#real good! but like i said. i got a sour taste in my mouth from the way they acted throughout the show

[skzdarlings]

sharing a bed ; seungmin ; sequel

masterlist.

original one-shot.

pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers. sequel to sharing a bed one-shot linked above. morning afters. running from feelings. making reader jealous. confrontation with a creep and light violence. sexual content includes blow-jobs, hand jobs, strap-on blowjobs, 69ing, rimming, pegging, light choking. some brat seungmin and sort of brat tamer reader (kinda just likes the brat lol). word count: 7k.

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Kim Seungmin, the perpetual thorn in your side and ache in your head, is torturing you. 

Not the fun kind of torture, either.   You had your fill of that two nights ago when a silly scheme resulted in a horny happenstance and you let yourself get carried away.  Your careful control not only slipped, but fell right into the hands of someone you once disliked. 

It left you befuddled in the light of the day, when you woke to Seungmin curled around you, his cheek pressing into your bicep and his leg hooked around yours.  Not to mention his morning wood digging into your hip.  It surfaced memories of the pretty and unexpected piercing you found there, how your idea of this guy was so so wrong.  And it made you wonder what else you were wrong about, and all the ways this burgeoning something could go wrong in turn.   Your thoughts spiralled. 

You were no longer handcuffed, so you slipped out of bed and walked right out the front door.  You hoped a walk through the brisk winter morning would help clear your mind.  It did, but only momentarily.  When you got back to the vacation house and ran into Seungmin, you fumbled.  Badly.  You meant to be pragmatic but came across dismissive.  Something about how last night was the only night.  Something about how you were bad at commitments.  Something about being better off friends. 

Seungmin was silent the whole time, letting you ramble like an idiot.  Then his eyes narrowed and he laughed.  It was an airy, unpleasant, and derisive sound.    

“Trust me,” he said.  “We will never be friends.” 

“Well, fine,” you said, bristling despite the fact you were the one rejecting him.  What did you care if he hated you again?  You didn’t.  You shouldn’t.  “Good.”

It was not good.  Saying it left a sour taste in your mouth and a pit in your stomach. 

And despite it all, your stupid horny hindbrain did not relent, purring like a kitten when Seungmin gave you a judgemental once-over and scoffed.   You could not help but remember the very different noises he made last night, again and again, in your hands and mouth, from your actions and words. 

You will never look at him the same way again.  You have no idea how to move forward, but you know you can never go back.  Pretending nothing happened will not work for once.   

It freaks you out.  You are usually good at shucking attachments.  His cold acceptance should not have hurt.  What did you care?  This vacation would end and you would go back to your own lives, right?   So you let Seungmin shove past you.  He ignored you for the rest of the day.  When he started an argument later, causing everyone else to groan, you replied like always, but it was half-hearted at best.   

Oh god, you think now, rubbing the bridge of your nose, I can’t start thinking with my damn heart. 

Emotional attachments and long-term romantic liaisons never turn out well.  You cut a dashing figure but your many flaws eventually find their way to the surface.  It is not worth the inevitable heartbreak when someone sees under the charming mask to the real you.   

Rather than suffer later, you are suffering now, brooding over a beer while doing your damnest to not look across the bar.  You know you will not like what you see. 

You and your friends only have a couple more nights at the vacation lodge, so you all went down to the nearby resort to drink and dance and enjoy a fun night out. 

You are not having any fun, of course.  You are sitting on a bar stool, all alone at the counter, in your signature leather jacket as you hunch over your drink and glare at nothing in particular. 

Seungmin, on the other hand, is suddenly a dazzling socializer rather than an obnoxious stuck-up jerk like he used to be.  You expected him to sit in a corner, making snarky remarks all night, but instead he has been moving from person to person, flirting with anything that breathes. 

He is also wearing an obscene pair of jeans.  No one else in the friend group seemed to notice, not a single eye so much as twitching in his direction, but you noticed.  Oh, yeah, you fucking noticed.  The second he came bounding the stairs, swinging on a stupid baggy letterman jacket like the twerpy little prep he is.  His dark hair neatly combed, bangs swept off his forehead, brightening his gaze. 

The jeans.  The stupid fucking jeans.  Straight-cut denim that has absolutely no business cupping his ass the way it does.  And why does he have such a nice ass anyway?  It also has no business looking that way. 

Kim Seungmin.  What a nightmare. 

You take a swig of beer and glare at the wall.  You tell yourself not to look at him.  He is probably leaning over some equally prissy knob and offering to buy them a glass of milk or whatever people like them drink. 

So, no.  You will not give him the satisfaction.  It is no coincidence that in all the time you have known him, Seungmin has never  been flirtatious or promiscuous, but the second you turn him down he is slobbering all over anything that moves. 

You will not let him get to you.  You will not look at him.  You will not react. 

Except he is already getting to you.  So you look over.  You react. 

“For fuck’s sake,” you grumble, abandoning your beer and stomping down from your stool. 

Seungmin is huddled in a booth with some colossal bitch of a man.  You recognize him from the other night, remembering how much time he spent harassing the bar staff.  Seungmin doesn’t know that.  He might be your enemy – or whatever – but you are not gonna leave the guy with that kind of jerk.  And you are not secretly thrilled that you are justified in storming over there, drawing up to the table with all the aggression that has been building inside you. 

You slap a hand on the table, bringing their attention to you.  Seungmin gives you a once-over, then smiles that stupid smile of his, all boxy and puppyish, like you are the funniest punchline to the funniest joke in the world.  There was a time you used to fantasize about swiping that smile off his mouth.  You are still thinking about occupying his mouth, just not like that. 

“Move along,” you say to the creep. 

“Excuse me?” 

He is already drunk.  You can smell it as much as see it.  Seungmin is looking very smug and you start to feel like he picked this guy on purpose. 

Seungmin drives you crazy, he really does.  One second he is all good boy, the next he is purposefully throwing himself at a creep just to get a rise out of you.  You feel like he would take a running leap off the mountainside if he was inclined to a prove a point to someone.  He is fearless and ridiculous and you want to hate him.  You want him to be the boring two-dimensional snob you thought he was.  You have no idea what to do with the complicated man in front of you. 

That’s a lie, you think, meeting his gaze.  You know exactly what to do with him.

You swear his eyes are twinkling.  He slouches back comfortably, arms crossed. 

“I told you once,” you say, tearing your gaze from him to look at the creep.  “Now move along.” 

“Try me.” 

The guy was only bothering women and seems uninterested in Seungmin so you suspect he just wants to piss you off, but then he puts a hand on him anyway, grabbing Seungmin by the arm so suddenly that it surprises him. 

Before Seungmin can shake him off, you snatch the guy by his wrist and twist.  He yelps, struggling to wrestle his arm back from your iron grip.  You slam him against the back of the booth. 

“Touch him again,” you say, “and I will break your hand.  You wanna try me?”

He opens his mouth, no doubt to spew some smelly rejoinder, but you don’t stick around for it.  You grab Seungmin by the elbow and yank him out of the booth.  You drag him away. 

“Excuse me,” Seungmin says, not politely, ripping his arm back.  “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I think I’m saving your dumb ass from getting felt up by every creep on this mountain.” 

“Meh-meh-meh,” he mocks, dodging when you reach for him again.  “I’m having fun.  I don’t need you to do anything.  It’s not like you’d really care if something happened to me.  Bad,” he smirks, “or good.” 

He knows he has you cornered.  You might have the physicality over him, but he is holding this entire scene in his hands.  You can only rub your jaw and shake your head, trying and failing to remember how to act indifferent. 

He has the tiniest drop of cream on his upper lip, leftover from the sugary abomination someone bought him.    

You say nothing in reply to his deliberate antagonizing.  You plant one hand on your hip and reach for him with the other.   When he tries to dodge, you grab him by the shoulder, firmly putting him in place.  He does not move the second time, standing still while you wipe a thumb across the sugary residual. 

Then you push at his bottom lip, press down, flicking your thumb so it bounces back.  His stare is unwavering.  He is not the blushing type, but he noticeably swallows. 

“Come on,” you say, zipping up your jacket.  “We’re leaving.  Now.” 

“What if I don’t want to?” he asks. 

You grab the back of his neck and drag him right up against you. 

“I didn’t ask,” you say.   

“Friends don’t get to make demands, dumbass,” he says, sneering the word friends.  He does not wriggle away, but he does not fully surrender either.  He meets your stare head-on, unmoving and unintimidated. 

He is going to make you say it.  He is not going to let you act sexy and charm your way out of it.  He is going to stand in this bar with your hand uselessly holding his neck until you do.   

“Fine,” you say.  You exhale.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry I said all that dumb shit.  I’m a moron.”

“Yes,” he says.  “You are.” 

“I didn’t think it would matter that much anyway.”

“Because you aren’t the romantic type,” he says dryly. 

“Because I didn’t think you’d care,” you admit.  “You don’t like me and we don’t get along anyway.  I just—”  You finally drop your hand, waving at nothing and looking away.  You can feel him glaring at you.  “Look, I suck, I get it.  Believe me, I know all the ways I suck.  I figured I’d spare us the mess when you figured that out so I just walked away while it was still good.”

“You’re an even bigger idiot than I thought,” he says.  He is still frowning at you.  “I already know how much you suck.  It was the first thing I noticed, you arrogant, womanizing ass.”

“Hey now…”     

“You’re vulgar and loud and, for someone without a dick, you think with it constantly.”  

 “I… don’t…”  You do.

“And for some reason even though you are the biggest idiot and the worst person I have ever met,” he says, still glaring, “I still like something about you.  Because even though you’re determined to not let anyone see your good side, unfortunately you have one.  Even though it’s buried so deep you have to walk into hell to find it.” 

It did not really occur to you that Seungmin has already seen your worst qualities.  Because you did not get along, you never felt a need to hide those attributes.  Inadvertently, you have been more open and honest with this annoyingly handsome brat than anyone else you have ever known.

You cannot help the smile tugging at your lips.  Seungmin rolls his eyes. 

“You’re hopeless,” he says, shaking his head as he shoves past you.  “Take me home, idiot, before I come to my senses.”   

You turn to follow him, only to get bopped on the nose when he shoves a pointed finger in your face. 

“If you even think about acting like a moron in the morning,” he says, “I will kill you and make it look like an accident.” 

You draw a cross over your heart and nod.  He huffs in aggravation, turning on his heel and stomping outside. 

“You’re the worst,” he says.  He swings open the door and stomps into the snowy night, seemingly unbothered by the fluffy bits of snow swirling around his face.  He just swings up his hood and marches through the downy white carpet.  “You better make this worth my while,” he says. 

Your eyes are on his ass in those jeans, thinking about how you very much will be making it worth his while.  You look up when he keeps grumbling to himself, a marked sign he is maybe more nervous than he is letting on.  You remember his stubbornness before his eventual acquiescence, the way he hid his face at his most vulnerable moments. 

You might be in the habit of ducking out the door, but he deflects just as much with his wit.

You hurry your pace, catching up to him.  He is still muttering to himself, head down, a soft layer of snow dusting his jacket and hood.  It must be all over your head but you hardly feel the cold.  Your mind is on warmth, that stupid heart of yours suddenly flooded with it. 

You want this to be good for him, even if he would never outright ask for you to be kind.  It is all the more reason to make sure you are.  You really were such an idiot. 

Your grip is firm but not rough, hand curling protectively over his shoulder.  This touch invites more than demands. 

He stops in place, looking at you with a wary glare.  It disappears when you swoop in.  His hood falls as you tug him close.  He goes without protest, lips parting under yours with a claiming so heated that the cold does not stand a chance against you. 

You try to keep it romantic, a rare act of restraint on your part, but the supposed good boy drags the zipper of your coat down, down, down, then grabs your belt and tugs.  You stumble, uncharacteristically shaky, gasping against his lips when he grinds his knuckles against the zip of your jeans. 

“Tsk,” he says, lips still brushing yours.  “Not prepared.” 

“I was planning on sitting around feeling sorry for myself,” you say, with a helpless laugh despite his teasing.  You grab his wandering hand, leading it away from your crotch.  You are eternally grateful your dick is the kind you can leave in your sock drawer, because resisting him right now would have been impossible otherwise.     

“Trust me,” you say.  “I’ll make up for it.”

“Fine,” he says.  “I will.  You better not let me down.”  He looks at you when he says this, as close to imploring as Seungmin ever does. 

You feel the weight of that trust.  You nod, swallowing, looking at his lips, full and pink from the hard press of your kiss.  You lean in for more when he abruptly zips your coat again, all the way up to your chin so he smacks your jaw. 

“Come on then,” he says with that mean little laugh as he scampers away, grinning at you.  “Are you gonna prove it or not?” 

It is a short drive back to the cabin, and a torturous one to boot.  Not because Seungmin touches you, but because he doesn’t, and he won’t let you touch him either.  You try to put a hand on his knee but every attempt is rebuffed.  All you get is that cheeky grin or a glare, then a mere flick of his wrist as he brushes you away like lint.

Somehow it is more maddening than a direct touch.  You can feel him everywhere just by his proximity.  He even jumps out of the car before you unbuckle your seatbelt.  He is inside the cabin before you reach the door. 

You are panting from the sprint up the driveway, trying to keep up, not entirely convinced he won’t play you for a sucker and run right out the back door.  It would be like Seungmin to make you chase him up the mountainside.  You wouldn’t blame him for making you prove yourself, considering what an ass you were. 

But he is waiting inside the cabin.  Everyone else is out for the night and should be gone for hours.  When you close the door, sealing out the cold and the world, this cabin feels flush with more heat than you know what to do with. 

You do not hesitate. The tantalizing promise of more is like a touch on its own, heightened by his stubborn refusal to give you anything easily.  It makes catching him that much more satisfying, that soft sound all the sweeter when you pull him into your arms and finally steal that kiss. 

His skin is cool from the weather but his mouth is warm, the kiss searing hot.  He digs his blunt nails into the arms of your jacket, pressing the whole length of his hard body against yours. 

You remember his unexpectedly tender places, how just a faint stroke behind his ear will have him curling into you, how looping some hair around your fingers and tugging will deepen the rumbling sound that spills past his lips.  

You unzip his coat while kissing, licking into him while he scrambles to help strip.  The coat hits the floor in a damp heap.  You separate for just a moment, giving him the chance to tug his hoodie up and off.  You toss your own jacket over the nearby couch, then hook your fingers into his belt loops and pull him close.  

His hair is in an endearing state of dishevelment and he looks flushed from the rush of warmth after the chill.  Just looking at him like this has you throbbing.  You try to imagine telling the old you that you would feel that way, that the annoying friend-of-a-friend who mutually hated your guts would be looking at you like he wants to devour you and let you return the favour. 

You can’t imagine believing it.  Now it feels completely natural, letting him walk you backwards until your back hits the wall and his chest is pressed to yours, rising and falling with the quickness of his breath. 

He is looking aside, contemplatively.  You cup his jaw and draw him back to you, unable to resist a breathless laugh when he nips at your fingers.  You do not shy away or let go, and that seems to placate him.  He practically melts against you, your hand curving around the shape of his cheek, lowering to curl gently around the side of his neck.

“We should go upstairs,” you say.  The stairs are right beside you, but somehow the bedroom seems too far.  

Impossibly, ridiculously far, when Seungmin flicks some hair out of his eyes and looks at you intensely. 

“Don’t you want me on my knees?”  he asks. 

Your response is not a real word, just a rough sound.  He smirks, but is still flushed and a little shaky as he sinks onto his knees.  He gets your belt open, tugs it free, and tosses it to the side.  The sight of him licking his lips has you seeing stars before he even leans in. 

You brush some of his hair back, looking down at his face as he focusses on unzipping your jeans.  He has the fly down when you catch your breath and your senses. 

You gather the hair at his nape in your fist and tug, firm and sharp.  His mouth falls open and his breath stutters, eyes so dark and lips so wet and plush that you are tempted to drive his face right between your legs, where is obviously offering to be. 

But that’s not how you want to do this, not yet.   You move from his hair to his neck, wrapping your hand around his throat and watching his eyelashes flutter with surprise.  There is always a breath of panic in that surprise, adrenaline fueling the flood of desire that follows.  He is visibly hard, straining in those sinful jeans, breathing harder as you none-too-nicely push him down onto the stairs. 

“What are you doing,” he says, though it sounds like less like a question than acceptance.  Continue, waving his hand like a prince on silk sheets even though he is sprawled on his back on the staircase.    

“Making it worth your while,” you say.  He is not wearing a belt because these jeans are made for his body, snug and perfect and fitted everywhere, so it is just a matter of unbuttoning—

Oof. 

He plants his foot on your chest like last time, pushing you back.  He blinks innocently.    

“Shoes first,” he says. 

You smile, though it less playful than predatory, a promise in the flash of your teeth.   You nonetheless obey his silly whim as you tug off one shoe than the other.  It leaves a damp patch on your shirt which he remarks on.   You roll your eyes but tug your shirt off, sports bra following. 

The second time you push him down, you are even less nice.  You gather his hands in yours and pin them above his head, holding him there when he squirms ineffectively. 

“You’re kind of a brat,” you say, yanking his zipper down.  “Anyone ever tell you that?”

“You,” he says, panting around the word.  “Jerk.” 

You laugh, then cover his mouth with yours, swallowing the moan that takes him by surprise.  His hips buck towards you when you reach into those jeans to take him in hand.  He wriggles in your hold, arms straining while his hips lift toward you for more, following the snapping rhythm of your hand.  You trace the dick piercings that caught you by surprise last time, the metal smooth under your rolling thumb. 

You only release him when you duck down, tasting for yourself, relishing in the sounds that spill out of him.  He claws at your bare shoulder, spreading his legs to make room for you to lay between them.  His head falls back, resting on the step above while you work him in your mouth. 

“I’m—I’m—”  His voice gets lighter, breathier, his orgasm hitting him all at once.  He throws an arm over his face instinctively, head thrown back, hips lifting.  It catches you by surprise, making you choke just a bit, but he is already coming so you ride it out.   

He is still twitching when he finishes, gasping behind his arm when you roll a thumb around his piercing again.  When he hisses, knees jerking, you let go. 

Knowing him better than you ever thought you would, you move, stretching out alongside him.  You tug him into your arms and he goes without hesitation, burying his face in your neck.  You snake a hand under his shirt, stroking his back affectionately. 

Once more, you are genuinely endeavouring to be sweet. 

Once more, he shoves his hand down your pants. 

“Hello—”  It is all you manage before he is touching you, finding all that wet desire and rubbing a little haphazardly.  It makes you laugh and you grab his wrist, slowing him down.  “Easy,” you say, showing him a better pace.  “Just like that is good.” 

He learns quickly.  It was the same last time.  Every idea you introduced, he contemplated, experimented, then excelled.  With just a nudge now, he skillfully obliges.  He is breathing hard against your throat, pressed so close to your whole body, his fingers finding all your secrets and working them out.  You slide a hand down his backside, squeezing a handful of his ass.  The sound he makes has you coming faster than usual.

He puts his hand on your thigh, then lifts his head and grins at you.  

“I’m still winning,” he says.

“It’s still not a contest,” you reply, quirking an eyebrow. 

“It is,” he says.  “And I’m winning.” 

“I see.”

You scoop him into your arms and cart him up the stairs.  He situates himself by the time you reach the bedroom, legs around your waist and arms around your shoulder.   

“Still winning?” you ask. 

“Obviously,” he replies. 

You shake your head and sigh but with no real animosity, just like his smirk is more playful than vicious.  You still whole-heartedly believe he is capable of catching you off guard, so you are prepared for the brat switch to flip at the slightest provocation. 

You drop him onto the bed with a gentle thump, then cross your arms and look down at him. 

“Can I leave you unsupervised for two minutes while I get my dick?” you ask. 

“I don’t know,” he says, blinking innocently.  “Can you?” 

“Probably not,” you say, but retreat nonetheless.   Your equipment is in your travel bag.  You left it behind when you went to the bar because you were not in the mood for a hook-up, which should have been the first sign you were hopeless.  You were already in waters far too deep when you tried reaching for that shitty life preserver.  Learning to swim is not easy but infinitely more rewarding. 

You change into packing boxers and tuck your toy into it, buttoning up the pocket.  You grab some lube and a towel, then walk back to his bedroom, certain that he has somehow caused trouble in the five minutes it took to do all that. 

He’d naked.  Of course he is.  Sitting where you left him, perched on the edge of the bed, but his clothes are folded in a pile on the dresser and he has nothing but a bedsheet pulled over his lap.  He is not wearing his usual cheeky expression, though, and you are about to ask if something is wrong.  Then he says, “I’ve never done this before.” 

“Oh,” you say.  “That’s fine.”  It is the unthinking response, automatic as the admission is not too surprising.  You live in a world where strap-ons and gender games are the norm, so sometimes you forget that most people consider it inherently kinky or an anomaly.  A lot of men are new to it.  Seungmin didn’t even know what was packing was when you first mentioned it. 

But then he says, “Any of it.” 

And you say, “Huh?” 

“I’ve never done,” he says slowly, “any of this.” 

“Any.”

“Any.”

It takes a long minute to compute.  You think about his clumsy touches and experiments followed by his quick learning.  Unabashed and unjudgmental regardless of what he encountered.  Testing and figuring himself out just as much as you. 

“Oh,” you say.  Then, “Oh.  Fucking shit.  I’m such an asshole.” 

Because that was his first time doing anything with someone, and you just walked out the door without a word the next morning. 

He does not look upset about it anymore.  In fact, he laughs, though he tries to hold it back.  It turns into a snort he barely catches, amused eyes gazing up at you. 

“Yeah,” he says.  “You are.  We already knew that.” 

“I really, I just—” 

“Can you shut up and come take my virginity before I get beatified for involuntary chastity?”

“But you’re so fucking hot,” you blurt. 

It is obviously not the retort he anticipated, because he blushes profusely, which is not the response you expected. 

He clears his throat and looks away, rolling his eyes to compensate for the obvious vulnerability. 

“Thanks,” he says.  “Stating the obvious.  I’m also picky.  And apparently I scare people.”

“Scare them?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow.  “Who’d be scared of you?”

“Evidently not you,” he says.  His tone is snarky but he looks at you, up and down, and the look is a thoughtful one.  “Not ever.” 

Agh.  There’s that heart again, pounding away.  Who knew that thing could race so fast. 

“Well,” you say, finally putting the bottle and towel on the bedside table.  “That is their loss.  Not everyone is built for chasing luxury, I guess.” 

“Luxury,” he says with another snort, grinning despite himself.  “I’m high-end,” he says it like a fact, not a question.

“Naturally,” you say, approaching where he is sitting. 

“I’m going to be honest,” he says, eyes wandering your body before landing on your face.  “I thought you were going to be weird and egotistical about being with a virgin.” 

It suddenly pings in your head that you are his first, that there is a certain responsibility that comes with that.  That the wrong person could make this terrible for him.  That you want to make sure it feels better than anything he could dream.  These thoughts are completely and truly unselfish. 

And there is one admittedly egotistical and selfish thought, of making him irrevocably yours with one really good fuck. 

He glares when he sees the look on your face, his lips pursed, though a breath of a laugh escapes nonetheless. 

“Wow!” he says.  “You’re a pig, go away.”

“No, no, I’m not, I swear!” you say, laughing. 

He laughs too but shakes his head, pushing you away when you reach for him.  “No way,” he says.  “You and your ego.  Gross.” 

“Please, I promise,” you say, getting on your knees and lacing your hands together like a praying supplicant.  “I’ll be so normal,” you say.  “I have no ego at all.”

“You’re the worst,” he says dryly. 

“Yeah, but…”  You wiggle your eyebrows at him.  “You kinda like me anyway, right?” 

It is a more vulnerable question than you thought it would be.  It prompts him to look at you, really look at you, before he huffs and rolls his eyes. 

“Unfortunately,” he says. 

You giggle and he swats your head. 

“Are we just going to sit here all night and look at each other?” he asks, crossing his arms. 

“No, no, of course not,” you say.  You get back on your feet, standing bedside so you are looming over him. 

“What are we doing then?” he asks.   

“Well, you know what we’re doing,” you say, laughing when he rolls his eyes and huffs again. 

You reach out, cupping his face in both your hands and guiding him to look up at you.  Your heartbeat hammers away not only in your chest but everywhere else, a rapid current of heat that thunders most prominently between your legs as shiny dark eyes gaze up at you amorously from such a suggestive vantage.  

“First, before anything else, this.”  You speak in a lower voice, watching his spine straighten as the sound.  You run your thumb across his bottom lip like you did earlier, except this time it is a bruised pink from kissing.  It really makes you feel like that extra weight in your boxers is coming to life, connected to you intimately, ready and wanting as you are.  Especially when you tug on that bottom lip, when he leans towards your hand like he needs it, needs you. 

“Now,” you say. “Now I want you on your knees.” 

There is a sharp intake of breath before he nods, subtly, then shifts.  The sheets falls away from his lap, revealing he is already half-hard again.  There are goosebumps along his skin, from his nudity and the chill or just anticipation. 

Last time, he needed almost no direction.  He followed his own instinct, logically deducing that the part of the toy you could feel was the part at the base, closest to your body.  He uses his usual deductions when unbuttoning your boxers, taking a second to first press the base of the toy against you before leaning back and opening his mouth. 

It is not easy to come like this, but you are so worked up that it might happen.  It does not matter if you do.  It is not always about chasing the perfect orgasm.  This time, it is touch and sensuality.  He lets you teach him, rather than stampeding like last time.  You wonder if his heart is pounding given how red the tips of his ears are, blood rushing everywhere in a hurry.  You hold his face and slide back and forth, taking your time getting wet, both yourself and the toy, pushing him a little further each time. 

When his mouth is full and he blinks slowly, contently, every bratty remark and combative tone far from his mind, you smile and tug his hair.  He moans and you push a little more, gliding back and forward again. 

“You’re a fast learner,” you say.  “Bet you could get used to this.” 

It is a testing tease, to great success if the returned moan is anything to go by.  He squeezes his eyes shut and starts touching himself, finally moving his head instead of letting you guide him.  Before he gets too lost in the rhythm, you ease him back.  You smile and rub your thumb across his shiny lips as he blinks up at you.    

“Come here,” you say, and kiss him. 

He falls into the kiss, arms wrapping around you as you lay down with him.  He is eager in the searching heat of the kiss, long and deep and hungry.   You get on your back and pull him on top of you, give him one more drawn-out kiss with a filthy wet lick into his mouth, then smile. 

“Turn around,” you say.  “Keep going.”

It takes him a second to work out what you mean, but he really is a fast learner.  Soon he is laying on top of you, face where it was before, mouth wrapping around the end of your dick and his fingers searching beneath it to stroke you directly. 

You snatch the lube off the table and wet your fingers then him, taking it slow and easy, using your mouth and spit then more lube until everything is slippery and he gives in so easily into you.  He is breathing hard down between your legs, resting his cheek on your thigh and no longer using his mouth on you.  His eyes are closed and his hips are rocking, focussed on the sensations that you are certain are overwhelming him. 

You move him around, at which point he comes to attention, looking back at you.  This is the quietest he has ever been, all the action in his heart as you expected; you can feel it racing when you touch his chest.  

You lay him down in front of you, sidling up behind him.  You lay a hand on the wildly fluttering race of his pulse, throat cupped in your palm.  You turn his face to kiss him, your wet hand stroking your wet dick.  You probably should have thrown that towel down before getting started.  The sheets are a mess already. 

“Ugh, hurry up,” he says, reaching back to smack your thigh.  “You’re the worst.  I hate you.” 

You laugh.  Oh well.  No time to worry about bedsheets.  You give his throat a gentle squeeze and smile at the noise he makes, strained and needy, his hips rearing back into you. 

“What?” you ask, sliding the toy down his backside.  “You want something?”

“I will bury you in the mountain pass,” he says.  “They’ll think it was a skiing accident.  And that you got mauled by a bear.  And eaten by wolves.  And—”

To be honest, having him distracted and rambling is for the best.  It means he is more relaxed, not so focussed when you finally start pushing in.  Of course, he feels it pretty fast, and instinctively rebels.  You stop clutching his throat and hold an arm across his chest instead, holding him protectively and kissing that sweet spot behind his ear.  His groaning turns into a whine. 

“Okay?” you ask. 

“Gonna kill you,” he says. 

“That a yes?”

“Yes.” 

“Thank you.”  You hook a hand under his leg and pull it up, giving yourself leverage, then fuck into him completely.  His whine turns to a sharp yelp, hand scrabbling against the arm on his chest.  You let him catch his breath and adjust.  “Still okay?” 

“It’s weird,” he says. 

“Bad weird?”

“No,” he says.  “It’s… it’s good.  It’s just…”  You move a little and his whole body clenches then loosens.  He makes a strangled noise but softens in your arms, though his nails have dug a pretty picture into your skin.  You are surprised he hasn’t drawn blood.  “Ugh,” he says.  “It’s so wet.  I feel like a river rafting ride.”

“Not… what most people usually say… but okay…” 

“I’m�� not… most people.”

“No,” you say, kissing that spot again and finally moving your hips.  “You’re not.” 

You are not sure if his little sound of submission is in response to your actions or your words, but with it he seems to all at once open to you.  You find a rhythm, holding his hand when his fingers search for yours on his chest.  He ends up biting your arm, which you should have seen coming, but it’s fine because you leave a visible bite mark on his neck in return. 

At that he gets into it, meeting the pace you set, altering it to what he wants.  It is a good thing the house is empty because you are not quiet at all.  If your fooling around was enough to send an aggravated Minho storming after you, then this probably would have led to him burning the cabin down. 

The thought makes you snicker, which makes Seungmin ask what is so funny, so you tell him then he laughs too. 

“Ugh, stop making me laugh,” he says. 

“You can laugh while making love,” you say, kissing his neck.  “It’s okay.” 

That does not make him laugh but it does make him sigh.  “Making love, huh,” he says dryly.  “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“It didn’t,” you say, finding another sweet spot that has his whole body rearing into yours.  “I guess I’m a fast learner too.”

“Ew, you’re so annoying,” he says, but squeezes your fingers in his hand. 

“I think you’re not getting fucked right if you’re still this bratty,” you say playfully, prompting him to roll his eyes. 

“What are you gonna do about it?  Make love at me?  Sap.” 

You laugh, kiss his neck, then move away to roll him onto his back.  He wriggles a bit, surprised with the change and sudden emptiness.  His legs part easily when you move between them, but you still snap, “Spread.  Good.”  Because it makes him swallow hard, his dark eyes sparkling and his mouth bruised, hair mussed and body flushed.  He is already a fucked out sight, but he wants more, and you give it. 

You snap your hips together and fuck into him.  This time you do hold his throat, gently, not repressing air but showing control.  He holds your forearm with both hands, his face scrunching up, eyes closed as he focusses in that intense way of his.  He breathes hard, makes sweet sounds, and not a single antagonistic or bratty word leaves his pretty mouth. 

“I think I’m finally winning,” you tease, to which he just makes a hiccupping sound of pleasure.  “Yeah, that’s right.” 

You hold his ridiculously pretty dick and give it the expert treatment it deserves.  The combination of sensations has him throwing his head back, clawing your arm as you work him in your head.  You cannot feel the end of the toy, but there is a magic in this kind of fucking, and when he comes and he clutches your arm and he screams your name, when the muscles in his abdomen clench and you know he is feeling sensation in every part of his body, you can feel him wrapped around you, wholly and completely, like you could feel him when he wasn’t even touching you at all. 

He writhes almost desperately as you keep touching him until he can’t take it anymore, then you ease him down and pull back. 

“Good?” you ask, sitting back, looking down at him, blissfully fucked out and dishevelled. 

“Yes,” he murmurs.  “I won. Again.” 

“Gonna need to supply me with that rubric one of these days,” you say. 

“Meh-meh-meh,” is the half-hearted retort, delving to a sleepy sigh. 

 “Gotta take care of yourself before you go to sleep,” you say, though you have a feeling it’s a losing battle, his eyelids already heavy. 

“That’s what you’re for,” he grumbles. 

That damn heart really does have a mind of its own.  It has clearly decided to make its presence known whenever it damn well pleases. 

You run your fingers through his messy hair, smiling when he blinks up at you. 

You tidy him up then scoop him into your arms to carry him to your bed, because that one is not a filthy sex nest.  He wakes a little on the journey.  And when you lay down and pull a sheet up, he rolls towards you and throws an arm and a leg around you, pinning you to the bed. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say.  “I promise.”

“Good,” he says.  “You’re too stupid to be out there on your own.” 

You laugh in spite of yourself, shaking your head, but you put an arm around him and nod. 

“You’re right,” you say. 

“Of course I am.”  He snuggles in close and sighs.  “Now go the fuck to sleep.  Your dick is in the sink so you have no excuse.  Good night.”  

“Good night,” you say with a laugh. 

I think I won too, you almost say, but decide let him believe he is the only winner for now, because he is already falling asleep with his head on your shoulder.   

You can tell him in the morning. 

#kim seungmin x reader #seungmin x reader #kim seungmin smut #skz smut #skz x reader

[cherrychilli]

Slip of the Tongue

A mini series I 18+ I Enemies to lovers

Chapter two

Eddie Munson x neighbor! reader

Reader and Eddie are the same age - she's in College and he's repeating his senior year once again.

Chapter Summary: Eddie invites you back to his room for a one on one demonstration of his skills.

A/N: Sorry for edging y'all last chapter. This one's pure smut start to finish. Enjoy💛

Chapter warnings: Oral sex (f), fingering, squirting

Tag list rules:

New additions: Make sure to both reblog the chapter and comment to let me know if you'd like to be added to the list and PLEASE HAVE YOUR AGE CLEARLY LISTED IN YOUR BIO IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED. AGELESS BLOGS/BLANK BLOGS/MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Current tag list: Make sure to reblog the chapter if you'd like to remain on the list for future updates.

The stress had taken its toll on you.

Juggling two part time jobs while studying for your college midterms had you running on fumes, unable to unwind no matter what you tried. The little time you had to yourself was usually spent catching up on sleep but that wasn't ever enough to reinvigorate you, not when you had other needs that went unmet in the meantime.

You were desperate for some real stress relief, bordering on delirious. You had to be because how the hell else could you explain ending up in Eddie Munson's bedroom? Lying in his bed, your panties amongst the litter of cassettes and fantasy magazines strewn across his bedroom floor, and said boy's head between your thighs.

"You better not be wasting my time, Munson", you tried your best to sound tough, a near impossible task when his lips are brushing against your inner thigh, so very close to your slit. He had your skirt pushed out of the way to bunch at your waist, large, rough hands wrapped around your thighs which bracket his face.

"So feisty", he cooed back in reply, breath puffing warm against your core.

It's all so painfully surreal, being here like this, but you try your hardest not to think about it too hard for the sake of keeping your sanity intact. About how Eddie's got you laid out and completely exposed, your bare pussy mere inches away from the boy you'd come over to yell at, the same boy who'd caused a fair amount of the tension he's now offering to help relieve with his tongue.

"Don't worry. I'm going to take real good care of you", he breaks you out of your internal spiral, a teasing but lighthearted lilt to his voice as if somehow, he'd sensed your nerves.

And then he says, "You ready?"

It's a simple yes or no question, much easier than the ones you've been pouring over for days in your practice tests but you find this one the hardest to answer. Not because you're unsure of what to say – you had your answer ready and tucked at the back of your throat ever since his fingers climbed up your thighs to tug at the waistband of your panties.

No, it's because you’re certain that when you answer him, everything’s going to change.

"Yeah...go ahead", you manage to wring the words from your throat, fingers clenching his sheets, eyes trained up at the ceiling because watching him somehow feels like too much.

The few seconds that elapse before his mouth descends on you feels like you’re freefalling, a sharp, plunging descent with no way to prepare yourself for the impact of his tongue gently licking at your folds, thighs jerking as he lapped at the slick which had gathered when you watched him play through the window.

"Y' know, for someone who's always in a sour mood you taste pretty fucking sweet", he smirked, knowing it would set you off, thumb momentarily skimming your folds in place of his tongue.

Ordinarily, a comment like that would have earned him a knee to the groin but now, in this maddeningly bizarre situation you've find yourself in the middle of, your body reacts against its usual instincts, hips shifting off the bed to chase his mouth for more.

"Don't stop", you mutter loud enough for him to hear, tone somewhere between commanding and imploring, eyes slipping shut.

You've never felt a warmth like the kind that seeps into your veins like sunlight when Eddie's broad tongue parts your folds, licking his way up to your clit to lightly swirl the pointed tip over your sensitive bud, hands bringing your hips back down to bed to hold them firmly in place.

"Shit, Eddie that's...nice", you sigh out, perhaps the most civil thing you've said to him in weeks.

Everything smelled like him – the sheets, the pillows, even you, you realize as you turned to press your cheek against his mattress, your hair now carrying the same woodsy, smoky scent, inhaling a little deeper to take in that undertone of boyish musk you find yourself strangely drawn to.

His scent.

Another soft swipe of his tongue along your folds has your toes curling but what's makes the fluttering sensation brewing in the pit of your stomach grow stronger is knowing that he's carrying your scent too.

"Oh fuck..."

The way his tongue roams you is slow and lingering, not at all like what you'd watched him do with his guitar but fuck does it feel good, having his fingers press into the meat of your thighs like he’s afraid you might slip through them at any moment, teasing your clit with soft kitten licks, plush lips occasionally trapping the bud to suck lightly before releasing it again.

He's building you up for what's to come, taking his time to find out what makes your breath stutter and your spine curve in an effort to press yourself closer to him, getting you to loosen up and give yourself to him.

Minutes go by like this though you’re not sure how many. Ten? fifteen? maybe longer, of him lazily laving and sucking gently and it's amazing but it’s also only nearly enough, steadily stoking the fire inside you. It’s enough to draw out a soft pants and muffled moans out of you, enough to make all the tension that had wound you so tight begin to unravel but not enough to grant you the release you're seeking.

Chest heaving, you can’t bring yourself to beg, afraid of what you might sound like if you did, a choked whine of Eddie’s name so close to spilling from your lips already. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing it.

Angling your right foot, you’re able to reach down and press your heel into his waist, not forceful, just enough to make him pull away from cunt, lips sheened with your slick and chin brushing the soft curls on your mound when he peeks up from between your legs.

“Need more already huh?”, he beats you to it, knowing and smug.

As much as you wanted to deny it, you already missed having his mouth on you. Lips pressing into a thin line to show your annoyance, you try to grasp at the right words from the jumble of them knocking around inside your head, hoping to pick the ones that might help you seem less needy than you actually feel, not wanting to boost his ego more than you probably already have.

“What you did earlier when you were playing… that was different”, you point out carefully.

“I know, I’m just getting you ready”, he explains matter-of-factly, eyes dropping back down to your cunt, gently spreading your folds apart with his thumbs with rapt attention.

“I am ready”, you try to argue, a little breathless but firm.

Eddie meets your stern gaze again and gives you a skeptical look in return, holding your stare for a few more seconds as if assessing you before he ultimately yields.

"Alright alright. Listen, uh - this might get a little intense so just um… pinch my hand if it gets too much for you and I'll stop, okay?", he winds one arm around your hip, holding out his hand for you to take.

The shift in demeanor has you slightly taken aback. He’d been so cocky for most this, showing shades of something softer at times but this was the most blatant display of that side of him so far – no sass, no crude remarks, no teasing jab. It was a side you’d seen glimpses of back when you were in school with him, that considerate streak he was sometimes partial to like when he’d taken in those freshmen who didn’t seem to fit in anywhere else. You never thought he’d show you the same kindness, no matter how veiled. Part of you even thought you didn’t deserve it after all the squabbling you’d initiated over the years.

Tentatively, you stare at the hand he offers you, his words echoing in your head loud enough to override your temporary and uncharacteristic bout of guilt.

Intense? Too much for you? Fuck, it's so hard to keep from wanting to grind your core against his face when he says things like that.

"You're pretty confident, aren't you?", you say instead, stalling so that you could discreetly wipe your palm against his sheets before you place your hand in his, afraid yours might be sweaty.

"Yeah, I am. And for good reason", he grinned, curling his much longer fingers around yours as you rest your joined hands close to your belly button, hoping he couldn't feel the storm of butterflies flapping their wings wildly inside your stomach.

“Oh, but first–”

Despite your best efforts, you can’t contain the pathetic yelp he rips from you when he pulls you closer by his free hand, picking your legs up abruptly to get them over his shoulders, spreading you even wider and getting you so close that you’re practically locked in place.

"Eddie-shit", you try to scold but it’s no use.

There’s no more soft, gentle licking when he dives in, tongue moving boldly to pulse against your clit with enough pressure to make your whole chest feel like its crackling with pops of electricity. He’d warned you it would be intense and you learned he was a man of his word, thighs twitching and quivering around his cheeks and curtain of curls. You squeeze his hand instantly, not pinching, he notices, a sign that it’s okay to continue as you throw your head back.

Spiraling again, you’re at a complete loss as to how good this feels. It never felt this good with the other boys and it definitely didn’t feel like this even when you touched yourself. How could someone who’s never touched you until today be able to get you like this so quickly and so easily?

Well, the position certainly helped. You’re entirely at his mercy like this, pinned in place from the waist down, suddenly very aware of how strong Eddie really is, not what you’d expected of someone who spent most of his time occupied with fantasy games. He groans, deep and rumbling, the vibration of it travelling through you while you fight to keep your teeth firmly set in your bottom lip, starting to writhe as he alternates between flicking your clit with his tongue and sucking on it, sloppy, wet, filthy sounds echoing plentiful in his bedroom.

It’s a riot inside your head – two thoughts competing and clashing fiercely; one part of you screams for him to slow down, that it’s all so much so fast despite having asked for it and the other roars back a resounding keep going, oh god, keep fucking going, overtaking the first.

But Eddie isn’t privy to any of this – you don’t want to let him know because even with the way he’s making it harder and harder for you to not just cry out for more, you’re much too stubborn to actually do so – knowing full well that if you were to let on just how much you’re enjoying his ministrations, he’d never let you hear the end of it.

Easier said than done.

Your resolve is withering at an alarming rate, not sure how long you can keep true to your vow of silence when he slips his tongue into your opening, pleasure and relief melding into one now that you have somethinginside you, curtailing the ache of being empty for this long. He fucks you with it, driving it in and out, lavishing you from the inside with every stroke and drag of the slippery muscle against your walls.

“Oh Ed– oh fuck”, you blabber, hips bucking up against his face. You clench around it, clit throbbing in the absence of his tongue swiping over it but the way his nose bumps the tender pearl with every sloppy thrust of your hips more than makes up for it.

He lets you rut against his face like that, only pulling back and away minutes later but you’re not left wanting for long.

A sharp gasp is pulled from you when a finger plunges into you, another joining not too long after. You feel stupid for forgetting how well those fingers moved on his guitar when he curls them inside you, long and thick, reaching deeper than your own, filling you better than his tongue did.

“Shit, listen to you”, he tutted, cunt sopping and squelching loud enough for your whole face to flare up. “Got this worked up just for me, huh?”

He wants to hear you beg; you know it. Rather than replying you whine between ragged breaths, containing the rest that threatened to spill out in moans and cries for more. But it’s nowhere near enough to satiate him now. Eddie frowns, face clouding with irritation. He wasn’t going to let you get away with stifling yourself any longer.

“Tell me how good I make you feel”, he says, tone losing its playful lilt and gaining a firm edge instead, eyes darkening.

“I’ve been real generous with you today – even after all your fucking attitude”, he punctuates with a particularly rough thrust of his fingers into your cunt, another gasp tapering into a whimper falling from your lips.

“Not g-gonna say it…” you tremor, so clearly affected by what he’s doing to you. 

He laughs but there’s no amusement there, only something foreboding glinting in his eyes. “Can feel you, honey – trying so hard to hold back but you’re soaked and you’re squeezing me so tight”, sinking his fingers in up to the knuckles.

“C’mon, I’m not asking for a lot, am I?  just say the words and I’ll let you cum,” he murmured, amber eyes hooded and locked on yours.

“Eddie-”, you start, hating how it came out all pitchy and wavering, hating it even more when you see how much he liked hearing his name leave your lips like that. “You said you would- this isn’t what we agreed- “

“Do it or I’ll stop”, he cuts you off, unsmiling. You can tell he isn’t joking when his pace falters and his fingers still inside you.

The fear of him stopping when you’re already so close rushes in with torrential urgency, no time to feel embarrassed by how quickly or how hard you squeeze his hand when you feel him begin to unweave his fingers from yours to make good on his threat, your steely grip preventing him from slipping away, begging him to stay.

“Please...”, you begin to crumble, breathy and desperate and aching for him to finish what he started.

The smile pulling at his slick lips tells you he’s appeased, pumping his fingers inside you again, slow but deep, stretching you well.

“Go on…” he encourages, speeding up when you let loose an unrestrained moan that comes out all high and pretty for him, helpless to his touch, your building arousal making you grow compliant.

“Fuck -Eddie, I’ve- I’ve never felt this good before”, you relent with a sob.

“Yeah? Poor baby – always working so hard… got no one else to take care of you. Needed it so bad, didn’t you? Couldn’t even control yourself when you saw me today, huh? Climbed in my bed and spread your legs even though you say you can't stand me”, he grins wickedly, tone thick with condescension.

He was right. For years, you were gasoline and him, the match, all of that smoldering friction between the two of you culminating in the most surprising way.

“But now you can’t get enough of me.”, he finished with a sneer.

Something new blossoms beneath your ribs – humiliation.

But instead of trying to shy away from it you find yourself welcoming the way it sprouts up like tendrils, winding around you all slow and creeping, all because you’ve been put in your place, rendered a mewling, gasping, desperate thing by the boy you’ve spent far too much time despising.

“Wanna feel your mouth on me again”, you blurt between pants, a broken, pitiful sound.

“Need you to make me cum – please”

He watches you struggle under the weight of your own desire, willing to debase yourself if it meant he’d grant you your release and it makes him chuckle, satisfied.

“Was that so hard?”, he flashed you one of those impish, shit eating grins before his mouth is on your clit again, fingers driving inside you in tandem. Your free hand shoots out to weave into his hair, clutching it like a lifeline.

The combination sends you careening towards the edge, the feeling starting to become too much when he sucks hard on your bundle of nerves but there’s no way to pull yourself away from him – not that you wanted to. Not really.

Your whole body tenses and ripples when it crests, something white hot barreling its way out of you – too fast and too intense to warn him, cunt fluttering around his moving fingers, thighs squeezing, throat growing hoarse from your cries.

It runs through you in crashing, gushing waves, leaving you shaking and keening, lungs burning for air until breath returns to you slowly, roiling intensity settling down into pulsing aftershocks. They subside when the afterglow comes next and you relish the way it drapes over your quivering body, lips trembling and chanting whispered exclamations of ‘oh my god oh my god oh my god’ up at the ceiling, still reeling from it all. It’s only when the sensation of weightlessness that had cradled you for those moments following your orgasm begins to recede that you spring up, elbows pressing into the mattress to support you, heart shooting up into your throat when you catch sight of Eddie.

And it’s worse than you thought.

His cheeks, mouth, jaw and neck are soaked, as is the collar of his shirt now clinging wetly to the dip between his clavicles. Oh shit it’s in his hair too, noticing a few dampened ends which stick to the fabric near his shoulders.

In the thick fog of your afterglow your mind turns sluggish – too slow to piece together what exactly had happened as your eyes lowered in search of what caused Eddie’s current state. Realization sets in after a few seconds of delay in the form of a swooping, twisting flurry in your belly, worsening when you find the same wetness coating your inner thighs and pooling on his sheets, your ass resting in a little puddle of well, yourself.

You've squirted all over his face and his bed.

"I've never done that before”, you breathe out, both stunned and mortified at what you’ve done. Though your worry lessens somewhat when you dare to look at Eddie again, the look on his drenched face telling you that he’s anything but upset about it.

“I’ve never made anyone do that before”, he utters back, sharing your surprise.

Your hand which somehow had managed to stay clasped in his throughout the whole thing is finally returned to you when you both loosen your hold on each other, awkwardly pulling away enough for you to scoot off the damp spot on his bed and for Eddie to ease up onto his knees, which he realizes a little too late was probably a mistake.

Your eyes dart to it when you hear his sharp inhale, widening at the sight.

There's a new elephant in the room to address now – the massive erection straining against his sweatpants.

Silence shrouds the room, both of you speechless, panting and sweaty. He makes no move to cover himself and you don’t think to set your gaze anywhere else.

You’re not sure why you did what you did next, only that you felt compelled to do so.

Easing up on to your knees, you come face to face with Eddie, skirt falling back down to conceal you. Your fingers move seemingly on their own accord, curling into the waistband of his sweats, fingertips grazing the hot skin that lies underneath and for some reason he lets you, watching you closely albeit a little disbelieving. This wasn’t part of your ‘agreement’. He’d offered to get you off and you had accepted but that was the extent of it, neither of you giving much thought as to what would happen after but here you are, chasing after more.

Inches away from his lips, you can smell yourself on his skin. That tangy, earthy essence he'd lapped at and drunk down so eagerly for the past hour. What made him like it so much? What made him want to do this all in the first place? You wanted to ask him but more than that, fingers tightening on the cotton waistband, daring to dip inside and skim the course trail of hair above his pelvis, you wanted to find out what he tasted like too.

You draw a little closer and so does he, nose brushing his, chin tipping up, eyes slipping shut…

But your lips don’t meet.

Whatever was about to happen is cut short then, the both of you whipping your heads in the direction Eddie’s bedroom door, on the other side of which comes the sound of the front door unlatching and a set of boots stepping through the entryway.

Wayne’s home.

“Fuck”, you exclaim in unison.

Sharing a panicked look with Eddie the two of you begin to scramble quietly off the bed, not wanting to risk alerting Wayne to your presence in their trailer.

You liked Wayne. Despite his gruff exterior he’d always been fair to you and your family but the last thing you wanted was to get caught out in his nephew's room. Like this.

"Shit – I can't believe I'm saying this now but...you have to go", Eddie winced as he whispered to you, looking increasingly more regretful with every word he’s forced to let out in reference to your departure.

"No– It's okay. I get it, I really should leave", you hush back in agreement, looking all kinds of frazzled and just as sympathetic given you bare as much of the responsibility for how things escalated the way they did.

You get your shoes back on as quickly and quietly as you can manage, panic rising when Wayne calls out something from the kitchen about dinner.

“Be right there!”, Eddie yells back, swooping down to pick your panties up off the floor, sheepishly handing them to you and you ball the underwear in your fist, suddenly too embarrassed to let him look at them despite everything that’s transpired.

And with that brief brush of his fingers against yours, a moment hangs over the two of you as you stare at one another, a moment that begs for something more to be said about the situation.

But what could you say?

"Thanks for the head?"

"Sorry about the mess. I hope it doesn't leave a stain?"

Nothing feels right no matter what you try to scrounge up and scrape together from the recesses of your mind so reluctantly, you don’t say anything at all, turning towards the window and letting him help you out through it, a faint sense of something sour washing over you when his fingers slip away from yours.

The walk back to your trailer is a short one but it’s made all the more difficult on unsteady, wobbling legs. Casting your gaze at every neighboring window in search of anyone happening to look outside, you try your best to look as inconspicuous as possible despite your ungainly stride and your disheveled state, scrambling up and through your front door.

Back in your room, slumping against your bedroom door, your thighs are wet and sticky, breath coming out in short, hurried puffs, heart thudding a mile a minute and you have just one thought ballooning in your mind.

How the hell were you ever going to look Eddie in the eye after this?

-

Tag list: @sadlittlesquish @honey-flustered @cryingglightningg @cadence73

#eddie munson smut #stranger things smut #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader

[uglyducklingofthe2000s]

can we get lando and reader in a situationship that eventually becomes a relationship 🤭 obsessed with those

Foolish Heart - LN

!!Mild warnings of some toxic behaviour from both parts!! I hope that's ok for this request. Suggestions of smut but no actual smut (soz, one day I'll actually bother to put the effort into write it)

"You're going out? Are you coming back to mine afterwards?" Lando asks making y/n look at him in the reflection of her mirror.

"It's a girls night out, Lando. I don't know where I'll end up."

He hates when she does this. When she dismisses him with no real answer.

They're not exclusive, all because he said that he couldn't commit to a relationship at this point in his career and she said that she was fine with that.

Y/n's never said openly that she hooks up with other guys or that she's even talks to other guys. But Lando just assumes she does because she goes out with "the girls" and somehow constantly documents drunk adventures with men they meet once they're out.

"Why are you making that face?" Y/n questions making Lando look up at her again.

"I'm not making any face."

"Fine, you're not making a face." Y/n shrugs turning back to finish her make up. Make up that Lando wants to ruin by bending her over that vanity and fucking her silly. Or pulling her down onto her knees in front of him and using her mouth

But he doesn't move, instead focusing his gaze on his phone not even bothering to hide his frown. Then he decides he doesn't even want to be here anymore. Even though usually his favourite thing to do with y/n is just watch her, and almost pretend they're in a bit of domestic bliss with each other.

That's all how he likes to pretend things are when they're alone, but realistically he knows he's the one stopping them from being anything more. Not that she's ever fought for more, but she's also never got the chance before Lando said he couldn't handle a relationship right now.

"I have to go." Lando mutters standing up and moving up behind her.

No matter how upset he is, he knows it's not really her fault. So he moves over kissing her cheek and feeling a warm feeling buzz through him when he looks through the mirror at her to see her smiling.

"Let me know if you're coming back to my place." He murmurs earning a nod before he places another kiss in the very top of her head, only for her to tip her head back and pout till he kisses her properly, even if it's sort of upside down. "Have a good time."

"I'll try."

-

Lando tried texting y/n throughout the night. Only after a certain time and when he thought she might be done. Mainly to just know if he should leave the door open for is she might want to come over. Even without the replies, she was actively posting and so were her friends.

But there was no response by the time Lando went to bed.

So he went to bed annoyed and thinking about what she could be doing that is so important to not even look at his messages.

By the morning he decides to go out for a drive, but he doesn't get further than opening the door when he finds a balled up body with a button-down shirt on thrown over the top and a post it note safety pinned to the shirt.

Dear Lando,

We tried knocking. She was crying till we brought her here and refused to leave. We figured she'd be safe since she's indoors anyway.

The girls x

"What a joke." Lando mutters with a sour taste in his mouth as he tries to figure out if it's easier to pick her up or just wake her up.

He does pick her up and ends up placing her down in his bed. She's freezing from having slept on the floor in nothing but a dress with a cotton shirt over her.

For a moment he does check that she still as a pulse, but clearly the alcohol and curled up position helped her to keep her core warm because she's got a pretty steady beat that doesn't make Lando panic.

"Alright, baby. Let's get you warmed up and comfy." Lando whispers, his voice and shifting her limbs earns an ungraceful jump of surprise. "Easy. You were left on my door step. I'm just trying to get you warm."

"Oh god...that wasn't just some horrible dream."

"No." Lando sighs while gently moving her hair from her face.

It's a sweet moment that goes short-lived when y/n jumps up and stumbles to the bathroom, retching and the splattering sound of all that alcohol reappearing makes Lando grimace but he gets up to rush after her.

He pulls her hair back, internally a little grateful she managed to not get sick on it anyway. His large hand gently rubs her back, trying to comfort her at the minimum.

"I'm sorry." Y/n pants when she's finally emptied her stomach.

"Don't worry about it." Lando states while she frowns shaking her head.

"No, you don't even like drinking." Y/n murmur before he gives her a hand up and flushes the toilet quickly. "So I'm really really sorry."

Lando just dismisses her apology again and gently returns her to the bed, grabbing a glass of water along with the toothbrush she keeps at his place and helps her brush her teeth while just in bed before throwing it all in the bathroom again to clean up later.

Then they spend the day with him sort of just coddling her while he gets on with some stuff he needs to do during the day. Mainly just talking to a few people from McLaren and sorting out some stuff to do with Quadrant.

-

Lando loves his career and race weekends, but this one feels bitter after soured after y/n rejected an invitation to come with him. She said she wouldn't want to be spotted and for people to get the wrong impression.

"You seem off your usual bubbliness. Is there something you're not feeling great about with the car?" An interviewer asks while Lando stands not being able to manage a proper smile for the hundredth time this weekend.

"I uhh....I just don't feel that great this weekend. It's just me. Not to car or anything in the team." Lando states with a shrug while feeling the drilling of the media assistant's eyes into the side of his head.

But he just can't find it in himself to care anymore.

Y/n's rejection struck in a way that he really hates. And once he's left alone in his driver's room, he picks up his phone texting her, only to receive a FaceTime in return.

"Why do you care what I'm doing? You never care when you're away at a race." Y/n states without so much as a hello.

"Am I not allowed to ask?" Lando questions earning a sigh before he frowns. "What are you dressed up for?"

"Jesus, Lando!" Y/n laughs finding his questions pretty ridiculous compared to how he had been acting till recently. "Can you just tell me what's going on? Because these mixed messages after not making any sense."

The silence that follows makes her frown and she sighs getting ready to say goodbye and hang up.

"Can you please come here for this weekend?" Lando pleads looking incredibly upset to the point that she sighs.

"You fucking ruin everything." She mutters hanging up and leaving Lando feel like he might actually cry for the first time since Russia.

But when there's a knock on his door he stands up shaking off the feelings before he pulls the door open only to find her there, looking pretty annoyed as she crosses her arms.

"Surprise." She huffs in a begrudging tone. "I arranged this with Oscar and Jon weeks ago and I was going to surprise you later after your free practices were done."

Lando wants to feel bad, mainly because he knows the type of effort that would've gone into making this happen. But her being there has just made everything this weekend feel a million times better.

His large hands cup her face and she is kept silent in a breathtaking kiss. He needed to see her, to feel her, even to taste her. Right now...she tastes like apples.

Y/n pushes them both into the privacy of his room, breaking the kiss in the process with a shocked expression.

"Have you lost your mind? What if someone saw us?"

"I don't care. I wanted you here because I am the stupidest person ever. I don't want this casual situationship-thing we've got. I want something serious and real...with you. I know I fucked up by telling you that I wasn't ready for a relationship, and really wasn't but you've changed that and I can't pretend otherwise." Lando states earning a sigh from the young woman.

"You want something serious?" Y/n murmurs making him swallow but nod quickly. "And you swear you're not going to turn around and decide it's too much in a week?"

"I swear. I swear. Really I swear." Lando nods with a thick swallow as she nods then smiling shyly at him. The shyness on her face not hideable but Lando is too happy to care. "This is going to be such a good weekend. I promise."

"I believe you."

-

It took a matter of hours for a photo of Lando kissing y/n through a window to leak around social media and for there to be a demand that they find out who this mystery woman is.

After all y/n has never been spotted with Lando before and in fact Lando hasn't been linked to any women or even a suggestion that there's any women involved.

"I quite like being Lando's mystery woman. Feels quite important." Y/n jokes as she stands in his hotel room, trying to find something to wear while Lando just enjoys seeing her standing naked and knowing that she's all his. "Stop staring and help me."

"Come over here." Lando commands making her turn to look at him properly. "Come here."

She moves over looking at him with those big innocent eyes she likes to use on him before she crawls onto the bed and near him.

"How am I supposed to not stare when I know I have full access and I'm the only one with that privilege?" Lando questions with his hand moving up to her neck, gently holding her while she smiles at him biting her lip for a moment. "Too bad you can't just go out there naked."

"I could...but I have a feeling the rest of the world would be divided on how to feel about it. Half would probably love it and the rest would despise me for it." Y/n hums before leaning forward with guidance from Lando's hand on her as she kisses him. "If only your fans knew what you're really like behind closed doors."

"Too bad that's an experience exclusive to you." Lando shrugs while she climbs over him, properly deepening the kiss. This moment only adding to Lando's regret of having denied himself this with y/n all this time.

#f1 #fanfic #formula 1 #lando #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #norris #lando norris one shot #mclaren #mclaren formula 1 #lando norris fanfic #ln4 fic #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #mclaren racing #ln4 one shot #lando norris imagines #lando norris fluff #mclaren f1

[antimonyandthyme]

1k; alex/logan; after the australian gp

His phone was clinking incessantly. Very determinedly. Logan dredged up determination in equal counterforce to ignore it.

“Whoever it is,” Alex said, “is being clingier than cling wrap.”

“Not your best,” Logan said.

“Whatever. Why don’t you answer it?”

“It’s probably just Oscar.”

That got him an Oh? Alex shifted, groaning, stretching his arms out in a way that was not meant to be sexy at all, but somehow still painfully was. Logan stared down at the wrinkled sheets instead. He was shaky all over, but kept himself still. “What does he want?”

“To check on me, probably.”

“Good friend,” Alex said. His tone landed somewhere in the middle of a chromatic scale, careful, but not too wary, interested, but not too concerned.

I don’t know about you and George, but me and Oscar, we get along just—

It was too early to be this petty. “Yeah,” he said, and left it at that.

Except Alex had a bone to chew. His not-quite smile was sharp, his eyes a little too assessing. Logan supposed the morning-after spiral presented itself differently in everybody.

“What will you tell him?”

“That I spent the night fucking my teammate,” Logan said.

Alex pulled back, like that scalded. Okay, ouch.

Logan sighed. Oscar always said there was no point wielding a knife if he was going to feel bad about it, less than a second after. It was a habit he couldn’t rid himself of.

“Of course I’m not saying that. Just—that I’m sleeping in. Or something else believable. I’m not an idiot.”

“Didn’t say you were.” Alex ran his fingers through his hair, which barely served to dissuade any unruliness. He looked so rumpled it was almost endearing. Logan had the maddening urge to smooth him down, act as sandpaper to Alex’s edges. “Sorry. I’m not being. I’m not—”

“You’re being an ass,” Logan said flatly. “Can you have your freakout later? After we’ve showered, at least?”

Of all things. Alex’s smile softened, turned a little more real. “So you admit it.”

“Admit what.”

“You are mad at me.”

I’m not mad, Logan had said last night, when Alex showed up with a bottle of conciliatory wine and a hand rubbing the back of his neck, so unusually uncertain of himself that Logan felt the inane need to comfort him. Alex, I promise I’m not. Here, to prove how not mad I am, let’s finish this bottle together. See?

“I’m—” He shut his mouth. There were very few pretenses here. Eyes red-rimmed and bodies tender in the most intimate of places, sheets still faintly damp. “I’m being childish.”

“You’re not being childish,” Alex said shortly. “Something got taken away from you, and for what?”

Logan shrugged. It wasn’t Alex’s fault, that much was certain. But the taste on his tongue soured past morning staleness when he thought of James. “It was for the team.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Get out of here with that bullshit.”

“I should have crashed my car, like Max suggested.”

“That’s more like it.” Even the flyaway strands in Alex’s hair appeared delighted now. “Let it all out.”

The corners of Logan’s mouth twitched up. “What are you trying to encourage? Our own multi two-one?”

Alex scoffed. “When Williams makes better cars, maybe.”

It sounded impossible, even as people who had the patience to recognize dreams took what felt like eons to manifest. And anyway, Alex wasn’t the person he’d endure a silver war with. Logan’s phone was still making glass-shattering noises.

“You should reply.” Alex relaxed back into bed. They were both equally grateful for the distraction from their futures’ uncertainties. “Way it sounds, he’s about to have a conniption.”

Logan could picture it, Oscar’s not-anxious-anxious face, the line of his mouth flattening impossibly further the longer it took to get a response.

sorry, shit signal last night

Mate, the response was instant and borderline angry. Where are you?

in bed

Not technically a lie.

hungover

Ok, Oscar said. You good?

Was he? Alex was looking at him, expression threaded with amusement and an understanding reserved for teammates who only knew how to take things from each other. The night could’ve been worse spent. Alex’s mouth, hot against his, and his calloused hand, rough against his sensitive, greedy cock, was welcome enough to push James’ sympathetic face out of his head for a decent enough time.

i’m good. thanks. appreciate you asking osc

“You’re awfully polite for an American.”

“Fuck off,” Logan said.

There was another unopened text that surely Alex had caught a glimpse of as well. Logan tossed the phone aside. His lips found the underside of Alex’s jaw. Alex’s groan was exceedingly nice to listen to. The stutter in his hips, the surprised gasp he released, as Logan worked his way downward, was even more rewarding.

Later, showering—

“I’ll say no, the next time.”

Alex was playing with the suds in Logan’s hair, making snowmen that stuck out like lumpy marshmallows. The shower in the hotel room, like all showers in hotel rooms tend to be, had misty glass enclosure walls. Logan checked their reflections out in the mirror. They looked presentable, pressed up against each other. Friendly, like all good teammates should be.

“Good, good,” Alex said absently. He continued massaging Logan’s hair.

There was a small flicker of irritation. “I’m being serious.”

“I know you are,” Alex said. He smoothed the shampoo down, palm slick and comfortable, then scratched his fingers gently against Logan’s scalp. “You’re allowed, of course. To say no.”

You’re allowed, Logan heard in the silence that followed, to see where that takes you.

Coming from Alex, it didn’t sound that patronizing. More generous, really. Encouraging. Maybe they would have their own multi two-one, after all.

The text: Logan, I’d like to discuss some things with you today, if you have time.

Impossible, aggravating. James hardly needed to ask for Logan’s time. It was already his.

Logan leaned his head back, snug against Alex’s collarbone. The spray was pleasant, going around his eyes, courtesy of the shield Alex’s back provided. It was warm.

He thought about what to say.

#athy texts #fanfic #rpf #alex/logan

[yisony07]

So my boyfriend and I have a huge Mask kink. He loves the way that the mask just melts around the head and takes over the wearers body… removing all inhibitions…

So he ordered a replica of the mask online for me to wear while we role play… but the way it glistens and the funky musky green vapor it’ll sometimes emit is giving me pause… should I wear it tonight?

You couldn’t help but smile with excitement at the sight of nightfall when you were sitting on the edge of the bed, with the mask on your hands. You were waiting for your boyfriend to come out of the bathroom anytime soon as you two planned a wild night, roleplaying with it. Your boyfriend had bought a replica of that mask online and handed it to you since he always thought you’d look awesome. You brushed your hands through its rough surface as you examined it, turning it around to see its back. 

A sigh came out of your mouth as you looked at the bathroom’s closed door. When did he plan to come out? The dawn would arrive before he got out! 

Then, you noticed the air felt different. With a sniff, you sensed a distinct, somewhat unpleasant odor; you instantly got hard, as it reminded you of the smell of your boyfriend every time he came all sweaty from working out. Then, you looked at the mask and became aware of the slightly green vapor it was emitting. 

“What?” you muttered, kind of surprised. When your boyfriend told you he ordered the mask, you assumed (and thought he did too) he was talking about a mere replica. This couldn’t be the real deal, could it?

“No,” you answered yourself. When you blinked, the vapor was no more, so all could have just been a product of your imagination. You were just desperate for your boyfriend and all the creative stories he would come up with while you kissed each other, touched each other, embraced each other in a few moments…

At that moment, a greenish glow crossed through the back surface in the blink of an eye. Your breath held still for a few seconds until it started again, smelling the funky odor. A chill ran through your spine as the thought of what that meant appeared crystal clear… Should you put it on?

“How dare I ask that?” you said out loud. In that, you hear the noise of a door being opened, but you could not care less: the mask… the real mask was in your hands.

Without thinking twice, you let yourself be carried away by that and put the mask on your face. At first, nothing happened, and for a few seconds, you could taste the sour taste of disappointment, so you tried to take it off. However, it did not move, like it was stuck. Maybe it was the sweat, you thought since it was warm, but the more you tried to peel it off, the more the mask seemed to resist being separated from your skin. 

Next, you felt like the rigid, wood structure of the mask became somewhat slippery and slid out of your hands, accompanied by an electric shock that ran through your entire body, making you moan. Then, you felt it: the mask started expanding itself and slowly covering your head, rubbing its rough, cold surface against your warm, soft skin, sending electric beams that caused you to moan out loud out of both pain and pleasure. When you felt the mask closing as a lock at the back of your head, you intuited there was nothing you could do: the mask swallowed your entire head in the blink of an eye.

For a moment, you felt nervous and tried to put it off again, but you stopped once you noticed the pain in your face as if by pulling the mask you were trying to tear apart your skin. You could not do more than just let it get its way… let it take you over…

Then you felt the mask move around your head like a violent sea against your skin, producing a warming and sexually pleasing sensation. It slowly traveled through your veins, starting from your head and accompanied by a vibration. It felt so good, so pleasurable that your cock hardened more and, you thought, seemed to grow even more. You couldn’t strain yourself, so you took off your shirt and started rubbing your hands against your abs, against your nipple; then, you unbuttoned your pants and started rubbing your dick. With each stroke, your body seemed to vibrate more, to feel warmer, and you thought of yourself more and more in bliss. 

With the highest-volumed moan, you felt like your whole world started to spin fast.

Images about lewd things you should do came to your mind as you started losing your barriers and instead filled up with desire. Why do you have to care about something you should do, being “polite” and not take action? Screw it all!!, you thought, before realizing everything around you got back to normal.

At first, nothing seemed to change, yet you were sure something was different. You instinctively took out your phone to see just as your gaze fell on the mirror. At that moment, you noticed it: your body was different, with some muscles and tattoos around, but your head stood out, with a green layer that was like a second skin that enhanced your sexiness and with those red eyes, you posed, as you knew you couldn’t look any better.

“What a rush!!” you said, licking your lips and smiling. Then you placed your gaze aside and watched your boyfriend jacking off.

“Hell yeah babe, that was amazing!” he said stopping. You immediately jumped towards him, kissed him, and took him into the bed, so that you were above him, enjoying the view of all of his body.

“Oh babe, that’ll be like a speck compared to what we’ll do right now,” you said, and, with another kiss, the both of you launched into action.

I hope you liked it and happy masked night! 💚🔥💚🔥

#loki mask transformation #he-mask #the mask #the mask transformation #themask #male transformation #male tf #gay transformation #muscle tf #musclegrowth

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group C Round 2: #C5 vs #C8

#C5: A bunch of teenagers are forced to share pain

#C8: Government employee and his white cat boss

Details and poll under the cut!

#C5: Kiznaiver

Summary:

Katsuhira Agata is a quiet and reserved teenage boy whose sense of pain has all but vanished. His friend, Chidori Takashiro, can only faintly remember the days before Katsuhira had undergone this profound change. Now, his muffled and complacent demeanor make Katsuhira a constant target for bullies, who exploit him for egregious sums of money. But their fists only just manage to make him blink, as even emotions are far from his grasp.

However, one day Katsuhira, Chidori, and four other teenagers are abducted and forced to join the Kizuna System as official "Kiznaivers." Those taking part are connected through pain: if one member is injured, the others will feel an equal amount of agony. These individuals must become the lab rats and scapegoats of an incomplete system designed with world peace in mind. With their fates literally intertwined, the Kiznaivers must expose their true selves to each other, or risk failing much more than just the Kizuna System.

Propaganda:

Kiznaiver is an extremely underrated work of Studio Trigger’s and is definitely one of their bests. Not just for the animation, but for the impactful story as well. The characters just feel so real, and this show just makes you think about human connection and how much we might care for each other if we shared our pain. Although it can get a little confusing at the end, the sheer raw emotion is what makes up for everything. Every single one of the characters gets developed in ways that made me smile like an idiot.

Very good but severely underrated anime! Would recommend! :)

Trigger Warnings: Emotional Abuse, Fatphobia, Disordered Eating, Implied Sexual Assault (maybe).

The fact that Yuuta is formerly fat is constantly mocked throughout the series, which leaves a bit of a sour taste in my mouth as a fat person watching the show personally. Yuuta, to maintain his thinness, engages in disordered eating by simply eating a small cube of food every day. Said character is also the subject of an attempted sexual assault by a female character, but I don’t remember correctly if that actually happened or if I just got triggered by the way the scene was portrayed.

#C8: White Cat Legend 2020 (Dali si Rizhi)

Summary:

Chen Shi, a young man from the countryside, journeys to the capital in search of his missing older brother, whose existence he only knew about upon his mother’s death. He knows neither the name nor face of his brother, and after finally arriving at the capital, he runs out of money as well. One thing led to another, and he finds himself employed at Dali Court, where he works for Vice Minister Li Bing, a large white cat.

On the other hand, Li Bing is of royal blood who was imprisoned because of his family’s treason. Now, he has to work in the government to atone for the crime. As for why he is in cat form? That’s for you to find out.

Propaganda:

White Cat Legend is a captivating blend of political intrigue, supernatural elements, comedy, drama, and action, showcasing a diverse cast whose allegiances are ever-fluid. It’s difficult to discern who’s on which side and why, since at any moment enemies may become friends, and friends may become enemies.

We have Chen Shi, who looks a lot like Tintin that it’s hard to believe he’s a main character. I think he’s more like the designated POV character, who guides the audience through the intricate political landscape. He becomes more prominent in season 2, though, when he is angered by how when those on top clash, it’s those below who suffer the most.

Then we have Li Bing, the white cat detective. When he’s not attempting paperwork with his inconvenient cat paws, he’s busy exposing schemes and conspiracies, yearning for the crimes to be judged fairly. But when the world is controlled by those in power, this is no easy task, not to mention that he also has to watch out becoming a real cat. 

Their colleagues in Dali Court are just as memorable. We have the shrewd Wang Qi whose luck is so good that it’s impossible to kill him, the runaway Arab prince Alibaba who wants to finally pass the Level 8 Mandarin exam so he can keep his boring desk job, the former soldier Sun Bao who’s afraid of ghosts, and the extremely unlucky Cui Bei who brings disaster wherever he goes that he’s just as effective as a nuclear weapon.

Outside of Dali Court, we have the ominous-looking General Qiu Shenji who is too sexy to be a villain, the cool lady General Lang Bailing whom even women would crush on, the cannibal demon Yi Zhihua who is too iconic to hate, the old as fuck Empress who somehow looks and acts like a child, and many more.

I’m making it a point to highlight the characters because the beauty of this show really lies in them. Whether they’re on the side of the protagonists or not, they’re all so loveable. They’re just different people, you know? Different people with different upbringings fighting for what they think is right, and sometimes their ideas clash with others. This is simply what divides them, much like relationships in real-life. White Cat Legend forces us to reflect on this.

Season 1 starts off light and hilarious as we follow the adventures of the Dali Court officials but gets heavier in later episodes. In Season 2, the humor is still there, but the overall mood is more serious. Both seasons will make you bawl your eyes out in their final episodes, so be prepared for that :)

The show also has exceptional animation, particularly during action scenes. They’re very immersive, made even more amazing with an emotionally-gripping soundtrack. 

I really hope you vote for this show, and if not, at least try watching it. It’s worth your time <3

Trigger Warnings:

Cannibalism - There’s a cat demon who appears in human form, and he eats humans (it’s not shown explicitly, though).

Animal Cruelty or Death - said cat demon also eats animals raw (again, not explicitly)

Graphic Depictions of Cruelty/Violence/Gore - There’s blood and fighting, and somebody also gets tortured in season 2. But again, nothing too graphic

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how they’re presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form, where you can submit revisions for taglines, propaganda, trigger warnings, and/or video.

#anime #donghua #best underrated anime #polls #poll tournament #tournament #anime tournament #animation #group stage #group stage round 2 #tournament polls #group c #white cat legend #大理寺日志 #dali si rizhi #da li si ri zhi #kiznaiver

[swifty-fox]

mmmmm gimme that 18 and 22

18. from that one WIP thats no plot just vibes

all my MOTA fic is plot but ive got an old wolfstar supernatural murder mystery i abandoned

Remus is dreaming. Or at least he thinks he is.

It’s the type of dream where he can feel the tips of his fingers and the weight on his chest and every single molar in his jaw. The type of dream where dread and horror and fear sit in his lungs and prevent him from drawing breath. 

He is buried alive. 

He can feel the rich fertile earth covering his body, taste the clay and silt in his mouth. Crawling, desperate, hungry things slither over his body. He can hear the sounds of their chewing in his ears and he wants to scream only if he opens his mouth that will let them in. His flesh rots, his eyeballs melt out of his skull. The skin around his lips turns wizened and desiccated, peeling back from his teeth like the pages of a book.

Remus is bones, is decay, the worms feed on his decomposition and snakes slither through the latticework of his sternum. He breathes, and his lungs fill with mushrooms and soft nesting things. Butterflies alight on his corpse and sip the sweetly soured decaying flesh. There is a buzzing in his mouth, a soft wet bumblebee struggling to get out.

He opens his mouth. Mud fills his throat. The bee ceases her noise and a giant black spider emerges, scuttling past his lips and into the forest. 

His parents are screaming his name, screaming for him. To run. To fight.

Fight it, fight it Remus, you have to fight it.

Remus opens his mouth. He opens his mouth and the spider escapes. He opens his mouth and the hungry things come pouring in, devouring him from the inside out. He opens his mouth and screams.

There is a bird who sits on a tower. With beady eyes so clever. Who sees the curling petal. Of every single flower.

A boy is staring at him. A boy with blue eyes and blue lips and blue, bruised, dead skin. His palms are stained and his body is bare, dehydrated and loose-limbed like a porcelain doll torn from its stand. He smiles at Remus with bloody, perfect teeth.

22. that is so blissfully indulgent

me hwne Gale angst and also he loves John

Gale takes a deep breath to compose himself, tucks the jagged angry edges of himself back to face inwards. “You said you would write.” 

He glances up at Bucky and it's the other man who averts his gaze this time, face paling. He sits down heavily across from Buck and rubs a hand across his mustache, still avoiding eye contact.

“I meant to.” He finally says then laughs sharp and bitter, “I musta put pen to paper a thousand times. But I- well. The words just wouldn’t come. Figured eventually I might as well drive out and fetch you back with me.” 

Gale's anger stutters and then goes out completely, leaving him hollow. Of course, of course he wasn't the only one with memories that nipped at his heels. And John, the man that he was, had decided to do something about it for the both of them. Who shouldered a sixteen hour drive because of course a letter wasn’t good enough, he’d already chased Buck into the heart of enemy territory, what were a few state lines?

“John Egan,” Buck drawls, “always to the rescue.” Bucky laughs, a genuine noise that sounds so foreign in the cold bare kitchen.

John was fake on the surface and all real underneath. Real bravery and real heart, a man who jumps on an armed German guard to save his friend. Who volunteered on the next mission out all because his friend had been shot down. And Gale, well he was just the opposite wasn't he? All real on the thin top layer and below that nothing much of substance. A good soldier, a good leader; good at being a man in all the ways that garnered approval and respect. He honed it to perfection, perfect responses full of bravado, not too harsh but not too intimate either. But below that…there was very little to behold. No matter how many times the other guys told him, he told himself, there would always be the fact that John faced down armed guards and Buck ran

#swiftytalks #ask games

[saintseed-family]

“Damn, I’m hungry,” Janus said as he looked around the marketplace.  “Can we stop and eat?”

“Of course, we’ve been shopping for awhile,” replied Thorn, “There’s plenty to choose from here, what do you want to get?”

Janus took in the various stalls that had been set up.  Summer market was always full of delicious smells and tastes, but today it seemed especially hard to decide on what to get.  Normally he’d settle for a fried kebab, or maybe something sweet, but everything looked good today.  While shopping, Thorn had already loaded up his basket with anything that Janus had asked for - leafy green vegetables and extremely sour fruits and his favorite kind of squash that got real buttery when it was baked, and yet none of those things really seemed like what he wanted to eat right now.  

He wasn’t fond of the phrase “eating for two,” he had always had a hearty appetite, but it was true that he was definitely putting that food to more use these days, and Thorn was more than happy to indulge in every request Janus had.

“Somethin’ fried… no… somethin’ spicy,” Janus said, glancing at all the food on display.  During the summer market they often got vendors from out of the village, bringing food they normally didn’t get to have, and the choices were overwhelming.  “No wait…  Sweet sounds good too…”

“We’re not on a budget darling, you can get more than one thing,” Thorn chuckled.

“Ah, I just can’t decide,” Janus laughed. “I’m used to thinkin’ with my stomach, but my belly is full of cub and they’re callin’ the shots.”

“Ah, so the cub is hungry then?” Thorn mused.  “What does the cub want?”

“A little of everything I think.”

“Well then I think we can make that happen,” he said with a smile.

“Alright then… Maybe… maybe some of that sweet fry bread from the bakery and… oh, egg sunny up sounds good… and maybe some of the Hazelbough’s hot sauce they put on their kebabs,” mused Janus.  “With green onions.”

“All at once?”

“Can I have it all at once?” Janus asked.

Thorn laughed, “You can have anything you want darling, I just worry the cub will be kicking you in protest!”

“It just all sounds really good,” admitted Janus with a shrug, “And I want all of it.”

“Then all of it you will have.”

They stopped at the bakery for the fry bread first, hot and dusted with sugar, then went to a street vender selling fried eggs.  The vendor gave Janus a strange look when he asked him to put the egg right on top of the sweet pastry, but didn’t say anything.  Finally they visited the Hazelbough’s stall for a sampling of their sauce and a handful of chopped onions.  Janus looked extremely pleased at his assembled treat and he smiled as he took a big bite.

“How is it?”

“I suspect I’ll hate it if I ever have it when I’m not pregnant,” Janus chuckled as he tried to politely cover his mouth.  “But right now it’s the best damn thing I’ve ever had.” 

#artist: nekosd43 #oc: theathorn wheatseed #cw: pregnancy #writing #oc: janus saintsire #tmpreg

[sunnys567]

Friends in Strange Places Ch. 4 Pt 1

What if Vlad was good instead of evil? Link to chapter 1:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39040329/chapters/97656390

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

"...And these ghost candies have been in your pocket for how long?" Sam asked.

"Well, I got them in Colorado..."

"So, for about two weeks." Tucker raised an eyebrow. Him and Sam were looking at the green candies in Danny's hand like they were dead bugs.

"They seem fine to me." Danny shrugged. He decided Sam and Tucker didn't need to know that they'd probably been through the wash at least twice.

"Danny they're glowing."

"And you got them from a ghost, dude."

"Her name was Bernie, and she was very nice. C'mon, aren't you guys at least a little curious?"

"This seems like a bad idea," Tucker said, taking a candy "But I'll admit I am."

"Welp, we might as well all die together." Sam shrugged, taking a candy herself.

The three of them unwrapped the candies and popped them into their mouth.

Sam and Tucker immediately began spluttering and spit their candies out.

"That was the worst thing I've ever tasted!" Sam said.

"Agreed." Tucker nodded. "And the bar for stuff I'll eat is real low."

"How was it bitter and sour at the same time?"

"Maybe you guys are tasting the ectoplasm." Danny said. "I guess they are ghost candies."

"Danny, how are you eating that?" Sam gaped.

"Dude, those things taste like they hate you."

"It tastes kinda sweet." Danny shrugged. "It's not really a specific flavour, but it tastes like something I can't really describe. Kind of reminds me of Amity Park Park on a sunny day?"

"Ectoplasm tastes sweet to you?" Tucker asked, his face a mix of intrigue and disgust.

"Huh? Oh no, I think I just started noticing the taste of ectoplasm less when I became half-ghost."

"Danny." Sam put her hands together. "Why do you know what ectoplasm tastes like before and after the accident."

"I get blasted in the face with ecto-based attacks on a regular basis. Some of it ends up in my mouth." Danny raised his hands defensively.

"And before?" Tucker asked.

"Sometimes you're seven, and you dare your sister to eat some, but she'll only do it if you do too. Or you're three, and it a bright colour, and three-year-olds like putting bright colours in their mouth, or..." Danny trailed off when he noticed Tucker and Sam's horrified expressions. "Look, I was raised by two ghost hunters. It happens."

"How are you not dead?" Sam asked.

"I probably should be dead for, like, twenty different reasons, but eating ectoplasm isn't one of them. It's not poisonous, turns out."

"On that note," Tucker stood up "I have to go home and eat literally anything that isn't ectoplasm."

"What time is it?" Sam checked her watch. "5:47? Already? Jeez, it's almost my supper time too."

"Aw, why do you guys eat so early?" Danny winded as he followed them out of his room and down the stairs.

"Danny, most people have supper before 8:00. You're the weirdo here." Tucker said.

"Okay, first off, we eat before 8:00-"

"7:30's not much better dude."

"And second, I'm not weird!"

"Danny," Sam said, opening the door "You eat ectoplasm."

"You're misconstruing what I said! I do not eat-"

The door shut before Danny could finish his sentence. Danny grumbled to himself before sitting down on the living room couch.

Danny rolled the candy around with his tongue. He still hadn't figured out what the weird flavour was.

Whatever it was, it was bringing up old memories; like going fishing with Dad, Mom taking him to the park, and daring Jazz to eat ectoplasm.

As Danny got lost in his memories, the candy steadily got smaller and smaller. Eventually it disappeared entirely, leaving Danny with a strange empty feeling.

Danny was suddenly filled with the urge to go to the kitchen. His mind had drifted there a lot while he was sucking on the candy.

He hoped someone would be sitting there.

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

Sure enough, Dad and Jazz were both sitting at the table. Jazz was writing on a some papers, surrounded by a small pile of books. His dad had gutted some small device and was examining some of the wires.

Danny just stood in the doorframe and watched them for a bit. It was kind of nice how normal the scene looked. Well, Danny supposed most people's parents didn't wear neon jumpsuits at the kitchen table, but it was normal for the Fentons. There was a comfort in their special kind of normal that Danny hadn't really thought about much.

"Danny!" Jack beamed once he'd noticed Danny's arrival. "You're just in time! I need some help with this."

"Oh." Danny immediately tensed. "Um, what exactly is 'this'?"

Danny prepared for his father to tell him in great detail what horrors this new device could potentially afflict on him.

"He's just fixing the toaster." Jazz said. "No dangerous weapons, or anything that's designed to cause any harm to humans or ghosts in any way whatsoever. Theoretically, anyway."

Oh.

Danny felt himself relax again. It would be nice to not tense up every time his parents were working on something new. Especially since, being professional inventors, they were working on something new very often.

It would be a huge relief, a voice in his head said.

Then again, the only way to remedy that situation might cause his parents to start making new things specifically to destroy him, which would not be a huge relief.  

"I need you to go to the basement and get me a screwdriver." His dad's voice snapped Danny out of his thoughts. "The one I had earlier is missing."

"Why can't Jazz do it?"

"Because Jazz is working on an important essay on the long term effects of suppression." Jazz turned a page in the book she was reading. "While Danny is standing there not doing anything particularly important right now."

Danny stuck his tongue out at Jazz.

"Love you too little brother." she said, not looking up from her book.

"That's the third misplaced screwdriver this week!" Danny said, turning back to his dad. "How do you keep losing them?"

"I'm not losing them, they're being taken."

"By who?"

"The rats!"

"Why would rats-"

"Ghost rats!"

"Ah, there we go."

"I don't know what those little creeps are up to," Jack narrowed his eyes at some point in the distance "But I just know it's something nefarious!"

"Right, right. I'm going to the lab now."

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

Danny grumbled as he dug through piles of tools and machine scraps. This lab was a  absolute disaster! His parents could have made an effort to keep things at least semi-organized, but nope! The tables and shelves were filled with piles that all held new surprises every time you looked through them. Some of those surprises bit, too.

Finally, after at least ten minutes of searching (and no biting, luckily), Danny found a pile that contained a screwdriver.

"Ah hah!" he cried, triumphantly thrusting it over his head.

That was when his ghost sense went off.

"Seriously?!"

Danny quickly turned turned towards the portal, transformed, and floated into a battle position.

A familiar bird head popped out of the portal.

"Hey fellas!" He cried "It vorked!"

Two more bird heads popped out beside him.

"Really?" the one with the glasses said.

"Amazing!" the raspy voiced one said "Ve can finally get out of da stupid Ghost Zone!"

The vultures suddenly noticed Danny.

"Ay, ghost kid!" The leader greeted him as the birds entered the lab the rest of the way.

"How on earth did you three get here?"

"Good to see you too kid, tanks for asking."

"Ve've been vorking on finding your portal for months." The raspy-voiced vulture said.

"Oh yeah," Danny had completely forgotten about Vlad saying that he'd try to find a route. "Does that mean Vlad's with you?"

"Sorry kid, he's off on a business trip."

"Oh." That meant Vlad wouldn't even be at his house. That was a shame becasue Danny really wanted to talk about their conversation at the cabin. He still felt bad about that.

"If you see him, do you think you could tell Vlad I'm sorry about what happened at the cabin?"

"Eh, I don't tink you got anything to apologize for." the lead vulture said. "In my opinion, you seem to have done some good for Plasmius. He's finally dragged himself out of the lab and back to terapy like I've been telling him to do for veeks."

"Wait, he's gone back to therapy? What for?"

"For da whole friendship situation." the leader turned to the other two "Not the brightest, dis one, eh?"

"So, has the therapist been helping?" Danny asked, deciding to ignore that comment.

"It's a process." the lead vulture shrugged. "He seems to tink Vlad should stop hiding and just tell his friends vhat's going on. Of course, he doesn't know exactly vhat it is Vlad's hiding, but Vlad seems to think that he's talking sense."

"Wait, you mean Vlad's thinking about telling my parents he's half-ghost?"

"Aie," the vulture with the glasses frowned "You probably shouldn't have mentioned dat. You know Vlad's still figuring things out."  

"Eh, da kid vas going to find out anyvay."

"Danny!" his father called down from the top of the stairs. "Did you find that screwdriver, son?"

"Sounds like dat's our cue." the lead vulture said as the three of them turned towards the portal. "Don't forget to change before you go up, yea?"

With that the birds flew back into the portal and Danny was left alone in the lab.

Vlad was going to tell them.

Danny stood there staring at the portal. After a few seconds, a wave of anger rose up in Danny.

For twenty years, Vlad had been too much of a coward to even speak to his parents, and now he was just going to risk it all and tell them everything?

Vlad had spent his time as a ghost hidden safely away in his stupid mansion. Danny was the one who'd risked his neck living under the roof of ghost hunters every day. What right did Vlad have to put them at risk like that? How could he-

"Danny?"

"Yup!" Danny transformed out of his ghost form. "I'm coming Dad!"

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

"I found a screwdriver." Danny said as he emerged from the basement. He hoped it wasn't obvious how perturbed he was.

"Excellent!" his father said, taking the screwdriver.

Good, it wasn't obvious. Or maybe his dad just didn't notice.

"When I'm done, this baby'll work better than ever before!"

"Great."

Danny glared at the toaster. For the past few months he'd had to tiptoe around countless of his parent's rogue inventions. Vlad had been to their house one time and decided that was all just too hard, apparently.

"You okay, Danno? You seem kind of off."

Jazz's eyes flicked up from her textbook at Jack's words.

"Oh, I'm fine, I just, uh..." Danny forgot how unreliable his dad's denseness could be. He needed to switch the topic to anything. "What are you doing to the toaster anyway?"

Jazz did something weird with her lips, then went back to reading.

"Well son, your mother was complaining about it not working properly earlier. I'm fixing it up to surprise her. Done!" Jack held up the toaster triumphantly. "Not only is it fixed, but I've implemented our new experimental ecto-based energy generator, so the toaster creates its own power! You don't even need to plug it in anymore! Now we just need to test it out."

Jack slid two sliced of bread into the toaster and pushed the handle down.

"Uh, are you sure that's a good id-"

The toaster began shaking violently.

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

"-and that's how I spent my evening fighting an evil toaster." Danny concluded.

Tucker was trying very hard not to choke on his sloppy joe. Sam was barely hiding a grin.

"And how long did it take you to subdue the toaster?" she asked.

"About an hour." Danny grumbled. He didn't think the situation was that funny.

"So it was just you, your dad, and Jazz running around your house for an hour trying to subdue a sentient toaster?" Sam covered her mouth with her hand "Because that is a very entertaining image."

"Pretty much."

Tucker and Sam burst out laughing.

It could've been faster if Dad and Jazz knew about your powers. A voice in Danny's head said. He pushed the thought away.

He'd had thoughts like that ever since the accident but, after Colorado, they were becoming increasingly hard to ignore.

Luckily, Danny's ghost sense going off provided a convenient distraction.

Danny stood up, but a flash of red out the window made him sit back down.

"Huntress on this one?" Sam asked.

"Yup." Danny said.

"You don't have to look so grumpy." Tucker said. "She's kind of doing you a favour."

"No, she's just moving the problem down the line." Danny said. "For some reason she doesn't capture the ghosts she fights, so that just means I have and deal with them later."

"At least they're not bothering you in school." Sam said. "I'm not sure your grades could take that."

"Hey! I'm making mostly A's these days."

"Your last report card was mostly B's, Danny."

"There were some A's on there!"

"You know, it might be worth just trying to talk to her." Tucker said. "Maybe she's friendly."

"And just how many ghost hunters have we met that have been willing to give a ghost a chance?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but it's not like we know that many ghost hunters." Tucker pointed out.

"Even so, I'm with Sam." Danny said. "The odds on 'friendly ghost hunter' are not great, and I have enough trouble in my life as it is, so I'd like to keep off of her radar for as long as possible."

The lunch bell rang. Danny realized he'd gotten distracted by The Red Huntress and had forgotten to tell Sam and Tucker about his conversation with the vultures.

He'd just have to tell them after school.

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

Valerie waited around the corner. She'd bumped into Tucker alone here after lunch on another Thursday, so maybe that would happen again.

"Bingo." she smiled as she saw him walking down the hall by himself, absorbed in his PDA.

"Hey Foley." she said, stepping around the corner.

"Oh, hey Valerie." Tucker looked up from his device. "What's up?"

"You're good with weird tech stuff, right?"

"The very best." Tucker beamed proudly.

"Right. And how good are you at keeping secrets?"

"I am also pretty good at that. Why?"

"I need a favour."

"What kind of a favour?"

"First," Valerie swung her backpack around and grabbed the zipper "You've got to swear you won't tell anyone about this."

Valerie narrowed her eyes at Tucker in a way that made his skin crawl.

"Y-yeah, sure. No problem. My lips are sealed."

"Good." Valerie's face morphed back into a smile as she unzipped and dug through her bag. "So is there anyway you'd be able to make this part of a glove?" Valerie pulled out a small green device.

"A Fenton Hand shield?" Tucker took the device from Valerie's hand. "Where'd you get one of these?"

"Where do you think?" Valerie raised an eyebrow. "Not like it was hard. The Fentons will literally just give them out to anyone who shows up at their door. I didn't even ask them for it."

"That's...not actually that surprising. But what were you doing at their door in the first place?"

"Yeah...now's not really the best time for questions. Fourth period starting soon and all." Valerie said, glancing at her watch. "Wanna meet up after school?"

Tucker looked at the hand shield. Something about this whole situation seemed kind of off. Then again, there was only one way to find out more about what was going on.

Besides, it was just Valerie. How much trouble could she possibly be getting into?

"Yeah, alright. I'll meet you out front after school."

"Great!" Valerie beamed.

Tucker didn't know how, but Valerie seemed to mould the environment around her with her facial expression. The world scarier wen she was mad at you, but also brighter when she smiled.

"See you then! Don't want to be late." Valerie waved, heading off to her next class.

"See ya!" Tucker waved back as she disappeared around the corner.

Tucker looked at the hand shield. He'd never wired electronics into clothing before, but the hand shield was a pretty simple device, so it'd probably be doable with a little online help...

The sound of the bell snapped Tucker out of his thoughts.

"Right! Class!" Tucker stuffed the hand shield into his pocket and sprinted off to class.

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

"Welp, see you guys later." Tucker waved to Danny and Sam as they exited the school building.

"Wait, where are you going?" Sam asked.

"I'm meeting up with Valerie. We're going to my house to, uh... work on a bio project."

Sam narrowed her eyes at Tucker.

"Oh, okay." Danny said. "See you later then."

"See ya!" Tucker waved.

Sam kept her eyes on Tucker as he walked away.

"He's hiding something." She said to Danny as they began walking home.

"Yeah?" Danny asked distractedly.

Sam raised an eyebrow at Danny.

"Clearly he's not the only one."

"What do you mean?"

"C'mon Danny, I've been your friend for long enough to be able to tell that something's on your mind."

Danny sighed.

"I was talking to Vlad's vultures yesterday, and-"

"Wait, his what?"

"I didn't tell you about the vultures?"

"No. No you did not."

"Well, anyway, he has these three vultures that work for him, and-"

"Vlad has ghosts that work for him? Does he pay them? And why vultures? I have so many questions about this situation."

"Sam!"

"Right, sorry, what were you saying?"

"They said that Vlad might be planning on telling my parents he's half-ghost."

Sam's eyes briefly widened before narrowing in anger.

"Seriously? I hope you told them what a stupid idea that is. Ugh, that's so selfish of him. Doesn't he care about the danger that puts himself and you in?"

"Yeah, it's just that, I've been thinking...maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing if my parents knew."

Sam stopped walking and gawked at Danny.

"Okay," she pinched the bridge of her nose and resumed walking "Is there some kind of brain-scrambling disease going around that only affects half-ghosts or something?"

"I know it sound crazy, Sam. It's just...sometimes it feels like there's this gap between me and my family. Not to mention there's a lot of situations where it would have been really convienent if they knew."

"Danny, keeping your ghost powers a secret is the best option. Best case scenario, your parents turn into pests that fuss over you every time you fight a ghost. And worst case scenario, they try to tear you apart molecule by molecule."

They stopped walking as they reached Fenton Works.

"I get having to tiptoe around them is annoying, but if you tell them, they probably wouldn't really get it, and it'd just be a huge hassle for you to deal with. It's just not worth it."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Danny said as he ascended the steps. "It was a stupid idea. I'll see you tomorrow."

He shut the door before he Sam could reply.

"Hello?" Danny called. No one answered. His parents were probably in the basement, and Jazz had probably decided to stop at the library before coming home.

Danny wished he could talk to Jazz about, well, everything. As much as he hated to admit it, Jazz understood his feelings better than even he did sometimes.

But if he told Jazz everything, she might think there was something wrong with him. She meant well, but Danny couldn't risk her worrying and going to Mom and Dad.

And...maybe it would hurt a little if his sister thought he was a messed up freak. Danny never really felt like a freak, but it would still hurt if the people he loved thought of him that way.

Danny sighed to himself and swung his backpack off of his shoulder. It had barely touched the ground before he felt his ghost sense go off.

"Seriously?" He groaned before transforming. He grabbed The Fenton Thermos out of his backpack and flew through the door. He floated above the house and looked around.

"I AM THE BOX GHOST!"

"Oh come on!" Danny shouted at the sky as the ghost flew up to his level.

"TREMBLE AT THE CAPACITY OF MY CORRUGATED CAPABILITIES!"

"Alright," Danny's fists lit up green "Let's just get this over with."

Before Danny could do anything, a pink beam blasted the box ghost from the side.

Danny looked over and saw the Red Huntress a few meters away on her hoverboard. She looked ready to shoot the box ghost again, but then she turned to look at Danny.

Uh oh.

"Don't shoot!" Danny raised his hands in the air. "I'm not with him! I swear!"

The Huntress laughed.

"Relax." she said. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

"You're not?" Danny cautiously lowered his arms. "But aren't you a ghost hunter?"

"Yeah, but I know you're one of the good ones. Danny Phantom, right?"

"You know me?"

"I AM THE BOX GHOST!"

Without looking way from The Huntress, Danny raised his Fenton Thermos and sucked The Box Ghost into it.

"Woah!" The Huntress exclaimed "What on earth is that?"

"Uh-"

"Hey, wait a minute," The Huntress's visor almost seemed to squint "Is that The Fenton Works logo?"

"Um..." Danny instincitively his the thermos behind his back. "No?"

"Do you steal the Fenton's ghost hunting equipment?"

"Hey! Why are you jumping right to 'steal'?"

"Please. Like those two would willingly help a ghost in any way."

"Okay, fair point, but I need this to catch ghosts. It's the only way to contain them and get them back to The Ghost Zone."

"Contain them, eh? You know, I could use something like that."

"What?"

"Something to contain ghosts. At this point I've just been scaring them away, hoping that that deters them from messing with anyone."

"Wait, you don't actually have a way to contain ghosts?" Danny rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Oh my gosh. You clearly aren't prepared for this at all. What made you think hunting ghosts was a good idea in the first place?"

"You, actually."

"Me?"

"Yeah. I wanted to fight evil ghosts and keep people safe, like you do. You kind of inspired me when you saved me from Axiom."

"Axiom?"

"Yeah. When that ghost dog showed up, I lost everything. I was angry and scared for a while, but now I can channel those things into something useful. My life may have been destroyed that day, but I've been given the chance to build a better one, and I'm going to take it!"

Oh no.

Danny knew that voice.

"Valerie!?"

"Didn't know you knew my name." Valerie casually remarked. "I'm flattered you remember me. Hey, I know technically I owe you one for saving me and my dad's life, but any chance you could hook me up with one of those thermoses? It would really be-"

"No way! This is the only one, and I need it."

"Oh. Well, maybe we could-"

"Sorry, I gotta go." Danny's head was swimming from the discovery he'd just made. "See ya."

"But, wait! I just-"

But Danny had already turned invisible and zoomed off.

"Man," Valerie said to herself "He was certainly in a hurry."

She checked the screen of her ghost radar, but there was no ecto-signature on it.

"Weird..." Valerie muttered to herself.

Maybe Phantom had just flown off really fast? He'd have to be going pretty fast to get out of her radar's range that quickly, but-

"Oh no!" Valerie was suddenly snapped from her musings "Tucker!"

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

Danny flew through his window and stopped above his bed. He transformed and let himself drop out of the air onto his mattress.

Valerie was The Red Huntress.

Danny pulled his pillow over his face and groaned.

Why'd it to be Valerie. Why couldn't it have been someone he didn't see in school everyday?

Danny reached for his cell phone, but changed his mind halfway through dialing Tucker's number. Tucker was studying with Valerie tonight.

"You could've picked anyone to be your bio partner, Tuck." Danny rubbed his face.

He thought about calling Sam but...

Yeah, Danny didn't really want to talk with Sam alone right now. He'd just have to tell them tomorrow. This would be a better conversation to have in person anyway.

Of course that left Danny all on his own to ruminate on this new information. As well as the whole Vlad situation. And the voice in his head telling him how much easier it would be if he just told his parents-

Danny tossed his cell phone back on his night stand. Why was his life so complicated?

He dug his Game Boy out of his nightstand. He just a break from drama and ghosts.

There was already a game cartridge in the slot. Danny pulled it out. It was Pac-Man Collection, his go-to game since elementary school.

Danny reopened his nightstand drawer. He was more in the mood for Tetris right now.

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

#friends in strange places #fisp #Danny Phantom #dp #dp fanfic #danny phantom fanfic #writing #fanfic

[gem-writes-stories]

Captain

Picture not mine/credit to the owners

Pairing: Han yunjae x reader

Genre: Smut

Warning: Angry sex, dirty talk, degradation.

Note: This story takes place pre-Silent sea. He is in Earth. The character description can be slightly different than the real one.

Formal

It is the given dress code in the invitation for the party celebrating another successful mission in SAA.

You are an aerospace engineer working for SAA, so the invitation was not a surprise to you. You only hated it for the fact that he would be there

Your eternal enemy, the guy who wants to make your life miserably for no proper reasons.

Captain Han Yun Jae

You almost threw up when you imagined the prefix - Captain, like how blind must a person be to promote him to a captain status. He is the most selfish, most arrogant bastard you have ever seen.

Even worse, this was a party for HIS mission that went successful. Being the asshole, he said to SAA that he would lead the mission only if I was not included in it. I stormed out of the meeting immediately as those words made their way out.

Even though the SAA came to you with a contract for the mission you declined the offer saying you wanted to see it fail. But now it was a success. It leaves an sour taste in your mouth. You knew he would definitely rub it in your face. Your head asked you to attend the party, if not you would not be attending it.

You went through your wardrobe to get the perfect dress and you immediately saw the one that was in the back of your wardrobe that felt perfect. You had no one to impress but it was just your nature to always look good not too much but subtle amount. It was a long sleeved purple dress with cleavage exposure. It appreciated your curves.

You looked at the clock and saw it was almost time, so you took a shower, styled your hair and added little amount of makeup.

-♡-♡-♡-

Your set your heels on the ground as you got down from your car. Your driver drew off as soon as you made your way inside. Jazzy music from the live band made their way to your ears as you took a welcome champagne in your hand.

Your mission today evening was to avoid all of the mission crew, stay for an hour in the side and get the fuck out of here. Easy right?

Wrong

"Look who is here" a familiar voice said. Why does the universe hate your so much.

You turned around to look straight at Han Yun Jae.

"Well the party wouldn't start without me, Captain" you said smoothly.

"Well the party went well before you came and so did the mission Ms. L/n" Yunjae said.

" Please come inside and enjoy the party even better" he said as he took a big gulp of his champagne while looking at you in the eye.

You guys moved inside the party, through a dance floor where couples danced lost in their worlds. You moved through the crowd and got to the place where all the heads were present.

After greeting them, the head started about how proud he was about the mission and Captain Yunjae. You couldn't hear what he was saying because you couldn't tolerate the "Amazing crew.....Brilliant teamwork.....talented captain blah blah blah". You couldn't hold it.

"Well, I heard that the mission had some turbulence because of the coordinates and the position of the spaceship in the orbit" you said.

Captain Han Yunjae immediately responded by saying "All mission have some troubles...only negligible amount. Of course you wouldn't know that"

" Well I do infact know that if there was a proper protocol followed during the trouble, it would have been solved sooner. But of course you wouldn't know that Captain" you said the word Captain with venom.

" If there was a proper instruction given to you by a person who was experienced in space station missions, it would have been way easier" you continued.

"At the end the mission went well, so your point is?" Yunjae asked darkly. By now all the heads have turned their heads to each other to avoid the awkward and tense situation they are in.

"My point is that with the way you are thinking only about the end result but not the process proves you have a long way before you can call yourself a captain" you said with smirk. A feeling of satisfaction in your heart. You gulped down your champagne and passed the glass to his hands and made your way to meet the people you worked with since the beginning.

You were chatting with the communication engineer from the previous mission you took part in when Yunjae put a hand around your waist, he excused you from your friend and made his way to the restricted area where only the heads were allowed to go for secret discussions. You tried to force yourself out of his hold but being the big man he is, he easily overpowered you, the more you tried to fight, stronger the hold became.

He locked the door and sat on the chair near the desk.

" You are a naughty brat, aren't you?" He asked darkly.

You couldn't understand what was going on.

"Ha. Dumb slut " he chuckled.

" On your knees, little one" he said.

You remained unmoving as his eyes started to get even darker. " I am already angry, don't make me more angry" he said.

Something about his stance and eyes made you follow his command. You would not have done that If you were in your right mind.

You kneeled in front of him. "You know you were born to be a cumslut, so I am going to use you for my pleasure" he said as he pulled his cock put of his pants.

You saw he was indeed big. He tangled his hands into your hair and guided your head towards his cock, you resisted at first but when you felt his cock on your lips you immediately gave up. All his words hit you straight to your core and you were eager to get a taste of him.

You started with kitten licks but soon took his cock as a whole and deep throated him.

Your eyes were clouded with unshed tears but you kept going.

"Look at you, sucking my cock like the bitch you are" he said through his clenched teeth.

He reached his high soon, "Swallow,slut" he ordered, you did as he said with no complaint. Your eyes were definitely blown black by now. Your lace panties definitely ruined.

You thought you could leave, so you got up and went near the door.

" I don't remember telling you to leave, kitten" he said with a deep voice.

" You got what you need, there is no need for me to stay anymore" you said.

"What i need is to punish you for embarrassing me" he said "Now bend over the desk" he said as he pulled his pants down.

You did what he said but with hesitance, one hard look and you rushed to bend over.

You felt his hands moving from your outer thigh to your inner thigh after he raised the dress to your waist.

He felt the wet spot on your panties. "Punishment turns you on, little slut?" he asked.

He tore the panties and threw it on the desk. He immediately inserted himself into you, he didn't even wait to let you to adjust as he started to fuck you doggy style. "Slow down Yunjae".

He spanked you hard "1) You are only allowed to call me Captain only 2) You take what I give"

"In your dreams, Asshole"

He growled and set an fast pace. Your walls tightened around his cock and he pulled out, making you to experience the edge of ecstasy but not reaching it.

An unscratchable itch that cannot be done by your fingers or atleast not as soon as he brought you to orgasm. You painfully thought of the later. It was such a bitter pill to swallow but it was the truth. He controlled your body.

"You don't get to come unless you call me Captain" He said calmly. "Never" you argued, by now your mind and body is slowly coming far from pleasure. "Okay" he said, he inserted his cock inside you again and started a steady pace.

Your body is now getting close to the lost organ again when you are again pulled away from it. His tip is the only thing inside you. "You can change your mind now, babydoll" he said.

You remained quiet, you definitely was not going to lose that easily even though it was hard. This situation continued for the next couple round. You were absolutely ruined, with tears and sweat all over your face. On the other hand, he remained calm, which irked you.

"One word, little one" he said calmly in your ears.

You couldn't hold back anymore, you swallowed your pride "Please fuck me, Captain" you said softly.

"I can't hear you. Say louder" he said

He was just rubbing salt on wound

"Please fuck me, Captain" you said

"Get ready to be fucked into the table, kitten" he said as he set a fast pace. You came quickly. He didn't stop, the overstimulation made your leg shake, you were not worried about your sounds because the party was still on outside. Anybody passing through the door will hear you and maybe report you too. The risk turned you on than you would have liked.

He was still fucking you with same steady pace. You wondered how he had that much stamina.

His hips started to falter, he started to miss rhythm of his thrusts and you knew he was close. You walls felt warm as he filled you. He stilled his hips and pulled out, both of you hissed at the sensation.

"Not bad, Old man" you joked he playfully glared

"Don't test me,little one" he said playfully and pulled into a kiss one last time.

You both pulled away for oxygen.

He dressed and helped you to dress too

He moved to the door and opened it. He took one last look at your and said "Until next time Engineer L/n".

"Definitely Captain Han" you replied

#gong yoo imagines #gong yoo #gong yu #gong yu imagine #silent sea #han yun jae imagine #han yun jae #squid game #gong yoo squid game #squid game imagines #salesman #goblin kdrama #goblin: the lonely and great god #goblin #goblin drama

[multi-lefaiye]

find the word tag!!

I don’t participate in these nearly enough considering it’s a tag game I think is really fun.

Anyway, I’m yoinking the open tag from the wonderful @albatris hehe!! :’> The words it gave are: strike, blanket, watch, taste and good!

I will tentatively tag (with no pressure to any of y’all): @emotionalsupportpuma @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @paradisiacalshroud @wherearetheplants @idkjustgowithitok and anybody else who’d be interested!!! Feel free to tag me if you do--I wanna see!! Your words are chance, winner, fall, foundation, and scrap!

I’m taking each of these from another character study thing I’ve been writing on and off for quite a bit now, haha!

strike:

Her funeral was a small affair, with only a few attendees. She hadn’t had many friends in the city, after all.

Still, Salvatore made a point to attend, and he left a bouquet of forget-me-nots for her on her grave. Though he’d never been the most sentimental man, he thought she would appreciate the gesture.

Ginger had wanted nothing more than to leave an impact on the world. She wanted to dig deep through the cracked and broken stones beneath her feet, to push and push and strike gold. All she wanted, and all she deserved, was a chance to truly shine.

Though she never had the chance to affect the world as a whole, she left an impact on one man. Because the flowers were correct. Salvatore would never forget her, and he would carry her name with him for the rest of his life.

blanket:

Thankfully, everything went as expected, and soon Leslie came screaming into the world, a tiny bundle of flailing limbs with a scowl on her face and a dark tuft of hair on her head. She wailed from the moment her tiny lungs took their first breath, as though crying out to all the stars and heavens themselves, demanding that they hear her and take her seriously.

As Anna, exhausted as she was, cradled her tiny baby in her arms, she remarked to her husband, “My, this one sure is lively!” Leslie, though she was far too young to understand the words, pouted nonetheless as she squirmed in the soft blanket she’d been swaddled in.

Westley chuckled breathlessly, his relief and pride plain on his face as he agreed, “We’ve got a real spitfire on our hands here.”

watch:

When Jesse held Leslie, he held her like she he was confused about what to do, something he clearly wasn’t used to. Though she was quiet, he watched her with wide eyes, as though waiting for her to start screaming again. For her part, Leslie stared up at him, her tiny face screwed up in a frown.

“Can someone else take it?” Jesse said after a moment.

“That’s not an it,” Anna chastised her son. “That’s your sister.”

“Of course,” Jesse said, holding Leslie out to her. “I just don’t want to hold her. All she does right now is scream, anyhow.”

taste:

Prudence Burke was, to a young Leslie, practically ancient, with a severe demeanor about her that made every interaction with her unpleasant, leaving a sour taste in the young girl’s mouth.

And she was far, far less charitable than Bethany was when explaining what happened to Scott.

“Don’t say that name, child,” she’d snapped at Leslie, her piercing blue eyes narrowed in displeasure. The wrinkles cracking across her face only served to make her look angrier, and for a moment, Leslie thought she looked like a large, angry cat. Leslie had never been afraid of cats, and she wasn’t afraid of Prudence.

“Why not?” Leslie asked, full of the persistent curiosity carried by so many children. “He’s my brother, ain’t he?”

good:

The first to hold her was her eldest brother, Scott Burke. Scott was a fine young man, having only recently come home from his time overseas. He was his parents’ pride and joy, as he’d fought on the front lines in the terrible war. Combat had left him with a prominent limp and a sad, desperate sort of exhaustion in his eyes, but he still wore a smile on his face most days.

He was a good man, the sort of man many boys aspired to be. Though he was young, he had much to be proud of. At least, that’s what he’d always been told.

Scott held Leslie like she was something fragile, something to protect. He ran gentle, world-weary fingers over the soft brown hair on her tiny head. Even when she batted his hand away with little fists and whined, he only smiled warmly.

#multi makes text posts #multi's writing #find the word tag #don't worry about the time i'm posting this btw

[briar-craft]

Pokemon Violet

I'm not exaggerating when I say that Pokemon is my favorite series of all time. Out of all of the games that I've ever owned, I've played and replayed pokemon the most. While I was a little behind on the games since I was born in 95 and they came out 96, I still have my original blue and yellow copies, and yes they still work! My favorite region is Hoenn but I love all of the games, and I have a copy of each game from each gen (Mostly since I was lonely so had to trade between myself)

Spoilers below for Pokemon Scarlet and Violet

For me, the game's graphics aren't a big deal. I don't really care about graphics if the story is good. So I won't talk about that.

Story wise, I love it! The world is so big and open, and going on a treasure hunt to make your own path? It makes the game unique on a whole different level from the previous games. The characters aren't all happy go lucky or downright awful, they feel like real people. They have strengths and flaws. Like Nemona, I used to focus only on my first six as a kid, whatever team I got early game was my team for the whole game, and so I can relate to Nemona not catching as many pokemon. Plus like I seen a couple of people say, she does kinda remind me of Ash, but then again she's already a champion, or so they call her a champion level student. I am glad Ash finally won a tournament, two I believe?

Arven on the other hand, I'm not overly fond of. Sure, he had his cute moments like saying he made the sandwich just for your character. But the fact that he just abandoned Miraidon on us left a sour taste in my mouth, like the Charmander's trainer in the anime way back when. But I've only gotten to one of the Titans so far, so I'll reserve my full judgement for later. Like I said, he does have his cute moments, but overall, I feel meh about him.

Team Star, I haven't gotten around to getting to one of their bases yet, but I do like the concept that they aren't just using one type of pokemon like other regional villains. Plus, they do seem like they're just kids who joined an organization they thought was good and would help them get prestige in school. They're not on the level of Team Skull to me yet, since Team Skull basically made themselves a home and family when they were rejected by everyone else, these kids seem to just want to bully people. But I'm just getting to the first base now, so we'll see.

And now the pokemon. This time around, there's so many new and interesting pokemon! From who was brought in from previous generations to the brand new pokemon and regional variations. I have not really spoiled myself too much on evolutions, just looking to see how some evolve. I chose Sprigatito as my partner, and so far may keep on Shroodle and Flittle. I also was able to get myself a Goomy, a pokemon I never had the chance to raise. But I also saw there was an evolution for Primape. Just have to wait and see how my team grows!

A couple of things I don't like: How small the pokemon are when I'm just trying to ride around on Miraidon. Like yes, it's cute and adorable, but there are times where I just want to go to where I see a thing and run into a Pichu or something and my pokemon's health is already low. I also found a couple of places you could get stuck, like in the first town I just wanted to see if I could go down an alleyway. It stopped me, I turned around to go back and nope. I thankfully could fast travel, but that's something that shouldn't happen in the first place imo. One graphical thing that bothers me a lot to put here is the shadows. They glitch in and out and I get distracted when trying to pick up a glowing spot and have to go back to see if I actually got it.

I'm still playing the game, so I'll post another one when I got about half of the things done. There's just so much to do!

#Pokemon Violet #Pokemon Scarlet #Pokemon Violet spoilers #Pokemon

[lazloorpington]

um ok so i "accidentally" just finished xy because i THOUGHT i was watching the second to last episode but was actually watching the last. anyways (spoilers below) (also this post is very long, you've been warned)

i think it's probably one of the strongest seasons - not necessarily my favourite, but it's very good. i think the characters are on point this season, especially ash! he's still the energetic young trainer with huge aspirations, but you can tell how he's grown from his previous journeys. he may be reckless, but he's also smart!

the other characters he travels with are really great too and never feel too two-dimensional, especially serena! i'm so glad that serena got to have her own experiences and feelings alongside ash explored too, same with clemont and bonnie (including their relationship). i mean, i think this is something all of the seasons do well with their characters, but xy is definitely one that does it very well.

it's also the last season of pokemon that followed the original formula, journeying through the entire region and defeating all the gyms to compete in the region's league. as much as it works, i'm glad they switched it up next season, because otherwise i think it would've gotten too stale. not that anyone liked the fact they switched it up in sun & moon, but i did. so there you go.

and, once again, i feel like some of team rocket's appearances in episodes felt very forced and unnecessary. but... i feel like this season they were also the most evil. i mean, they always were, but this season they especially were. i've said before that in journeys, team rocket feel like nothing but comic relief, and in response i've gotten "well, they always were". and to an extent, that's true! but don't forget, they used to actually do some pretty messed up stuff. there was an episode where they pretended to be ash, serena and bonnie and then went around terrorising people to get the real trio arrested, so they could be separated from clemont, who they could then manipulate to create a machine to capture pikachu! obviously that's insanely elaborate and the end goal is the same one they've always had, but i think it proves my point that their characters really got degraded, because i would expect anything but that from them in journeys.

i also want to bring up the fluff towards the end of the season. i feel like they dragged out the time in between the anistar city gym and the snowbelle city gym a bit too much, every time i watched another xy episode i felt more and more annoyed at the fact they hadn't reached it yet, and we did get some very hard to watch episodes too. i mean, sure, on paper the idea of bonnie doing her usual "will you take care of my brother?" gag only to have the woman respond with "yes" actually kinda funny, but oh dear fucking god i had to skip that episode. it was too cringy. i'm probably biased, i really don't do well with romantic scenes or second-hand embarrassment, but jesus. never do that again.

i feel like the only other gripe i have to bring up is there there wasn't a proper scene where ash and clemont said goodbye. i mean i watched the dub which might've cut it out? no clue. but that really confused me. i mean, clemont was one of the first people ash met in kalos... why... wouldn't we see him say goodbye?! it left a bit of a sour taste in my mouth, watching the last few moments of that episode, recounting all of the journeys everyone had experienced. but eh, it's not a huge deal.

but yeah overall? xy is really good. i think it's a good starting point if you wanna get into pokemon but don't want to bother watching right from the start. as long as you have a good understand about ash and his goals, the season clicks pretty quickly. it also gives us probably the best version of ash we got, depending on how you feel. of course, ash in alola was skilled enough to beat the pokemon league AND his exhibition battle with TAPU KOKO, but ash was pretty much one move away from defeating alain (which, btw, as much as his alola league win was incredible, i feel like ash should've won his battle with alain) and that's a good enough demonstration of skill to me.

so yeah! xy gets a thumbs up from me. i know i was probably harsh this review but i want to emphasise that i do really like this season and i did enjoy it. that being said, i hope they never show a scene involving a crying hawlucha ever. again.

#trec rambling #pokemon #anipoke #wuuuhhhh this is long

[smithbrick]

TASK 010. THE INTERVIEW

The first drink was supposed to calm him down. They were passing it around on trays backstage and, what, Smith wasn't to take one? He would be fine after one. The second was to impress the sponsor watching from the wings. A very important person by the looks of it. Sparks Fairdust made their money one way or another, that was why they were there in the first place, and Smith desperately needed the funds on his side. He brought a glass over and started up a conversation while the tributes from One were doing their interview. When he handed them a glass, Smith knew caught himself a sucker. The fifth was for the fun of it. Sue him.

He took two more on stage with him, his steps lazy as he approached Calix Crystal. The host got a laugh from the audience with the introduction, something about bricks and houses, but Smith didn't quite catch it. Instead, he bowed to the crowd and handed Calix a glass as he took his seat.

"My, my, how generous," Calix said, making a point to show it to the audience. Still, Smith could tell there was the slightest bit of hesitation on his face. Or, was it just the glitter? And, shit, when did the lights get so bright? There were so many people there. Fuck, there were so many more watching at home. His friends, his trainers, his fathe—

"Smith?"

"Uh, yeah?"

Calix had caught him off-guard, leaving Smith as lost as ever. If he was annoyed, the host didn't show it and, thankfully, gave a playful smile to the cameras. "You have some awfully large shoes to fill with your brother, Miller, only recently winning the Hunger Games. Do you think you can put on just as good a show for us?"

Smith scoffed and took a sip from his drink. He expected the question, but it didn't bother him any less. Even Miller must have been annoyed by the attention. If he turned his head, he would bet everything that his brother was rolling his eyes backstage.

"C'mon, have you seen his shoes? Tacky," he joked. There was a slur to his words now, but he ignored it. "Trust me, I can do it way better than—I mean, yeah, it would be honour to follow in my brother's footsteps."

It wasn't an easy feat. Sitting where not one, but both of his brothers had been and knowing that the pressure was on to perform. 'Cause that's what it was about, right? Just another stupid performance for the show.

"That's what we like to hear. And, I speak of all of us when I say that volunteering with your younger brother, Mason, had us on the edge of our seats. Please, do tell us more about that."

What was there to say? Calix wouldn't discuss the apparent truth, but it was all anyone could think about. He could see the hungry looks on their faces and all Smith could do was watch as they waited for an answer.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he grinned brightly toward the audience. "I couldn't let Mason take the spotlight now, could I? We're trained and we're ready. And if the other tributes know what's best for them, they should know better than to stand in our way."

"But, as is tradition, only one tribute remains victorious. Why should it be Smith Brick?"

Finally, a question about him and it only came after that of Miller and Mason. Third billing. It left a sour taste in his mouth and Smith downed his drink to get rid of it. The answer? The real one that haunted him the second he raised his hand to volunteer? He didn't deserve it. Not like Mason. The least he could do was give his brother a fighting chance, take the name that followed them like a shadow and do more. Better, even.

"Cause I do what I fucking want, Calix, and right now? I want to fucking win." He cleared his throat, leaning forward as if sharing a secret. "I have what it takes to do what a lot of other people can't."

Then, he tilted his head to the tributes waiting in the wings. It was a heavy-handed gesture, but Smith knew that he had a part to play. Funny how they listened when all he had to say was bullshit.

"I wonder what your allies must think about those words," Calix said, raising a brow. "Rumour has it that we have a rather impressive Career Pack. Can we expect exciting things this time around?"

"What, and spoil all the fun? Gotta leave them wanting more, dude," he teased as he pointed a finger at a Capitolite. Calix laughed, louder than Smith had liked, and started an applause with the crowd. It all made Smith squirm in his seat, but he braved one last smile for the audience.

"My dear Smith, I'm afraid our time is up for tonight, but is there anything you would like to say for your loved ones back home?"

Smith stood just then and Calix stared, offering a nervous laugh as his eyes darted backstage. His legs wobbled from under him, but he made his way to the edge of the stage.

"Yeah, I got something to s-say," he slurred. "Suck my dick!"

Smith lept from the stage and into the crowd of unassuming Capitolites. The rest of the night was a blur of Peacekeepers and shrill screams. It was a miracle that he even made it back in his bed that night.

#mtotask #133 #reread this a million times and yet

[ravagedarkness]

Spider-Man: Home Rebuilt, Chapter 12: Let Me In

When we left the shop, we chose a direction and just walked. It wasn’t exactly the most exciting start to our hang out, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“So, how was your day?” I asked.

“It was okay, I guess,” MJ replied plainly. She took a moment to grab a strand of hair from the front of her face and tuck it behind her ear. “I just had class and work. I hung out with Ned and Betty during lunch. And… I had to curb Brad… again.”

“I’m guessing he’s a guy at school?” I looked at her with a look of curiosity, trying to act like I didn’t know who he was.

“Yeah, he is.” She grimaced. “A lot of people say that he’s a nice guy… and he does seem like it. But I can’t help but get the feeling that there’s something underneath all of that, like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, you know?”

“I see.” I myself frowned, remembering the trip to Europe and how Brad tried to sabotage my chances with MJ. He was quite the tool, maybe even more of a tool than Flash, if only because Flash was at least open with his jerkiness.

“So, prior to you becoming an American Idiot, what does a normal day in the life of Peter Parker look like?” MJ asked, looking at me.

“Well… I get up, eat breakfast sometimes,” I began as I looked up towards the sky. “I clean up around the apartment. Then I head out to GED class, go through that. I stop by the coffee shop to meet the number one barista in the world.” I glanced as her just in time to see her roll her eyes. “I go home, study and do homework, maybe watch something on YouTube, then go to bed to do it all over again.”

“Real exciting stuff there,” MJ deadpanned. “Why do I feel like Ned and I saved you from a life of boredom?”

“Because you did.” I said this in an ambiguous tone.

“I don’t even know if you’re being sarcastic or sincere.”

“The sad thing is neither do I.”

We went quiet again for a bit. We then stopped at an intersection and looked both ways.

“So, what made you choose Peter Pan for your caffeine and sweets addiction?” MJ inquired.

“Well, when I moved to Manhattan, I asked a couple of people where there was a good spot for coffee, and Peter Pan came up,” I lied. “It was a bit out of the way, to say the least. But I figured I'd give the place a shot. Ever since the first cup, I figured it was as good as any place to make it my go-to. I’m happy I did.” I decided to change the subject. I knew I could only lie to MJ for so long before she asked the one question that could make me lose my composure. “So, want to like, head to Central Park or something?”

“I’d rather not,” MJ said. “There’s a whole sad story behind that place. You know, there was a neighborhood called Seneca Village that was…” She trailed off. “Sorry, I’m not trying to sour the mood.”

“No, please, keeping going,” I said in earnest. “I like hearing bits of dark trivia from you…” I trailed off for a moment as I looked down at the ground in thought.

Sour, I mused internally. Sour… wait…

“But, tell me on the subway,” I said suddenly as I looked up at her. “I got an idea.”

MJ narrowed her eyes. “Where are we going?”

“Red Hook.”

“…Okay, I know we didn’t make any set plans, but… why?”

“Remember that video Ned sent to the group chat the other day?”

“The one with that wrestler Big E? Yes, I….” Her eyes went wide. She then laughed as she shook her head. “No. No! Absolutely not!”

“Come on,” I pleaded. “It’ll be fun!”

MJ held up her index fingers at me as she stepped back, shaking her head. “Peter, I know certain things about me are morbid, but my set of taste buds isn’t one of them! And that thing in that video… that is just weird!”

I tilted my head and pouted, trying to give her a puppy-eyed look. “Then let’s be weird together.”

MJ looked back at me, clearly unimpressed. “You’re not cute.”

“You’re right. I’m adorable.”

MJ drew her lips into her mouth and closed her eyes. She was trying not to laugh, and she succeeded for the most part, even though her shoulders were quivering. After she took a breath, she opened her eyes and sighed.

“Fine,” she said in a defeated tone. She then made a tsk sound. “But you’re paying.”

“Sounds good to me.”

We made our way to the nearest subway station and took the train to Brooklyn Heights. During the ride, I listened to MJ as she told me the story behind Central Park. It was dreary. It showed a very disgusting side of humanity and the history of New York City.

“You know, sometimes we forget how blessed we are,” MJ said at the end of it. I looked at her curiously.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Like nowadays, we have heroes that are willing to stay local instead of just going off to be a part of The Avengers or some other super team to fight abroad or take on a threat that threatens the world or universe.” She looked at me. “People like Spider-Man, Shadowcat, and Frictor… Luke Cage, Daredevil, Iron Fist, and Jessica Jones… even The Punisher, to an extent. We have heroes that are willing to help out the little guy. Back then, Seneca Village didn’t have that. Imagine if they did. Maybe we’d be looking at a different kind of New York.”

I remained quiet. Little did she know that I was an Avenger for all of a few days (not counting Blip Years). I couldn’t leave the city behind if I wanted to. So many times I wanted to quit, and yet whenever I came close to doing so, something would happen that made me think about what could have happened if I wasn’t there.

“You’re right,” I finally said.

Once we got off at Brooklyn Heights, we ascended to ground level and took the bus to Red Hook. Once there, we made a walk through the streets until we arrived at a certain bodega.

“Red Hook Food Corp,” I said as I read the sign. I nodded. “This is the place.” I looked over at MJ. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” MJ replied in a very not excited tone. “If I get the bubble guts, you’re paying for Pepto Bismol, too.”

“Fair enough.”

I stepped up to the door and opened it, allowing MJ to enter first. I walked in after her, we both walked up to the counter, which was being manned by none other than Rahim Mohamed – more famously known as General Ock.

“Hey guys,” he greeted happily. I walked up to the counter.

“Hello,” I greeted. I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry if this is a weird question but… do you happen to have Booty O’s in stock?”

“Sure do, boss. I tend to keep a box at the deli.” He then looked back and forth between me and MJ. “Can’t say I’ve seen you guys around. You’re new to the neighborhood?”

“Visiting actually,” MJ said. “We're from Queens.”

“And you two came all the way here for some Booty O’s?”

“No… well… technically yes… but we were hoping that we could get two Big E style Chopped Cheeses – The Ocky Way, of course,” I explained.

At that, Ock smiled. “Suuuuuuure, suuuuuure!”

About twenty minutes later, we left the shop. After that, I called up an Uber had the driver drop us off at Brooklyn Bridge Park. From there, we walked over to the Granite Prospect and took a seat.

“Well, now that we’re actually seated, we can finally try these,” I said happily as I pulled one of the chopped cheeses out of the bag and handed it to MJ.

“YAAAAY!” MJ deadpanned as she took the sandwich. I took my own out of the bag before I slowly unwrapped the foil from around it. “Seriously, Peter, look at the size of these things!” She wasn’t lying. Each of our sandwiches had four pieces of buttered and grilled bread with multiple layers of chopped up and seasoned burger patties, mozzarella sticks, bacon, and, of course, cheese. But, it had spinach and radicchio lettuce, so it balanced out, right?

“Yeah, this is going to be the biggest thing I ever put in my mouth.” I paused for a moment, realizing how that sounded. I then gave MJ a sideways look. She had a mischievous smirk on her face.

“Ditto,” she replied. I snorted out a laugh. I watched as she unwrapped her sandwich. She shook her head. “I’m really about to eat this monstrosity and I can’t help but feel for the toilet I’m likely going to wreak havoc on in the morning.” She looked at me. “This better be the best thing ever.”

“Only one way to find out,” I chuckled out. I held my sandwich out towards her. “Cheers.”

She lightly tapped her sandwich against mines. “Cheers.”

After that, we both bit into our sandwiches. I chewed for a while. After swallowing, I had a smile on my face as I nodded in approval. I looked over at MJ, who didn’t look disgusted.

“Okay, I’ll admit it, this was the move,” MJ conceded.

We ate in silence for a while. Once we were done eating, I pulled out two cans of Arizona Iced Tea from the bag and handed one to her. We then got up and took a stroll through the park for a bit, drinking our teas silently as we just took in the ambience. After some time, we found a bench to sit on.

“Thank you for asking me to hang out tonight,” MJ murmured. “I had a great time.”

“Thanks for obliging me,” I responded quietly. “I had a great time, too.”

“I was surprised you asked me out, to be honest.” She looked out towards East River. “It seems like the only time I ever see you is either at the coffee shop or during the get together with the rest of The American Idiots.”

“Well, to be honest, I wanted to hang out with you for a while.” I looked down towards my lap. “I just… never got the nerves to do it until yesterday.

At that, MJ scoffed. “Peter Parker – brave enough to risk getting shot to save someone, yet nervous about asking me to hang out. I guess fear doesn’t follow a logical progression.”

At that, I smirked. I looked up at her. “I guess not.”

MJ nodded. She then chuckled as she shook her head. “You know, us sitting on a bench and looking out towards the river… this is a scene straight out of a romance novel or movie, don’t you think?”

I felt my face heat up. “I-I…” I cleared my throat. “I suppose it is.” I smiled slightly. “This would be the part where the guy’s love interest lays her head on his shoulder, no?”

MJ rolled her eyes. “Is that what you’re expecting from me?” She glared at me. “Is that what you want me to do?” I opened my mouth to say something. “Maybe I want YOUR head on MY shoulder.” I closed my mouth and looked at her in confusion. She then briefly raised her left shoulder as if she was offering it up. It took me a moment to realize what she wanted. So, slowly, I scooted closer to her until our legs were touching. I then lay my head on her shoulder. She brought her left arm around my shoulders and pulled me in a bit closer.

It took me some seconds to relax. That was because I was loathing how unfair this was. It was unfair to Michelle because she doesn’t know that she held me like this plenty of times before, not wanting me to hog all of the big spoon privileges to myself. It was unfair that her holding me like this brought back a flood of memories we shared, to her following Ned and I around until she naturally became a part of our circle, to the time we finally kissed in London. It was unfair how much I wanted to kiss her but I couldn’t because of The Spell, something I’ve been regretting a little more day by day.

Fuck you, Past Peter.

However, my frustration was eventually overshadowed by my joy of being in MJ’s arms again – or, I guess, arm, in this case. So, with a contented sigh, I relaxed into her. I then closed my eyes when I felt her fingers moving through my hair.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“It’s no big deal,” she muttered. “I just figured you could use a shoulder to lay your head on.”

“Is that right?”

“Mhm. I’m very observant, you know? Especially when someone intrigues me.”

“Have you been observing me?”

At that, she chuckled. “Maybe.”

I smiled slightly. “So, what conclusions have you made about me based on your observations?”

I felt her body expand a bit as she took in a breath. “Well… from what I can tell… you’re a walking paradox. You want close relationships and genuine bonds with people. I’d go as far as to say you crave them because you’re starved of them – you’re lonely. And yet, you have a tendency to keep people at a distance. Maybe it’s because you think you’ll get people hurt. Maybe you’re afraid you’ll ruin things. Maybe you think you’re bad luck. And I think certain things happened in your life to make you believe that, if your near-breakdown during American Idiot was anything to go by.” It was at this point when I clenched my eyes shut and deepened my breathing, trying my best to keep it together as pre-Spell memories bubbled up. “And now you’re here, at a crossroads, deciding on whether or not you want to fully open up to us.” She paused for a moment. “…Am I right?”

I wanted to lie. But I couldn’t. MJ had me figured out. “You are,” I choked out. A few moments later, I felt her body shift right before I felt a hand on my cheek.

“Peter, look at me,” she whispered. Without hesitation, I slowly raised my head from her shoulder and opened my eyes. She had a look on her face that was unreadable to me. Still, I kept my eyes on her, staring into her eyes. “Do you want to know what else I think? …I think I can take care of you so fucking good. All you have to do is let me in.”

After that, she pulled me into a hug. This gesture I immediately accepted as I brought my arms around her. We held each tight for several moments. I remembered how I missed all of this – her touch, her scent… Hell, her very presence.

“MJ, I – ”

It was because of that that I almost slipped up and told her that I love her. I stopped myself – we weren’t there yet. Or, rather, she wasn’t there yet.

“What’s up, Peter?” she whispered in my ear.

“…I was about to say… that… I’m going to need some time,” I lied. Well, it wasn’t really a lie, per se – I really did feel that way. “I’m still getting used to trusting people again and not keeping them at arm’s length. Will you be patient with me?”

“Would I be your favorite barista if I wasn’t?”

I chuckled. “No… well, maybe?” MJ laughed as she squeezed me tighter.

We spent about a half hour more on the bench before we made our way home.

When I got home, I walked over to my bed and sat on it. I reflected on the night I had with MJ. All the while, I reflected on how I felt. For the first time in a long while, I felt happy, joyous, elated, hopeful, optimistic and… I wanted nothing more than to call up the others and tell them all about it. But it was late. Craig and Kitty were on patrol, and the latter told me to keep Spider-Man off the streets tonight. Ned and Betty were likely sleeping, as well as Scott. Speaking of Scott, well, I was sure I could talk to him about it in the morning.

Instead, I decided to do the next best thing.

I stood up walked over to my desk. I looked down at the list that still remained there. I contemplated it for a moment before I grabbed the pen and took the cap off. I looked down at third item on the list.

3. Decide on whether or not to tell them the truth.

I drew a line through that sentence. I took in a deep breath before I set the pen down.

“Don’t flake Peter,” I said to myself. “Don’t flake.”

#fanfic #spideychelle #spider-man #mcu #peter parker #michelle mj jones #ned leeds #betty brant #scott summers #kitty pryde #carmilla black #original character #jade cargill #petermj #mj peter #michelle jones #mj x peter #Mj #tomdaya #marvel #marvel mcu

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group C Round 1: #C4 vs #C5

#C4: Lesbians with swords

The world is beset by monsters called the Aradama, who can only be cleansed by sword-wielding shrine maidens called the Toji. A young girl named Eto Kanami is studying to become a Toji at one of the main schools. But soon, something—or someone—might catch her eye. The decisions she makes thrusts her into a world of deception, betrayal, and a sinister force that’s been hiding in the shadows for decades…

#C5: A bunch of teenagers are forced to share pain

Katsuhira Agata is a quiet and reserved teenage boy whose sense of pain has all but vanished. His friend, Chidori Takashiro, can only faintly remember the days before Katsuhira had undergone this profound change. Now, his muffled and complacent demeanor make Katsuhira a constant target for bullies, who exploit him for egregious sums of money. But their fists only just manage to make him blink, as even emotions are far from his grasp.

However, one day Katsuhira, Chidori, and four other teenagers are abducted and forced to join the Kizuna System as official "Kiznaivers." Those taking part are connected through pain: if one member is injured, the others will feel an equal amount of agony. These individuals must become the lab rats and scapegoats of an incomplete system designed with world peace in mind. With their fates literally intertwined, the Kiznaivers must expose their true selves to each other, or risk failing much more than just the Kizuna System.

Titles, propagandas, trailers, and poll under the cut!

#C4: Katana Maidens: Toji no Miko

[Admin: Video is from the Crunchyroll Collection YT channel, and they've blocked it in my country. I couldn't find an alternative, so I just downloaded the Crunchyroll one via VPN and reuploaded it here to make sure that everybody can see it.]

Propaganda:

The depth of this show was seriously mindblowing to me. For much of the series it was just a fun romp, with some pretty interesting twists and turns along the way. But as these characters develop, as the plot gets moving, it all comes together in the end. I have not seen a more concentrated concoction of doomed tragic yuri in my life.

Trigger Warnings: Child Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Self-Harm

#C5: Kiznaiver

Propaganda:

Kiznaiver is an extremely underrated work of Studio Trigger’s and is definitely one of their bests. Not just for the animation, but for the impactful story as well. The characters just feel so real, and this show just makes you think about human connection and how much we might care for each other if we shared our pain. Although it can get a little confusing at the end, the sheer raw emotion is what makes up for everything. Every single one of the characters gets developed in ways that made me smile like an idiot.

Very good but severely underrated anime! Would recommend! :)

Trigger Warnings: Emotional Abuse, Fatphobia, Disordered Eating, Implied Sexual Assault (maybe).

The fact that Yuuta is formerly fat is constantly mocked throughout the series, which leaves a bit of a sour taste in my mouth as a fat person watching the show personally. Yuuta, to maintain his thinness, engages in disordered eating by simply eating a small cube of food every day. Said character is also the subject of an attempted sexual assault by a female character, but I don’t remember correctly if that actually happened or if I just got triggered by the way the scene was portrayed.

If you’re reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

#anime #best underrated anime #polls #poll tournament #tournament #anime tournament #animation #animated show #group stage #group stage round 1 #tournament polls #katana maidens #toji no miko #kiznaiver #katana maidens: toji no miko #group c