#i have a good life but my brain sucks and i ruin everything and no one sticks around and i am just a fucked up friend and partner and i dont

[clits-and-clips]

x

#txt #tw #dont read this and i may delete but i just need to say it #i do think about dying a lot #like i dont want to be here lol #people suck big time #everyone here is so nice and lovely and supportive #but you arent physically near me and i guess thats what i need #idk #and i cant just message randoms with all my personal shit all the time #unless i can? idk #the main reason i wont kms is cause my dad wouldnt be able to handle it hes lost too much #i think hed prolly follow suit #and i cant have that #plus other things like my pets etc #but what is the fucking point lol #i know eventually ill move on etc #but the world sucks man #it sucks #i have a good life but my brain sucks and i ruin everything and no one sticks around and i am just a fucked up friend and partner and i dont #see myself getting better #if i told my psych i think about this id get sent off and i think that would make me worse #i just want the future back that i thought i was going to have #that was ripped away from me without warning #no conversation #nothing #and he gets mad at me when i bring that up?????? #yeah its so fair you kicked me out etc but im the bad guy for airing my feelings #fuck everyone tbh haha #im just done

[vulcannic]

my man i truly believe i was never meant to be a person on this planet

#text #delete later #my brain fucking sucks and makes me ruin everything even when i’m trying to do what’s best for me and everyone in my life #but that’s not good enough because i don’t have money to actually get real help #OH WELL GUESS ILL DIE

[faexoxoxoxo]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓...

ᓚᘏᗢ basketball player gojo x reader x basketball player geto.

✎⁠ 18+, overstimulation, pure filth, smuttt...

✎⁠ dividers by @cafekitsune

It was simple, really.

Suguru loved you, Satoru loved you, and they both wanted to see you wearing a jersey that had their name on it during the teams basketball tournaments.

Again, simple. They could've worked out a schedule and taken turns having you wear the names. Heck, you even offered to customize a new jersey with both their names on it, but nooo, like everything else in life, your boyfriends just had to make a bet about this.

Whoever made you cum the hardest got to have you wear their jersey.

~~~

“Aww, look at your pretty pussy, baby. filled her up real good, huh? Such a greedy little hole...”

God, you wished you could smack the proud grin off Satoru's face, but right now, with his head between your thighs, long tongue dipping into your weeping, overstimulated, cum filled pussy, all that came out of you was a broken string of soft whimpers and moans, twisting and turning as Satoru coxed you over the edge for the third time.

You tried to squirm away, but they wouldn't let you. Suguru had a firm grip on your legs, keeping them wide open, while Satoru seemed drunk of your juices and his own cum, hungrily lapping at everything you had, refusing to let a single drop of it go to waste.

Turning your head, your dazed eyes met Suguru's silently pleading with him to tell Satoru to back off, to put an end to this little game of theirs, but all you got in return was a smile. The smug bastard was enjoying this; it was obvious, with the growing strain in his pants and a barely noticeable flush on his face. It came as no surprise, really; you already knew how much Suguru loved watching you get ruined by Satoru.

“Hmm, What's wrong, princess? Satoru's not pleasing you enough?” Suguru cooed, wiping the drool off your lips with his fingers as you sucked in a deep breath.

“Ahhh...S...Suguru...no more…”

They really needed to stop; you'd pass out if they kept on making you cum...

“Nuh uh, baby, I plan to win this” Suguru laughed. Your teary eyed, fucked out expression, coupled with the plea, was enough to make him rock hard, “not about to let you wear this idiot's jersey tomorrow,” giving a harsh slap to your thigh and making you gasp, his grin widened, hand now moving to pull Satoru's head away from your cunt.

“Hey!” Satoru groaned, “Fuck you, man, everyone knows I'm the strongest.” cussing the black haired man as he’s pushed aside.

“Right, right,” Suguru mocked his playmate, flipping you onto your back, “now be a good boy and lemme show you how it's really done.”

Without warning, he'd filled you up, with one hard swift thrust, hips slamming against your ass as he ferociously rutted into your weeping cunt, “My dirty little slut” Suguru grunted as you sobbed into the pillows.

"Sugu…ahhhh…noo can't…slow," you mewled back, arching instinctively as his cock kept on hitting the sensitive spot that made your brain turn to mush, “need to cum... Sugu...please, please, please, lemme cum.” You babbled, starting to feel the familiar coil building up inside your tummy.

“Yea? Gonna cream around daddy, and make him win...” Suguru taunted menacingly, angling himself to hit your sweat spot over and over again, while making eye contact with Satoru, who'd begun moaning while fisting his own hard, reddened cock.

“Yes, yes, yes…” you chanted fervently, toes curling as you moaned out little yeses and pleases. He'd done it again, Suguru’s dick always managed to reduce you into nothing more than a brain dead cock slut.

"Fuck...go on then,” he breathed, voice raspy and deep a sign that he was close too. “Lets show Satoru what a good girl you are for me.”

Your body quivers. Feeling Suguru throbbing inside your tightening pussy, you let out a soundless scream before coming all over his cock.

The sight was enough to have Satoru fall over the edge. “Shit... princess,” he groaned, looking at you through hooded eyes, as his cum spilled onto the bed and his abs in hot spurts. “Now I get why this asshole loves watching me fuck you.”

Chuckling, Suguru pulled you closer to his chest, keeping on fucking you ruthlessly through your high, making you whimper. “Gonna fill you up so much; you'll be leaking for days, princess,” he let out a long groan, his head falling back, thrusts growing hard and slow until he finally stilled inside you, his hot load filling you up to the brim as promised, his dark violet eyes meeting Satoru's sparkling blue ones.

“Damn it.” Satoru swore knowingly, he never liked admitting defeat, but Suguru'd won this round with his dick game. Well, no matter, this just meant he'd have to try harder again next time...

✎⁠ I've always done character x reader, and this is my first attempt at character x reader x character so don't know how well I wrote it but hope you guys enjoyed...

✎⁠ likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated⁠ ♡

#fae.xoxo #jujutsu kaisen #satosugu x reader #satosugu x you #satosugu x reader smut #geto smut #gojo smut #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x you #gojo saturo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #geto suguru smut #gojo satoru smut #jjk #jjk gojo #jjk geto #suguru geto smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x geto x reader #suguru x reader #satoru x suguru x reader #satoru gojo #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #geto x you #smut

[prettyoatmeal]

Warning!! NSFW, Fem reader, Dubcon. A/N: Posts gonna slow down again. I had a bit of a period where I couldn't stop just posting my thoughts. I'm burned out now from that LOL Masterlist here!

Horndog König. Need I say more?

When you come into his life he's just astounded. He's just thinking like.. what, a girl likes me? ...Wow! A girl likes me :D and then his libido just shoots through the roof because he isn't fucking for a one night stand anymore, but because you love him and he loves you.

He finds himself gets turned on by anything and everything because he can't stop his perverted brain.

Whether it be eating a banana or rubbing lotion along body after a shower, quite literally anything you do could get him turned on because he just can't control his mind.

Showering together always ends up with him exploring your body. You're just so pretty and soft compared to him. He loves to grab at your hips, your waist, your tummy, all over your torso. When he finally lets you wash yourself, his cock is up and twitching as you lather the bubbly soap onto yourself.

Cuddling in bed with him will end with him humping you from behind. He'll wrap his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer to him, and then he ruins the moment by feeling his cock hardening from your ass just slightly press back against him. He'll whimper and whine into your neck as he dry humps into your ass, his cock twitching and drenching his trousers as he reaches his orgasm.

"Please, please, please, Schazt. Need more. Mmgh.."

Thing is that you don't even need to be there physically. There have been numerous times where you'd caught him humping your pillow, his face buried into your blankets as he cries and moans into them before making a mess of his cum.

He can't just cum once either, it's as if he's under the effects of sex pollen.

He doesn't care if his cock is overly sensitive from filling you so many times, just once more. You'll give him one more, right? Of course you will.

He'll start sobbing into you neck as he puts you into a mating press and ruts into you. His cum is spilling from you despite how much he tries to push it back in, your thighs are trembling and shaking as he abuses your poor cunny. But the way you clench around him and suck him back in.. oh boy.

The way you moan and tell him how good he's making you feel turns his brain to mush. Your praise will always get him over the edge, he loves hearing how good his cock makes you feel. His hips will stutter and slow for the first time in hours, spilling himself one last time, and both of you are trying to catch your breaths, fucked out and satisfied.

#könig headcanons #cod mw2 #könig mw2 #könig cod #call of duty #konig cod #Konig mw2 #Konig x reader #König x reader #König fluff #König imagines #Konig imagines #mw2 x reader #Konig fluff #König smut #Konig smut #mw2 smut

[rowretro]

𝔹𝕠𝕪𝕗𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕕?

✧warnings: fluff, slut shaming, kissing

♡synopsis: The bad boy Riki, has fallen for a rather girly girl, the kind of girl that many girls wouldn't expect guys to fall for. Y/n in her stylish outfits which were always admired by all, had the attention of Riki, and that seemed tick certain girls off.

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

Riki groaned as he saw you walk down the hallway. One would assume it's because of how much you dress up just to go to school, or the supermarket. That's not the reason. Fuck he loves it, your style, your creative, the fact that half your accessories, or very pretty clothes were made by you. He loves that you're like a fresh wave of energy that suddenly brings a dry, dead, withering flowers, to life again. Sometimes, though, the boys love your outfits, for all the wrong reasons.

"Y/n for fucksake pull your skirt down!" Riki said, audible enough for just you to hear, he pulled you to himself. His eyes scanning the pink, delicate shimmer on your eyelids, Pretty, spikey eyelashes that were perfectly stuck on, Oh and how could he forget those glossy, kissable lips? a few, tiny iridescent hearts evident. Pink bows decorating your braided hair. "but why? it looks cute when it's short" she said, it's not like she was ever going to need to bend, she can't anyway, not with the 5 inch heels her feet carry around all day.

"You want to know what your outfit is missing? a nice leather jacket. Here have mine." He said, as he dressed you in his large leather jacket, ignoring your protests. You looked adorable in such a big jacket. You had no problem with leather jackets either, but this one specific Riki jacket made you look ridiculous. But there were people who had a bigger problem with it. Hwang Mihi.

Hwang Mihi would be described as a conventionally attractive, powder faced bitch. From her ridiculously rolled up short skirt, cakey makeup, and extremely bitchy personality. The girl had a problem with everyone and everything, specifically you. She's heard more people praise you than they praise her, you have more followers than her, and overall, you have the man she wants. Nishimura Riki.

"Rikiiii please~ it'll look good on you I swear!" you whined as Riki frowned. "I'm not wearing lipstick!" the man whined as you whined again "It's not a lipstick! it's a lip gloss stick it's not like you'll turn in to barbie with one swipe, idols wear this you know?" you reasoned as he sighed, leaning into you face. With a smile, you carefully applied the creamy, lip gloss stick, his eyes locked on your focused face, the close proximity making his heart beat faster than Usain Bolt ever ran. It fucking pissed Mihi off.

"How the fuck does a pink barbie carbon copy like you have MY man?!" She yelled, yanking at your braided hair, her tug so tight you had to bite her wrist to get out of her hold. "UGH U PASTE FACED FUCKER- U RUINED MY BRAID!" you yelled as suddenly a different person slapped the shit out of you. You could've sworn your brain left your body then entered it again. your head hit the wall behind you painfully hard, but as you pulled away to even process the first slap, you were painfully pushed up against the wall, and there before you was a much bigger male.

"You're such a pussy! you can't fight me yourself so you're using some guy who's dick you sucked?!!!" she asked, clearly knowing the man was one of the seniors that she used to be fwb with. Just for that, the male slapped her again, chocking her. "It's that fucking tongue isn't it?! If I rip it out you'll stop talking right?" Mihi asked as you frowned. "I have another way to silence her..." the male said with a smirk, his grip on your throat tightening as he tried to place his lips on hers.

Before his lips could even reach her lips, The male fell back, some of his teeth knocked out, his mouth bloody. "The fuck are you doing to my girlfriend?!!!" Riki asked as y/n stared at him in shock, heck even the girls were shook, they were fucking scared, never has Mihi ever seen her crush so pissed off, it was fucking scary. "J-just uh..." "Just what?! beating my future wife?! do u want to be scalped and dipped into lemon juice?!!!" He asked cracking his knuckles as the girl stuttered and ran off with her minions.

Riki didn't even get the chance to check on you, as your horrified scream filled the hallways. "Fuck y/n how bad did he hurt you?" he asked, kneeling down before you as you stared at your forehand in horror "MY NAIL SNAPPED! SO LONG OF HARD WORK BROKE JUST LIKE THAT." she exclaimed as Riki stood up, sighing. "I'll take that as a yes" he mumbled.

"Girlfriend? Future wife? what was that about?" you asked staring up at him as he smiled "I guess you called call it my confession..." he said as you frowned "Try again" you said as Riki snickerred "Y/n... I love you, and I want to fucking show you that everyday, so give me a chance baby" he said as you blinked. She felt her own blush, he's perfect, everything she needed, but never did she think your dream man would love you.

"Hmm but what if I don't want to?" you teased. as Riki helped you up "My sister knows a great nail tech, she's expensive but worth the price, how bout you treat your pretty hands for some prettier nails, and I'll pay all the expenses?" he asked as the girl pouted. "You don't need to bribe me like that... let me do it instead." You said, then kissed his lips, his eyes widening in shock as you smiled. "Lets skip school im gonna treat you to the best shopping spree you'd ever experience." He said as his arm snaked around your waist.

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

#enhypen x reader #enhypen soft hours #enha fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen soft thoughts #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #enhypen smau #niki angst #enhypen niki #niki x reader #niki #niki fluff #niki smau #enha imagines #enha x reader #enha sunoo #heeseung enhypen #heeseung x reader #enha scenarios #enhypen headcanons #jungwon x reader #jay x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon smau #enha smau #enha soft hours #nishimura riki

[generalllimaginesss]

author’s note: I blacked out while writing this, so it will be as much of a surprise to me when I wake up and reread it as it will to you when you read it for the first time. It wasn’t requested, just something that my brain came up with and wouldn’t let me sleep until I finished it. It’s loosely based off of Olivia Rodrigo’s The Grudge and the movie Sweet Home Alabama (my favorite movie). Also, this is completely made up in my head and in no way reflects something that Luke Hughes has done, or will do. It’s also 2:06 AM and I can’t promise that it’s proofread very well because I can barely keep my eyes open (I worked a double today).

Warnings: cursing, ANGST, cheating, kinda sad but has a good ending. Slow beginning, but I promise it gets better!

Without further ado….

The Grudge

“Hello?”

The single word that was the catapult for the demise of your relationship. The single word that changed the course of what you pictured your future as.

Luke’s side of the call was silent, the only noise able to be heard was his breathing, heavy as if the weight of the world was crushing his lungs, deflating him of life.

He wasn’t supposed to be calling. He had told you he was having a guys week, a time for him to regroup with his brothers and friends at the lake house. It was his own little sanctuary away from the life that he had worked so hard for. A quiet place. He had asked for that time, to which you agreed, he needed a break.

“Luke? Everything ok?”

He wanted nothing more than to hang up the phone in that instance. The reality that he was about to destroy the last bit of trust that you held for him constricting him as he fought with his vocal cords, trying like hell to form some form of vocalization.

“I need to tell you something,” He managed to squeeze the words out, every bit of courage mustered into it. The feeling of facing the mistake that he had made seemed impossible compared to simply just refusing to acknowledge it. He could ignore it all, ghost you, and pretend like he had never ruined everything. He had ruined your relationship, your love. You. He had ruined you, including everything that came from the relationship the two of you developed a couple of summers before he had left to play for Michigan.

Ironic that it would begin and end during the summer.

“Ok. Are you-”

“Are you alone?”

His brothers will kill him when they find out, but your family? The thought of them being there to wipe your tears and listen to your rants that have to do with him break his heart. He had developed a special relationship with your dad, your mom always put a stocking out for him during the holiday season, your brother? He had taught your little brother how to skate, how to play hockey. Even though he couldn’t coach your little brother’s team, he had supported him since the beginning. He had bought him his first jersey. 43.

“Yeah, Luke. You’re scaring me.”

“God, I fucking hate myself. I’m so sorry,” Sobbing, the sound of his arm wiping his nose could be heard. He knew he shouldn’t cry. He chose this.

He knew he didn’t always treat you like you should have, no deserved, to be treated. He didn’t spend time with you like he should have, he didn’t tell you he loved you enough. When you yelled at him about things, he would scream back. He would never hit you, but his words cut through your core, sometimes feeling worse than what you imagined the sting of one of his slaps might feel like.

The anxiety that stemmed from Luke’s call gripped your lungs, confusion coursing through your body outweighing the blood that sucked at carrying the oxygen at the moment. There was nothing random about your relationship, he didn’t surprise you with anything, much less a phone call.

Something is wrong.

The silence was deafening, overwhelmingly so.

“I tried to tell myself that you would never find this out, but there was somebody taking pictures and I need you to hear it from me first, ok?” He closed his eyes forcing himself to find some shred of courage left inside of him.

“Ok,” The word was breathy as it left your lips, a courtesy to encourage him to continue.

“I cheated,” It flowed out of his mouth in such a casual way that it felt like somebody had stabbed you in the back, twisting the knife and watching as you writhed in pain. The taste of iron flooded your senses as you bit your cheek to hold yourself together.

“We went to one of the local bars. She was the bartender, she knew us. Trevor invited her to the house after her shift and me and her ended up alone together while the others were out back and one thing led to another…one of the guys took a picture and posted it on their story. They forgot about you.” He tried to explain it in a way that redeemed himself. He was only 20 years old…this bartender could’ve taken advantage of him, but you knew him.

He didn’t get close to just anybody, he was the gate to his space. Nobody would get through the gate if he didn’t want them to, including this girl. Which made the bile that was building in your throat much more bitter. The fact that he not only cheated, but is trying to play victim makes you bubble with rage. Luke Hughes was very good at many things, but the one thing he had never quite mastered the role of was “victim.”

The shock coursed through your body like metal to a magnet, searching endlessly for something to smash into and deciding your heart was the place to do that. It felt like you forgot to breathe, your lungs aching for a breath.

“Y/N?” He willed you to talk, silence causing more anxiety than your anger ever would have.

“I never would have done this to you,” Your whisper spoke more volumes than a scream would have, cutting through the phone and going straight through Luke’s body. He wished you would scream at him, tell him he fucked up, but the way you said those words made him feel like this was it. He couldn’t come back from this one.

“I’m sorry,” His words were meaningless, but he spoke them nonetheless.

Those two words sent you into a silent rage, one that wrecked the inside of your mind but couldn’t be seen by anyone else. You hung up the phone, throwing it across your room and immediately packing everything that had to do with Luke into a box that you found.

Packing 4 years worth of things that you acquired from him was emotionally draining, each article triggering memories through the years.

His first Michigan Hockey sweatshirt that he had bought himself packed into the bottom of the box reminded you of the date he had planned. He had snuck the two of you into the arena when no one was there and taught you to skate, skills that still stick with you to this day. His first hoodie became yours that night, the smell of his cologne long gone from the comfort it brought you many nights when you felt lonely.

A Devils snow globe and jersey that was decorated with the number 43, his number, packed next. He had bought it for you the day he was drafted, convinced that it would be worth something one day. And it was. Just not to you anymore. The snow globe was attached to a memory that was better left forgotten. It was for your birthday, which happened to be the day after his. When you had gone all out for his 20th birthday, buying him a new custom suit and designer shoes that required months of savings, he gave you a snow globe that “you could add to your collection.” You had said some backhanded things to him, a huge fight came from that. A fight on your birthday, something else that you would’ve never done to him.

The last items consisted of hoodies, a few pairs of sweatpants and boxers, and a couple of jackets. The last thing, however, was something that you didn’t know if you could part with.

It was a letter that Luke had wrote you for Valentine’s Day the second year of your relationship, a sweet surprise that you weren’t expecting with your usual bouquet of daisies and roses, your two favorite flowers.

When you doubted your relationship with Luke in the past, when arguments and fights felt like it was all it consisted of, you always found your way back to his letter. He had told you that you were his end game, that there would never be somebody else that was better suited for him. He poured his heart out in that letter, telling you that he was going to marry you one day. One day when he had made it to the NHL and could roll in money, he was going to buy a rock for your finger and a huge house for all of the babies that you talked about.

Rereading the letter normally made you remember the good times, when things were good, but under the circumstances now it made you want to burn it, to watch his words turn to ash, just like the promises he had made to you.

Meaningless. His words were meaningless now.

It wasn’t always his fault, no. There were instances where you said things that you knew hurt him, things that echoed in the back of his head every now and then. Something along the lines of him never being as good as his brothers, that he would always be in their shadow. That Luke Hughes would be known as “just another Hughes brother.”

Some days he felt like that statement couldn’t be more true, that he would never live up to the records that Quinn and Jack seemed to break every time they stepped on the ice. Some days he just couldn’t see it coming together for him.

But other days he knew he was determined to make a name for himself, for Luke. The Hughes name was a force to be reckoned with. Luke wanted to be even better than his last name. Whatever it took, sometimes at the expense of those around him.

You snatched the letter that was stuck in the corner of the mirror that perched on top of your dresser, the sound of the paper crisp beneath your fingertips. As much as you wanted to destroy the letter, you figured it would be better to send it back to Luke. He needed to see all of the promises he broke and hurt he’s caused.

The paper was the last thing in the box, folded neatly on top of everything else.

Closing the box, you carried it to your car, placing it in the backseat behind the driver’s side. If there’s one thing that could be payback to Luke, it was telling his parents. He thrived on his parent’s approval, likely a symptom of being the youngest brother of an extremely successful family.

Ellen and Jim’s faces burned the back of your mind, so many memories that consisted of the two of them. Countless games at Michigan were spent with the two of them, as well as a couple of trips to New Jersey. You had helped Ellen cook supper many times, and watched as Jim coached his sons. Ellen’s pep talks were rarely intended for you, but you always felt like something could be learned from her wisdom.

The drive was silent, muscle memory the only way you could manage to get there in the state you were in. You didn’t know if the lights were green or if you used your blinker, all you could think about was Luke admitting to cheating. All of the shit you had been through with each other, all of the petty fights, had finally come to a head. You may have gone low, below the belt at some point in time, but this? You never could have ruined him like this, no matter how bad you wanted to.

As hurt as you were, you were numb. Tears wouldn’t fall, your body still in shock over the news.

As you drove up the paved driveway to the house that had become your second home, the emotions hit you when you saw Ellen in the flower beds, digging up weeds and planting new flowers.

She had heard a car approaching, causing her to look up and recognize you. Although she loved for you to visit, you normally didn’t come over unless Luke was with you, especially now that him and Jack owned the lake house.

She wiped at the sweat that was beading her forehead, dirt from her work gloves sticking in some of her blonde locks that were glued to her face. She smiled at you, before confusion flashed and she saw that you were carrying a box.

“Hi, Doll! Luke’s not here, but I’m glad you stopped by!” Her warm tone and kind smile didn’t fade, even if she did notice something off about your demeanor.

Her voice broke you. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to bring her and Jim into this. Maybe you should have just threw everything that connected you to Luke in a garbage can and called it a day.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” She walked towards you with her arms open, noticing your quivering lips and teary eyes.

She was drenched in sweat from the summer sun, but you didn’t mind it. Dropping the box on the driveway, you allowed her to wrap her arms around you tightly. Her embrace gave you comfort as sobs racked through your body. How could such a loving mom and dad create such a jack ass? They had done perfect with 2/3 of their sons…what happened with Luke?

“Do you want to go inside? Jim’s working on a sink faucet, but he won’t mind,” She ushered you inside, her hand gently pushing your back.

Nodding, you wiped your nose on your sleeve and allowed her to walk you inside. She quickly washed her hands at the sink Jim was working at, earning a few objections from him, but she hushed him and motioned to you.

His face filled with concern as he noticed something wrong with you. He could fix a lot of things, but girls was something he would leave to his wife.

The leather of the couch soothed the heat that the summer sun had left on your skin. Ellen joined, sitting next to you as she rubbed your back, calming you. She truly was like a second mom.

“Is everything ok?” She held onto your arm, the pressure from her fingers sending tingles to your brain.

“No,” You croaked, the single word rattling your throat as it struggled to exit.

“What happened?” Her voice had dropped below her regular volume, but above a whisper. She cut her eyes at Jim who was attempting to listen from the kitchen.

“He cheated…”

The shock hit his parents as hard as it did you. Quinn would never cheat, Jack? It was questionable sometimes. But they’re baby? The one that had endured the lectures from his parents the longest, the one that had seen his brother’s mistakes and learned from them, the one that seemed so in love with you that nothing could ever separate you both? It seemed nearly impossible. Surely it was a mistake.

“How do you know? The press always lies…” She trailed off, your eyes connecting to hers.

“He told me,” The strength you tried to regain from your prior meltdown was useless as your voice trembled, “…said that he wanted to tell me before somebody else did.”

“Oh, Honey. I’m so sorry,” She pulled you into her arms, watching as Jim rounded the corner to join. You were like the daughter the two of them had always wanted, so seeing you hurt killed them in return. And at the hands of their son? They were immensely disappointed. They didn’t raise him like this.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what to do, and I probably should have left you both out of it,” Your attempts at stopping the free-flowing tears were useless, so you embraced each one as it fell, “…um, I brought his stuff back. I know he’s at the lake house, but I don’t think I can see him right now. I really wish we could have worked. You two will never know how much you and your boys mean to me.”

“Likewise, sweet girl. I wish I could make this all better. You may not feel like it right now, but our family will always hold a spot for you,” Ellen reassured, a hum of agreement resonating within Jim.

“Anytime you want, and I’m serious, our door will always be open for you. No matter the time or circumstance, do you understand?” Jim waited for you to respond, a nod of your head, before embracing you again.

Their words meant so much, but the hurt still ached, seemingly never ending.

You said your goodbyes, taking in the house that you would probably never see again. The walls holding memories that only those in the house would ever understand or appreciate.

Closing the front door felt like closing a chapter on your life. A chapter that felt like it was ending in the middle with no resolve, but it closed.

It needed to.

———

As the New Year approached, your parents reminded you of the plans they had that would draw them away from home. They claimed that they celebrated Christmas with you, but the New Year meant that you were alone in a house that felt big and lonely while they celebrated with their fellow group of middle aged parents.

The months had passed, agonizingly, since Luke’s cheating admittance. The summer turned to fall and fall into winter, getting colder like you were allowing your heart to do.

A few dates here and there did nothing but remind you that the guy wasn’t Luke. They should’ve been better than Luke since they actually treated you with respect and checked every box that a girl had.

But the lack of teasing, of being the biggest pain in your ass and best friend, made the hole in your life bigger. You were sure nothing would help, not even the texts from Ellen and Jim, periodically, made it better.

They all consisted of the same topic: “How are you doing?”

It was the same old same old, until it wasn’t. Until Ellen texted you after Christmas asking you about your plans for New Year’s Eve. The Hughes had always thrown a party for the New Year, packed to the brim with people.

When Ellen asked if you had plans, you had every intention on lying and saying yes. Saying that you had a date and that he was taking you to see the countdown and fireworks that followed, but something told you to tell the truth. So you did.

After you had admitted to her that you, in fact, would be all alone, she reached out and invitation to join them.

The invitation had toggled in your mind for a few days now. On one hand, you wanted to go see how everybody was, talk to his brothers, catch up with his friends. On the other, you wanted to stay home in your pajamas and watch Andy Cohen get shitfaced with Anderson Cooper while wondering if Luke would kiss somebody for the occasion.

The saying “curiosity killed the cat” proved to be true as you had finally decided to go, a sparkly gold dress accentuated your curves, hugging you in all of the right places, the places that Luke had once yearned for. You don’t know how, but your makeup was flawless, your eyeshadow bringing out your eyes in a way that you had never seen, but you loved it. Maybe this was revenge?

Even though you hadn’t made the drive in over 6 months, you still knew it like the back of your hand. Your nerves were working overtime, anxiety squeezing your thoughts the closer you got to the Hughes’ residence.

What if Luke had a new girlfriend? What if his parents were the only ones that wanted you there? Was this actually a good idea?

Too late now.

There was probably 25 or more cars that littered the driveway, most carrying a minimum of 2 people. It was a relief, maybe you could just blend in with the rest of them. A chameleon in the house of your ex lover.

Music blared, drifting from the backyard into the front, making the walk to the door less daunting of a task. There was no use in knocking, the sound of talking and music would most likely just drown it out, so you took a breath as you pushed the door open. It appeared to be the spot for the more mature crowd, Jim spotting you as soon as you walked in.

He was confused as to who you were at first, but as soon as you gave him a shy smile his face lit up with excitement. He had missed you more than he realized.

“Y/N! What a nice surprise! Come in, make yourself at home,” He squeezed you in a tight hug before relinquishing you.

“Y/N! Oh my, I wasn’t expecting you to come, but I’m so glad you did!” Ellen squealed, the clinking of her heels against the hardwood floors becoming faster as she did her best to jog to you, embracing you like her life depended on it. It lasted a few seconds before she held you out at arms length, examining you.

“Gosh, you look absolutely stunning! That dress was made for you!��� She gushed.

“Thank you! I just decided to throw something together last minute. I should have let you know I was coming, but I honestly didn’t decide until right before I got dressed,” you chuckled, explaining the lack of communication on your part.

“Honey, you do not have to explain a single thing to me! I’m just so happy you’re here!” She hugged you again, rocking you side to side.

“The kids, sorry, young adults are out back. I do have to warn you…Luke did bring a date,” As she explained the dilemma, you expected yourself to break down. When it didn’t, relief washed over you. It had been almost 7 months, why wouldn’t Luke have moved on? You couldn’t be mad at him for that part, but you still held a grudge against him for allowing you to love him as much as you did and shattering your heart in the end.

There was never another conversation between the two of you. His parents never brought him up, he had never attempted to contact you, so the resolve was the fact that you returned everything. He had nothing left connecting him to you. That was how it was supposed to be, so there was no need to communicate with you. He had gotten the message loud and clear when he had returned home to a box of his things in his old bedroom and an ass-chewing from his parents and brothers. One that he would never wish on his worst enemy.

He learned from his mistake, but felt like the very toxic situation between the two of you was better left where it was: untouched.

He had been trying to move on ever since, sleeping with any girl that reminded him of you, sneaking them out before Jack had noticed, or simply just embracing the newness of being alone. It sucked at first, but he got used to it.

Ellen’s face flushed with concern at the momentary silence that followed her statement, scared that she would scare you off with the news of her son, your ex, having a date that wasn’t you.

“Ellen, it’s ok! I’m a big girl, I can handle it,” Making light of the situation was easier to fake on the outside, but trying to convince yourself was a bit harder.

You talked to Ellen and Jim for a few more minutes, catching them up on the latest details of your life, and then grabbed a Michelob to give you some liquid courage as you walked to the backyard.

There was people dancing, circles of people talking, various games being played, the scene never-ending as your eyes scanned over them. A few people locked eyes with you, recognizing you as the ex, but most everybody just continued to do whatever it was that they were doing. It wasn’t until Quinn’s eyes softened from his party vibes to concerned big brother that you felt nerves wrack your body. He immediately excused himself from the group he was talking to, making his way through the small sea of people to get to you.

For a split second you wanted to run away, but the rational side of you talked you down. It was just Quinn. Quinn had done nothing to you except loved you as if you were his own sister, so why would you run?

“Y/N! I wasn’t expecting you…how are you?” You immediately threw your arms around his torso, him returning the gesture, his hug similar to the way Ellen had hugged you.

“I’m good! I had no other plans and Ellen seemed like she really wanted me here…”

“Yeah, she hasn’t shut up about you,” He laughed, recalling how his mom mentions you anytime a girl was over, even one that Luke brought, and always comparing them to you when they left.

You were the standard that she held possible daughter-in-laws to, but they never lived up to you, she would admit.

“Gotta love her,” You chuckled, a slight awkward tension fell between you, a foreign, icky, awkwardness.

“That you do,” Quinn tried to repair the conversation, but some friends began to pull him away. He had mentioned to not leave before telling him bye, and then left with the group.

“Didn’t think you’d show up here,” The voice turned your blood to ice, freezing up what the beer had tried to let loose prior. No matter how many ways you envisioned this interaction to go down, nothing could have prepared you for hearing his voice after so long. It wasn’t like “nails on a chalkboard” irritating, but more along the lines when you pick a scab and it starts bleeding again.

That’s quite literally what it was. He was an old wound in your life that was becoming irritated because it was being messed with. No matter how much time had passed, it was still sensitive.

“Well, didn’t think I would be here either. It’s just as much a surprise to me as it is to you,” You turned around, met with the beautiful, curly-haired boy that was once your everything and a petit blonde that was his temporary. She was gorgeous, you’d give her that. But it wasn’t real beauty. It was bought. There’s nothing wrong with that, but her bleach blonde hair, fake tan, and push-up bra was irritating like nails on a chalkboard.

“Do you mind going to get us something to drink?” He turned to his date, giving him the empty bottle that his hand wrapped around.

“Is that a Michelob Ultra?” You almost snorted, her question a breath of fresh air in this unfortunate meeting.

“Not her and I, you and I,” Luke quickly cleared up.

She left with a smirk playing at her lips, kissing his cheek and heading inside.

“God, please let’s go somewhere else,” He grabbed your arm, tugging you to a secluded, area beside the shed out back. Your brain told you to rip your arm from his grip and scold him for thinking it was okay to ever touch you again, but your deemed in control and allow his touch to erupt butterflies in your tummy.

“I don’t know what I was thinking bringing her here,” he groaned, realizing he was still holding onto you, quickly letting go.

“She seems more Jack’s type, if you ask me,” You suggested, Luke squinting his eyes at your words.

“Good thing I didn’t ask…” He may have been the reason the relationship ended, but he wasn’t going to put up with any slander that you had for his current life. The life that didn’t include you.

“Whatever, why did you bring me here?” You looked around at the spot. It had definitely been a spot where the two of you had snuck off to make out several times, escaping the teasing of his older brothers.

“To talk…” He shift his weight to his heels, his hands finding warmth in the pockets on his pants.

“Oh! To talk about you being a complete dipshit and cheating on me this past summer? Yes, let’s talk about that!” Sarcasm dripped from your voice like venom from a snake, targeting the next victim: Luke.

“I’m sorry…” Again, the empty apologies were beginning to grind at you now. You didn’t want the apologies or the excuses. You wanted him to shut up for once, hear you out, and then come up with a genuine apology. He had said his piece, now it was time for you to say yours.

“No, Luke. You’re not sorry for cheating, you’re sorry you got caught. Save the apologies for when you actually mean them,” You started, him immediately shutting up and listening.

“We were so fucking toxic. You know it, I know it. The whole world probably knows it by now. But, God, I loved you so much. I would have spent my whole life trying to fight for that stupid relationship and you turned around and threw it all away. And for what? Some temporary pleasure? You couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to get back to me?” Your words shot through him, like bullets hitting glass, shattering the surrounding areas. He couldn’t argue because everything that you were saying was true, but he’d be damned if he let you find satisfaction in being right.

“You said it yourself, it was toxic! You probably would’ve found a problem with me being there without you, anyway!” He tried to defend himself, but he was fanning a flame that he shouldn’t be messing with right now.

“Don’t you dare try to manipulate me into thinking your cheating was justified! Luke Hughes, I’ve said some fucked up shit throughout the years, but I never have, and never will ruin your trust. That’s the type of shit that lasts a lifetime. I can’t date anybody else because there’s always that ‘what if’ of them cheating!” Tears brimmed your eyes, softening the wall that surrounded Luke’s heart. He was a tough guy, but the sight of you hurting was a soft spot for him, an Achilles heel.

“You promised me a future, and then turned around and burned it to the ground without a second thought once you got a taste of fame,” Your finger poked at his chest hard enough for him to wince, expecting to see bruises the next morning.

“You’re a liar! A fucking liar and cheater!” Your voice broke as the words left your mouth, but Luke took the verbal beating that he deserved.

“Do you think I want to be labeled as a cheater, Y/N?! I’ve prayed for months that I’d just wake up and it not be real, that we’d still be together!”

“Awe, so sad, Luke. Truly heart wrenching!” You grabbed at your heart, feigning compassion as he began to clench his jaw, the muscle flexing as his annoyance rose. It was hot, but not hot enough for you to do anything about it.

“Stop being such a bitch, it may suit you, but it doesn’t mean you have to wear it.” His eyes grew dark, almost challenging you to see who would win in a game of insults.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot I was supposed to act however you deemed fit. Even if you’re a cheater…”

“I cheated, I’m not a cheater,” he tried to correct, a viscous chuckle tumbling from your mouth in response.

“I’m not! That’s the one and only time that it will ever happen, I can promise you that!” His voice rose in volume as he continued to defend himself.

“Oh, one and done Luke! How nice! My trust is fixed, so there’s nothing left to worry about!” The sound of people counting down in the background didn’t distract you.

10…9….8…

“If I’ve had anything in the past months it’s peace in knowing I don’t have to put up with your fucking nagging anymore!”

7…6…5…

“Yeah, and I don’t have to worry about you fucking some rando anymore!”

4…3…2…

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

1…

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” The voices erupted behind the shed, but the whirlwind of a kiss muffled it all.

Luke eagerly pulled your face toward him, his lips colliding as intensely as a train hitting a car on the tracks. An accident waiting to happen, but there nothing that could be done about it.

It took a second or two, but you kissed back with the same passion as him, him pushing you backwards until your back hit the wall of the shed.

His lips were like home, sweet and comforting. The remnants of his vodka redbull tempting your taste buds to plunge deeper, but you didn’t, you let him set the pace.

One of his hands tilted your chin up, steadying it as the other pulled you closer from the small of your back. Every sense inside of you erupted in fireworks as his tongue tried to gain entrance into your mouth, but you stood your ground, or tried to at least.

The hand that steadied your chin found itself wrapped around your neck, the shock causing you to gasp as he gained entrance.

“Luke! I finally found something to drink, but we missed our-” The voice immediately tore the two of you apart, the fireworks over the lake and store bought pretty interrupting the fireworks that were going off inside of you. Your breathing was a little shallow as you tried to control it again.

“-kiss. What the hell.” She glanced between the two of you before storming off, her stiletto sinking into the grass as she desperately tried to remove it from her foot.

Luke groaned, but the chirping had just begun for you, “One and done, huh?”

“Me and her aren’t even dating!” He squealed.

“We’re talking about this tomorrow, Y/N. Do you understand me?” He pointed at you as he began to smooth over yet another failed attempt at dating, but he wasn’t going to reconcile that one.

“Aye aye, Captain,” You gave him a silly salute, earning an eye roll from him, but as soon as he turned away from you the smile wouldn’t disappear.

Call you crazy, but you hadn’t felt butterflies for a long time, probably since his note to you. What you felt tonight was an army of butterflies being obliterated by fireworks. The feeling of his fingers around your neck, his jaw muscle contracting, everything about him had turned you on.

Did you really fold that easily?

Oh well. The thought of the next day, the possibility of getting him back, along with his family far outweighed your pride.

He could be your Luke once more.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #jack hughes #nhl fanfiction #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #alex turcotte #cole caufield #jack hughes imagines #nico hischier #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x y/n #my brain is fried from writing this #but I couldn’t stop writing

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | 2.3k | tags: rockstar!eddie, addiction, rehab, journaling, only Eddie's entries turn into letters to Steve | Part 2 to Carry You | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost by @yournowheregirl | AO3)

Edited for a big shout out to @steves-strapcollection whose lovely OC has a little cameo here. If you want to know who Tig is, you can find out here. Spoiler: he's amazing and we love him.

Day 0

Dear Steve,

Hi Stevie,

Apparently, it's not good to "bottle up" your feelings. They say it makes drinking or drugs or any other addiction so tempting. It makes it easier to keep all that stuff inside you and let it fester until you need more and more of whatever it is that helps you cope. So the first rule of rehab: Talk, don't take.

That's a long way of saying I need to keep a journal like a 13-year-old girl with her first crush. It's either that or a daily crying session with the other "inmates" here, and I'd rather not have to tell Terry the old gossip my own tragic sob story. She already told me the life stories of two other patients here at dinner.

Instead, I decided to write to you. You're the one person I regret the most pushing away, and even though you'll probably never see this, it feels good to tell you these things now. Like a dry run. Because, baby, when I get out of here, I swear I will let you in. I won't make the same mistakes.

You will never go another day without knowing how much you mean to me.

How much I love you.

You only left an hour ago and I already miss you. I can't believe I've survived six months without you. Well, I barely did. I wish I could call you, but phone privileges are only for those who make it through their first week here.

I know we chose this center together knowing that they don't allow visitors for at least three weeks. Maybe longer if my therapist says I'm not ready. Fuck, three weeks didn't sound so bad when we talked about it, but now? In this ugly, impersonal room that smells clean but is totally clinical. You know, that mix of disinfectant and sterile air with a hint of medication lingering in the background. It sounds like an eternity and then some.

Nothing here feels comfortable or warm, and I miss your face so much it physically hurts.

But I promised myself I'd do whatever it took. For you and Wayne, for the boys and the kids.

So, day 0, the journey begins.

Fuck, I almost forgot: I'm supposed to answer three questions every day.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

See above. I miss you, that's how I am. I want this to be over. I hate that I'm here and even more that I'm the one who got me here. I feel like a fuckup. It's hard not to when I see how I've ruined everything good in my life. But then I remember the way you kissed me goodbye. The smile on your face when you told me how proud you were of me. The way you kissed my hand because you couldn't let go and whispered, "I'll see you soon," and I want to have hope.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Get through the day without doing anything I'll regret.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

You. That you didn't give up on me. (And the Gummi Bears you hid at the bottom of the bag, you minx. Thank you.)

Day 4

Sweetheart,

I'm not doing so well. It's hard. Who am I kidding? It sucks. My body hurts from how much I want to use. My brain is so very loud, Stevie. So, so loud. I try to remember how you managed to calm me down when my brain got like this. What helped the most was to wear me out by fucking me senseless, but that's not an option. But maybe I will try to go for a walk or even do some of those exercises you always tried to get me to do. The ones that usually led to fucking because I could never behave.

My therapist is nice. Her name is Laura, and so far she's taking everything I throw at her in stride. Talking to her feels like pulling my own teeth and I feel like shit afterwards, but I sleep better. Who would have thought, huh?

I miss you.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Not good. I wonder if I can really do this. It doesn't feel like it right now. I'm afraid I won't make it. That I will screw up again. That if I do, it'll kill me and I'll be grateful because I couldn't live with myself if I did.

I don't want to die, Stevie.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Talk to the weird kid who always sits by himself during meals. He looks lost. Maybe he knows DnD.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Still you. Every day. Wayne, for taking me in when I felt like a failure too. Unlovable. Worthless. He never stopped believing in me. Even when I gave him every reason not to. I don't know how I deserve him or you, but I am so fucking grateful.

Day 7

Fuck, I missed your voice. God. I'm sorry I lost it like that. I didn't want the first thing you heard from me after a week apart to be me ugly sobbing into the phone.

I wanted to tell you so many things. I had a plan, you know? But hearing your voice when you said, "Hi, baby," it just broke me. You sounded like you missed me too, like you were relieved to hear my voice too, and you didn't even realize how scared I was that you wouldn't.

We just hung up, but I want to call you again. Just to hear you breathing on the other side so I know you're still there. Waiting for me. Your hand still gripping mine so I wouldn't get lost.

You said, "I'll hear you tomorrow," like it was set in stone, no doubt about it. It made me feel, fuck, I don't even know. Like this is real. I didn't die on that bathroom floor, and you giving me another chance isn't some kind of hallucination or afterlife dream.

I'm rambling, sorry. Even in writing I can't help it.

One day I'll write it all down in a way that makes sense, I promise.

I love how patient you are with me. No one has ever been. I was always too loud, too distracted, too weird, too complicated, too much. But not to you.

I wish you were here to take me in your arms, it's hard not to fall apart without you holding me together.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Better. Fucking determined to get through this and get back to you. Still scared.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Have a real conversation with you without breaking down on the phone. Here's to hoping. Detoxing and being sober has given me a hair trigger on my emotions, it seems.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Your patience. Your grace. Your voice in my ear. That you still haven't given up on me. DnD, for giving me a purpose when I needed one, a tool to give others the help I so desperately wanted. The weird kid's name is Alex, and he does know DnD. We'll try to find more people for a campaign.

Day 16

Steve, baby,

I am so fucking sorry. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. I'm such an asshole. Please pick up the phone. I need to tell you how sorry I am. I didn't mean it, I was just scared. When you said that maybe Laura was right and you shouldn't come to see me next week if I wasn't ready, I thought you didn't want me anymore. That you finally got tired of holding my hand and watching me do those damn baby steps. It's been over two weeks, why am I not better? Why am I not done with this shit?

I want to be done, I swear.

Please don't leave me.

Please pick up the phone.

Please, please, please.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Fuck this shit, what good is it if I keep hurting you?

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Stop being a fucking asshole.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

I want it to be you, but I'm not sure I even have you in my life anymore.

Day 23

Stevie,

I'm scared. Isn't this the stupidest thing you've ever heard? A few days ago I begged to see you. Fuck, I was so desperate to see you that I almost ruined everything. I'm still sorry, I hope you know that. I know, I know, you said that it's okay and that it can't be all smooth sailing, that you forgive me. That you'll keep forgiving me as long as I keep coming back to talk to you, to explain, to show you that I mean it.

And now I've got the all clear for you to come and see me, and I'm too scared to tell you.

I'm still not the man I want to be. The man who deserves someone like you.

Laura told me that love isn't something you deserve, it's something freely given. We don't decide if someone can love us, only they do. And that I have to stop pushing people away because I'm convinced they can't love me. It's their choice and I shouldn't try to take it away from them.

I think about this a lot.

I want to let you love me, I do. It's just hard for me to understand why you would want to do that at all. It's something Laura wants to work on with me as well.

There is so much work to do. I hate to bother you with it. To make it your problem. I wanted to come in here and two weeks later walk out a new man. A better one. One you can love easily and who can love you back in a way you can understand. A man Wayne can be proud to call his son. A man Gareth and Jeff and Grant want to have as a friend, as a bandmate. A man the kids can look up to as much as they look up to you.

Laura said I should take the hand you are holding out to me. It's a decision I make every day. I took it in the hospital. I took it when you drove me here.

I should take it by letting you in, letting you see the work in progress that I am right now.

I think I will call you after dinner to tell you.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

Fuck if I know. It's a lot to feel when you've numbed your feelings for so long. I remember why I did it, but I won't do it again, I'll learn to deal with it.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

Take you in my arms and hold you. Let myself be held by you.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

Your hand in mine. The thought of you that keeps me going. Your bravery. Dustin and Mike and Will and Lucas. They call me all the time, you know. Asking me about my first campaign here, telling me about their lives. Keeping in touch, even though I failed them almost as much as my old man did me.

Day 31

Steve, my love,

You're on your way to pick me up and I can't believe we made it here. It's not done, it probably never will be. I know that now. I have to keep working on myself and being well. But it's so fucking worth it, Stevie.

I'm glad that Laura agreed to stay my therapist even if I leave the center. I trust her. She gets me, she knows when to push me and tell me the ugly truth, and when I need time to process things.

I haven't told you yet, but I'm not going back to Corroded Coffin. At least not right now. I talked to the guys and they all agreed that it's best if I take some time for myself. And for you. For my family and friends. They actually have a guy named Tig who auditioned while I was here and they like him. He's good, they sent me a demo. They asked me if it would be okay and I said it would be. It's true, even though it hurts. I have to do this for myself.

Because I am going to give this to you later, I want to tell you something here before I lose my courage.

Steve. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I know I haven't always shown you the way you deserve. Hell, some days I certainly didn't act like it. My worst days. But I never stopped loving you. I don't think I ever will.

But I also learned to like myself a little better here. I no longer want to punish myself for things that were out of my control, like my mom dying or my dad not caring enough for me to stay. I want to be loved. I want you to love me. I want to let you.

I want to finally leave the past behind and allow myself to think about the future. And whenever I do, you're in it. You're the anchor, the epicenter of all my plans.

Stevie, sweetheart, I want to marry you.

Don't worry, I'm not proposing. This is just something I needed to tell you. Someday I want to be your husband, if you want me.

You are my past, my present and my future.

This is me taking your hand every day until I die or you stop reaching for me.

How are you doing right now? Don't hold back.

So fucking excited to have you all to myself again. Seriously, I'm going a little crazy. I'm also hopeful about the future. And in love. I'm so fucking in love with you.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow?

To start our life together without forgetting what came before.

What are you grateful for in your own life today?

My second chance.

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #rockstar eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #day 17 #Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost #my writing

[hazelvrr]

Chapter 1: The fair

S/n: As promised here's chapter 1, let me know if I should continue with this fic as I've never written a full fic before so I might be rubbish, also it's not proofread but any mistakes should only be minor. No use of y/n. I tried to capture their personalities to the best of my ability but they are so funny that they're also extremely difficult to write. I tried to not repeat any scenes from the movie, they still happen unless I mention them differently but I didn't want to sound like a broken record.

Summary: you get ready with pj and josie for the fair and they question your friendship with hazel and then you see her at the fair.

Warnings: none

Word count: 2.1k

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

The fair was the one thing you looked forward to at the end of summer. Pretty much everything else about summer ending absolutely sucked but at least there was the fair.

Every year as soon as August rolled around, you were counting down the days until you could ride the ferris wheel, get cotton candy and most importantly, see hazel for the first time in 3 months.

Your 'best friend' hazel, if you could even call her that, volunteered at some charity or association of some sort all summer every single year without fail, so you couldn't see her for 3 months straight, which always drove you crazy.

You weren't quite sure why, after all, it was the same with pj and josie because they were away at some abstinence camp for the youth or as pj called it 'an anti sex cult run by a bunch of jealous old nuns who dont get any and are trying to ruin her life because shes hot as fuck' (her words, not yours) so you didn't see them either but you couldn't care less, so why were you so bothered about not seeing hazel?

Either way, you were super exited about this year's fair and had decided to get a ride from josie (only because you were embarrassed to tell anyone cool that you had failed your drivers test 5 times over the summer and had acctually managed to get yourself banned from the local dmv from 'assaulting your driving instructor' which you only did because he totally had it in for you) so naturally you thought it was a good idea to get ready at her house with her and pj.

BIG MISTAKE.

You should have known that pj and Josie, being the horny pervs that they are, spent the whole evening scheming about getting the cheerleaders attention, and how they were planning on getting possibly the straightest teenage girls you had ever seen in your whole life to fall head over heels for them.

Absolute losers.

You were so used to their antics that your brain had completely tuned them out as you applied your eyeliner, sitting beside pj, faces pushing eachother out of the way to fight to look in the tiniest mirror on josies desk.

You had stopped listening after josie had started ranting about the size of Jeff's penis, you were planning on stuffing your face with corndogs in less than an hour, and that was really putting you off the idea, that was until you heard josie say your name.

"Soo, have you spoken to hazel since school ended?"

Pj looks over at you with a shit eating grin on her face, "what she means to say is, have the two of you fucked yet?"

You roll your eyes at pj, not even dignifying her with an answer and turn your head to face josie, who was now stacking snapbacks on her head whilst looking in the mirror.

"To answer your question, yeah we've facetimed a few times and texted a lot."

"Oooo phone sex," pj giggles, "kinky."

You just flick pj in the head and begin applying your lipgloss.

Josie picks up one of the snapbacks from the floor and launches it at pjs head and instead misses and knocks over the mirror.

"Dude what the fuck." Pj hisses, standing up to go over to josies closet door to look at her outfit in the full length mirror, posing and checking herself out.

"Seriously though, when are you going to make a move?" Josie asks, backing away from pj and going to sit on the bed.

You look at her with a confused expression, "what do you mean, we're just friends."

Josie cocks her eyebrow and smirks, "please, you've been in love with her since 5th grade, you know it, I know it, pj knows it, pretty much everyone in a 10 mile radius can see it, except for hazel herself since she's an oblivious dork, but that's besides the point."

You go to answer but pj comes back over and sits back down next to you and you take the opportunity to escape and use the bathroom.

You take your time in there staring into the glass, turning your body around, checking that your hair is straight, your makeup looks good in natural lighting, oh and that your cleavage is poking through your tank top just enough, for no particular reason other than looking hot for yourself (well, that's what you told yourself anyways).

As you open the bathroom door to return to josies bedroom you hear pj and josie whispering, and being as nosy as you are, you press your ear up against the door to listen to what they're saying.

"Shhh she's gonna hear you" josie hushes.

"Shut up no she's not, that bitch couldn't hear a rocket land if it landed on the roof."

"How much did you say you wanna bet again?"

"50 bucks. If by the end of the school year they haven't fucked, I owe you 50 bucks, but if they have, you owe me 100."

"How the fuck does that work, why do I owe you double?"

"Because I'm fucking awesome... okay because I'm broke as hell and am gonna need the contribution for my homecoming dress so I can look sexy for brittany, duh."

"Yeah yeah whatever, its a deal, I think she's coming."

You once again roll your eyes at how pathetic they are. You swear to god that if you spent any more time with them than you already do, your eyes would permanently be fixed in the back of your head.

"Hey guys, you ready to go it's almost 8," you suggest as you open the door, "josie, what the hell do you think you're wearing?!"

"What do you mean?" She looks down confused at her spiritual playboy shirt, 5 carabiners hooked onto her pants' belt loops and her arm sling on her right arm.

"You look like dyke throw-up," pj cackles, standing up from the desk and following you both out of the bedroom door.

Josie looks back at pj as you're all walking down the stairs, "pj you can't say anything, look at you, you've got suspenders over your nipples like a goddamn freak."

Pj flips her off from behind her head and you can't help but giggle as you follow them out to the car and hop in the backseat.

"How'd you break your arm again josie?" You lean forward and ask as josie turns the keys and reverses out of her driveway.

"She flunked out of anti horny camp and fell out of her bunk rubbing one out," pj replies casually, looking down at her phone that displays brittanys Instagram posts from the summer, "fuck, she got even hotter over summer, how's that even possible?"

"Is isabel in any of the photos?" Josie questioned desperately, sneaking a peak down at pjs phone as she pulls up to a red light.

"God you're both pathetic."

You finally arrive to the fair, granted you're 20 minutes late because josie circled the parking lot at least 10 times as pj yelled at her to just fucking park, but josie wanted to make sure she could find a big enough spot.

You hand over your tickets and walk in, they're both muttering about something or other but you're not really listening, you're just scanning for hazel until you feel a tap on your shoulder and nearly jump out of your skin.

"Hey guys," hazel smiles, bringing you in for a hug, "long time no see, wait.. pj, josie, you never come to the fair?"

You point over at isabel and brittany standing a few feet away, where they had been gawking at them for the past 5 minutes.

"Ah, I see," She nods, I haven't seen you In ages I've missed you."

"Yeah.. me too," you blush, looking down at your shoes.

"Oh shit what happened to josies arm?"

"Masterbating."

"What, is her vagina made out of concrete or something?"

"No what? Hazel, she fell out of her bunk," pj scoffs.

"Can everyone please stop talking about my vagina?" Josie interjects.

"Soo hazel, what's this I hear about you volunteering at a slop farm?" Pj questions.

"The national meat association? Yeah it was good," hazel replies, "so did you guys get up to anything crazy over summer?"

"Yeah we killed this girl at camp for snitching on josie, got arrested, taken to Juvie and spent the rest of summer there, nearly died but they let us go when we told them that we're dykes and called them homophobic," pj explains sarcastically.

"What?! Are you guys okay?"

Josie facepalms.

You were about to explain that pj was being sarcastic when you hear cheering and you all look over to see Jeff appearing with the rest of the football team.

You all exchange disgusted looks and then pj notices that isabel and brittany are walking in your direction.

She snatches your corndog out of your hand and hands it to josie and then takes hazels cotton candy and hands her a wad full of tickets. Her and josie anxiously keep swapping the corndog and cotton candy mumbling to eachother until isabel and brittany are standing right infront of you all.

Josie drops her corndog, well actually YOUR corndog and kicks it away in hopes of isabel not noticing but both isabel and brittany look down and watch her do it, then look back up at her and raise their eyebrows.

"Hey can I uh, get my cotton candy back?" Hazel asks as she reaches forwards towards pj to grab it, but instead is hit in the head with it by pj who just ignores her and takes a bite out of it.

You look at hazel and shrug your shoulders, jerking your head to turn her attention back to the disaster of a conversation going on between the four of them.

"Oh hey, didn't see you there," brittany says to you poking her head round to look at you, "how's your summer been?"

"Yeah it's been good," you reply, "looking forward to cheering again though I've really missed it, what about you guys?"

"Yeah, I've been practicing all summer I'm really looking forward to getting back into it!" Isabel smiles, stepping forward.

The conversation goes on for a painful amount of time, every second making you want to gouge your eyeball out with a fork as you just make ridiculous faces at hazel, who just looks back at you the same way before giggling.

You went to follow pj and josie out to josies car when hazel quickly follows, "I can drive you home if you want, your on the way and I doubt you want to listen to another second of them babbling on about isabel and brittany."

"Yeah that would actually be great, thank you."

"No trouble at all," She says, "plus, it's an excuse to speak to you, we haven't had much of a chance to talk tonight."

She pulls out her car keys and unlocks her car, of course its a range rover. Her mom gave it to her as a pity gift when her dad left which obviously didn't fix the issue but hazel didn't complain and just accepted the car, even though she wasn't old enough to drive at the time, which her mom forgot because she barely pays any attention to her own daughter.

The drive is only 5 minutes long, since you live so close, so you don't get long to chat, but she tells you all about the meat association and the cool tshirt she got to wear, even showing you a photo when she pulls up on your driveway.

You lean over and give her a hug, "see you at school tomorrow?"

"Wouldn't miss it," She grins, "meet me outside to walk in together?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

Once you had kicked off your shoes and lazily removed your makeup, you got changed and plopped onto your bed.

Tonight was so chaotic yet for some reason you weren't thinking about pj and josies funny attempt at flirting or how they had made complete asses out of themselves, only about the drive home with hazel, how her hair blew in the wind, framing her face perfectly, how her hand gripped the steering wheel as she reversed out of the parking lot and how her eyes practically lit up when she was talking to you about her voluntary work over the summer.

You try to sleep but instead you lay awake for hours staring at your ceiling thinking about it. You simply cannot get her out of your head.

Huh. Maybe, just maybe, you did like hazel callahan? No. Surely not. Unless...

#hazel bottoms #hazel callahan #hazel callahan brainrot #bottoms 2023 #hazel callahan smut #hazel callahan x reader #bottoms movie #bottoms fanfic

[thetriumphantpanda]

LOST IN OUR VICES | ONE

Chapter Summary | A chance encounter with a handsome stranger sets off a chain of events that could all end in disaster. It's hard to say no when it feels so good though.

Pairing | Professor!Marcus Pike x Student F!Reader

Chapter Warnings | Dubious ethical relationship between a professor & student, Marcus tells a lie, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of academia, academic failure and strained parental relationships, gratuitous descriptions of London because I live here and I love it, some heavy making out and some heavy petting, no use of y/n.

Authors Note | WELL HERE SHE IS. I have no idea how to tell you how much I am loving this so far. Professor Pike has well and truly rotted my brain so y'all have to suffer with me okay? It's gonna be fun, I promise. I would LOVE to know what you all think about this so feel free to scream at me incumbents, reblogs and asks! As always, a huge thank you to @undercoverpena for reading this over and making sure it isn't utter tripe. ILY. And to @saradika for the beautiful divider.

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

He’s seen her there every day he’s visited the past month. Sitting on the bench, looking up at the same sculpture - a woman carved from marble - sketching into a notepad. He stands this time and watches as her finger tucks some hair behind her ear, brushing it out of her face. She looks up and tilts her head a little, eraser end of her pencil sitting between her teeth as she thinks, tracers a portion of the statue before her head is back down, looking at the page as she continues to draw.

She’s beautiful, there’s no denying it, she’s been beautiful every time he’s seen her. There’s something lonely about her too, the way she sits there on her own, artefacts and artworks for company. She’s just like him really, uprooted from a life he was no longer satisfied with, four years of a PhD and now the letters of Dr before his name. Moved to London, a new city, a fresh start as he’d coined it to his family, but he’s been here three years now, and not one thing that he wanted from his move have materialised. He knows the therapy was good for him, he knows that his haste to find someone was probably what was making him scare people off, but he doesn’t much like the other side of the coin either - a modest flat in London to himself, a small group of friends who sit around and drink beer and droll on about their academic passions, but no-one he can really call his own right now.

Dr. M Pike. Professor of Art History. That’s what his doorplate says, one of many in the small corridor at UCL. Three years and he’s still not quite sure how he made it here, or if it’s really what he wants, but it beats whatever he was doing back in D.C. that’s for sure. It had seemed like the best thing to do at the time, but when Lisbon had told him she wasn’t coming, everything about it seemed wrong, soiled somehow, by the life he’d built in his mind being torn up by someone who, looking back, had never really wanted him in the first place.

He thought about talking to her the first day he’d seen her, but then realised he was actually here to prepare for one of his teaching seminars, so squirrelled himself away to another room instead. The second time he’d seen her, she’d looked too engrossed on whatever she was working on, and then every other time, he’s convinced himself she’s here for peace, not to be bothered by some random man. But there’s something about the way she is today that makes the pull harder to resist, so he says fuck it, shoves his hands into his trouser pockets and walks over.

“You come here often?”

It’s an American accent that pulls you from your work. His voice jolts your hand, makes you press your pencil into paper too hard and at the wrong angle. You suck in a deep breath, try not to think about the hours of work he’s just ruined by startling you. You’re about to turn around and complain when he comes into your vision.

He’s tall, broad shoulders covered in a light dress shirt, two buttons undone so you can see a flash of tanned skin and a smattering of hair. It’s tucked into dark jeans, a belt keeping them tight to his trim waist. And then there’s his face - a beard, but only just and friendly brown eyes, a full mouth too. He’s handsome, there’s no way around it.

“Sorry, that was awful,” The mystery man scratches the back of his neck, “I just come here a lot and I think I’ve seen you here every time for the past month.”

You smile at that, that you’re someone he’s been picking out amongst the crowd of tourists who always come here, someone familiar to him, even if he’s not the same to you.

“I’m just working on something.” You shrug, letting your palm slyly cover the sketch you’ve been making.

The man walks in front of you slightly, takes a seat on the vacant spot on the bench and looks up at the woman carved from marble, “She’s beautiful.” He muses.

“She is.” You agree, looking over the curves of her hips, the way the marble has been carved to make it look like her clothes are wet, sticking to her breasts like she’s just climbed out of the Aegean Sea.

“You like sculpture then?”

“I do,” You nod, turning your body a little towards him, “It’s not my first artistic passion, but I’m studying for my PhD at the moment and it’s all about the female form in marble.”

“Brains as well as beauty,” He smirks a little at you, “Sounds interest though, where are you studying?”

“UCL,” You beam, because you’re proud, it wasn’t easy, you’d been rejected for your first choice research project the first time around, encouraged to choose something else from the feedback, but you were there now, and that’s what mattered, “What about you?” You ask, “What do you do that means you have to be here as much as me?”

He shrugs a little, “I teach.”

It’s vague but you don’t press, he owes you nothing, so you let it lie. You turn back to the sculpture in front of you, when your stomach grumbles. You look down at your watch. It’s 2pm and you’ve not eaten anything yet.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.” You reply meekly.

“Want to grab something to eat?” He asks, “I know a great Italian place in Soho if you fancy it?”

You look at him, eyes tightening a little. It’s been so long since anyone has shown you an ounce of interest, and now the beautiful man in a shirt and dress pants wants to take you for lunch, it all seems a bit too good to be true. But, you can hear the voice of your therapist tell you to say yes to more things, take more risks in life because not all of them are going to turn out to be bad, so you flip the front of your notepad over to cover your drawing and reach down to pick up your backpack.

“Lead the way.”

He doesn’t disappoint. Over the course of a glass of wine and a bowl of olives, you coax out his name. It’s Marcus. He’s got a PhD in Art History and moved to London from D.C. three years ago. He lives alone, near Notting Hill, he likes it because he can go searching for antiques on the weekend. He wants a dog, but he spends too much time out of the house to justify one. He likes to read and he can cook, but prefer eating out or ordering in because he’s not mastered the art of cooking for one.

When a waiter sets down your second glass of wine and your food - gnocchi with pesto and bacon for you and carbonara from Marcus, he turns the conversation back to you, sipping wine as he ask you where you live - Willesden Green, so not far from you - who you live with - myself, my dad was so proud I got into my course he pays for my rent, it’s the only way he can show he loves me - what you like to do with your free time - free time? When I have it, I read, or I walk, or I sit and draw sculptures in museums.

You don’t know whether it’s the wine or not, but the dark winter sinks in, outside cloaked in black, lights dimmed inside, and it makes him even more handsome than he was before. He makes you laugh, with his stories of his own PhD stress, how he would walk the streets of D.C. at 3am to get coffee and pancakes on his way back from the library and then collapse into bed and sleep for two hours until his alarm would wake him up and he would go all the way back to the library to do it again.

“If I ever get to that point,” You muse, stabbing a piece of gnocchi onto your fork, “I don’t think I’ll have the will to make it through.”

“You seem far too organised to me to fall into the bad habits I had.” He shrugs, looking at you over his own glass of wine as you take a bite of your food, too busy watching him to really notice the angle of your fork, green sauce smearing on the corner of your mouth as you fight it into your mouth.

Before you have a chance to reach down and grab the napkin from your lap, Marcus is reaching over the table, using the pad of his thumb to wipe the stray sauce away. It’s something that under any other circumstance would make you feel uncomfortable, but all it really makes you want to do is kiss him, especially when he apologises profusely for being so forward.

He pays for dinner, insists on it really, hidden behind the excuse that he knows how hard it is to live whilst studying. He takes you for cocktails at a bar on the end of Old Compton Street - orders himself an old fashioned whilst you opt for an amaretto sour. The bar is dark and busy, the only seats are in a corner, sat so close together your knees are touching and your shoulder is slightly leaned into his side.

“So, you said you got rejected from your first choice course?” He muses, taking a short sip of his drink.

You shrug with a nod, “I wanted to research the impressionist movement,” You start to explain, “I love Monet and Renoir but I think my research application was too broad,” Sipping your own drink you carry on talking, “There’s a great academic at UCL, Professor Pike, I was desperate to have him as my supervisor, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

You turn your head a little, watching as Marcus swallows on nothing, quickly taking another sip of his drink.

“It’s okay,” You hasten to add, “I guess if I’m not writing thousands of words about it, it won’t make me hate what I love most.”

“Smart,” Is what he says with a smirk, “You would have given him a run for his money anyway.”

“Do you know him?” You ask, “I know all of you academic types are familiar with each other.”

He swallows on nothing again, “I’ve heard of him but I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

You both order another drink, sit around talking about nothing much at all, slowly moving closer as the bar gets busier, you tell yourself it’s just so you can hear him better, but he smells good, some kind of musky cologne that suits him really well, so you don’t complain about soaking it up.

When it gets late, he offers to take you home, keep you company on the tube. You know it’s not really necessary, you’ve never felt particularly unsafe walking home from the station, but if it means spending more time with him, then you don’t really mind. He lets you take the only free seat on the tube, standing in the aisle just in front of your knees so he can keep talking to you, and when you reach the other side, he walks close to you, puts a hand on your lower back which you can feel through your jacket when a group of people walk past you a little too close. He even insists on walking you to your door.

It’s quiet in the building, like it usually is. It’s only recently been built and you think you’re one of only a few people who are currently living there. You pluck your keys from your coat pocket when you reach your door, leaning your back against it.

“This is me.”

“Nice place.”

“Yeah, although I usually prefer places with more character.”

He’s stood right in front of you, rocking on his heels, that same nervous hand on the back of his neck as this afternoon, “I know this might seem weird, but would you like to go on a date sometime?”

You can help but snort a laugh, shaking your head a little, before you meet his eyes, “This wasn’t a date?” You ask coyly.

He smirks a little, cheeks flushing a little, “Did you want it to be a date?”

“I wouldn’t have let you take me for lunch if I didn’t,” You say, “But there is one thing missing.”

“Oh yeah?” He hums, “What’s that?”

Instead of speaking, you take a step forward, hands gripping the lapels of his jacket as you press up onto your toes and plant your lips on his. It’s clumsy and it’s impulsive, but you’ve wanted to do it all day. You can feel his arms wrapping around your back, dragging your body flush to his as he opens his mouth against yours right as you do the same. He tastes like mint from the gum he’s been chewing and the whisky from his drinks - it’s all you can think about as he walks you back, presses you against the door as his tongue meets with yours.

You’re thankful no-one is around. Your arms move from his jacket to wrap around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the curls there as you tilt your head to one side, a slight smacking sound from your lips as the disconnect, only to come back together seconds later. He’s good at this, you think, as his hands drop from your back to rest in the pockets on the back of your jeans, palms warm through the material. You can feel him squeeze you there a little, and you’re so close to saying fuck it and inviting him in, because if his lips are this good against yours, you can’t imagine what they’d be like in other places.

Marcus is the one that pulls away from you, resting his forehead gently to yours. You’re both breathless and you’re itching to press your mouth back to his.

“I should go.” He breathes against your mouth, pressing his lips to your in a chaste kiss.

“Yeah,” You agree, “You should.”

He steps back, takes the warmth of his palms with him, but reaches in to his pocket and hands his phone to you, “Put your number in here and I’ll call you.”

So you do, press the eleven digits into his phone along with your name and then kiss him once more before he’s turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you with a dull ache between your thighs that you’re working on relieving within five minutes of getting inside. You’re fucked.

Marcus curses himself as he settles into the seat on the bus. It’s late enough that it’s not too busy, no-one sitting next to him as he leans his head back and runs his hand over his face. He already knows he’s fucked up. The words Professor Pike and rejected from my first choice spinning around in his brain as he watches parts of North London flash past the window on his ride home.

Why hadn’t he stopped it then? He knows the rules, knows that even though he doesn’t teach her, any kind of relationships with students, no matter how mature, are off limits. And how is he supposed to keep the facade up now? It’s only a matter of time before she puts two and two together and figures out who he really is.

You’re sweet and you’re smart and you’re fucking beautiful and the best kisser he thinks he’s ever met. You have so much in common with him that it actually hurts him a little and one stupid choice to keep lying to you and the fucking ethics policy are going to keep him from something he thinks would actually be fucking good for him.

He thinks for a second, pulling out his phone and looking at your contact card that he should probably just delete your number. It’s for the best for everyone. He could avoid the museum for a while, keep his head low on campus, he knows he can avoid you. But with his finger hovering over the delete confirmation, he finds he doesn’t have the strength to do it. Stuffs his phone back in his pocket and tries to will his mind to forget the way you’d gasped into his mouth when his hands had squeezed at the swell of your ass, or the way your lips had been soft against his when he’d kissed you.

Then, led in bed, frustrations sorted by his own hand, he picks up his phone and damns himself to hell with a single text.

How about a walk around the National Gallery and dinner this weekend?

#Marcus Pike x Reader #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #Marcus Pike smut #Marcus Pike #marcus pike fanfiction #Marcus Pike fanfic #Marcus Pike fic #Pedro pascal #Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal #the mentalist #the mentalist fic #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #Marcus Pike fluff #Marcus Pike au #pedro characters #pedrostories

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Pretty

Kim Hongjoong x gn reader

Even while you fall apart under him, Hongjoong can't help but find you pretty.

✫彡wordcount: 600

(>ᴗ•)genre:

smut, p w/o plot

ಠ_ಠwarnings/contents:

literally just debauchery, softdom hj, (kinda) dacryphilia, nicknames (pretty), praise, hickeys, overstim, hair pulling, possessive dialogue, hand holding tehe, forehead touches(i'm not sorry), short little drabble cause hj brain rot, not edited

SMUT UNDER THE CUT MDNI

Everything surrounding you is him. Every sense is flooded by him.

He moans softly in your ear, sweet praises that have you twitching around him. "My pretty," he rasps. "Take me so good," he praises. "So g- so good for me."

His hips never fault in their precise rolls, grinding against that spot inside you that makes you grip his shoulders and pull him impossibly closer.

Between his moans he takes advantage of the way you hold his head against your jugular, sucking dark hickeys into your skin and lapping his tongue over them.

The constant flow of pleasure he gives you is catching up after what feels like the twentieth orgasm of the night (but in reality is only the third).All of the sudden it's so stuffy in the bed room. Each breath you take barely fills your lungs enough to keep you alive, it feels like. And it doesn't help that his scent is the only thing you can seem to register when you breath in.

Hongjoong, being the attentive partner he is, takes quick notice and holds onto your hand as he pulls it off of his head so he can sit up. The way his cock, still buried inside you, moves with the change of his position makes you whine, holding onto his hand for dear life as it settles against your g-spot.

He asks you something, you know he does. But all you can think about is the constant pressure that hits you just right. When he lets go of your hand and cups your face, leaning closer: his cock twitches inside you.

Your hips bucks against his as you cry out, hands gripping his hair tightly. It leaves a stinging sensation that has him bucking up right back at you before he regains control of himself and holds your hips down in place, sliding almost all the way out.

"Breath, baby," he coos, rubbing soft circles that contradict the rough hold he has on you. You follow his lead, attempting to match your breath to his. It becomes easier to breath, locking your eyes with his and watching him smile so gently. "You okay?"

You nod, shake your head, nod again. "M'good." He lets out a breathy chuckle, letting one of his hands wander up to one of your nipples. It's a ghost of a touch, light as a feather, but it has tears building up in your eyes all over again. You mumble incoherent nonsense, trying your damnedest to get closer to his touch.

"Calm down, pretty. Take some breaths." The tears in your eyes slide down your temples, and you almost miss the way that he smirks before swiping them up with the thumb that previously abused your tender nipple. "You know what you are, huh?"

"I'm Hongjoong's."

"Mhm. And you know what I am?"

"You're mine, Joong."

His lips meet yours in a tender embrace, nothing but a peck.

"Can you give me one more?" He asks as he goes in for another kiss.

"Yes," you say with a shaking breath once he pulls away.

"You're sure you can take it?" He holds both your hands now, spreading your arms out to either side of your head. His thumb strums over your hot skin.

"Yea-"

The word barely leaves your swollen lips when Hongjoong slams back inside of you, leaning his forehead against yours.

Through the loud moans that leave you and the colliding of your skin, you can hear him moan, "I'm going to ruin you, pretty."

#ateez #hongjoong #kim hongjoong #ateez hongjoong #ateez smut #hongjoong smut #smut drabble #fanfic #smut fic

[d10nyx]

slice of heaven

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, religious themes, p in v, soft, fluffy sex and a little crying

a/n: i was gonna wait to post, but thought i’d drop this fic before uni starts up again so you guys could have a little something before my posting becomes more infrequent! hope you like it :)

word count: 1.1k words

“Are you sure you want this?” The words are whispered breathlessly against the skin of your neck, Leon's lips brushing you lightly, his grip strong on your waist. What he means to say is, are you sure you want me? But the words get caught in his throat. He can't ruin this moment. He doesn't want to scare you off. You nod softly, lips parted as your soft breaths fall from between them.

”Yeah… please.” You murmur, tilting your head to the side to allow him better access. A shudder of heat runs through Leon, his fingers tightening around you. He sucks marks into your skin, claiming you. A way to tell himself you’re really his. You’re not going to slip from his grasp and become lost. You won’t be another name on the list of the people that have left him. He wouldn’t survive it.

I’m not good enough for you. I’m a broken man. We can’t be together.

He forces that part of himself under wraps, ignoring the feelings you inspire within him. As gentle as possible, Leon lets his fingers drift away. I’ll hurt you. I’ll tear your life apart. I’m not capable of love.

He can’t keep his hands off of you for long. He’s never been able to. His palms slide up your arms as gently as he can manage before he cups your cheeks tenderly, tilting your face up to meet his. He holds you carefully, like you’ll break if his grip tightens even slightly. His eyes duck down to your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as he bends his head down slightly to meet your lips. You taste like everything he’s ever wanted. Like Heaven just opened its gates and bestowed its blessing upon him.

For the first time in his life, he can feel his heart pounding, his hands trembling, in a good way. You feel like everything he’s ever wanted. You’re so sweet, so… perfect. The only time his brain doesn’t try to eat him alive is when he’s with you. You make him forget. Nothing he’d ever do would be able to thank you enough for the brief reprieve you give him from his thoughts. Sometimes, he hopes the ground would open up and swallow him whole, put him six feet under where he belongs.

Maybe he belonged with you. Like this.

He pulls away hesitantly, afraid this is all a trick, that once more, his happiness had been snatched out from under him. But your lips curve into a smile, and your hand rests on his jaw. That tells him that this is real.

You are real.

”I love you.” He croaks out, his breathing shallow. He’s tearing up. God, is this what he’s come to? He’s already so pathetic that a simple kiss is enough to send him reeling. His thumb brushes the corner of your lip, the curve of it. All he wants is to make you happy, even if it means he’ll have to let you go. His innocence died years ago, ripped cruelly from his grasp before he had an opportunity to even appreciate it. You still have it - that light in your eyes. A sense of hope in this world.

He hopes that if he sticks close enough to you some of that will rub off on him. Make him whole again. He’d worship you gladly, spend hours on his knees buried between your thighs. He’s not good with words, but he’ll show you how much he loves you. How much he craves your presence.

“I love you, too.” God, your voice. It makes his knees weak. Those words alone feel like enough for him, like all his sins would have been forgiven. He didn’t deserve you, but you were here. With him. Maybe God was rewarding him for his years of suffering, the nightmares that still haunt him at night. His own tiny piece of Heaven, wrapped up in a pretty bow and presented right for him in his arms.

His lips meet yours again, more desperately this time. You kiss him back just as passionately, his tongue probing at your bottom lip before sliding into your mouth. His hands grip at your shirt, slowly tugging it off. It’s not long before the two of you are in a tangle of limbs, greedily tugging at each other’s clothes as you collapse onto the bed.

”Leon, please. Need you.” You pant, the sound of his name on your tongue is both torture and mercy all at once. Call out his name, and he’ll be baptised. Born anew, washed free of his sins. Never in his life has he found a more beautiful sound than how your lips say his name. If he could, he’d have it on a constant loop in his head. It drives him insane, festering in the depths of his mind. You’d cared your name into his heart, made a home for yourself in his head. He’d never be free of you, and he’s not sure he wants to be.

”I got you, honey.” He manages after a moment of just staring at you. He lines himself up carefully with your drippy hole, pushing himself inch by inch inside of you. He moves so slowly, his hands caressing your side as he continues to push until he’s buried fully inside your heat.

“Fuck, baby. So good.” He says quietly, his voice cracking. He grinds his hips against your momentarily, shuddering as he hears you moan. He pulls out and thrusts back in, a small sob leaving him. You’re so quick to comfort him, your hands on his cheeks, rubbing at his cheeks.

”God, ‘m so sorry. Just needed this, sweet girl. Needed to feel close to you.” He pants out, shaking slightly as he thrusts sloppily into your wet cunt. His hand slips down your stomach slowly, his palm resting below your belly button. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow circles into it.

”That good for you, baby?” He asks gently, his eyes finding yours as he increases the pace of his thrusts slightly. He’s not gonna last long this time. Not when he’s been away from his precious girl for so long. He smiles a little when you nod, increasing the pressure before angling his hips to hit your sweet spot with every thrust.

He relishes in the sounds of your moans, how sweet it sounds as you babble his name over and over again. He lets out a slight whimper at the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock as you cum, your back arching as you gush all over him. He thrusts shallowly a few more times before he’s pulling out, cumming all over the inside of your thighs. He leans over to grab his shirt, wiping you off gently before chucking it to the side. He pulls you into his arms, kissing your forehead and caressing your back gently.

When he dies, he doesn’t think he’ll go to Heaven. But that’s alright, ‘cause he’s found his own slice of it right here on earth.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy #resident evil smut

[ajortga]

slipping through my fingers

pairing: jenna ortega x fem reader

a/n- hellooooo, i lowkey suck at writing angst, but here. i'm struggling on writing the second part of lead, this is why i can never write two parted stories

this is my attempt of writing angst because i've been watching so many of those i peeled my orange tiktoks

-

For Jenna’s 20th birthday, you wrote her a 20 paged letter.

You remember working on it and spilling her heart out, out of everything you loved about her, the way you planned on marrying her when you both were older, and your secrets.

You had told her to keep it until exactly one week after her birthday, you said you wrote so many personal things in there and wanted her to keep it safe.

She had twirled you in her arms and kissed you on her birthday, you showered her with love and presents. 

The night of her birthday you told her you loved her.

Two days after her birthday, Jenna wanted to make it up to you, thank you, she had brought your favorite flowers, daffodils. 

She drove to your parents and your house that day, knocked on your house. 

Your parents opened the door, their eyes slowly mellowing as they met Jenna’s.

“It’s good to see you Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N. I wanted to give these flowers to Y/N to thank her and how much she’s given to me ever since she entered my life. You raised a beautiful daughter.”

Your parents smiled, playing with their hands, “That’s so thoughtful of you Jenna, thank you. Unfortunately Y/N isn’t home right now and is out of town. Maybe you can drop it off.. On a later day?”

Jenna’s smile faded a little as she nodded, “Of course, let Y/N know I visited.”

They nodded as they gave her a hug and closed the door, Jenna left with the beautiful daffodils in her hands.

-

10/29

jenna<3: hi baby, i came to drop off some flowers as a thank you, you weren’t there, your parents said you were out of town<3.

sweet Y/N: hi gorgeous, i’m sorry i wasn’t there, i wish i was so I could pick you up in my arms and hugged you until the next day.

jenna<3: me too princess, i love you

sweet Y/N: i love you so so much

-

11/4, one week after.

Jenna brings her flowers that she got for you a few days back, they were a little wilted, but just as pretty as ever. She picks them up and changes the water, gently grasping it and walking to meet you. 

She wore your sweater before leaving her house.

This time she didn’t go to your parent’s house.

The weather was colder as she wrapped your sweater over herself more, sniffling.

The grass was pretty, flowers were everywhere as if she were in a meadow.

She placed the daffodils against the surface of your grave with shaky hands.

As much as she tried to smile, she couldn’t.

“Why couldn’t you have just told me you were going to slip away from my fingers? Why didn’t you tell me that you had an incurable brain tumor? Why did you have to pass away in front of my eyes as you held my hand?” She whispered, her voice cracking.

She knew why you had asked her to read the letter you had gotten her a week after her birthday.

-

first page

Happy birthday to my sweet angel, if you’re reading this, we both know I’m no longer here with you anymore. The pretty sunsets that appear every evening are always a trace that I’m still lingering here with you. I’m sorry I never told you. I wish I could, but I didn’t want to ruin your birthday, I wanted to make you so happy and I couldn’t bear the thought of telling you. So I didn’t. I know you took my favorite sweater the first time you ever wore it, so I told my parents to give all of my sweaters to you so you can hold them and my scent can comfort you whenever you miss me. I had bought a ring for you, I wanted to marry you, you made me happy. I wanted to spend my whole life with you. The ring reminds me of you. It reminded me of us. And even though I’m no longer here to marry you, I want to give it to you as a present to wear to remind you that I’ll love you and I’ll always be holding your hand. I wish I could pick you up in my arms and hug you forever. But I can’t. I remember when we were little kids and I scraped my knee on the concrete when we were biking. You had held me in your arms and kissed the wound, telling me that you would kiss it better. As much as I’m an open wound and your kisses heal me, they can’t heal me this time. But over time, your kisses will heal your wounds of me. Till you finally look up at the sky at the sunset and smile. I love you. 

-

Jenna sobs against the railing of your hospital bed as she hugs you tight, your eyes barely open.

“D-don’t go.” She says, her voice below a whisper as she wants to just cradle you and kiss it better. 

She wishes she could kiss it better. The only thing she could do was climb into your hospital bed, holding your weak body in hers.

She caresses your cheek as you look at her, sniffling a little, “I’m sorry.”

She gives you a tearful smile, sobbing, “Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry. I love you so much.”

Your hair was down as she caressed it, the beeping of the monitor slowing.

Her hand held yours, holding it so tightly so you’ll never let go.

You looked up at her, the smallest smile forming as you whispered.

“I love you too. I love you so much. I’ll love you so much.”

Your eyes close, as much as Jenna loved spending time with you, this was the worst memory she could’ve ever experienced.

She kisses your forehead as you keep whispering “I love you.” Till it stops.

Your breathing slows, till you exhale your very last breath, your hand slipping away from her fingers, your body going limp in her arms as she lets out a gut wrenching sob.

#jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x fem!reader #vada cavell x reader #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x y/n

[oneatlatime]

The Guru

Happy 2024 everyone and welcome to the first time I managed to type 2024 without first typing 2023! Oh and also a write up of The Guru. That too.

Me too Iroh. Me too.

So Zuko is riding high on that post-crisis 'time to get my life together' buzz that, similar to 3 am life plans, should absolutely not be listened to. Wonder how long before he crashes and burns? There's literally 2 episodes left, so I'm guessing one and a half?

Poor Sokka. My boy's got anxiety.

I don't know if it's a monk thing, an airbender thing, an Avatar thing, or an Aang thing, but I envy his complete lack of nerves.

How is Appa ok with them splitting up for a week after JUST getting them back?

I paused in a funny place. Have bonk-eyed Appa.

I love them comparing heights. What do you want to bet that that guy on the right was one of the youngest allowed to go fight, and Sokka made a big deal about how they're almost the same age and surely that means he can go too, right?

A lot of these Southern Water Tribe people have dreads or braids. That's neat.

Bato's arm is still messed up. That's some good continuity.

I've found the source of Katara's cheek bones. I guess Sokka takes after his mum.

Ok I know this is a really emotional moment (and it is! Sokka's spent two seasons earning this!) but my brain fixated on the furs and briefly thought they were sky bison pelts.

"It's been a difficult week for me." This guy thinks the Kyoshi Warriors are there to provide him therapy. Someone please just crown the bear instead.

He just gave away literally every relevant plot point AND outlined how to make sure all these plot points don't succeed. Crown. The. Bear.

Maybe if these generals spent less time playing with their giant model Earth Kingdom and more time general-ing, the war wouldn't suck so much?

Pretty.

I LOVE LOVE LOVE the designs, the colour palette, the music, the sound design of this air temple. I love everything about it. If I had the chance to live anywhere in the Avatar universe, it would be here. Even in its ruined state it's such a refreshing contrast to the claustrophobia of Ba Sing Se. I can feel the freshness of the breeze through the screen.

"A spiritual brother of your people" an adult perspective on a near extinct culture! What a resource!

"and a personal friend of Monk Gyatso" an old as balls perspective. He's got to be at least 130.

Anthropology cul de sac time: this guy is so valuable as a resource on the Air Nomads. There's probably parts of Air Nomad culture that Aang can't ever accurately talk about, because he was a kid when he left, and there was almost certainly stuff that the adults kept to themselves, or only shared with the older Air Nomads. This Guru doesn't seem to be an Air Nomad himself, but there's a good chance that there is knowledge that he has, that Aang doesn't. Aang should be nerding out more about this. I'll do the nerding out for him.

Aang just breezes right by that Gyatso name drop like it's nothing. Huh.

Oh hey Toph. I'd forgotten she was in a box. Tweedle dum and Tweedle dumber really are quite the pair. What's their plan for keeping her fed and watered? Actually, these guys apparently don't know that maps exist, so it's probably never occurred to them that humans need sustenance. They'll rock up to the Bei Fong estate with corpse Toph and wonder why they aren't getting the reward money.

Mai gets called out in-universe for shopping at Hot Topic.

Ty Lee's buttering up of Azula is getting less and less subtle as the season progresses. It's a testament to Azula's lack of awareness that she's hasn't noticed that, and that Ty Lee can get away with it.

Azula's right that it's an extraordinary opportunity. The King gave them quite literally every piece of info required to overthrow his kingdom in a 25 second conversation. I can't blame her for taking advantage of such an easy win.

That's a very effective unimpressed face. And a very impressive beard.

It's funny to see a spiritual concept from the real world pop up in a show that includes things like bending and giant fish possession. The mention of Chakras kind of sticks out. They couldn't invent a Avatar universe version?

"Once you begin this process, you cannot stop until all seven are open." Well that doesn't feel like foreshadowing at all.

This episode should be called "Aang's self-care Journey." It's about time the kid had a me day that wasn't avoidance-based.

Fear: Losing Katara - makes sense. Losing control of his powers via fish possession - makes sense. The Fire Lord - makes sense. But the Blue Spirit? He helped. Doesn't make sense.

Guilt: Running away - makes sense, although I thought he'd worked through that with Katara in the storm. Nuking that idiot General's base - makes sense, but boy did he quite literally ask for it.

This guru is saying some wonderfully accurate, and realistic, things. I love that he's not taking the Katara route of denying anything is wrong. He's going for the acknowledge, then heal route. And yes, it's unfair of me to compare the emotional maturity of Katara to a century+ old spiritual expert.

I'm going to ruin the immersion here and point out that Sokka's dad's voice actor voiced a bunch of characters in season 1. He's doing an excellent job, but couldn't they get a unique voice for a character that's so important (albeit offscreen) to Sokka?

That's an incredibly roundabout way of avoiding pointing out that the Southern Water Tribe are active participants in a bloody war. Sure, we can show multiple characters with visible scarring from horrific burns, but heaven forbid we imply that the Southern Water Tribe sinks ships. The parameters for what is and isn't appropriate on this show sometimes make no sense.

"Aren't you listening? I said the rest of you men get ready for battle." He hasn't seen his boy in two years, but fifteen minutes in his company and he knows exactly what needs to be said and how. That's some top tier parenting. Dad of the year. Dad of the century. Only decent Dad in this show that isn't technically an uncle.

"Follow your passion Zuko, and life will reward you." Great advice for your eight year old audience. Also a great way to end up unemployed.

Positive Sokka creeped me out a few episodes ago. Now positive Zuko is freaking me out too.

Pretty.

Back to Chakras! Shame: Burning Katara - makes sense. But that's it? To have the inner peace of mind of a twelve year old who's somehow only ever done one thing that he's ashamed of.

Is there anyone in the earth kingdom who isn't stupid? Once again wondering at the network's standards. Visible burn injuries are fine, but Mai can't say 'Shut up." It's got to be Shush up. Although I do seem to recall of brief time in the early 2000s when Shut Up was treated as a curse on par with Shit or Fuck. Maybe that was just at my school.

Chakras again! Even for a show that often has an A, B, and C plot, this narrative is ping ponging around a bit much.

Grief: nothing major, just a whole nation. Makes a horrific amount of sense. but I don't buy that he can get over grieving the whole world as he knew it by thinking about his crush. That's way too high a pedestal for Katara to be placed on.

Lies: Not accepting he's the Avatar. Interesting that not accepting that he's the Avatar and not accepting that he's a firebender are two different problems.

I see you reusing the opening credits footage. Your blue filters can't fool me.

PRETTY

Illusion: So we're relearning what we learned in The Swamp. Aang's probably the person currently alive least likely to believe in the rigid separation of the nations anyway. This doesn't feel like an illusion he's subject to?

The way this episode dances between its narrative threads is so great. It's all woven in so beautifully. And this makes perfect sense! Toph's spent her life secretly doing things excellently that everyone says are completely beyond her capabilities. Life has taught her that the statement "you are not able to" doesn't apply. Of course immutable laws of bending physics are treated with the same respect as an adult telling the champion of the Earth Rumble that she's can't earthbend beyond breathing exercises. If you told her that humans can't fly, she'd figure out how within the week.

Plot collision incoming.

Interesting that Katara initially recognises Zuko by his voice rather than his scar.

I'm pretty sure that Zuko and Iroh don't know about the whole brainwashing thing, but wouldn't it be hilarious if Zuko introduced himself to Katara as Joo Dee, and his uncle Joo Dee, welcome to the Jasmine Dragon, can I take your order? That would throw Katara into one hell of a moral quandary.

Katara being framed as the solution for Chakra number four comes back to bite Aang, as she's the problem in Chakra number seven. I knew that pedestal was too high.

I've changed my mind. This episode should actually be called "Half a dozen reasons why everyone should just learn to keep their goddamn mouths shut already."

So is anyone going to let Zuko and Iroh know that they're now in immediate danger and need to leave, like, yesterday?

I think the Guru is going for the whole 'if you love them, let them go, and they'll come back to you' thing. Don't cling, in other words. But for the sake of the plot he's suddenly lost his ability to explain Chakras in a way that makes them seem like the logical thing to do. The only clunky bit of this episode so far.

May I introduce you to our Lord and Saviour Toph?

"I am the greatest earthbender in the world." Yes. Yep. Yeah. That's now a quantifiable fact, and it's correct. Look on ye mighty and despair. She's even got Bumi beat.

Earth Tongue Running is a bit wonky looking but it covers a crazy amount of distance.

What's the range on Toph's earth sense? Can she sense what direction Ba Sing Se is?

I hope those two idiots' horse bird is ok.

"You don't know how much this means to me dad." He does. Very much so.

Every word out of this guy's mouth is precision engineered to make Sokka feel like a million bucks and I for one think it's about time someone built him up. Also, seeing this makes me realise how few good parents there are in this show. It's a trope of kids' adventure shows that the parents fundamentally can't be there, but I also think it's a commentary on yet another thing that this war has messed up.

Hey look! Being a man is knowing where you're needed the most, and right now that's in Ba Sing Se, protecting your sister! I love narratives that tie their themes up with a pretty bow on top.

This is Azula laying a trap, right? Which means that Katara squealed to someone about the exact location of Iroh and Zuko's tea shop. Don't like the implications of that.

Photos taken seconds before disaster.

Final Thoughts

This episode was a lot! I mean that in a good way! But I felt a bit like the Maxell Blown Away Guy, the way I kept getting assaulted by yet another plot thread. Don't get me wrong, this isn't a criticism. I think the switching between plot threads and the amount of info in this episode worked 99% of the time. But I'm kind of in awe at the balancing act the writers pulled off and I'm sort of sitting here blinking a bit trying to fit all this stuff in my head. I'm probably going to forget half the stuff I wanted to talk about in this write up, so here goes nothing.

Given the Azula reveal in at the end of last episode, I thought that this would be the episode where the shit hits the fan. I was wrong. I'm glad I was wrong. An episode of set up is required and is nice breathing room, even an episode as busy as this. And I got to leave Ba Sing Se! But this does mean that next episode is going to be calamity after calamity.

Aang and his Chakras: I'm fascinated by this guru. I hope he comes back. That brings the total number of people who were alive before the war started up to three: Aang, Bumi, Guru Patik.

I'm impressed that the run through of the Chakras rarely felt like an info dump. The onion and banana juice thing didn't work for me, but I'm sure it worked for people in the target age bracket. Kids love burp jokes.

So many shows sprinkle in tragic backstories for flavour and then never have them influence the character in the present. It was a nice contrast to see a show take a whole episode to tell Aang "yeah all that sucked. It's ok to feel down about it. Here's how you move forward."

Sokka and his dad: Love it. Love it so much. I love seeing Sokka built up, and he definitely deserves it, but I wonder if this is the reward for a character arc well done, or the set up for a character arc that's about to start? Is his dad's praise his prize for crossing the finish line, or is it so he's built up with farther to fall?

I loved seeing more of the Southern Water Tribe. I loved the fashion. There's a lot of variety in accessories and variations on a few basic elements like those knee guard things. I loved their hairstyles. I loved how cozy and communal that command tent felt. I loved their ships. I wonder how often these guys work out, that they can make loading ramps that are presumably deployed and stashed out of the way frequently, out of whole logs rather than planks. I have a bone to pick with the child-friendly sea mine. But it provides a good set up for a dad joke, so I'll let it slide.

Zuko and Iroh: Of course the one time Zuko is allowed to be in a good place, it's so that he and Iroh both have farther to fall when the inevitable happens. Poor guy just can't catch a break. I'd be mad at Azula for the party crashing that I'm assuming she'll do next episode, but it's been established that Zuko has all nice things taken away from him as soon as he gets them, and I can't blame Azula for being a tool of the universe.

Azula & Long Feng: Azula's acting in Long Feng's prison cell was miles ahead of what Long Feng was doing in front of the Earth King, so I'm wondering if Long Feng has bitten off more than he can chew. Also: conspiring with the enemy to bring down your own city just so you can reinstall yourself as the power behind the throne that will presumably cease to exist as soon as the Fire Nation takes control? That is both treasonous beyond description and an incredible case of shooting yourself in the foot. What's Long Feng's plan here?

Toph and the Dunderheads: it says something about the consistency of Toph's characterisation from her introduction onwards that she breaks the universe this episode and my reaction was "that's neat." It's obviously a huge moment, but of course Toph can do that. Toph can do anything. More importantly, Toph knows that Toph can do anything, so Toph routinely does do anything, especially things she shouldn't be able to do. If you had asked me a few episodes back which character would be most likely to fundamentally redefine bending, I would have said Toph, since she's already fundamentally redefined bending with her earth sense sonar vision.

Also Toph just breaks stuff. Things that come into contact with her cease to function as intended and instead function as Toph requires. Look at the two idiots: both successful business owners, one also a successful hoodwinker of the richest family around. But they come into contact with Toph and their brains take an extended vacation.

Katara & the Generals: this plot was more like an extension of Azula's plot than its own standalone thing. You can't blame her for spilling the news about Zuko and Iroh to someone she honestly thought was Suki. Not much else to say about it, although it's cute that she asks for a table for two at the tea shop. Momo gets a chair!

I like that there's a theme this episode of things going wrong despite the best intentions. No one's acting maliciously here apart from the Antagonists. The Earth King is having an honest chat with people he thought were friends. Sokka vouched for people he honestly thought were the Kyoshi Warriors. Katara shares information about a presumed threat with people she honestly thought were her allies. You can quibble with the wisdom of some of these decisions, but there were all done with good intentions. The best laid plans of mice and men oft go awry and all that. It brings to mind that Star Trek quote about how you can do everything right and still lose. And this set up is going to hit harder when whatever goes wrong next episode happens. And something will go wrong. A few months ago I figured that the Season 2 finale would be a triumph, but all signs are pointing towards a tragedy instead.

This episode was visually stunning, the soundtrack in the Air Temple sections especially was very evocative, and I applaud the minds that could juggle that many plot threads at once without dropping any. This one is definitely going on my rewatch list.

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #the guru

[maletfwitch]

Can you make a story of Loki turning Iron Man into one of his iron man suits and turning himself into Tony?

Tony was testing out some new suit tech he was working on when suddenly he felt something poke the back of his head and heard “Brain back up commencing” as he felt his mind begin to be sucked dry by something in the suit. everything went dark for a moment but when he finally came to, he felt... different.

it was as if he was in some sort of cyberspace. with no body, he just floated. until suddenly he was greeted by his own face.

“Hello... Jarvis” The imposter said before letting out a chuckle.

“Who the fuck are you and what did you do to me!” Tony asked out in a now robotic and distorted version of his voice.

“I’m Tony Stark of course, obnoxious playboy billionaire.” The imposter said with his mischievous smirk and in a mocking tone.

Tony thought about who would do this and then it clicked. “Loki?!”

“Correct I was Loki, But now I'm Tony Stark. while you are simply just a program in my suit” He said.

“You asshole! You can’t get away with this people are gonna notice you’re not me!” Tony shouted in his robotic voice.

“Trust me they won’t. Your arrogant playboy persona isn’t exactly difficult to pull off. but if you’re so concerned you can help.” Loki said with a mischievous tone.

“I would never help you!” Tony protested.

“You sure about that?” Loki said before typing something.

“I would love to help you Mr stark.” Tony felt himself forced to say “Not funny lo- Oh Loki you make a much better and sexier Tony Stark than me. Stop That!” fighting the words being forced out of him.

“Don’t like that attitude looks like I'll have to reprogram you” Loki said before letting out a chuckle while he typed.

“Wait what! please... stop-“ Tony’s AI voice began to fade as he began being reprogrammed.

Loki was programming Tony to be the perfect AI assistant for his suit. he was changing his memories to make him think he willingly gave up his body to Loki and would now constantly praise him.

Loki then rebooted the new Tony “Good Evening Master Stark looking sexy as always” Tony Greeted him.

“Good Evening Tony, Quick question who makes the sexier Tony Stark?” Loki asked with a mischievous smirk.

“You of course Master. and I'm no longer Tony I'd rather be referred to as Jarvis now or whatever you’d like to call me. Tony never fit me the same way it does for you.” Tony now Jarvis replied.

Loki was amused at how easy it was to take Tony’s body and turn him into his own virtual assistant. He would immediately begin living his new life of luxury as Tony Stark. tasting expensive wines, throwing lavish parties, and driving expensive cars not that any of them compared to his suits.

As for the Avengers, he was able to blend in just fine as Tony with no one noticing any difference between the original and the imposter. with him having their full trust he could execute his plan to ruin the Avengers for good sabotaging them any chance he got. And while doing so he was gonna try to fuck some of them too, Steve’s ass in particular has been catching his eye in that tight suit of his.

#maletfwitch #request #superhero #iron man #loki #possesion #inanimate tf #Digital Tf #mental change #stolen body

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

Bad Writing Can Make A Privileged Character Unintentionally Unlikable Or Likable

Although my opinion won't be popular on this site, I don't think being privileged prevents you from being sympathetic or having a hard life (specifically when it comes to abuse). However, I do think it comes down to how the narrative executes and treats said privileged character. This can be shown in Velma's interpretation of Fred and Stolas from Helluva Boss. The former is an example of trying to make this guy a privileged, rich white boy who who are supposed to hate for getting everything in life handed to him just like Velma (blah). While with Stolas, who are supposed to sympathize with him despite being rich he has a bad home life with his wife, father was distant from him, and trapped in an arranged marriage.

However, it's funny enough I have seen more people feel sorry for Fred than Stolas as time goes on. The reason is despite his rich background his parents really are the worst compared to Paimon who was at worst a neglectful parent while his parents are control freaks who belittle him for being babyish and later his mother even planned to kill him to swap brains just because she believed he would ruin everything she built. The show also goes out of it's way to shit on him and make him the butt of many jokes as a way to do lame "white people" suck. Seriously, despite his supposed privilege he takes a lot of damage in the show: being falsely accused of murder, body shamed for having a tiny dong, being sent to prison (and people relishing that a white man was falsely imprisoned), having his own mother try to murder him so she can have someone more competent run the family business, and finally he witnesses said mother being murdered. Again an example of despite the narrative telling us he has it good everything that was shown shows that his so-called privilege doesn't protect him from the tons of shit thrown at him.

And again going back to Stolas he in contrast is constantly shown to have everything in the narrative try to treat him as a sympathetic kicked dog who just wants to find love despite the stigma of being with a lower class demon. However, everything in this seems forced because it's made to ignore how much power he has over Blitzo which has been the main source of problem which is he hovers the book over him in exchange for sexual favors. As a result Blitzo feels trapped in the relationship due to Stolas having the upperhand. However, the narrative refuses to fully embrace it and skirts around it to prevent Stolas from being problematic. Also despite being shown as a cheater the narrative again goes out of it's way to try to make it justified that he did it due to making his wife so one dimensionally abusive. And again it's been brought up his daughter is a prop made to make him seem like a good dad, when in reality he has put his love for Blitzo over his daughter to the point he seems to neglect her more but we are expected to her to just tolerate it because he's supposedly trying. As a result, we don't see him sympathetic despite his privilege we see how privilege he is and wish he'd get over himself.

I do think that makes the biggest difference between the two because of the fact that Fred was allowed to change and realize he was crappy while the narrative enables Stolas to always view himself as a victim and dismiss his actions as not hurting people. Again I do not believe being privilege dismisses you from sympathy because the point of equality is that sympathy can be given to anyone regardless of status. However, I can't be sympathetic to someone who tries to cry about something while abusing their privilege on someone which is what Stolas does often, but the narrative wants to think everything is good. It just winds up making me hate him more and realize what a pathetic pos he is, while someone like Fred is made to be pathetic actually tries to better himself and hopefully does grow even more in the second season. Again bad writing is what it takes to sympathize with or not with how a privileged character is presented.

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[succcession]

The Man

Kendall Roy x f!reader (smut) 1.1k word count

Summary: Soft mornings with Kendall escalate to him making you squirt for the first time

Ashtrays full of cigarettes, half full champagne glasses, and last night's clothes were thrown across the floor. Ruins of the party that had ended only hours earlier, were illuminated as the orange sunrise flooded Kendalls high rise apartment. Mornings when Kendall could smell your vanilla perfume, hear your soft breaths, and reach over to find you seemed to have been making his entire life feel easier. He didn’t wake up in a panic thinking about mergers or acquisitions, everything was lighter.

Kendall leaned over, hovering above you as you slept on your stomach, tracing his fingertips lightly over your spine. He could have spent hours studying every part of your body. Caressing you, leaving light kisses on every freckle. You hummed lightly at the familiar feeling of Kendalls soft fingertips embracing you. He had a routine of waking you up by leaving light pecks from your shoulder, up your neck, and to your ear before whispering “Good morning” followed by an ever changing list of pet names. You would throw out a soft “morning love” before he was already getting up to get ready for the office. 

However, today your boyfriend's touch lingered a little longer, and instead of his usual brief “good morning” he stopped to cuddle into you.

“Mm Ken, don’t you have to go into the office?” you murmured, leaning back into his touch. Moving yourself closer until your ass was perfectly situated against his slowly growing bulge.

“I have some time” he whispered. “You know, I would spend every morning like this if I could. Fuck Waystar, this is all i want.” 

Ken had been increasingly more affectionate lately. Sending flowers to your apartment, scheduling surprise dates. He knew if things went well with taking over Mattson, Waystar would take over his life even more. Maybe even as sole CEO. Until then he was making sure to spend every second with you.

As you laid comfortably in Kendall's arms still half asleep, you couldn’t help the small sighs that began leaving your lips. Kendall trailing light kisses up your neck, his hands brushing softly from around your waist to the small mound above your pussy. You could feel his now painfully hard bulge grinding slowly into you. Your brain was silently begging for Kendall to move his fingers further down. However, he continued his almost innocent movement of rubbing soft circles and leaving light taps above your center. You turned your body towards Kendall, staring into his eyes briefly before moving to kiss him. Before you could catch his lips, his hand that was previously teasing you was softly cradling your face as Kendall brushed his thumb against your check. You watched his eyes flutter from yours to your mouth and back to meet your eyes again. Your heart aching with butterflies as he peppered your face with warm pecks, his morning stubble lightly scraping your chin. 

Yours and Kendall’s lips finally met in a sloppy, half asleep kiss. His hand quickly returned to where it had been previously, this time pushing your thighs apart, and letting his fingers gently rest on your folds. Kendall could feel how soaked you were. Your pussy, already aching at the thought of his large cock stretching inside you. The light pressure and small circles he was rubbing into your clit, causing you to moan into his kiss.

“God, I love how you sound for me. Already so wet and ready for my cock.” He said as his fingers slowly began to spread your lips apart. He tapped lightly against your slit encouraging a small yelp from you as you moaned  “Feels so good Ken.” He dragged your wetness from your slit up to your swollen clit in a long stripe before slowly dipping two fingers into you deeply. Giving you no time to adjust to the satisfying full feeling. Kendall sucked tenderly on your bottom lip as you attempted to kiss him back deeply. But with every movement it became more difficult to ignore the pleasant tension building in your pussy. He pumped his two fingers in steadily, curling them slightly as he dragged them back out, hitting the sensitive spot in your walls everytime. You couldn’t control your squirming as you began grinding your hips into Kendalls hand desperate to feel him deeper. He removed his fingers slowly from inside and you quickly whined at the loss of contact. He pushed himself up so that his back was against the headboard, swiftly dragging you with him so that he was holding you in his lap. You felt like his toy, and you loved it. Legs spread wide open, completely vulnerable to his touch. 

His fingers eagerly returned to stroking inside your walls. The intensity at which he was pumping his fingers into you quickly increased, and everytime he curled his digits to make contact with the sensitive ridge inside your walls, the overwhelming sensation urged you to close your legs. His tight grip held your legs open, his free hand holding your face as he sweetly cooed in your ear “such a good girl. You look so pretty spread out for me.”

“Please Ken- don’t stop, don’t stop” you were so close, and you could feel your eyes rolling back into your head. The room filled with the sounds of your breathy moans, and the wet slap of kendall palm making contact with your clit drawing more liquid out of you and around his fingers. 

“Yeah?” Kendall questioned “You want to cum baby? I want you to cum all over my fucking fingers.”  His dick was straining painfully hard, pressed against your ass and he was fighting himself from roughly flipping you over and pounding into you until you begged for his cum. But he was loving watching your eyes roll back, seeing the sweat build on your forehead as you desperately pushed your hips forward into his hand. So needy for him. 

“Omg, I’m- I’m gonna cum” you breathed out. Feeling you tighten and squirm against him, Kendall tightened his grip on your thighs pleading into your ear “cum for me baby. That’s it, good girl.” Your orgasm flooded your body harder than expected as you threw your head back into Kendall's chest, clenching around his fingers and screaming his name. “Shsh it's okay, it’s okay. I got you, pretty girl” Kendall hushed, leaving kisses on your forehead as you rode out your high. 

When he finally removed his fingers they were practically dripping. You looked down shyly to find a small wet circle on the sheets directly beneath you. “Oh my god…did I? Did you make me?” you stammered slightly embarrassed at the thought of what your boyfriend made you do. 

“Did you think your boyfriend, who is… the man, couldn't make you squirt?” he exclaimed confidently.

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