"I'm trying to get away from all the noisy people inside." He says flatly, looking away.

You step outside and trot next to him, hands in your pockets. Flashing him a smile, you laugh softly.

"Aw, you're talking about me, aren't you? Not nice."

Your scolding is faux sincere. Megumi fights a smile back like it'll cost him his life, sighing and purposefully turning away from you. Instead of taking the hint, you get up on your tip toes and hover over his shoulder.

"Whatcha looking at?"

"Nothing. Why are you out here?"

"So cold," You tut, before backing away "I came out here for a smoke break. You?"

He frowns.

"Quit smoking," He says first, rubbing his temple "I came out here cause I couldn't find the bathroom."

"Oh, so ya need to piss? Decided to take it to the great outdoors huh?"

His frown deepens, eyebrows and expression pinched in irritation.

"Stop being weird. If you know that, then smoke somewhere else."

An expression crosses your face that makes Megumi nervous. He can't count on his hands how many times he's seen. Right before you get on your antics, your eyes look darker than normal. You're unusually mischievous, a soft lilt to the way you speak - mouth twisted in a smirk.

"Don't wanna." You say cheerily, a pleasant expression "Are you tipsy, Fushiguro?"

"What's it to you?"

"I don't wanna harass a drunk person."

"So you know it's harassment," He says, annoyed. You shrug him.

"Mm, maybe? You never push me away, though. Always let me do what I please with you."

He doesn't have anything to say to that. A flush is creeping on his neck, warm and unpleasant and squirmy. He clicks his teeth and looks away, arms crossed over his chest.

"Why are you saying it like that? You're my superior so obviously it's an abuse of power on your end and not mine."

"You make me sound like a criminal, you know."

"You are one."

"So stubborn," You whistle, getting up close to him. An inch between you, no more - no less "You don't hate it do you?"

"You're so annoying."

"And you're so dishonest, Fushiguro." The sweetness in your voice doesn't disappear despite everything. Megumi covers his face with his hand, a bad habit.

"Shut up."

"Mhm, okay." You ease back just a little. Megumi dutifully ignores the thumping in his chest - heartbeat against his ribs. "Do you still need to go?"

He looks at you confused.

"Yeah?"

"I'll help you."

His eyes widen.

"What the hell are you saying?"

"You're tipsy, aren't you? What if you miss your aim and get it on your pants huh? And it's dark." You offer, flimsily "I'll hold it and help you aim."

He doesn't like that he twitches. He hates the way his body is reacting to you all at once - like a storm. The smell of alcohol on your breath and perfume, the warmth of your body, your proximity. Megumi feels so conscious of you, he can't stand it. Can't stand the way all the blood rushes south at the way you're basically asking to touch his dick.

"...You're out of your mind." He whispers, voice hushed and hoarse. Your smile flickers on your face.

"That a no? You can say no." You offer as a peaceful middle ground. A chance to back out, something you always do for him. It's part of the reason he has a hard time with you.

"...I d-don't...That's—What are you...?"

"Fushiguro," You practically purr, voice thick with lust. His body is so hot "Can I help you?"

"...Do whatever you want." He offers, unable to swallow his pride. You take it as permission, like he expected. A small part of him, deep down, is relieved that you didn't make him say yes. He doesn't want to unpack that yet.

Instead of saying anything else, you move towards the other end of the bar in an alley - further away from the door and out of the way of people. He follows you hesitantly. With your back against the wall, you look up at him. There's just enough light to make out your features, smug as always.

Your hands don't hesitate when the reach for the front of his pants. He can feel himself twitch, fighting an erect. He takes a deep breath, as your fingers fiddle with the zipper and button of his jeans.

He can feel his expression pinch again, strained jaw as your hands so easily touch him. His.. soft cock and him. It's vulnerable. He needs to go but you're humming to yourself as you pull down the front of his boxers.

"You're so pale," You muse, fingers tracing his navel - brushing against the hair he's left trimmed "You have a mole on your hip. How cute."

Every muscle in his body is tense trying to keep his head afloat. The tension is so thick, it makes him sick. You look pleased with yourself, perfectly calm but obviously excited. Megumi feels his forearms press against the wall as his knees nearly buckle.

"Still needa go, hm?" You say, pulling down his boxers until his cock is fully out. He's nearly hard, just barely there. You drag your finger down his length while it's soft and he chokes on air "You should do it on the wall, then. I'll get behind you,"

Megumi feels his body prickle with heat as you stand behind him, just as you promise. Your head pokes out from one side of him, while your hand slips underneath his thin sweater. Goosebumps appear all over his body, your fingers barely scrape his skin.

"You're so soft," You say warmly, hot breath on his spine "So pretty."

Megumi feels your hand reach in the front of his boxers and wrap around his shaft. Everything else goes blank other than the fact you're touching him, and your hands are soft and your voice is so quiet and so smooth. He can feel the erection he'd been trying to suppress hit him with full force as you squeeze his cock to your hearts content.

"You're getting hard." You note, if only to humiliate him slightly. "Are you pent up?"

"Please shut up." He nearly begs. You giggle.

"Okay, okay," You shift your hand a little, looking at the wall. You really intend to help him and not just ruin his day a bit. The realization unsettles him "Just let go when you're ready, 'kay?"

Every word he wants to say is escaping him. Humiliation and shame flood his entire body, sweeping over him in a tide. His body final releases at the sound of your words, as if on command. A warm sensation of relief overwhelms him, the sound of it hitting the concrete under him making his brain feel staticky.

He's so embarrassed he can't even open his eyes. He's so aware of what's happening he wants to crawl in his skin. Even more so at the feeling of your body behind him, your head pressed against his back - the little sigh you do as he releases. He's getting hard in your hand again - even harder than before.

"Feeling better?" Your voice comes out like a coo, condescending but full of adoration "You're almost completely hard. Did it feel good to let go?"

When the last of his stream stops, he finds himself mortified at how painfully turned on he is. Even more so by the feeling of your hand. You spit into your other hand, dripping the spit onto his cock quickly before the one already touching it gives it a hard stroke. He chokes out on a moan, a shiver crawling up his spine. His whole body is tingling, pressure forming in his skull. The knot in his stomach is wrapped tight, surely because of your fist in the loop.

"I-it's dirty." He chokes, forehead touching the wall in front of him. He can feel it in his stomach, shamelessly responding to your touch as you stroke his stiff cock. Was he always such a pervert?

"Then it's okay to get it more dirty," You say softly, pressing a kiss to his back "We can't go inside like this, can we?"

He's shaking hard, a whimper falling from his lips unintentionally. It feels so fucking good. Maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe it's the fact its your hand. The one he's been picturing for months and months, wrapped around his shaft and stroking him so slowly. The fact that you're in public - only a few feet away from the bustle of the city. This is special attention no doubt. He can't help but like it.

He doesn't know why he's so turned on that he's panting. He's not like this normally. He has more pride than that, but right now - he's bathed in shame and desire. All he can do is let your fist wrap around his cock like he's always wanted. Nothing else is viable.

"You're twitching." You inform, giggly "Will you cum for your senior, Fushiguro?"

"Fuck, fuck."

He cums into your fingers in a hot flash. You catch it all in your palms, just over the tip as his stomach clenches hard. A wave of euphoria leaves his whole body ragged, sobering him up completely as his erection finally settles again. He's so dazed from the experience, he hasn't moved an inch. Your voice startles him.

"You did well," You say pleasantly, removing your hand. He turns to face you. Pressing a kiss to his lips, you smile "Now, do you have a tissue?"

He shivers.

"Y-yeah," He says, reaching for his pocket "And call me Megumi."

#piss cw #writing tag #megumi x reader #megumi smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #i dont even wanna talk about it

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yanfeisty · 1 year

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Congrats for the 400 followers! SFW 2 + Cyno ? (mind if I send another one with Alhaitham later haha)

— PROMPT : Well, I guess I simp for you too, your grace. Prompt event.

— A/N : Thank you! I got so much followers since that event, I really appreciate it.

— CW : Religious themes.

"For the third time, there's nothing wrong with you, Cyno." Tighnari sighed, for the last few days, Cyno came to see him multiple times about his supposed symptoms that he developed, despite Tighnari assuring he wasn't sick or anything.

"It isn't normal, my pulse is going unusually fast, like it's threatening to burst out, and I also feel a constant tingling in my chest."

"Let me guess, it happens at specific moments?"

Cyno thought about it for minute. It wasn't always, when he was doing his work he was his usual self, until you came to pay him a visit, that's when his heart felt like he ran throughout the desert. And also, during your last visit before this one, he had difficulties to let words out, when you were giving him non-stop compliments, just like the time before that, and before, and before...Now that he thought, he only felt weird with you, perhaps it was because of how comfortable and caring you were that made him felt strange, usually people were scared of him, or maybe was it your dazzling smile which gave him more warmth than the sun, could it be your voice that make him as weak as the criminals who heard his?

"C'mon, wake up." Tighnari flickered his forehead after long minutes passed.

"Huh...I'm sorry, I was thinking."

"I noticed that."

"It only happens when I'm with Y/n...I think I start to get it."

"How are you able to read through others and know if someone lies but be so oblivious to yourself?!"

⠀

It was in that moment, he realized he fell for you, but he wasn't to blame, he never felt that before, love in this way was unfamiliar for him, his usual composed self was uncontrollable with you.

The bittersweet feelings were bearable, but now he could only wonder on how were you feeling about him, it was a difficult situation, he wasn't scared of rejection, but maybe you'd be uncomfortable if he confessed, Tighnari encouraged him to declare his feelings for you. So, one day, after long practices, he finally found the control of himself back, unafraid to confront you.

"Can I ask you a question?"

You nodded, for once that he was initiating the conversation, he always seemed anxious with you but now he looked so confident, and so hot, but you'd keep that for yourself.

"When you were using my body, I could hear your voice, and I recall that you said that you were 'simping for me', may I ask what it meant?"

Your cheeks turned all shades of red, what were you supposed to say to the Mahamatra, that you wouldn't mind if he arrested you? That you would thank him if he stepped on you? You looked everywhere but at his stare, trying to search what to say.

"I won't take any offense if you don't want to respond." His confidence dropped a bit, cursing himself about asking and making you anxious.

"It means, hm. I admire you a lot, like you're so hand- cool, cool and I want to spend time with you."

You tried to hide your blush, missing the small smile on his face, just by your behavior he understood a little better the meaning. He might not understand feelings well, but he can always see through others.

"Well, I guess I simp for you too, your grace."

⠀

"Ah, so you finally confessed, I'm happy for you."

"Yes, you were right, Tighnari, I wasn't sick I just had simptoms."

"Oh my Archons.."

#400yanfevent #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #cyno x reader #Sagau #genshin creator au

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violette-hue · 2 years

Text

Summary: Ushijima invites you to Paris with ulterior motives in mind.

Pairing: Ushijima x fem!Reader

Trigger Warning(s): Trust issues, mentions of being a player, cursing, clubbing, alcohol, not nice words(?), insulting, arguing, abandonment, love, unprotected sex, slight sub/dom, creampie, slight breeding kink, high heels

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: Truthfully, I'm 50/50 about how I feel about this fic. I've been working on this for quite some time, and dont have the heart to proof read it (because I think I'll scrap the whole thing). I hope you guys enjoy it! I'm almost at 400 followers, and have been thinking about doing an event. Let me know if you guys would like me to do one to participate in ♥︎

500 Match-Up Event

**Minors Do Not Interact**

Ushijima Wakatoshi wasn't the type to stay with one person for too long. It wasn't his thing to have just one partner either. For a man of his status and wealth, people tended to throw themselves at him. Especially the women that followed the team around like groupies. That's why you kept a ten foot pole between you and him, no matter how hard he tried to get to you. No matter how badly you wanted him to get to you.

You met Ushijima some time ago, and despite his quiet nature, you became quick friends with him. Friends with attempted benefits—in his eyes at least. He had invited you to most of the extravagant places he went, and each time had tried to make a move on you. Of course you never gave in, but the free trips and hotel stays were very nice.

Perhaps if he was different, was maybe even someone else you'd give him a chance. He was too infamous, too much of a player to trust. If you caved, you knew you'd fall for him. And your heart couldn't handle that. So you tried your best to pay Ushijima back with your friendship and companionship.

But paying him back with a platonic relationship was growing harder with each invitation. Especially now that you had been invited to Paris. You had arrived in the city of love showered with gifts: a white fur coat, diamond earrings, and nearly four dozen roses in your hotel room. A hotel room that was conveniently right next to Ushijima's with a connecting door. You rolled your luggage next to the empty wardrobe and sighed. You had a feeling this whole trip would be dedicated to wooing you. This time you might cave in, and that scared you.

Suppose you let him in, what would happen then? His history in past relationships only brought you to one conclusion—he’d kick you to the curb once he was done with you. You didn’t want that, no one really did. That’s why you couldn’t allow yourself to budge on this. This was for your own good.

A knock sounded at the connecting door just as you had taken your shoes off. Your feet padded on the luxurious Parisian carpet towards the door and you turned the lock. A small smile graced your lips. At least he was thoughtful enough to have the lock on your side of the room.

"Yes?" you said, shifting your weight to one leg and crossing your arms.

Ushijima took a step inside the room. The hair on the back of your neck prickled as you tilt your head back to meet his gaze. You knew he was much taller than you, he was taller than nearly everyone. What you didn't know was how small you would feel next to him without your shoes on. He was still wearing the same outfit he wore to pick you up from the airport —a black cashmere sweater and black jeans. The sweater, somehow, clung on to his muscles like a second skin. It took you some effort to force your gaze back to his face, and when it finally met its destination, you were welcomed with a coy smirk.

"Change," Ushijima stated, his eyes trailing over your body. "Something nice to match the coat and earrings."

A shiver ran up your spine, your skin suddenly becoming sensitive to the casual sweater you wore. You arched a brow, but didn't say anything. You were shocked Ushijima had planned something out for you. No one had ever even attempted to plan dinner. Yet, here was this man, buying you gifts with the intention to utilize them immediately on a...a date? You felt heat rush to your cheeks at the realization. This was a date. How had he managed to rope you into this?

"And wear those heels I like," he added.

You nodded, rolling your eyes slightly. "Sir, yes, sir," you sighed, moving to your abandoned luggage. "What are you gonna wear?"

You hauled your luggage onto the bed and zipped it open. Your eyes caught on a familiar satin beige material, and you pulled it out. This dress should do, but you’d probably be freezing without the coat.

“Not that one, wear something black,” Ushijima interjected. “To match me.”

Both of your brows raised as you turned toward him. You pursed your lips and took a moment to collect your thoughts. He had picked you up from the airport with gifts, had the rest of the day—and probably night—planned, was requesting you were the shoes “he likes”, and now he wanted you to match? Every alarm went off in your mind, some good and some bad. This was definitely a date.

"...Alright..." you answered, tossing the beige dress on the bed. "What are you wearing?"

Your fingers grabbed the soft, silky, black material of another dress and unrolled the garment. There were a few wrinkles here and there, but it was nothing the steam from a hot shower couldn't work out. You pulled a velvet hanger from the closet with pursed lips. The more you pondered on your new choice of wear for tonight, the more you realized how bad of an idea it would be. The silk material was much more thin than the satin of the beige dress. The bitter winter wind would cut straight through the fabric to your bones if you didn't bring your new fur coat along. And even then...

You placed your dress in the bathroom on the back of the door and returned to your luggage. You felt Ushijima's eyes follow you, your skin tingling with the almost tangible gaze. You turned to him with raised brows. Was he going to stand here the whole time?

Though you were expecting a response, none came. Just a deep, toe curling grunt, and then Ushijima was gone. The door shut with a click and you didn't even bother to lock it.

A heavy sigh pushed through your lips. You were excited to finally visit Paris, but you knew this trip would be challenging. Making it past tonight without jumping into Ushijima's arms--or bed--would be the biggest challenge. You chewed on the inside of your lip and padded over to the bathroom. A cold shower it was--you'd find another way to work out the wrinkles in that damn dress.

By the time Ushijima knocked on your door, you were shoving an earring through your ear. With your permission, he entered through the connected door and leaned against the wall. You didn't bother to address him, not when your shoes were still packed in your luggage and your coat was still in its garment bag. You yanked the requested heels from your bag and shoved them on your feet. Luckily, those were your favorite heels, too. From so many uses, they were already broken in and comfortable.

After your shoes were on, you finally turned to Ushijima. “What do you think?” you asked, turning so he could see the full outfit. “Up to your standards?”

“You’ve always been up to my standards.”

You faltered mid turn, the tips of your ears growing warm as butterflies flew rampant in your stomach. You finished the turn and dared a glance at Ushijima. He was already looking at you, his eyes dark and promising worship. Those butterflies flew a little lower and it was hard to keep your composure. You slapped on smile and rolled your eyes. The movements felt wrong, but by the gods you’d be damned if you let him see your walls coming down.

“You can’t just say those things, Toshi,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Especially if you don’t mean them.”

"I do mean it." Ushijima's gaze slid from your eyes to roam over the curves of your body. "Why wouldn't I?"

You shifted under his gaze and tried to find something to lock your eyes on. Your eyes landed on the garment bag your coat was placed in and you moved toward it. You chewed on the inside of your cheek and unzipped the bag.

"Well, y'know..." you trailed off, your fingers pausing in the soft fabric of the coat. "It's just that you've had so many other beautiful partners." You hoped your answer was just offensive enough to change the subject, but not offensive enough to ruin the whole night. Or even the whole trip.

"I've always wanted you." Though you weren't facing him, you felt his presence move closer. A hand grazed your waist gently as it trailed over the silky material of your dress to your abdomen. "Even now, I still want you."

You swallowed hard, the skin under his touch scorching. Your breasts felt heavy, your nipples perking through the fabric. Could he see that? The material was so thin, if it were a lighter color your areola would surely be visible. Thank the heavens for black fabric, for not much passing through the dense color.

You heard Ushijima chuckle behind you, his chest rumbling and the low timbre pushing into your body. Lower and lower until you were willing your thighs not to press further together. You had to create some space between the two of you before you never make it out the room.

Your flingers glide the zipper down further and free the luxe fur out its cage. You whip the material around you, forcing Ushijima to take a few steps back and remove his hand from your abdomen. You place the warm fabric on your shoulders and finally turn to him.

"You want a lot of people," you manage to say. "I'm no different from them."

You idly play with your hair and walk to the mirror in the corner of the room. You already know what you look like, can assume how the coat makes you look a part of high society.

Thankfully, Ushijima doesn't continue the conversation. Instead, he grunts his approval and walks to the exit. You follow him out the room and to a black sedan with tinted windows. The ride is awkward and silent and neither of you look at one another. When the car pulls in front of your destination -- a tall expensive building that looks mostly made of glass -- Ushijima gets out without a word. He, surprisingly, rounds the back of the car and opens the door for you, offering his hand. You stare at the large palm and long digits. Digits you've imagined coming around so many times you feel a pulse beat in your vagina. You shake those thoughts away and gently take his hand.

He leads you into the building, walking past a receptionist and to the elevators off to the left. Once inside, he presses the number eight and leans against the cool steel elevator wall. You chew on the inside of your cheek and steal a glance at him.

"What is this place?" you ask cautiously.

Ushijima is silent for a bit, but when he finally talks his voice is borderline cold. "One of the best restaurants in Paris. Bottom floor is an exclusive club the team is meeting at."

You raise your brows. “So dinner and a club,” you repeated, a small smile gracing your lips. “Sounds like a good time.”

And it was. Dinner was the best you ever had, would probably ruin other restaurants for you, too. Nothing could ever compare to the food you had eaten. By the time dessert came around, you had completely forgotten about what happened in the hotel, and it seemed like Ushijima had forgotten, too. Dinner was all smiles and giggles, and it had a part of you wishing it could be like this all the time. Only it couldn’t. Inevitably, he would break your heart and toss you to the side for a new toy. A less broken, insecure toy.

The club seemed normal enough, like any other club. The only difference was this club was filled with extraordinarily hot French people. Had Ushijima not been with you, you would have started dancing with the first person you could get your hands on. Unless... A light bulb went off in your head. If you showed even more disinterest by dancing with everyone but him, would he leave you alone? A part of your heart clenched at the idea. You wanted to be with him, but gods, you just didn't trust him with your heart. You stole a glance at him, butterflies erupting in every part of your body. Why was he so beautiful? You let yourself imagine a future with him -- extravagant, romantic dates; luxe vacations and hotel stays; lots of sex; fragrant bouquets of hydrangeas and sweat peas lining a white aisle. Your chest ached at the latter image and you willed your eyes forward. Dancing with random horny people it was.

You grabbed a champagne flute off a nearby tray from a club attendant and downed the bubbly liquid. You made your way to the dance floor, your hips swaying to the foreign music. You let the bass move through your body and soon enough you were locking eyes with a dark haired, blue eyed patron. Lust filled his eyes and you allowed him to run his hands up and down the curves of your waist. You turned sensually, your back arching to push your ass against the stranger's crotch. He was hard, the bulge rubbing against your backside. You should have been turned on. Should have been so wet and filled with sexual desire, but you weren't. This stranger wasn't Ushijima. It wasn't his large body embracing yours.

You slithered away from the club-goer dazed and dizzy. How many drink had you allowed this stranger to give you? All the other strangers that tried to dance with you? You looked around for a familiar head of brown hair, but to no avail. Panic rose in your chest, sobering you up. You made your way to the other side of the club. Ushijima wasn't here.

"You looking for Ushiwaka?"

You turned at the familiar voice, hope filling your chest. You looked up at his teammate and nodded, almost a little too eagerly.

"He left an hour ago. I'm surprised you didn't go with him."

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline and your mouth went lax. He had left you? Without saying anything? You ran a hand through your hair and looked around. How were you going to get back to the hotel? You looked back to Ushijima's teammate -- whose name you, quite frankly, couldn't be bothered with remembering -- and knit your brows together.

"I don't have a ride back," you yelled over the music.

The teammate nodded in understanding and pulled out his phone. "I'll call you a cab." He brought the phone to his ear and cupped his hand over the speaker and his mouth. You heard him say a few words in french. He mouthed the words "ten minutes" and walked to a quieter corner of the club. Maybe the bathrooms.

You pushed pass the club-goers to the elevators and angrily pushed the bottom to the lobby. Ushijima had left you all alone in a foreign country, not able to speak even a sentence in the language. Angry tears burned your eyes. Why the fuck would he do this? As you rode to what you hoped was your hotel, you couldn't stop the tears from falling. Your aggressively wiped them away with your fingers and looked to the roof of the cab. It wasn't worth crying over, but god you were so angry. So angry and hurt and betrayed. Had he planned to do this all along? To spite you for all the times you rejected him? You scoffed to yourself. "I've always wanted you" my ass. Of course he would do this. This was his behavior, his normal way of treating his partners.

You got out of the cab, thanking the driver in what little french you knew and marched to the elevators. The ride couldn't have gone any slower. You pushed the button for your floor again impatiently. What would you even say to him? You tapped your foot and looked around the elevator. Did you even want to talk to him? Maybe you'd just pack your things and go home. You didn't have enough in your account, so you'd have to use a credit card...

The elevator doors slid open with a ding and you made way to your room. The door opened with ease and darkness awaited you. The only light that came into your room was the natural light of the moon, seeping in through opened curtains. You furrowed your brows. You hadn't left those curtains open when you left. You looked around the room and sucked in a breath when your eyes landed on a large, muscled shadow. A shadow that was lounging in the desk chair next to the windows. You watched as the shadow swung in semi circles in the dark and flipped the light switch.

Ushijima sat there, his arms crossed. His features were set in a frown and once his eyes landed on you, the chair stopped swinging.

"Surprised you came back," Ushijima drawled, his voice laced with resentment.

"You abandoned me," you spat, ripping off your coat and throwing it at him. "What?" he hissed, shoving the luxe fur off him and standing up.

"You left me," you reiterated. "You didn't even look for me."

"You made it hard," Ushijima seethed, his arms dropping to his side with clenched fists. "You were only shaking your ass with half of France."

You scoffed and threw up your hands with exasperation. "Oh, real nice--"

"You barely gave me a chance all evening," he interrupted, taking a step closer. "You didn't look for me. I fly you here, put you in this hotel and plan a whole day for us. I did this for you. Because I love you."

Your eyes widened and you took a step back. The sudden admission took you by surprise, causing your words to leave you. You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. What would you even say? You had danced with a few people at the club, and you had lost track of time. Had even forgotten all about Ushijima. You were horrible.

Your eyes slipped to the ground and you wrung your hands together. In the process of trying to save yourself from alleged heartache, you ruined your chances at love.

"I'm sorry," you muttered, "there's nothing I can say that will excuse anything I did. Or how I treated you." Tears burned your eyes once more, but these tears were egged by shame and sorrow. You really fucked this up.

Ushijima let out a frustrated sigh and plopped down in the desk chair. "I'd at least like an explanation," he admitted, running a hand through his hair.

You shifted unforgettably and pushed a breath through your lips. "I didn't--" You took a deep breath and looked out the window. "I didn't want to give myself to you just to have my heart broken."

"Do you really think so little of me?"

Your gaze switched to him in an instant at the sadness in his voice. "No," you responded immediately. "Yes? You've only done that with every other partner."

Ushijima shook his head. "You're different. I love you."

There were those words again. I love you. Your heart fluttered in your chest and you couldn't help but smile. Maybe it was the remnants of all the liquor you consumed, or maybe it was the sincerity in those sweet words, but you believed him. And because you believed him, you wanted to give him everything. Your earlier arguments and battles were long forgotten.

"I love you, too," you uttered, barely above a whisper.

The smile Ushijima beamed at you gave you the courage to timidly walk over to him. You hiked the black silk material of your dress up to your thighs and slowly climbed onto his lap. You slid your hands up his chest and rest them on his broad shoulders.

"Say it again," he commanded softly, cupping your chin gently.

“I love you.”

The words were still passing your lips when Ushijima captured them with his. How long had you waited for this kiss? It felt like eons. His lips were gentle against yours, as if he were afraid you’d flee with the tiniest surprise. Something between a of cross of giddiness and undiluted list bubbled in your chest, and suddenly this gentleness wasn’t enough. A hand glided up to his hair, your fingers tangling within the soft brown strands. Your back arched, your hips moving against his lap as you pressed your chest closer to his and deepened the kiss. A groan pulled out of Ushijima and his hands gripped your thighs tightly. His hold wasn’t one that conveyed to stop, but rather that his control was slipping. His fingertips pressed into the flesh just under your ass and he ground up against you. His hardness pressed against your inner thigh and you couldn’t help but give him that friction he needed. That you also needed. Your hips rolled against his once more as you nibbled on his bottom lip. A delicious groan rumbled through his chest and your breasts tingled at the feeling.

"'Toshi," you mewled, trailing a hand between your thighs. Your fingers pushed the fabric of your panties to the side and slid over the slick lips of your pussy.

Ushijima sucked in a deep breath and looked down to your hand. "What is it, baby?" he asked, his voice deep with lust.

"Let me make it up to you," you breathed, climbing off of him and to your knees.

Your hand remained between your thighs as the other unbuttoned his jeans. He lifted a bit from the chair and pushed the denim down his thighs. You shuffled back as he kicked off the pants and tossed them across the hotel room. His erection remained trapped under his black boxers, but the size of the imprint still had you sucking in a breath. You timidly shuffled back towards him on your knees, your fingers now parting your pussy lips and lightly circling your clit. You bent forward and lightly kissed his clothed erection, your free hand moving to slip under the band of his boxers. Your fingers wrapped around warm, hard flesh and pulled his cock out. You licked your lips at his impressive length and wrapped the muscles around the tip.

A sharp hiss left Ushijima's lips as you pushed more of his cock deeper inside your mouth. You hallowed your cheeks and bobbed your head up and down, your tongue lapping around his length and tip. You smiled as Ushijima uttered a string of curses and tangled his fingers in your hair. Gods, the feel of his cock in your mouth had your clit throbbing with neglect and need. Need for his fingers, his mouth -- anything to receive the tension. You groaned against his cock as two of your fingers pushed inside you.

"Fuck," he breathed, his hips jerking up. "You're gonna make me cum baby." His hold in your hair loosened and he threw his head back against the chair. "Just like that."

You hollowed your cheeks against him some more, your mouth a vice around his cock. When you felt him twitch inside you, you pulled your mouth away from him. Ushijima whined softly, his eyes meeting yours as you pushed yourself to your feet and licked yourself off your fingers. You were far from your orgasm, but that was okay. You didn't want to orgasm on yourself. You wanted to come hard on his cock, wanted to feel your walls flutter around him.

"I'm going to ride you," you stated with surprising clarity. "I'm going to come hard on your cock. Then I want you to come inside me and make me yours."

The sudden dominance was odd to you, but you liked it. Liked the way his entire body reacted to your plan -- a plan only you could fulfill. Courage rose in your chest and you smirked.

"Take off your clothes and touch yourself. Slowly."

"No." Ushijima stood, his presence overshadowing and overpowering yours. A hand moved to cup your chin firmly and he gave a wicked smile. "Tonight, you obey me."

You crinkled your nose and rolled your eyes slightly.

"Oh?" Ushijima drawled. He brought his hand down to the scoop neckline of your dress. "Don't be a brat now, baby."

His fingers glided over the silk neckline to the thin strap on your shoulder and tugged roughly. The material broke, sliding down your chest to expose your left breast. His fingers pinched your nipple roughly and you gasped at the contact. The smirk that was once displayed on your lips was now transferred to Ushijima.

"I want you to take off your clothes. Slowly." He took a fraction of a step back to allow me the space to disrobe.

You stared at him, expecting him to make the move to disrobe you, but the move never came. He stood there with expectant eyes. You slid the intact strap off your shoulder and shimmied the silk dress off your body. It slid down your curves and made a black pool at your feet. You pulled your panties down and moved to take your shoes off, but stopped at the grunt Ushijima made.

"Keep those on." He took a step closer to you, closer than he was before. "Sit at the edge of the bed and spread your legs."

You obeyed, spreading your legs wide for him. You propped the heels of your shoes on the small ledge of the bed frame and met his gaze. One day, you’d have him on his knees begging to shove his cock in you. Today, you were more than happy to do the begging. You never could have fathomed how hot this scenario would make you, and you felt beyond dirty.

Ushijima’s gaze darkened as he slowly started to undress. “You’re so wet for me,” he rumbled, stalking towards the bed in full, naked glory. “No foreplay.”

Your brows furrowed as he pumped his cock once, then twice. No foreplay? You were so looking forward to feeling his tongue on your clit. Your walls clenched around nothing at the thought and you shifted. You pressed your eyes shut and took a deep breath, the wanton need nearly unbearable. You imagined his breath fanning over your wet pussy, imagined his body heat between your legs— You opened your eyes and let out a wanton mewl as the tip of his cock subtly pushed against your clit. He gripped your chin once more, forcing you to look at him and not the pre-cum dripping of the tip of his penis on you.

His usual light eyes were dark and almost opaque as he watched you lick your lips. “I want to see your face when I bury myself in you,” Ushijima encouraged, the head of his cock trailing down to your entrance.

With a quick snap of his hips, he was buried deep within you, the girthiness of him straining your slick walls. You cried out loudly, your finger nails digging into the luxe sheets around you. Your shoulders slumped and your head strained against Ushijima’s grip on your chin as you adjusted to his size. Or at least tried to. He snapped his hips again, his balls slapping against you with a squelching noise. You felt his calloused thumb move to circle your clit roughly, and within a matter of minutes your orgasm rolled through you intensely.

Ushijima’s grip on your chin transferred to your leg, pulling the limb over his shoulder to thrust deeper in you. He bent his knees, pulling you closer to him until he was practically dragging your body to thrust against him. Your pussy thoroughly worked and wet, it was all you could do to hold on as another orgasm rushed though you. Your hands gripped his wrist, the other covering your mouth as your screamed your release.

No one had ever made you feel this good. No one had ever managed to elicit two orgasms from you. Yet here Ushijima was, this god—this sex god—about to pull another orgasm from you. The sounds that came from the two of you were lewd, his skin slapping against your wet skin, your needy moans and his deep grunts.

Ushijima nudged your leg off his shoulder and gripped your hips tightly, his face scrunching up deliciously. Sweat dribbled down his temples to his chest and he breathed heavily. He was pushing his limit, no doubt minutes, maybe seconds away from spilling himself inside you. The thought of his hot come inside you had your walls clenching around him, eliciting a breathy moan from him. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist and crossed at your ankles. You wanted him to release inside you, wanted to feel the intimacy that would bring.

Your heart pound in your chest as you pulled him down for a sloppy kiss.

You loved him.

His lips moved fervently against yours, his moans and yours mixing together. You tugged on his short brown locks.

And he loved you.

You found release again, your arms and legs tightening around him and he swallowed your cries with his mouth. You felt him spill himself inside you, the warm bursts of his come filling you so sweetly.

It was a while before either of you moved from the position, your breaths mingling together. Warmth spread along your body at the realization of what just happened.

This wasn’t a good fucking sesh.

This was what love felt like.

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bomberqueen17 · 5 months

Text

house remodel updates

I forget where we left off but like so the thing is of course nobody was here over the weekend. on saturday we took dude's mom to the airport and then moved ourselves into her house to house- and cat-sit. yes we're cat-sitting our own cat. listen she can't be in our house it makes sense.

she has been extremely confused by this. she saw the Dreaded Suitcases and hid while Skin-Grammy packed up and left, and then hours later came slinking out in confusion. why were we there instead??? What is this about??

She has mostly adjusted but has been intermittently clingy and invisible, after the manner of cats. But anyway where are we on the kitchen remodel??

Well we got a new guy in the cast of characters. Jim, having shaved his beard somewhat in advance of his upcoming vacation to visit his mom in Florida, arrived in good spirits, and introduced me to John, a youngish guy who is doing the electrical work. John cheerfully explained to me that he was going to be adding up to six circuits to the house, and I had been forewarned that he was also going to be adding hard-wired smoke detectors on two floors since I didn't have any and that's illegal. (The house sold privately, it hasn't been inspected since it was built in 1950, so are we surprised? No!) They weren't included in the contract/quote but are required for the work to be approved by the town, but we weren't surprised by this. I'll pay john separately. For the record it's only like $3-400 to have that kind of thing installed, I was worried it'd be more but he was like nah. I'll bill ya.

A bit later, as I was looking around at the various outlights and light fixtures, I said "oh wait the microwave shelf. there's supposed to be some kind of microwave shelf? somewhere?" and neither Jim nor John knew anything about this. And I was like I remember about this because when we first started looking into remodeling this kitchen we went somewhere and they were kind of snooty and when I said "can we just put the microwave on a shelf" because it takes up most of my counterspace they acted like this was illegal.

"What," John said, disbelieving. "I put in outlets for that like... all the time. It's not only legal it's also super normal."

"They acted like I was a stone-cold freak," I said, "and then they tried to convince me that the only option was a drawer microwave."

John physically recoiled, and made a warding gesture with his fingers like a cross. "That's what I said," I told him, "it was the worst thing I'd ever seen!"

"Those things are the worst," he said, and I felt vindicated. "Naw ma'am. I'll put your microwave on a shelf. And it's fine if we can't find the blueprints, I'll just put the wire up and leave extra, and we can get it to the right spot once we know." (Jim was leafing through the plans and trying to find the shelf, but he'd handed over the detailed plans to his colleague Max, who was going to be covering for his vacation, so he couldn't find the relevant sheet.)

So, John worked on Monday and Tuesday, and I checked in on Tuesday midmorning after I dropped Dude off at the airport. (He has a work trip and it's terrible timing and also he doesn't want to go. He made me promise to eat real human food at regular intervals, which is something I have historically struggled with when unattended. I have been a good girl about this I promise. I went to the grocery store and bought myself a series of treats, which i have been deploying strategically as rewards for having properly fed myself.)

The bad news on Tuesday was that john had gotten all the wires approximately run, but in order to hook them up to the circuit box, was going to need to run them along a wall that I had thought was safely out of range and thus had used to pile up a great deal of the Assorted Nonsense in the basement. Hear me out, when this work was supposed to happen in February, one of the things that was going to happen was that I was going to sort through much of the Basement Nonsense and either discard it, file it neatly, or donate it somewhere that could use it (in the rare case of there being like, anything useful in those piles). But the accelerated timeline meant I had no time for that and had in fact only piled things higher.

Jim informed me of this very kindly, and said it wasn't a hurry since it was going to all get hooked up at the end. But like. I mean. It's not like there's infinite time. So that's what I figured I'd work on Wednesday while I was waiting for the plumber and inspectors.

So, cue Wednesday. I got here like 8:30 and around 8:45 a random car carefully reversed itself into my driveway and then parked, and I thought, this must be Max. And sure enough. Jim's coworker/substitute, a personable guy of like, freaking twenty something, in tennis shoes instead of work boots. But he did seem to know what he was doing, and had been well-briefed on the project. So I went down into the basement and hauled things around (and did have time to sort and discard some things, though not much), and he tacked up more insulation and got ready for the electrical inspector. I thought I was doing to have to talk to the guy but I did not, he came and went and I thought I heard someone talking but by the time I came up it was just Max, tacking down the last insulation he'd had unsecured so they could see the wiring.

After noon the plumber arrived, yet another addition to the dramatis personae: Kyle, another young guy (mayyybe thirty), who works for a guy named Don I guess. I showed him my gas dryer that I was going to ask if he could hook up and he was like oh that will be so easy, yes, when I come back I can do that. So then I showed him my laundry sink faucet that had just started leaking and he was like i also can replace that for very few dollars and very little time. So I am well-pleased. My washing machine is leaking too but I think I'm on my own to sort that one out.

Kyle asked if I was sticking around and I was planning to, so here I am, in the other room, listening to them saw things. I guess I'm getting a whole new sink drain assembly. And he's got to saw out some things to get a water box for the ice maker in the fridge. Why not.

So that's how that's going. The big excitement is that now that the electrical inspection is done and the plumbing is underway, Max and an unnamed assistant who showed up and was even younger are going to start hanging drywall. I'm so excited to have an insulated kitchen with drywall, instead of the uninsulated plaster that radiated cold in winter.

I'd normally be preoccupied with historic preservation but the thing is, this house isn't old enough for that to really matter. No fear, there'll still be some plaster panels in this house when all this is done. I'd prefer if all the exterior walls were insulated though.........

Baby steps. Maybe we'll get there.

Oh one funny little side story-- John was like "oh let me get your number in case i have questions or whatever" and so I started reciting my phone number and he pulled out a sharpie and wrote my number right on the wall of my kitchen. I mean of course it was a wall that was stripped to the studs so he was writing on the paper backing of the reverse side of the plaster panels of my attic staircase, but it was funny-- but it makes sense, now that's there for anyone who works on this project, but then when the project is done it will be gone.

But of course on Monday night when Dude came over to get some things to pack for his work trip he texted me a photo of my phone number scrawled on the kitchen wall and was like "???"

well, i thought it was pretty funny.

#house remodel #about the author #the great kitchen event #personal #my life

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let-us-cultivate-our-garden · 11 months

Note

Although I love Hunter, I believe he would’ve had an larger impact on the story had the writers expanded on the Wittbane lore, considering that he was supposed to be a clone of Caleb, to who Belos is still attached after 400 years and feels guilty for murdering despite thinking he was in the right. If the writers explored the history and relationship between the Wittebane brothers, we could’ve learned what kind of person Caleb was and how Belos tried to shape Hunter and the previous grim walkers into him. This would’ve given us insight into how much Belos missed his older brother and strived to recreate their relationship because he hoped he could still “save” it after all this time.

Controversial opinion, but I think Hunter could have been written out of the show and nothing of value would be lost. Just make Belos a wayward puritan who stumbled into the BI and decided to colonize and then kill all the evil witches. Clean, simple, and much more coherent then what the show ended up doing.

Hunter had so much potential to show a different side of Belos and how Hunter would have struggled between living up to the standards imposed on him and being his own person. And the show WAS going in that direction in season 2 and a little bit in season 3, but after For the Future, Hunter is largely absent in the finale and worse yet, ends up essentially becoming Caleb. He carves palisman, has a witch girlfriend, has brown eyes, and he keeps the hair noodle despite initially cutting it off after his mirror freakout and tried to be his own person. It's a really weird end for someone who had this huge identity crisis over who he truly is and what his place in the world should be.

Exploring the Wittebane story would have made the story so much richer and would have given more narrative weight to Hunter's existence and elevated Belos to a tragic villain instead of a subpar one (no seriously, the EC and how Belos was handled is a hot mess). We could have had a narrative parallel to the Clawthorne sisters and how it ended tragically for the Wittebanes due to a lack of communication, trauma, and grief.

Hunter could have broken the grimwalker cycle by becoming his own person instead of Caleb 2.0, we could have had Belos' psychological breakdown as he realized he was chasing a fantasy, that he ruined his life for nothing, we could have seen how unaddressed trauma can deeply warp a person and how easily that could be us.

Instead we got more trauma for Hunter and no pay off to Belos' character despite his backstory getting more focus in the first two episodes of the final season. Because of this lack of pay off and dialing up Hunter's trauma to 11, it feels like you could cut out the Wittebanes entirely, give Belos a different motivator, and the story would be much more streamlined.

Which is so disappointing, because the set up was amazing but they dropped the ball hard in the end.

#asks #toh critical #toh criticism #emperor belos #philip wittebane #toh hunter #the owl house

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bus-stop-to-kpop · 1 year

Text

Enhypen Reaction #1 - You’re their High School crush

Requested?: No

Word Count: between 300 and 400 each (Jake’s a little shorter, I’m sorry (┬┬﹏┬┬) )

Heeseung:

"Heeseung, Y/N, both your partners are sick today, right?" You and Heeseung nodded, neither his nor your lab partner had showed up today, "Then you'll work together for today." Both of you nodded, but deep down Heeseung knew this was a disaster.

He couldn't even talk to you without stumbling over his words, so how was he supposed to be your partner for the whole class. You sat down next to him with a smile, upon seeing that his head whipped into the other direction to hide his blush.

When your experiment began he immediately offered to work the burner, scared that you'd hurt yourself. You didn't argue with him and let him do his thing, while noting down the reaction that were going on with the chemicals he was holding. "Uhm, Heeseung, I think you're burning our probe, I don't think it's supposed to turn black." You pointed out. "O-Oh, Sorry." Heeseung stuttered out, pulling the burned probe away from the fire, feeling his cheeks burning out of embarrassment. He had been too busy observing you diligently working to pay attention to the probe.

Noticing the blush forming you questioned if he was alright, thinking he had been standing in front of the burner too long, or maybe the burning probe had released some chemical that he breathed in, but he promised he was alright, before running off to get a new probe from the teacher.

"...and then he burned the probe. He's usually good at chemistry, I didn't know he was this clumsy." You laughed lightly thinking back to the chemistry lesson this morning, reporting everything to your friend in the cafeteria during lunch. "I think that was your fault." "What? But I didn't even do anything. I was just writing down our research." You were confused by the accusation your friend made. How could it have been your fault? "Do you really not see it? Heeseung has like the fattest crush on you, Y/N."

"What? No way?" You shook your head before turning around to look at the table Heeseung was sitting at. He was already looking your way and once again as soon as you made eye contact Heeseung's head dipped down, a blush spreading all over his cheeks, as his friends were laughing at his antics. Could it really be true? The Lee Heeseung had a crush on you?

Jay:

Jay would be the quiet and observant kind of type when he has a crush. He looks unbothered on the outside, but the butterflies he's feeling whenever you enter the room are undeniable. The way your smile starts growing when listening to your friends ramble about whatever and your eyes shine brightly while talking excitedly about the cute little puppy you saw on the subway this morning, Jay was completely infatuated with you.

So when you came back from the break pouting, telling your friend how your favorite snack had been already sold out. Jay felt his heart clench, whoever took the last snack should be imprisoned, because it was a crime to make you sad. Jay makes sure he arrives in the classroom earlier than you the next day, putting a bag of your favorite snack on your still empty table. More people come in, greeting him, but Jay doesn't care about them, he only wants to see you.

Watching your face light up as you find the snack waiting for you at your table. Taking off the little post it note that read 'enjoy ;)', you looked around the class for a while, trying to figure out who of your classmates could have left it here. But eventually deciding you didn't know anyone's handwriting enough to tell.

It became like a routine for you, coming into the classroom to find a snack on your table, the little sticky notes would have cute messages or encouraging words on it. Jay loved the way you would excitedly tell your friend about it. The way they were looking over at him startled him though, did they know it was him?

"Why don't you just tell Y/N you like them? You're spending so much money on snacks." Your friend confronted him in the hallway some time later, but he was just shrugging. He didn't mind spending money if it made you happy.

Jake:

Jake is absolutely shameless when it comes to his crush on you. In the beginning it flustered you quite a bit, to the point you had tried to avoid him, but he always seemed to find you no matter how hard you tried, so you gave up. Opting to just ignore.

To Jake you were the most amazing person in the world. No matter what you did, Jake was absolutely heart eyed for you. Right now he was watching you copy what the teacher was writing on the blackboard, a strand of hair kept on falling over your eyes, it seemed to bother you a little. Oh, what would Jake give to gently tuck it behind your ear himself.

You stopped taking notes when your seat mate gently nudged you, "Jake is staring at you again." Immediately your head whipped over, to glare at said boy. You mouthed a 'what' in his direction to find out why he was staring, he just smiled like a fool before mouthing 'you look pretty'. "Shut up!" You called out louder than you actually intended to.

"Jake Sim, Y/N Y/L/N, would you please pay attention!" The teacher interfered. It was embarrassing she had to call you out, now everyone was turning to look at you. You weren't sure if your cheeks were blushing from all the attention or the fact that Jake had called you pretty.

Wait, were you actually starting to enjoy his advances on you? No way! Well, Jake is definitely cute and honestly it was fluttering to know that someone like him liked you so much. Maybe having him flirt with you wasn't so bad after all.

Sunghoon:

Sunghoon looked cold, he was aware of that, but he wasn't mean, not at all, so he didn't really understand why most people avoided him. It didn't help that his friends weren't in the same class as him. It meant he would only see them during lunch.

"Come on Y/N!" Sunoo rushed you out of the classroom towards the cafeteria. You had only recently become friends with him, due to being assigned his seat mate for the current school year, but you got along really well, becoming friends quickly.

Trying to follow Sunoo through the crowded cafeteria without dropping the tray was quite the challenge, but you wondered, by the way he was determinedly steering through the crowd if he had a specific location to take you to. That question was answered when he stopped at a table with only a raven haired boy, Park Sunghoon, you had heard rumors about him from classmates, but how bad could he be when he was friends with Sunoo?

Sunoo took a seat and urged you to take the seat next to him directly across from Sunghoon, he was smiling brightly when introducing you to each other, "Sunghoon, this is my friend Y/N. Y/N this is my friend Sunghoon and don't worry, he might look like a big meanie but he's actually just scared of other people." Sunghoon gave him a glare for the remark. Hearing you giggle at the way they acted with each other, Sunghoon was pierced through the heart by Cupid's arrow. Could this be the love at first sight everyone talked about?

"Well, hello Sunghoon. It's nice to meet you." You held out your hand for him to shake and as soon as your hands touched Sunghoon's face lit up. Meanwhile Sunoo was just watching your interaction with a smug grin. He had the feeling you two would get along from the second you had sat down next to him in class.

Sunoo:

Literally the politest boy you've ever met. He thinks he's hiding his crush well, but really he isn't at all.

Every morning he comes to greet you personally. "Good morning Y/N. Did you sleep well?" And he'd smile his brightest smile, eyes turning crescent and all. It was really cute, sometimes he would even add a compliment, like 'I really like your outfit today.' or 'You look very pretty today.' You knew Sunoo wasn't just saying that to flirt, no he really meant it.

"Y/N, what's this?" Your friend called out opening the lunch box standing on your desk to take a look while you were currently cleaning the blackboard. "Don't touch it! That's not for you." Your words came out meaner than you expected it yourself. You had been wanting to give that lunch box to Sunoo once he returned to the classroom. He was always nice and complimenting you, so you wanted to do something in return, you just weren't as good at showing affection as he was.

"Sunoo, come try this!" You called out once he entered the classroom. He immediately jogged over, not caring that he left Jay standing in the doorway on his own. You pushed over the lunch box to him and he took a bite. "Do you like it?" You asked and he nodded still chewing, "You can have it."

"No way!" You were taking aback by his words. Was he declining your lunch box? By any chance had you misinterpreted the signs of him liking you? "I can't eat your food, it's yours." You sighed relieved.

"No, I made it for you." You admitted shyly. "Uah, Y/N! That's amazing, thank you so much." His signature smile was plastered on his face again as he went in for a bone crushing hug, that surprised you a little.

Jungwon:

Jungwon felt stupid. Due to being a trainee he was missing a lot of classes, so his teacher proposed for him to get some tutoring for the upcoming exams, he agreed not knowing that the tutor would be you, his crush.

"Okay, can you try and explain this process for me?" You asked him pointing to a paragraph in the biology book in front of you. It was embarrassing, the way he was just rambling with no idea what he was actually talking about. You must be thinking he's stupid.

You weren't, not at all. No, you actually admired the fact that he was trying to put effort into his studies while also being a trainee. You knew he was trying his best, so you didn't mind the fact that you had to explain this process to him for a third time.

The way his big black doe eyes were looking at you listening to what you were explaining and the way his face lit up when he finally started to understand the process. In the end you told him to explain again and if you didn't know it better you'd think he had actually been in the lecture.

"That was great Jungwon! I think you're gonna do well on the test tomorrow!" Giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder while smiling at him brightly, Jungwon felt like his head would explode from how much he was blushing. "Thanks Y/N. Uhm- I gotta go to the company now, sorry." He packed up his stuff, rushing out of the room. That was embarrassing, his heart was beating uncontrollably. The effect you had on him was crazy.

When Jungwon arrived the next morning he found a chocolate bar siting on his desk, 'Good Luck' was written on the post it note that was stuck to it. He was able to recognize your handwriting anywhere after borrowing your notes many times. He turned around to you sitting a few rows behind you, giving him a thumbs up.

He had to do well on this test, if it wasn't for him he had to do it for you, after all you had worked so hard to help him prepare. He wouldn't embarrass you!

Ni-Ki:

Ni-ki's favorite time of the day was lunch time. Not because of the food, but simply for the fact that it was the time of the day he finally got to see you. The fact that you weren't put in the same class this year bothered him so bad.

However he was pretty convinced you didn't even know he existed, as he had never mustered up the courage to talk to you while you were actually in the same class. He had settled for simply admiring you from afar, but now, only seeing you at lunch, that was too far.

He was surprised to find you at the little snack store, your school was running, all alone. Normally whenever you left class you'd always be with a group of friends. One of the reasons he had never approached you before.

He was unsure of what to do, on one hand this was his chance to talk to you, but on the other you were so deep in thought of what snack to get, he didn't want to bother you. He decided it was better to just leave it, taking one of the snacks for himself. "Is that good?" Your voice stopped him from walking away. Was this really happening? Were you talking to him?

"Is that snack tasty?" You asked again when he didn't answer and Ni-ki finally snapped out of his daze. Too nervous to speak he nodded frantically. So you took the same snack for yourself before walking over to the cash register where the woman rang you up, only for you to realize you had left your money in the classroom.

Just as you were about to tell the woman you'd take the snack back to the aisle Ni-ki held out some money to her that was enough to cover both of your snacks. You were surprised, not expecting Ni-ki to pay for you, he had no reason to.

"Thanks Ni-ki! I'll pay you back later, okay? Wait for me after school." You called out as you started rushing back to your classroom, the bell was about to ring any second, Ni-ki should go back too if he didn't want to get scolded by the teacher, but he was too stunned to move. You knew his name! And you even asked to meet him after school!

#jake is exactly the type of golden retriever bf i want #and we all know Jay would spoil his so #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen reactions #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop reactions #admin j

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