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#its like. you can see where the clipping happens and everything :')
star-sim · 3 months
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"noo! she's taken!" ☆ enha hyungs
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☆ non-idol! bf! enhypen hyungs x celebrity! fem! reader ☆summary: you are a very well-loved celebrity, and your relationship is finally revealed to the public. ☆genre: fluff, silly boys ☆warning(s)? ygs liked the maknae ver so here's the hyung ver! maknae ver
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heeseung ☆
i think ur a musician here
one of those very personable and insightful ones
giving laufey or mitski yk?
anyways heeseung is THE stan
within your fandom
he's the guy that EVERYONE KNOWS
like ppl will argue who is the best [name] stan and the moment he's brought up they shut their mouths
heeseung does not play around when it comes to stanning you, his gf
somewhat like riki, heeseung runs multiple stan accounts for you
but he's most active and most well-known on 1) youtube and 2) tiktok
all his youtube videos are titled
"[name] concert 11/25/2023 nyc, usa (she looked at me!)"
"[name] concert 11/26/2023 miami, usa"
"[name] concert 11/27/2023 berlin, germany (i touched her hand!)"
"[name] concert 11/28/2023 jakarta, indonesia"
"[name] concert 11/29/2023 melbourne, australia (i met her!)"
like how the fuck is he going to all of these concerts when theyre literal hours apart and OCEANS AWAY
he likes to vlog his concert experiences
and theyre very entertaining because he's like genuinely enjoying himself
on his tiktok he also records his concert experiences
but i also think he posts your fancams and makes edits of you
too many times where an edit of you became known as "that one [name] edit"
he makes a lot of thirst edits of u
too many captions like "i want her so bad" or "she's so fine i need her biblically"
everyone knows who he is, even ppl outside of your fandom or the music scene
hes just that one guy that really likes you
one day ur on tour
its all fine and dandy, ur eating everything up, ur fans are loving it
and heeseung is documenting his concert experience
as he always does
and then it ends and heeseung posts it
however
this concert vlog
is
uh
receiving a lot of attention
TOO MUCH ATTENTION
THAT ITS
VERY
SUSPICIOUS
........
you and hee are just hanging out in your hotel when his phone starts blowing up
and yours too
all the comments on his video are normal, the ones that are expressing playful envy at heeseung's presence at ur concert
and like
it's not like heeseung doesn't get these types of comments
but one comment catches his eye
it has like 50k likes
and hes like oh shit
"at 3:05 heeseung why are you kissing [name]"
kissing.
[name].
he clicks that timestamp
and oh my god
THERES LIKE A CLIP OF HEESEUNG KISSING YOU
you see
when heeseung records your concerts he's recording it both for his fanpage and for the memories
he'll take as many cute couple pictures and videos with you as possible
and he just so happened to accidentally add one of the clips of you and him
kissing.
in fact
he accidentally added A LOT OF CLIPS AND PICTURES of you and him being a couple
ones of you hugging him backstage, ones of you two holding hands, even one where viewers can faintly hear you calling heeseung "babe"
and the other comments
OH LORD THE OTHER COMMENTS
"THAT SHOULD BE ME"
"HEESEUNG MOVE ASIDE!!!!!!!!!"
"i hate seeing people live my dream"
"SHE'S MINE *growls*"
"[NAME] GET BEHIND ME"
obv theyre all half joking half confused, but i think ppl are able to joke w him bc he's such an obnoxious stan 😭
and heeseung is like
poor heeseung is sweating and panicking
bc shit HE JUST EXPOSED UR RELATIONSHIP
but when he tells u
you literally are just like
"okay"
OKAY????
"it's not a big deal"
heeseungs like WHATATATATA
at first he's kinda unsure
bc ur so chill abt it that he's almost afraid that ur actually mad at him 😭
but you legitimately do not care
and when he realizes this
he goes from
😱
to
😈
because
NOW HE CAN FLEX ON EVERYONE
he goes straight to twitter and drops more couple-y pictures of you and him
he probably posts a tiktok that pans over to you on his bed or something
caption like "it's exposed now, but yeah, [name] is actually my gf"
its goes so viral
hes so smug about it too
like whenever he gets into arguments abt who's a better fanpage hes like "I'M LITERALLY A HER BF???"
he becomes an inside joke in ur fandom
i think everyone jokingly flames his ass too
"why did she pick heeseung of all people...."
"pixelated fancam, ass editing, shitty camera, yet [name] still chose him... what did we do wrong"
"[name] wasn't lying in her song when she said she has bad taste in men"
"i can't believe heeseung literally stole my spot... i should be the one that she writes all her love songs about..."
free him 😭😭😭
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jay ☆
ooh this one is kinda juicy
ur a musician slay
but sometimes you do modeling
for one of your shoots
you're showing off your midriff and ur just glowing sorry
all ur followers are like
"ughhh step on me [name]"
"i don't think ygs understand i need her"
"[NAME] ONE CHANCE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE"
"i want her."
very quickly goes viral
ur just so hot ughhhhh
but ppl notice something upon closer inspection
you have a tattoo on ur back
at first everyone is like
"okay sexy lady love the tat"
but then
when they look closer
they can't help but see that incorporated into the design
is two
very
specific
letters
J and P
almost like they're someone's initials
🤨🤨🤨
hmmmmm
interesting.....
who is JP?
HMMM???
and now that ppl look at it
you have so many songs and albums that refer to JP
like ur one album
called
"just playing, i love you" but it's commonly abbreviated as "jpily"
JP????? ILY?? JP I LOVE YOU???
WHO THE HELL IS JP
"whoever jp is, he needs to meet me in the parking lot so we can have a talk 😆"
"jp my opp"
"jp kys!!!"
"jp is living my dream"
hehe
you see this
and jay aka mr JP himself sees this
and ur like
yk what let's tease the fans
for the next few months ur just teasing jay's existence
using his intials
like one time you wear a heart necklace that has the letters jp engraved in them
or when you tweeted "i love jp" but followed it up with "Jurassic Park is a wonderful movie 😆"
oh god you make it so obvious
"jp is the reason i make my music" and then following it up with "Jimmy Page is my favoritie guitarist 😛"
like ur fans are tired
and theyre getting outright insane
"guys the winter is getting cold and dire... the voices in my headare telling me that [name] is dating this jp person and i don't know how much longer i can live in denial"
"fuck you jp that should be me!!!"
"i hope jp knows how lucky he is... if a hot woman like [name] tattooed my initials i think i'd die maybe"
"i'm fighting demons (and jp)"
until finally!!!
you go to an award show
you look great as always
ugh queen
and ur getting interviewed
the interviewer asks you a playful question like
"oh are you here with any date?"
AND YOU JUST SMILE
"of course, i'm here with my boyfriend, jay park."
oh man
when that gets posted
EVERYONE IS GOING CRAZY
JAY PARK
JP
AAAAAAAAA
and when the actual award shows gets posted
it keeps panning over to you and jay
and everyone is like
THAT'S HER BF????
all jay can say is that he's prideful duh
everyone wants u but he's the only one that can have you
you definitely take a lot of pictures on the red carpet at the award show
and jay is with u in a lot of them
he's holding ur waist so tightly
like you're not gonna run away cuh it's okay omg 😭😭😭
anyways i think it gets resolved pretty easily
ur fandom accepts jay
but they still joke abt him
and when jay makes a twt account it gets worse
he WILL respond to them
and he WILL flex u
every time he does it shuts down the argument right away.... if he wants to win he just needs to mention ur name
"jay meet me after the concert, we will fight to the death for [name]'s love"
and this mf responds "can i bring [name] to be the ref?"
"jay ur hair looks so fucked up in this picture"
and he responds "yet [name] still picked me and not you"
you have to tell him to stop fighting ur 16 yr old fans HELP
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jake ☆
sorry ur a musician again
you have a new song that came out
yk how in some songs
there's almost like an interlude
where there's speaking parts
like in agora hills theres a small part where doja cat says "baby can you call me back, it's so lonely in my mansion" yk?
you have something like that in your newest song
cute!
except it's not just your voice
but a MAN'S voice too
JAKE'S VOICE
the speaking part is very flirty and suggestive
and when it comes out
ppl are like
WHO IS THAT MAN
and then when the music video comes out
theres a male actor that you have many scenes with
now.... the male actor's face is cut out...
but there are still many scenes with you touching him, holding him, kissing him, and vice versa
and when the speaking part comes on
that male actor is supposed to be the male part if that makes sense
that male actor is
drum roll plS
JAKE
when ppl read the credits of the song and music video
they can't help but notice "jake sim"
and when they search ur other songs and mv's
"jake sim" has never showed up...
until this song.....
interesting....
ur fans do a lil detective work
and this jake sim guy doesn't have any involvement in the music or acting industry....
so why is he in ur song AND music video....
hmmmm
they can't find any ig account linked to him
except one that's very obscure
it has a funny username like
"@laylasdad1115" so ppl are like "oh that's probably not even him" and you weren't even following that account so they just let it go
WRONG!!1
@LAYLASDAD1115 IS JAKE
and although you're not following that account on ig
when ppl scroll down to your very very old posts
they see something
very
very
very
miniscule
but
very
very
very
crucial
a post of you and a golden labrador.... and the caption says "i love you layla"
layla... laylasdad1115
and THEN BOOM
NEW SONG COMES OUT
AND AT THE BEGINNING
YOU SAY
"jakey, kiss me!"
OH MY GOD
WHO IS JAKE SIM!!!!!!
"@laylasdad1115 u better watch out...."
"who do you think u are jake sim..."
and then you have a concert
and its not a massive stadium, it's very casual
and there's a part of the concert where you just answer questions that ur fans have and just hang out w them
and someone asks as a joke
"who's jakey in ur song btw?"
and with the most straight face
ur just like
"oh he's my boyfriend!" and then you point to the front row and ur like "he's actually here tonight, say hi baby!"
and jake is so enthusiastic abt it, hes like "hi guys!"
while everyone else in the room is like
WHAT.
the way ygs are so casual abt it is so appalling
"[NAME] YOU CAN'T JUST CASUALLY DROP THAT U HAVE A BF I THOUGHT WE WERE GETTING MARRIED"
"she's taken..... i'm gonna die.... "
LMAAOAOAO
it's known in ur fandom now that ur bf is jake sim or wtv
i don't think anyone even calls him jake
out of pure disrespect (😭) they call him by his instagram username
"laylasdad1115 might be dating [name] but i'm legally bound to her so who's really winning"
when jake shows up to your concerts i do think your fans joke w him like
"ouuu jake ur so lucky [name] is here or i'd give you a black eye"
FREE HIMMMM
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sunghoon ☆
three words: your personal bodyguard
you're an actress cutie
and it's award show season
at all of your award shows ppl notice there's this tall brooding figure looming over you
ITS SUNGHOON LMAO
he's like
GLARING AT EVERYONE
HE KEEPS SQUARING UP RANDOM PPL 😭😭😭
ik this might be a crazy crossover but the moment he spots ryan gosling he's so ready to throw fists
"okay barbie boy you look like you want a broken nose"
sunghoon is very protective of you
obv bc the film industry is lowk kinda sus and exploitative, he def watches out for u a lot
everyone kinda just assumes that he's ur scary bodyguard
but then paparazzi pictures come out
and hes with you
in every
single
one
"goddamn her bodyguard is passionate about his job 😭😭😭"
in fact when the annoying invasive paparazzi interviewers come to talk to you sunghoon is sending the the NASTIEST GLARES
but like it's valid bc ur literally walking to Walgreens at 9AM on a tuesday why do you need to be photographed
"hi [name] can we ask you a few questions-"
hoon literally answers for u
"No. 😐."
interviewers are so rude, theyre like "well i didn't ask you, did i... [name] can we ask you-"
sunghoon just blinks and says
"No. 😐😐😐😐😐😐😐." again
and then ygs leave
theres clips of you at the airport where sunghoon is scaring all ur fans, which makes way for you to have a cmfortable flight
i think ur fans appreciate him but theyre lowk scared
"oh god this guy does not play abt his job 😭😭"
until one day
you get playfully asked abt ur bodyguard on an ig live
and ur like "wait what that's not my bodyguard, that's my bf"
UR WHAT????
HUH????
😱😱😱
ur fans are in the trenches
"i cant hate him bc he protects [name].... but damn i wish that was me 😞😞😞"
and when they review some of the clips w you and sunghoon they see you smiling and giggling with him
"he makes her happy so ig i'll let him have her </3"
"this is the hardest sacrifice i have to make"
i lowk think sunghoon doesn't care
he FIGHTS EVERYONE
only for u ofc 😊😊😊
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maknae ver
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royalarchivist · 11 days
Text
Phil briefly talks about QSMP, the admin situation, Quackity, the new team, and the harassment both Quackity and the admins have been receiving.
Please listen to the clip and read the transcript in its entirety. Keep in mind that things can easily be taken out of context (even this clip, though I did try to include everything he said).
If you'd like to see the full unedited conversation, Phil started talking about last week's interactions with YD and Bad ~1h 57m into today's VOD, which led into this conversation about QSMP.
[ Complete Transcript ↓ ]
Phil: Yeah, she's great. Another- another reason why QSMP is just like... fuckin' incredible. That was like, not even ever going to happen without QSMP. Like, obviously it's had its problems, it's go– it's had its problems. Those problems are being rectified. All the people that were wrong'uns have been fired [Laughs] And Quackity's put a new team together. So like, I'm so happy that I'm like– that Q is doing everything he can right now to make it like, right.
But I am still just sad that Chayanne and Tallulah are just asleep, that is just making me real sad. So I've been like, logging on whenever I can to just like, hang out and stuff and just, you know, be around. But I am- I am just sad boy now. [Laughs] I've like– throwing all those penguins into the- the Spawn area was like, my limit. And the like, laughing with YD and Bad kind of cheered me up a bit.
But yeah, I'm sure most of you can agree. It's like, once- once you've been making content on a server a certain way, it's- it's been like, 6 - 8 months of like, the same like type of content I've been making on that server. It's been very lore-heavy, it's been very Egg hanging out with the Eggs and just chilling. Like, not even like doing anything crazy. We would just hang out. But yeah, I'm sure everyone's in the same boat. Like, we all just like, miss that, you know?
So... just gotta wait around. Just gotta wait. Wait for things to get better. Trust in Big Q.
But yeah, moments- moments like the other day, Chat, where me, Bad, and YD were just hanging out just like kind of... you know, it just kind of like... What's the word I'm looking for? Like, drills home how important the QSMP is and can be for connecting people. Not just now, but in the future. And like, that- I feel like that is something that's definitely worth protecting, or something that's worth like, seeing happen in the future with other people. Not even thinking about like, if I'm gonna be interacting with anyone like, thinking about like other people interacting with other people in the future. It's fucking- It's so cool.
Like, imagine seeing like, brand new streamers that you might've not have heard of interacting with people that you know right now. Not necessarily me or people that I know, but like– like, the connections that we've all made.
Dude, Me and Kristin went to fuckin' Switzer-France to hang out with these people! [Laughs] Cellbit and Lore traveled from fucking Brazil to Switzer-France to hang out! The- these connections are like, mental. Just never would have happened without the server, and that's definitely something worth protecting. And like, ensuring it is done the correct way in the future.
That means a lot to us Chat, it does– [Briefly responds to Chat] It means a lot to us and like, obviously the admins being well-taken care of is like, at the fore-front.
And Quackity speaks very highly of this new team. He's like- he's chatted to us like, in calls and stuff. He's been keeping us up to date on everything that's been going on behind the scenes, everything that he can tell us anyways. And like, he is very happy with this new team. He pretty much said that they are like, very passionate about the project, and we can like, trust that he trusts them to do a very good job. So...
Yeah, I'm excited but like, we just have to kind of like, wait. Like, there's a lot being changed around, there's a lot of plans. But the good thing to know is that the people that caused harm have been removed. And now the people that are like, in charge are like, very passionate about the project and just want to see everyone happy and succeed and be taken care of. But these things take time. So we just have to hang about, we have to wait.
[Responding to someone asking about what happened with QSMP and the Admin situation] I'm not going to go into too much detail, you can find out exactly what has gone on, and it's not as simple as black and white. It's- there's a lot of gray areas in there, and it's like very complicated, so you can go look it up yourself, but ultimately, all you need to know is that the initial admin team, the like, head people at the top that Quackity put in charge like ages ago when the server first started were making decisions that were like, not good for the health and also the well-being of the actors, and like, admins and like, the staff. So like, some staff were fine, other staff had a shit fucking time, and it was unfair and terrible and went unnoticed for a while, and then it all came out and Quackity's been like, fixing it since.
Most recently, he stepped down from the team because of like, how serious shit was getting. Like, people online have been fucking awful. And it's very dangerous at the minute for like the ex- like, members of the team, and also him. It's like- it's terrible.
So it's very heated, very– it's– again— and it's not as simple as just like "This- this is– this is right, this is wrong." It's like- it's very- there's a lot of muddled areas, and it's not as easy as just saying "This is exactly what happened." I'm summarizing. I'm literally just summarizing. But all you need to know right now, the latest update is that the team that are in charge are very passionate about the projects and are like, much, much better and will take care of the new people and the admins and all the actors and stuff a lot better than the last fucking team because the initial problem was that Quackity kind of like, took a bit more of a step back and he wasn't like, overseeing every single thing that was going on behind the scenes, but now he's had to- he's had to take a step back, he's been forced to take a step back, but he's left it in the hands of a team that he truly trusts this time. Like, he's actually fully-vetted.
So HOPEFULLY– again: there's more things that need to be done behind the scenes, and I'm not an official spokesperson, I'm just a person playing on the fucking server that my friend has made, and I'm very happy to support him, and I trust that he will do and continue to do the right thing.
But yeah. Not as simple as just [Snaps fingers] "This is this." It's like– there's so much fucking like, middle ground and shit that's gone on. And that's all I'm gonna say on it! 'Cuz otherwise it's just gonna go on and on and on, and people are gonna be like, "What do you know?" and be like "I don't know shit!" And the stuff that I do know, I probably can't talk about right now. There's like, certain things that like, can't be said, for legal reasons and stuff.
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capslocked · 6 months
Text
KINKVEMBER DAY: 7
[prompt: praise kink]
male reader x shen xiaoting
7k words
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Well - from a glance, Xiaoting is flawless.
Every photographer makes the same movement as soon as she steps foot onto the stage - almost as if she's commanding them - but it's not a fair competition and she knows it.
The tiny black dress wrapped around her waist, hugging every meticulous angle in its stretch, isn't exactly the most practical of options, but then again nor was the sleeveless cut or the low-backend, nor the slit in the skirt that shows however much leg you're curious to see, nor the five-inch Louboutins with little ribbons at the ankles, crystals in their mesh like a real-life glass slipper - so, truly, anything about this outfit.
But in this industry, red carpets are about one thing: image.
(Something Xiaoting wields in excess.)
She pauses the subtle sashay of her hips mid-way across the stage, and pivots around, straightening out the waves in her hair, done-up and perfect-in-pink, over her shoulders. She lets the flash of every camera illuminate the swell of her lips in full - reflect and shimmer in the sequence of diamonds dangling under her ears. But it's all in that little smirk, the tilt of her chin. Everything working together to sell the moment; how breathtakingly beautiful she is, how proud, confident and seemingly indifferent to all the commotion happening around her - to every person calling her name and pleading for her to look in this specific direction.
You can watch how deliberate she holds her posture. See it. Understand it. Watch how she tips her head. The genuine kind of smile that could drive anyone to absolute ruin.
Maybe the more obvious: how the cameras love her - love the flash, the shine and glitter and sparkle of the fabric, love the turn of a heel onto where her legs are poised, her profile a perfect angle for every shot and more and more and more.
There's not even the slightest suggestion of just how overwhelmed she is.
-
"You're not supposed to be back here," is the very first thing you hear, as soon as Xiaoting catches your reflection in the vanity mirror.
You hold up a press pass with a headshot that loosely looks like you. Like in a really dark, kind of out-of-focus photo sort of way. Xiaoting simply lets out a slightly disapproving sigh.
"Someone's probably looking for that, you know."
"What's the worst thing that could happen? Someone doesn't get to ask you what your favorite color is, or what you had for breakfast? God forbid we need to know your TMI."
She slips the crystal bracelet off the end of her narrow wrist and places it gently next to the red carpet gear strewn across the surface in front of her. A necklace. The earrings, similar in their shimmer. A matching headband, an evening clutch in white. It's all sitting, not necessarily disorganized, but it's in the mess that Xiaoting is all the while searching for things; lip gloss and makeup, small hair clips.
"You could get us both in trouble, for starters."
When she looks up at you, briefly, there's an attempt at a scolding expression - a short-lived one, how it quickly gives way to a grin, a laugh, all the things she can't help when it's you in particular.
"I'll make sure it finds its way back where I found it," and with a hand over her shoulder, "or at least somewhere close enough. If anyone asks."
Xiaoting bounces an impossibly sweet smile off the mirror at you when her eyes find yours again. And while she starts unclipping pins from her hair, lifting and tousling and adjusting the curls into a more familiar shape, you're almost entranced in the way her shoulders loosen and her eyelashes flutter. In this light, she's even more devastating: an illusion of something both fragile, and immensely resilient.
"At the very least," she says, "I won't hold my breath for anyone else to find their way into my dressing room anytime soon."
She gets a hold of a simple clip, pulls a stray strand of pink off her cheek, and tucks it behind her ear. The gesture is fluid, elegant even, and so singular.
She really is, gorgeous.
The fact that you have to occasionally remind her of that is a different maddening issue entirely. You've always wondered - and always will continue to wonder, really - why it is the prettiest girls seem to have the hardest time understanding they're beautiful. It makes you crazy, makes your head hurt.
There's an entire world worth of things for her to fixate her attention on: her job, her fans and career; a hundred more names and faces to learn - people who would probably agree to hang the stars in the sky for her, given the chance, the mere opportunity. But instead she can only bring herself to stare into a mirror and compare notes and point out all these things she doesn't feel ready for.
This interview, or her performance, or the next.
"They're talking about me. Those 'insiders'," she explains, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the voices in the hallway. "Said, my styling this past year has been too 'soft.' Too 'girly.' No one's buying it," and with a pout: "now, or then, apparently"
"Always works for me," you tell her, in a way that implies it's absolutely none of their business at the end of the day; what colors Xiaoting shows up in, how she wears her makeup and dresses, her shoes or perfume.
She floats her fingers up to the dip of her collarbone, weaving them into your hand. The contented look on her face, now a near permanent fixture in the space she keeps between the two of you, suggests that of all her accessories - gifts and borrowed things she wears in a perpetual game of dress-up - you're the one she would prefer most.
"Well," she says, fixing you a mischievous twist of her brow, "you'd say that if I was up there wearing nothing at all."
"Oh, not a doubt in my mind."
(As usual, the both of you laugh far too much.
As usual, neither of you manage to care.
Your lives have always been about soft edges. A little nonsense here and there, so long as it means having more of her.)
She brings your knuckles to her lips, careful and reserved, and holds the tips of her fingers gently to your neck. "How much more do you have tonight?"
"The rest of the hour is probably asking too much." You help Xiaoting onto her feet, arms wrapping her middle, and with a kiss dropped into her hair, you tell her, "should probably report in, let someone know I haven't gotten myself expelled."
"Thought you said you were a terrible liar."
"Oh, I am," you say. "That's just how much trouble I've already been making for myself tonight."
Xiaoting watches you kiss her shoulder, her neck, all in amusement, eyes never breaking contact as your lips brush and linger against the delicate shape of her wrist. A shiver in her exhale - almost a laugh, an 'I'm listening,' in a form of its own - and you find her body shifting into a natural and familiar hold; the outline of her mouth so unbelievably tempting when it parts so naturally - that when it comes down to a choice: Xiaoting against you, you and her in her private room, the hustle and bustle, and rush-hustle of the building and people and machines outside your door -
It really doesn't take too much convincing.
"Fifteen minutes. They'll start wondering," you tell her, already dipping forward to capture her in your arms. She falls right back, perfectly content as though she doesn't belong anywhere else. "We'd have to be really quick."
"You're bad," Xiaoting hums, winding further into your arms, smiling between the warm, warm kisses you're trailing along the collar of her dress, where the zipper is resting and ready to be drawn down.
The moment is candid: you pressing your lips into the bare skin of her shoulder, following it up with something that's part laugh, and part the kind of sigh people make after too long without sleep. You're already struggling against the curve of her waist - the swell of her hips, all her curves - while your nose nuzzles in deeper, a delicate exploration into the bend of her neck, against her shoulder, the hint of perfume. 
"Only one of us can be perfect, sweetheart." The damn truth, even if she hears it all the time and from everyone else. "You're gonna have to settle.”
You watch her expression melt into that self-composed, self-confident mien when you say it - in a quiet, contented kind of way; an ethereal sort of assurance. As though she was never meant to be touched by anyone, much less held by you, but somehow decided to allow it nonetheless. That look in her eye, it makes your heart twist. Every damn time.
"What about an accident," she muses, "something keeping you longer. Twenty maybe?"
"Oh," you chuckle. "Those happen in the hallway and parking lot. Where everyone can see. Never behind the scenes, for a totally unlikely and unrelated reason."
"Technicalities."
She turns to face you, fully, eyes lit and shimmery under the room's lighting; pink hair, all shades of glitter and silk and the smoothest, warmest skin. Your touch grazes up her sides, palms smoothing over the fine print, the sequins in the fabric, her hands all the while busy weaving, needily, around your waist, underneath the line of your shirt, finding and tracing along the ridges in your hips and spine.
Xiaoting wants you - plain and simple as that. The look on her face says as much.
And if you don't touch her now, kiss and feel her against you - all of it at once - she'll make sure you regret ever prioritizing anything over her. Over the two of you, and how perfectly and neatly you fit together, even if that means you're both absent for press calls, or a segment, or an interview she can't be late to. She'll blame you and it'll be okay.
"Fourteen minutes now," you inform her. "If it’s something you're counting."
"Give or take a few," Xiaoting smiles. Her words slip against your cheek, hot and honey-coated. It's tempting. Her teeth find your jawline and the gentle nip against your skin is hard to ignore. "Did you lock the door?"
"Believe it or not, that was the first thing I did."
And with her hips in your palms, you steal a kiss, because you can - because she's kissing you right back - her forearms wrapping over your shoulders, holding you tight around your neck, and, ahh - Xiaoting's mouth - how eagerly, so desperately, she parts your lips and slips her tongue over your teeth, humming, mumbling happily into a second and third and fourth kiss. Then, once the heat of the moment sweeps in, melting into something slower, sweeter, lingering, a little deeper, it's another.
And another after that.
She leans into you, the rise and fall, slow-down-then-start-again, of her chest and of her breathing and of the tiny, stifled noises she’s kissing into your lips. Only you're pinching the fabric around her waist, slowly lifting the hem of her skirt further up her thighs and reminding her that there's a promise for slow later, that she can take all the time in the world to map and remember the planes and edges of your body; trace the curves of every little sensitive spot and learn again how she fits into your hands, in the time and space that's left to the two of you alone.
"Thirteen-"
"Minutes," she echoes breathily against your ear and over the sound of her fingers in your belt. "I know. Got it."
Xiaoting's hasty. She has to be; reaching and fumbling to pop open your pants while the heat of her mouth finds you first, her tongue sliding smooth across your throat, chin, the warmth and the taste, then along the corner of your mouth - your tongue chasing hers and turning it into a mess that's as intimate and satisfying as it is clumsy; breath catching in both your mouths, hands intertwining, needing the contact with just as much fervent abandon.
Off, off, off, she's murmuring into you, thumbs perched dangerously on your waist, dipping into the fabric, tracing the rim, taking a tease down a little farther with each lazy caress, and, in the very back of your mind, there's a small voice in agreement that insists you are most definitely in no hurry at all.
It grows louder when the small shape of Xiaoting's palm is all the way down the rise of your pants, all over where you're beginning to grow hard - straining and twitching and almost painfully, impatiently interested. You hold her closer and clutch harder because the need is like a burn - one that's seared itself comfortably, wonderfully between your hips, where you feel each brush and curve and fond stroke of her touch.
Her eyes lift to meet yours, gleaming and knowing and laughing, no doubt aware that you're both going to be wrecked no matter which of these games she wins.
"Nothing we can't solve here and now." She tells you.
"True."
"I'll get my mouth on you later, make it all better."
"Later?" Your voice, completely a mess and breaking just enough, forces its way between a kiss that feels anything but. You're pleading for her, into her lips. "Oh, is that a promise, sweetheart?"
"A promise," Xiaoting gasps. "Or a threat. Depends how fast you're ready for me."
"Hush." And you hold her mouth open with yours, devour and drink the sounds falling from her tongue, each one that starts off shallow then trails deeper and deeper and deeper, until her hands have settled over you, and her fingers are finally pushing below the hem, and working the length of your cock, up and down and along it all.
"Hey,” she says, far too inviting, “aren't you supposed to be, like, tearing off this dress by now?"
Xiaoting smirks up at you. With a slight motion of her hand, the other having come to wrap fully around your shaft, the two fingers twisting along your tip, spreading the beading moisture into a long stroke.
"Very gentlemanly of you, wanting to keep it all nice and put together-" and with a wiggle of her brows, "-unsuspicious."
You clench your teeth through a gasp - a jolt at the sudden brush of her fingertips over the base, further down. Xiaoting has that mischief to her - she always has - a certain inclination to press and test the boundaries until they're unrecognizable, to poke and prod where she shouldn't, only the slightest bit concerned.
"Trust me, I would. Only this is a dress I can't afford to ruin, sweetheart." You're leaning her against the vanity, freeing one of her hands to press around behind her, against the cold, cluttered countertop, feeling how the sharp breath in her lungs goes soft and hot immediately, wanting.
"In that case," she tells you, a knowing tilt in her mouth, "you'll just have to ruin me in it."
That's a little closer to your budget given how fast your arm slips under her hip, pulling her up onto the vanity and angling her into you. Her skirt ruffles and follows, the material all too eager to keep you and the lithe frame of her body nice and snug together. There's that sharp gasp in her chest again, at the hand you're running up her thighs; an approval to your arrangement in the sound of her laughter, to your kiss, and all the fever-filled strokes jerking your cock that she's busying herself with again.
You can feel an urge you both share and want to make real and tangible, to peel down and past and over those tiny black panties; feel the heat rising, the wetness there, and all the eager, eager noises of her pleasure.
"Ten minutes." Your teeth are grazing into her lip, her mouth, while she whimpers so pretty into your throat. "Does that put any ideas in your head?"
"Nearly everything." Xiaoting lets your pants fall and uses the back of her heel to skid them down around your feet. "But maybe, especially your cock right here, if you’re going to slide it so slowly over me-" she sucks on her next breath, holding her hand where her panties are; smoothing against you with her hips rocking forward.
You feel her head drop, slightly, when she whispers into a heated kiss, "right between, the most tender way, where I'm aching the most."
"I bet you'd look beautiful with it," you say, all kinds of things, leaning and mumbling into her neck, all that exposed skin. "My cum on you. Sitting so good right here, in such a tight little-"
She stops your teasing with her kiss, pushing forward to the point where her ass is bumping right against your hips, your hand, your cock; coaxing you in closer.
And then, a particularly stern warning, probably warranted, sneaks out through the bite of her lip; just barely restrained: "I swear to god if you make a mess anywhere - don’t, if you know what's best for you.”
"That's a pretty roundabout way of asking me to cum inside you, Xiaoting. Wording matters."
"Telling." Her smile is all kinds of sly; all for you to witness and tuck safely in your pocket later. "Not asking."
"We’ll see what we can do with nine minutes," you tell her, and your cock is snug against the lace of her underwear - right where she's so fucking wet - you can already hear it in the little, jerking huffs in her voice and on her breath and how your hands are touching her through the fabric. How between hot, clumsy kisses, she's lifting and drawing her body as close as possible and curling into you.
(God.)
"Easy," she mouths, all hot and hazy as she drags the lacy band of elastic aside. It's your turn to inhale and jerk and gasp, but there's hardly anything there to catch you, just her whisper that says, "there you go, honey, fill me up real slow. Right to the very, very top," her voice arching high when you've begun to nudge your cock into her, opening her up and up and up with a slow, steady thrust. "Just - like - that."
And in the seconds, maybe minutes (you’re trying not to lose track), that follow, you are holding your breath against the heat blossoming through her cheek. Against Xiaoting, flushed and whimpering, hands buried in her dress and her hips starting to roll back on your cock. It's a tiny adjustment; nowhere to go but deeper, further - grinding together however you can manage.
It's one thing to love each other quietly, discretely and with all that discretion.
It's another entirely, in times like these, to give in to a raw-edge impulse that hits suddenly and leaves just as fast. Your hips snap in and in and in, Xiaoting's chest rising and rising, her head turned and pressed into the shoulder of your shirt, her hand already caught in a fistful of sleeve. And you - the friction is so soft and so good, a slick, easy glide of your cock - full - all the way to the very last inch.
Just her seedy, whimpering whine fills the back of your neck and your ear, and her arms and her legs locked in around you, like a coil ready to burst, that ache coming to a head.
The ends of her hair are soft and sweet where you gather a fistful of pink around your wrist, hold - pull, like a taut string. Xiaoting gasps a fluttering note as her chin tips up, the smooth canvas of her throat begging to be kissed and roughed up in just the right places. Reddening like the insides of her thighs, the heat there, where they're pinched around your waist - delicate little marks of where you're fucking her open and bare and deep and so well.
You could drink up each and every noise - all the keening and humming, the ruffled, strung-out sounds; how you're both breathing into a shared mess of gasping and panting, of Xiaoting whimpering into your throat, clinging on like she'll die otherwise. "Faster," she pleads all desperate and urgent. "More. Fuck this pussy like it deserves, don't you want it? So wet, can't you feeling how I'm aching?"
You can. Hot and wet and absolute.
You can feel the shudder-wreck, the absolute throe - there's not an ounce left between you; nothing but her slick, warm cunt clutching and hugging your cock, letting it stretch her apart and fill her again and again, the little ridge between your hips slipping over her clit on a forward, upward stroke and grinding there, with a shaky hand cradling her lower back for support while you drive back into the thrust.
"Ting, fucking christ - Ting, your tight little pussy is incredible." You groan into her skin. "Taking me, fucking, taking every, last, inch-"
"I can feel you fucking throbbing," Xiaoting tells you, all teasing and exasperated as she lets your name turn into a series of vibrating hums against your lips. "You're going to make me fucking lose it, the way you're hitting me inside."
See, you fit together, inside-and-outside so perfect; that when you begin to really fuck Xiaoting, when she's making it clear, over, and over, yes, harder, give it to me, and the table she's sitting on is giving away each-and-every one of her whimpers, you lose yourself in the rhythm and pace and the fact that Xiaoting's creaming cunt is working itself hot and messy and pulsating around you; so fucking tight, tight, - slick all around - almost drawing you in, then resisting and tensing every-time your cock finds just the deepest angle.
It's something to push, something that makes you greedy and drive her ass into the cabinet even more; make sure you're slipping along her walls just enough, and doing so with every few inches or less that you're managing to drive, working over a pressure so sensitive it might be making her see stars, every time a thumb digs a little deeper into her hip bone.
"All the way, baby," she's saying, whispering, making you want to fuck the words out of her in broken pieces. "So. Close. Just a little-"
She's gone, her back arched - bending into an incredible sight. And there's the most beautiful look on her face, even under the frantic-urgent rush. Your hands are all over her: pressing into the divots above her hips; petting the expanse between her tits, then down again, feeling out her ribcage, her belly, in between her thighs and parting them wider - like if she were any more spread open, she'd be coming right off the table.
Then, the thumb tangled into the sleeve of her dress, the rough pad of the other rubbing circles over her swollen clit - here you'll figure she'll cum; she's never shy about it - but it's more a question of how many times. How it always builds up and comes apart.
You're obsessed, really, with the details: her eyelids fluttering, the sounds of her skin sliding down onto the cabinets, her lips that can never get themselves closed.
"Oh, Ting," you're panting, licking all over her parted mouth, "do you need-"
Her nails begin to cut half-crescents into the small of your back, where she's been gripping at you; a moan falls straight out from her tongue, straight into your own, the closest she'll ever come to asking for anything: but it's easy.
"You're so fucking pretty, baby, I'll give you whatever you need-"
You slide your fingers higher up her folds, pushing onto her hot cunt right over the spot where your cock is disappearing inside her.
"I know that's what you need to be fucked silly, right? Need some extra friction so I can have the entire inside of this fucking cunt dripping-"
Xiaoting makes a noise that tells you, good guess. And you're playing her closer and closer to her orgasm, watching her teeth sink into her own lip, knowing that she's the one on a timer - which makes it all the easier, because you know exactly what to say next, because you've played this game enough - when you've already been fucking her and fingering her through one or two and her noises are telling you her body needs just one more, and then, the words usually roll right out, not the slightest bit contrived:
"That's it, sweetheart, you look so fucking good. So, so pretty cumming on my cock, baby. You're fucking gorgeous, you know that? I can't get enough of you."
Her mouth falls open, eyes screwing tight with it - the praise, the way you can talk her right into it every fucking time - the way it all but kills her: even when she's getting pumped full of pre-cum and sleeved around your cock like a glove, you know that sometimes the words are the only thing she's chasing, and her jaw starts to trembling just like the rest of her. This full body tension, head to toe of perfection you're whispering in her ear. She's pressing her heels harder than before against the back of your legs, digging, her whole chest shaking for a gasp of air she doesn't seem to ever be able to fully catch.
"But god, I wish you were looking at me," you're begging, sincere, with a deep sort of pining, when you get the the sharp twist of her neck, like it takes everything in her, then, like it's a miracle - those lidded, still-water eyes focused right on you. "I want to make you fall apart, just looking at me, sweetheart."
(Your poor heart. An obsession. So in love with her.)
The kiss you steal from her lips is deeper, your tongues playing a familiar song, the push, pull - how easy and perfect she fits.
When she cums, it always starts quiet, not like what she's just started doing: the kind of cries and moans that begin to make it past her teeth, desperate and panting, her fingers crushing down in place where they're pressed to your skin. Those whimpers that start quiet, get loud, fast, and then Xiaoting's arching right up from the table and clenching her entire body. With you inside her, she's so wrapped up in how good it is, the pleasure spiking past her pussy and into her veins.
"Shh," you soothe her, lovingly brushing her hair to the side when her breath shudders hard; the mess you made, sliding a palm against her cheek when the first few tears gather, the way they always do when Xiaoting's overwhelmed and torn down in such a good, beautiful way. 
You could kiss her, when you feel the curve of her trembling lips. You do, again-again; slip and wet and parted and sliding when Xiaoting lets you hold the base of her chin between your forefinger and thumb, and bring your mouths together like that.
You could hold the moment longer. Keep kissing her and not moving - except Xiaoting has that meek, "Fuck me," mumbled into your open mouth, her half-wits returning and giving her the very start of a wicked grin - all sloppy with orgasm. "However you want, whatever will make you cum fast-"
"Turn around for me. I'm going to show you how pretty you are, looking just like that-"
"Y-Yeah- '' Xiaoting is trying, her joints trembling as she moves her body. She's so good, listening, rolling onto the surface of the table with her ass up, palms spread out and supporting her into this perfect line. Xiaoting's defining the curve: where her lower back and tight little ass begins and ends, right up into her shoulders and spine. Her hair has fallen across one side, and now you can finally see how much she's blushing in the mirror, the messes that her eye makeup has smudged into, how good she's been, and now how sweet and pliable and worked open her muscles are.
The view alone could have you blowing your load before you can even do it properly inside her.
But, god - the fact that her dress was hanging down on one shoulder, then on none, exposing her naked skin entirely; the fact that you can't resist grabbing a hand around a waist-full of her body and dragging her back closer, slotting your thighs under hers and her ass up against you, cock sliding into her still-clenching cunt without the help of your hands, just finding it where it belonged. You give it to her like she's meant to take. Fast. Hard. Deep. Making sure each-time your cock is in its base-deep place and sliding right back out, pulling slick, creamy strands out from her fucked-out pussy. Bathing you in her want, her need, pooling along the base of your cock; seeping everywhere.
There's just so much of it. The sounds echoing off the empty walls, so distinct, unmistakable, so full and thick. The way your whole body seems to tighten and tense along with hers - everything tight, you can see it, your eyes sweeping from Xiaoting's thighs to the reflection of how she just takes you. Shaking each time, the lines of her body wobble forward when your hips land a heavy thrust and slide along every bit velvety-wet inside her: no room for your cum when she's this overflowing, you figure, wondering how full of it she could even get.
"Fuck," the word just slides off you. "Fucking god, you're the best fuck," you praise her. Like heaven.
Because Your hand is in her hair again, wrapped up in and smoothing over the tangles; feeling her like silk. But now you're grabbing too - holding her steady, a fistful between the roots; you want her back arched, canted just that one angle higher that you know would push her past all limits.
“Oh my god,” she gasps out, once your get her knee planted up on the counter - once she's spread herself even further for the weight of your body. "That's it - holy shit, please-more-"
There are little whispers too - stuff that makes your cock twitch a few times, pulsing in warning - not even fully aware that she's cumming down all over your waist, praises like the hottest of filth, please and yes and I need it and fuck and fucking christ, keep going and don't stop don't stop please baby I'll do anything anything-
Xiaoting's voice reaches the same high pitch she does when her clit is getting hit, not sure what part of her body you're touching or just the overwhelming sensation, but god she doesn't know which way to turn her neck and face. She just ends up taking it all in, breathing in the gravity of the moment - her reflection, yours, the feeling - a tremor building up, her eyes flickering back-forth when she realizes they've started to close, forcing herself to look at the both of you.
You fuck your cock through each inch of her quivering cunt, each one hotter, tighter, wetter than the last - until you're spilling cum - cumming deep and fast inside her -
Reaching so far she can feel the thick pool of it getting fucked further into her with every shallow snap of your hips; her ass flushing back up against your stomach. Filling her to the brim - enough to feel it drip and seep and slide.
And she doesn't stop, the way she has her hips rolling down your length and staying there, your cock rooted into her deepest spot. If there's one more thing she gets off on it's being filled, milking the remnants, emptying you, and - because she's almost fucking teasing you, you feel it when she's clenching the remaining dredges right out of your body; out and leaking hot along your over-sensitised skin. The sharp sting of it has your hands tight on her waist, her ass spilling through the gaps of your fingers - deciding what you'll do.
"Three minutes," she says, panting, "is enough-"
You squeeze through the sculpted round of her ass. Spank it. Knead it.
"You want me to fuck another one into you - can you take that? You'd be such a good girl if you can take a fucking like that."
"I mean it," Xiaoting rasps, hips still lifted and angled toward you, as she meets you in the mirror; her eyes looking past your reflection, still coming down, wrecked and fucked raw, but making the message clear. "I'll make it easy for you."
And with that's she got her hand on your still-hard cock; not nearly enough softness in her voice for the rough grip and the sloppy pumping - fucking filth out of her still, if there was ever any hope of getting it out the way she's pulling and using and moving the slick all over you, spilling it onto the floor. "Think I can make you cum again, right here and now."
The thing about Xiaoting is:
She makes bad decisions, but always with the best intentions. That's why you always know what she'll say.
Because it's almost always the same answer: a pair of crossed wrists and a coy-eagerness that's enough of an invitation for you to make use of what she's given.
And this is the exact way you find yourself dragging the fabric of her dress down her shoulder, her middle, her breasts falling back down from their bounce when you unwind it, then twisting the end tightly into itself before shoving it into the soft valley of her mouth.
I love your tits, you know that?" you tell her, mouth open and hot against her shoulder blade. “So fucking pretty all over, Ting, your entire body's amazing and it does things to me-if I could, I would keep my cum inside this tiny little pussy, over and over, keep filling it. Make your tummy swell for me, sweet baby, and never let a single drop-"
"Do it-" she moans out, words garbled by the fabric. Her eyes are wide and full of the darkest innocence, like anything could happen; anything you wished. "Do it, your fucking cock, want to feel you-"
You spank her again, and she keens.
The mirror is showing you how her chest reddens under the rush of your hands kneading at her, almost violent, before sliding down the back-insides of her thigh, pushing, "But, what you look like with my cock buried inside you, stretched out and still so fucking tiny around me."
It's not new. It's what makes Xiaoting give you the dirtiest, sexiest little hum around the cloth wedged inside her mouth.
Then her cunt clenches down on your cock, and you're groaning, "christ," watching the way her face tugs at the stretch, watching, when her back is pushed out again - the angle. You're lining up, sucking in the full and naked and glistening display of her body before letting your hips fuck into hers again. It feels even better than the first time: tightening like a vise around the thickness of you, your cum pouring back inside her, then with her eyes fixed to yours in the mirror, you get to watch her lips straining; a drooling, whimpering mess.
Then. You're slamming her waist into the table. Rough, reckless. Desperate to reach another edge, rough enough that she can barely look up from her bowed elbows, elegant features twisted into something a little more awful, a little more pretty - just there, and - and - 
A third time. Four. More.
Xiaoting's whimpering, just so spent she has nothing else left, your cock filling her up so full and hot with your spill; she's sloppy and flushed and you're pressing her up into the cool surface of the mirror, with her legs giving in when she collapses over her heels and nearly tumbles over; her own body weighing nothing.
If she asked, "carry me," in any way, you'd be on her like clockwork; you'd get her turned around into a loose-limbed pile, a leg thrown over each of her waist; she'd already have her cheek nestled against your jaw, halfway asleep, a warm bundle pressed up and waiting to get tucked into bed and swept into all of the things that would make her purr and melt; blankets and warm-clothes and showers and tending.
You'd always make a show out of sweeping her off her feet. Because the thing is, Xiaoting deserves it.
And you let her know that:
"You're always the sweetest, aren't you? Taking a fucking like that," you tell her, burying the dying gasps of a laugh right into the sweat-sticky back of her neck. You can feel her throat vibrating out a small sound, her brain almost definitely not able to formulate words, maybe only just registering the tones of your voice. "You are just so breathtakingly gorgeous, babe, the prettiest baby. The fucking world must be upside down, because no one tells you nearly often enough."
And -
Xiaoting - really, above all else, is fucking gorgeous. Because her tired laugh echoes a small part of itself straight down your spine, filling all the dips between each of your vertebrae. Genuine smile and all.
It has your skin crawling back to life, warming up.
There's a murmured 'thank you' said somewhere into the back of her hand, between her pinky finger and her ring, a small, stifled breath that pulls on her tired voice; it's a sleepy sound, like honey, and maybe that's why you choose to tell her one more time.
You glance at the clock on the wall. It's been a good fifteen-plus-extra minutes. You can live with that.
"Told you we'd be late," you say, smoothing out the fabric of her dress.
Which means this is the second time she says: "Nothing there we can’t solve with a little..."
"Carelessness?"
"Misdirection. Pretty convenient for some of us," Xiaoting murmurs with the lingering sweetness of your kiss on her lips. "Who have that charming talent with words."
She looks up, wincing and dabbing at the dried tracks on her cheeks where her eyelashes have swept away all the makeup and tears, like a soft brush sweeping away the layer of snow, she lets her head rest there in your palm and the other soothes, warm, on the back of her neck - her shoulders a little slack when you feel her whole body relax.
"Love you," Xiaoting says, after a heavy breath; a shaky exhale, just under her tongue; "even when we're a little crazy."
Your cheeks warm as they squish themselves around her grin.
"Love you. Now hold still," you say - taking it slow, kissing the damp pink curls right behind her ear. Then, for the most part, it's back to business. Back to normal.
Makeup wipes and wet washcloths. Clearing and setting the furniture upright. Hastily undoing the locks, so that to anyone who's passing by and smelling the raw, irrefutable evidence of sex and sin, they can turn away and think twice - no one's fault except the wicked thoughts swirling and forming in the back of their thoughts.
(No matter how many times you do, it's no different with Xiaoting; her smile turns the wheels in your head - still spinning. You can't help it when she laughs with her eyes still half-mast - fucked-out; a headiness, her tone like velvet.)
And the 'yes, we do,' on her breath when she hums again, is the beginning of an I-told-you-so, when you tell her, "c’mon, we've got places to be."
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stellaaarree · 11 months
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some atsv characters with a reader that dresses bimbo, w/ the makeup and nails ect :)
MIGUEL
instantly your gonna get called “diva”.
loves the opposites looks though
he pays for all your expensive mini skirts.
insert miguel’s shocked face. “mi amor?! this skirt is the size of a belt! £35 for a piece of stripped fabric?? dios mío.” he groans, swiping his card at the register.
will just lean in the door way watching you do your makeup. loves it nowhere near as much as your natural face but if you’re happy hes ecstatic (secretly. we all know he has to keep the badass exterior.)
occasionally pulls your skirt down a little so it’s covering more. that place is only for him to see >:(!
sugar daddy vibes. dropping you off at the nail salon and picking you up all fancy with your starbucks order in hand😚😚
MILES
is way too scared to touch you in fear of messing up your pretty hair or makeup.
ADORES EVERYTHING.
something about you getting cold in your skimpy pink outfit and his black hoodie is going over your shoulder gets him giggling. everyone knows it’d have to be his.
asks his parents for money so he can pay for your nails😭😭
you assure him that he doesn’t have to pay and when he’s not allowed money he’s the one that swipes your card so it looks like its his. delusional king.
will 100% have your starbucks order memorised and when he hears you say for the first time just pauses with a “…how did you say all of that in the span of ten seconds?..”
brags 100%. if he has his other friends round his place and you’ve left one of your bright pink shirts there will go, “oh! sorry guys don’t mind the pink shirt over there.” knowing damn well he doesn’t wear pink..nor baby tees.
GWEN
you’re the reason she dyed the ends of her hair pink. always has a bit of your sweetness around🫶🏻
shopping sprees!!! then after y’all go to mcdonalds and she’s tucking napkins over your shirt so the sauce doesn’t ruin it.
feeding you fries so your lipstick doesn’t smudge.
genuinely just loves to be up close with you.
she’s taking out your perfectly clipped and bumped up hair at the end of the day. being oh so gentle as your head falls asleep by her shoulder.
when you go to her place she empties out all the things she feels you’d like from her closet and now you have your own drawer. spare makeup, hair clips, a mini straightener and her brightly coloured hoodies and jumpers.
y’all share socks. shut up its cute!!!!!!!
she’s got ones with stars scattered on them and you’ve got hearts on yours.
HOBIE
as we’ve noted, he doesn’t believe in consistency so the stark contrast between you two is adorable.
always holding your hand, thumb going over the 3d details on your nails.or he’s straight up staring at the glittery gloss as you talk while making hand gestures.
‘darlin’ and doll’ are now your new names.
you give him hair inspo and he gives you hair inspo😭😭
has a special pink guitar pic that he uses when you’re around!!!!
absolutely enamoured with your nails, you know the questions coming. the dreaded question.
when y’all are comfy, cuddling he speaks the dreaded moment. “doll, …how’d you wipe your arse with those.” and the cute moment is ruined. you obviously where not gonna share your struggles so you hit him back with the “girls don’t poop, idiot.”
PETER B PARKER
when you babysit mayday she always comes back with painted nails + toes. peter always having the same question. “how’d you get her to stay still for that long?!” with a smile you reply. “she makes exceptions for her favourite.”
if you guys are eating and sauce or something gets on your painted lips, he doesn’t even mention it. just straight away wiping it off and going back to the conversation at hand.
is the main funder for your clothes.
miguel and him fight over it all the time. miguel’s usual comeback “spoil your own kid! this ones mine!” and peter rolling his eyes.
peters the kinda guy to fund your usual things. his price range going from £5 - £25. as it happens more oftens.
miguels on the other hand. £35 - £200. and it obviously is a rare occasion.
to give extra thanks to peter you’d kiss his cheek. leaving a pink kiss stain behind and him proudly showing it off.
obsessed with the style. he’s a pretty chill guy so when asking you to come down to the store with him and you walk out in full glam, plans change. “yeah, no, we’re going to dinner instead. cmon pretty.” there was no option that was an order😭
you guys ended up stealing the pink coasters at the restaurant.
BONUS!! you’re maydays personal stylist. nails, done, hair? done, needing an outfit? done. and she sits still and pretty the whole time. completely shocking everyone else how you’ve kept her quiet. she just focuses on your pretty glittered eyelids as your big fluffy lashes bat at her sweetly🫶🏻🫶🏻
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you after atsv spoils you rotten😭😭
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promptsbytaurie · 5 months
Note
anything with wing clipping. i once tried to do research on it for a fic and,, it is SO angsty
i got u fam <333 (i have way too much brainrot on this bear with me LMAO)
tips for writing ✨wingfics✨
!!please credit/tag me if you use this!! i'd love to see what you write!!
physical differences:
area where wings connect to their back is insanely sensitive!!
feathers falling e v e r y w h e r e
wings are big!! if the wearer hasn't had them for long, or is younger/inexperienced, they're gonna knock shit over
~birb noises~
they're actually really good singers with insane lung capacity, a lot of them are/could be opera singers
thin bones, so they're super light and even though most think it's embarrassing to be picked up so easily there's always One Dude who's like 'carry me everywhere'
smaller birds = smaller people. most wings correspond to a specific species, and hummingbird varieties are notoriously short (though never say that to their face, they will probably murder you <3)
unless the avian is a kind of waterbird (penguins, sometimes eagles) going into water will clog their wings and they could drown!! adding onto this i imagine that avians have special bathtubs and brushes and stuff so that they can properly clean their wings
on the flip side if an avian does NOT clean their wings they can get tangled or matted which a) is super painful b) could impact their flying and c) could cause sickness !!
dislocated wings >:(( this happens about as often as dislocated shoulders do with regular people. this can be caused by a couple things like blunt force, trying to manuever/twist wings in ways they aren't supposed to go, or flying too often/straining wings.
psychological differences:
preening!! it's intimate, but doesn't have to be romantic/sexual. obv there is room for very fluffy and romantic moments but it can be either way
flock!!! it's kinda like a family or a pack
the urge to Make a Nest and Only Let the Flock In
once the Flock is In the Nest then the Flock Will Not Leave Ever
molting!! old feathers fall out to allow new ones to grow in !
molting is basically the bird version of a period except all birds have it once or twice a year. they're more emotional, super sensitive, and extra clingy during molting!!
if an avian gives you one of their feathers it's basically a version of marriage, except it doesnt have to be romantic. its essentially a promise, like a 'we're with each other forever' kinda thing.
just as humans have discrimination, i imagine that avians have it too. more common species like songbirds, ravens, or crows are probably valued in society way less than those like eagles, doves, or parrots, and there could also be stereotypes against species like vultures or condors.
on wing clipping:
in my mind wing clipping is a lot like trimming your fingernails realllly sloppily, except the difference is that you should NEVER clip an avian's wings.
what i mean by fingernails is that the nails themselves don't hurt but if you do it sloppily there are Consequences: clipped too short -> irritated skin. clipped inconsistently -> sharp edges, snags on everything INCLUDING other feathers
huge violation of boundaries/self!! clipped wings -> can't fly. flying is integral to avian health and if they can't fly their mood and mental health will fall drastically.
clipped feathers take a long time to grow back, and therefore clipping has long-term effects. it also damages the feathers themselves (obviously) in ways that sometimes can't be healed
if an avian's wings are clipped their trust goes DOWN and their insecurity goes UP. its likely that if someone else tries to touch their wings they will freak out
clipped wings also make avians more jumpy and paranoid because they've lost their major way to escape/protect themselves: flying away.
angst potentials in wingfics (spoiler: there's a lot):
like i said, clipped wings -> can't fly. write about an avian's first time flying again. (not super angsty but still)
SUPER angsty: write about the actual act of wing clipping.
an avian is neglecting their wing care and tries to hide it.
relationship between a 'noble' avian (eagle, dove, etc) and a 'basic' avian (crow, raven, etc) and society's dislike of the relationship.
or maybe avians are a minority in a human world, and an avian has to hide their wings to be safe.
hope this helped!! <33
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usergif · 6 months
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HOW TO: Cross-Fade Multiple Gifs
Hi! In this tutorial, I'm going to go over how I typically do a fade transition that works with Video Timeline. Disclaimer: This tutorial assumes you have a basic understanding of gif-making in Photoshop and requires the use of keyframes.
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Before I start, if you're wondering "why don't you just use the cross fade tool on the Timeline?" — this thing:
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It doesn't work for me 🤷🏻‍♀️ Something happens when converting from Video Timeline back to Frame Animation (the converting everything into a smart object step) that completely negates the cross fade whenever I use it. I'm not sure why, but this is why I do fade transitions the way I'm about to explain.
PHASE 1: THE GIFS
1.1 – Determine how many frames you need. There are 3 things to remember here: 1) Ideally, each gif section should have the same amount of frames, so the transitions feel evenly spaced. 2) The gif's dimensions and total number of frames affect file size. Your final exported gif needs to be under 10MB (Tumblr's limit), so you should consider the total number of frames in relation to the size of your gif. My example gif is 540x540px and 60 frames total; final file size = 7.8MB. 3) Add 4 extra frames to each section to account for the cross-faded portion. (The reason I chose 4 specifically is because Video Timeline works in 0.03-second intervals. The typical duration of my fade transitions is 0.06 seconds — which, when converted back to frames, is 4 frames.) I knew 60 total frames would be a safe bet for a gif this size. Since I had 3 gif sections, each would be 20 frames. I added 4 additional frames, making each one 24 frames (before removing duplicates in the exporting process, which will be explained in Phase 3). You can make your transitions longer than 0.06, but I recommend keeping it to intervals of 0.03 due to the way Timeline works. Every 0.03 seconds = 2 frames, so use this when deciding how many extra frames you'll need.
1.2 – Import frames, crop, and resize. Do this as you normally would! If you need a tutorial for the basics, here's my tutorial. :)
1.3 – Move all gifs onto one document/canvas. Right-click the gif layer and select "Duplicate Layer:"
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Then choose the appropriate document from the dropdown list:
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Do this for each gif section so you can work on one document for the rest of the process.
1.4 – Put each gif into its own group. Select each layer and use the shortcut Command+G or right-click and select "Group from Layers." In Phase 2, we'll be putting the opacity keyframes on the groups instead of the individual layers.
1.5 – Arrange each gif's group on the Timeline. At the end of Gif 1, move backwards 6 times. Move the starting point of Gif 2 to this spot. At the end of Gif 2, move back 6 times and make this Gif 3's starting point. Here's how my gifs look arranged on the Timeline, animated so you can see the 6-space distance:
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We'll be adding keyframes to these overlapping sections in Phase 2.
1.6 – Set up the last transition. At the very beginning of the Timeline, hit the forward button 6 times and click the scissors to divide the clip. Move the starting point of your gif to the newly trimmed beginning as shown below:
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Then, move the original beginning chunk of Gif 1 — that tiny 0.06-second clip — to the end of the timeline above the rest of your layers, aligning its end with the end of Gif 3. Put it in a group like you did in Step 1.4:
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Note: This screenshot shows my final workspace with the coloring layers in groups and the keyframes already placed.
1.7 – Color your gifs. Do this however you want, just keep all your adjustment layers and any other effects within their respective groups:
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Duplicate the adjustment layers from Gif 1 and move them into the folder Gif 1 - Beginning (where your tiny 0.06-second clip is). Be sure the adjustment layers line up with the rest of the group so those adjustments don't affect your other gifs! You may want to trim the adjustment layers to match the duration of the clip or just move them so they start at the same spot as that clip.
PHASE 2: THE KEYFRAMES
2.1 – Place a 100% and 0% keyframe at the beginning of each gif's group. Drag the playhead (red vertical line) to the end of Gif 1. Expand the Gif 2 group to reveal the opacity keyframes on the left side of the Timeline panel, then place a keyframe by clicking the icon that looks like a stopwatch. This opacity keyframe is at 100% by default; leave it like that. Drag the playhead to the beginning of Gif 2 and drop another keyframe. While that new keyframe is highlighted yellow, go to the layers panel, make sure Gif 2's group is selected, and reduce the opacity to 0%.
Repeat these steps for each gif's beginning, including the tiny chunk we moved to the end! Here's a gif to show the process:
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(Btw, if you click this gif, it should expand to full size so you can get a better look! I made it 1080px.)
PHASE 3: THE DUPLICATES
3.1 – Convert back to Frame Animation. If you're not sure how to do this, I've written out the steps here. But I recommend using an action in your general gif-making process to make this step a lot faster. The one I use is linked in my tutorial which I linked earlier!
3.2 – Delete duplicate frames. Remember, at the beginning I set out to make my final gif 60 frames total. With the keyframe animations, I now have 66 frames:
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Palpatine's number 👎 Anyway, that means I have 6 duplicate frames. This is what the gif looks like without removing these duplicates:
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Watch closely during the transitions; there's a tiny lag. It doesn't look smooth to me. It's the clones!! Here's why we have these duplicates:
For every 0.03-second long keyframe animation, you'll get 1 duplicate frame. Unfortunately, that's just how Video Timeline works with any kind of animated keyframe. Since our fade transition is 0.06 seconds, we have to get rid of 2 duplicate frames per transition section (2 x 3 transitions sections = 6 total duplicates. Ew, math!).
There's not really a way to avoid this step that I know of, but it's not a big deal in the long run. You just have to look at each transition section, eyeball the duplicate frames yourself, and delete them. It's usually the first frame where the fade starts and then two frames after that. I already deleted the duplicates from the first two transition sections, so here's how it's done for the last transition:
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Side note: I set up keyboard shortcuts so I can quickly move forward and backward by one frame and delete frames. You can do this by going to Edit > Keyboard Shortcuts and editing these:
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And now I have 60 frames like I originally said I would!
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If you want the transition sections to be quicker, you can even decrease the frame delay for the 3 transition frames only — 0.03 or 0.04 might be up to your speed 🥁 but I don't usually do this since I'm fine with the way it looks already.
3.3 – Export. That's it!
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I hope this tutorial is helpful. As always, if you have a specific question about this tutorial, feel free to send us an ask!
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tkaulitzlvr · 7 months
Note
hiya! i live for your stories, i’m kind of addicted lol
could you please write 2010 tom meeting reader’s family for the first time over dinner, charming the shit out of them while teasing reader throughout the whole dinner, then sneaking off to the bathroom and… 🤭
TIME AND PLACE - T. KAULITZ
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synopsis: tom meets your parents for the first time, and he is a lot more relaxed than you are - perhaps too relaxed, teasing you beyond belief whilst your family are completely oblivious, the two of you ending up in the downstairs bathroom, trying to stay as quiet as possible.
content: smut
a/n: LOVEEEE this idea thank u so much for requesting anon! also can we please talk ab how hot he looks in this clip like i’m going insane, coincidentally it fits w this request so i had to use it. i also wanted to say thank you for 400 followers, i only had like two when i started LMAO so thank u to everyone that has followed thus far!! 💞
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“baby, calm down, everything is going to be fine. what’s the worst that can happen?” tom says as we climb out of the car.
“you clearly don’t know my parents tom.” i laugh, taking a deep breath and praying for some sort of miracle. my parents are classy, reserved people, with respectable jobs, and pretty traditional viewpoints - in other words exactly what my boyfriend isn’t. “just please, don’t mess this up. i really want them to like you.”
he smiles softly, closing the car door behind him, walking around to the other side where i am standing, placing his hands on my lower waist and kissing my lips softly.
“i’ll try, i promise. you’re getting worked up over nothing.” he says, pressing his lips to my forehead, pulling me into a short hug. i pull away, my hands resting on his chest as i inspect his appearance, straightening his jacket and brushing off any imperfections from the material.
he chuckles at my panicked state, softly grabbing my hands and shaking his head. “it’s going to be fine.” he repeats, rubbing my shoulder comfortingly before taking my hand and beginning the short walk up my parents’ driveway. “besides, what’s not to like about me? i’m funny, charming, sexy, kind, famous - i tick every box.”
i shake my head, pushing his chest lightly as i stifle a laugh. “seriously, my parents are hard to please. you wont be able to win them over as easy as you did me.”
“hm, we’ll see. i think i’ll surprise you.” he states, stopping once we reach the front door, my hand hesitantly reaching to place a few firm taps on it, my other squeezing tom’s in an attempt to calm my nerves. he notices this, running his thumb up and down the skin soothingly, whispering a small ‘don’t worry’ from beside me, the door opening as my mom stand there, wide smile on her face once she sees me.
“honey!” my mom grins, opening her arms out and pulling me into a tight hug. after moving to the city with tom and touring with the band, i hadn’t seen as much of my parents as i usually would, missing them more than i had realised. she pulls away, eyes turning to tom.
“you must be the famous tom. i’ve heard a lot about you.” she says, forcing a small smile on her face, though i can tell that she is silently judging him, not yet bold enough to say her thoughts out loud. her eyes turn to mine whilst she gives tom a quick hug, my face tensing as i shoot her a knowing look, immediately seeing the way that she has made her assumptions about tom.
“all good things i hope ma’am.” he smiles, pulling away from the hug and taking my hand, my mom moving aside to let us both inside the house. it is clean, my mom always insistent on keeping it spotless - a slight smudge of dirt on the floor, or photo frame out of place and she would lose it. the faint smell of lasagna wafts around the place, the aroma bringing me some sense of comfort through its familiarity - the dish had always been my father’s specialty for as long as i could remember.
“where’s dad?” i ask, tom’s hand still touching mine as my eyes wander around the large living room. it is his turn to be nervous now - i can tell from the way his hand doesn’t leave my own, feet anxiously tapping against the floor.
“in the kitchen, preparing dinner. it won’t be much longer now, you can sit down, and tom, make yourself at home honey.” she says, shooting him a warm smile before she disappears out of the living room, leaving tom and i alone. i sit down on the couch, shrugging my jacket off, leaving me in my purple summer dress - sophisticated yet casual. tom, as usual, is adorned in all black: bandana tied around his forehead, oversized t-shirt and an even bigger pair of jeans, complete with a plain jacket. he had wanted to dress up a little, yet i had convinced him otherwise, not wanting him to pretend to be something that he isn’t, deciding that my parents can like him for who he truly is, or not at all.
he sits beside me, placing a gentle hand over my thigh, rubbing the bare skin softly.
“you okay?” he asks, planting a quick kiss to my cheek, intertwining his fingers with mine, his leg still bobbing up and down.
“mhm.” i say, taking my free hand and placing it over his leg, stopping its fast movements. “are you? you’ve gotten all skittish.”
he chuckles lowly, shaking his head and clearing his throat. “just…not sure if your mom likes me.” he shrugs his shoulders, looking downwards.
“she’s the most blunt woman i know. trust me, if she didn’t like you, you’d know about it.” i answer truthfully, knowing that my mother has never been one to hide her opinions - she makes it painfully obvious how she feels and, besides from her slightly off introduction, it seemed that at least to me, she liked tom. “besides, since when do you get nervous, mr cool?”
a small laugh leaves my lips, a teasing smile playing on them, not used to seeing tom anxious. he is usually the most confident person i know, yet now he seems panicked, and the sight is strange to me, but, he shrugs it off.
“i’m not nervous.” he insists, about to continue, though he is soon cut off by the voice of my mom sounding from the kitchen.
“dinner!”
tom sighs, standing up as i follow. he wraps his arms around my lower back, leaning in to give my lips a few soft pecks, smiling into the short kisses that he places on them, giving my ass a teasing squeeze. his eyes are playful, a hint of indisputable mischief illuminating the sea of brown, one eyebrow slightly raised - i know that look far too well to see that it isn’t one of innocence. he has something on his mind, this not the time or place.
“get that look off of your face. not here, absolutely not.” i state, looking upwards at him and shaking my head, straightening my dress and taking his hand, leading him out of the room.
“what look?” he asks, attempting to act oblivious, a slight smirk tugging on his lips. i tut from in front of him, sending him a quick glance as we approach the dining room, my dad laying out the food and my mom taking a seat at the table.
we both take our seats, sat opposite my mom and dad. having never met my father before, i expect tom to be hesitant to speak - my dad doesn’t exactly look to be an approachable person. yet, he makes the first move, much to my surprise.
“i’m tom. nice to meet you sir.” tom smiles politely, nodding his head and holding his hand out for my dad to shake.
clearly shocked by tom’s politeness, my father’s eyes widen, hand reaching outwards and briefly shaking tom’s, before sitting back in his seat.
“ted.” my dad states simply, taking a sip of his wine before continuing. “great to see my daughter has brought home a man with manners, good on you, tom.”
i send my father a glare from across the table, tom smiling weakly in response, his eyes falling to the food in front of him.
“this looks amazing, thank you so much.” tom says, looking upwards as my parents mutter a small thanks, a brief silence looming over us. i turn to tom, seeing that same playful look on his face, much more prominent this time. i quickly shake my head, putting whatever thoughts that are in his mind at bay, shutting them down before he can even consider acting on them. one hand grasping his fork, he digs it into the food on his plate, the other trailing downwards ever so slowly, reaching the hem of my summer dress.
my eyes widen, unsure of how to act, my hand instinctively reacting to move tom’s away, yet i am soon stopped by the voice of my father. tom doesn’t slow his movements, instead they become more calculated, his hand snaking further and further up my dress. somehow, he acts nonchalant, facing away from me, eyes attentively looking at my father as he speaks.
“so tom, what is it that you do exactly?” my father asks, placing a mouthful of food in his mouth after speaking.
tom clears his throat, his fingers dipping teasingly into my panties under the tablecloth, my eyes widening as i attempt to act natural, tom able to do so with ease. “i’m in a band, i’m the guitarist.” he states, fingers continuing to toy with the lace material, dipping further inwards ever so slightly, causing me to fidget in my seat, attempting to hide what is going on.
“goodness can you sit still? i’ve never seen you shuffle in your seat so much!” my mother laughs, shaking her head and focusing her eyes on me. tom seems to find this particularly funny, his lips curving into a satisfied grin, knowing exactly why i am so squeamish, him being the reason, my parents totally unaware of the position his fingers are in. he lets out a small chuckle beside me, shaking my head as my mother did, faking a look of concern.
“are you okay?” he asks, his voice seeming a little worried, though the second i turn to face him, i can see the glint of mischief in his eyes as he knows exactly what he is doing, roping my parents in as they buy his concern.
just as i begin to reply, he slips one finger into my folds, a small gasp leaving my lips. my mother furrows her eyebrows, looking directly at me, clearly confused at my weird behaviour. my hand flies to cover my mouth, also in an attempt to disguise the light shade of crimson that my cheeks are turning, completely humiliated. though i manage to play the suspicious sound off as a hiccup, quietly excusing myself afterwards. “i’m fine, just a little warm.”
the entire thing is hilarious to tom, his lips curved into a smile so small it is almost unnoticeable, never fading as he engages in conversation with my father, his fingers continuing their restrained movements inside my panties, positioning themselves to toy with my clit.
“this band, is it really a sustainable career for you? how much do you earn? surely, it can’t be much.” my father states, unimpressed by tom’s job, failing to realise how successful he actually is.
tom laughs quietly, taking a breath inwards, discreetly slipping a finger inside of me, my teeth sinking into my tongue, clamping down onto it in an attempt to hide the moans dangerously close to spilling from my lips, his finger moving in and out of me at a teasingly slow pace. besides from this, he remains calm, too calm, considering that he is pleasuring me under the table - my parents totally unaware as tom somehow manages to win them over, this only pissing me off even more.
“no sir, i actually do pretty well for myself. we are quite well known, not just in germany, but we often do shows in america and other places. i make a great living out of it, actually.” tom is confident in his tone without being cocky, my father nodding slowly, seemingly satisfied with his response. he opens his mouth once again, about to ask tom another question, though when tom’s finger hits a certain spot inside me, a small whine from the back of my throat quickly stops him.
“are you okay? what is going on with you tonight honey?” my mom frowns, somehow not catching onto what is happening. tom remains unfazed, still pumping his digit in and out of me slowly.
“sorry, i’m just feeling a little under the weather. i must be coming down with something.” i apologise, forcing a brief smile as my mother nods her head, digging her fork back into the food whilst my father continues to interrogate tom.
“and how long is it the two of you have been dating?” he asks, his finger flicking between tom and i, though his question is directed mainly at tom.
“what is it now? two months, am i wrong schatz?” tom asks, knowing how long we have been dating without any doubt in his mind, though he deliberately places this attention on me, looking at me with that same smirk as my father’s eyes soon follow.
tom’s fingers pump in and out of me, his pace speeding up a little, my thighs clenching together at the feeling. sending him a quick glare, i clear my throat, trying to act as unsuspecting as possible. “yeah, two months, that’s right.” i say, nodding my head quickly, desperate to turn the attention away from myself, though it doesn’t take long for me to fail miserably.
“you look awfully warm, you’re sweating honey. do you need to step outside, maybe get some fresh air?” my mom says, tom’s fingers slipping out of me as she utters those words, my lips pursing slightly at the lack of contact. i turn to him momentarily as he sends a brief wink in my direction before taking a bite of his food, looking away from me as if nothing had happened.
“yeah, that’s a good idea. i’ll be right back. sorry.”
i quickly stand up, shaking my head and rushing out of the room, sighing in relief when i open the bathroom door, quickly closing it behind me.
i take a look in the mirror - my cheeks flushed, hair slightly frizzy, faint line of sweat glistening on my forehead, all thanks to the smug bastard back there. my hands turn the tap, cold water rushing out of it as i use it to begin splashing my face, attempting to regulate my body temperature, tom managing to get it so high with his actions.
the door swiftly moves open, my head shooting upward as i am met with tom’s eyes, his expression somewhat calm despite what he had just done.
“are you fucking serious? the fuck was that?” i hiss, hitting his chest in anger, my face falling in disbelief when all he does is chuckle at my temper, clearly failing to understand how mad i am at him in this moment.
instead, he hushes me, muttering out a small ‘be quiet’ before pushing my body harshly against the wall, his lips roughly colliding with mine moments after. his hands find my waist, running up and down soothingly, kissing my lips deeply, his desperation communicated through the hunger of his kisses. despite my anger, i quickly kiss back, my hands reaching upward to his face, pulling him closer to me, my fingers raking through his braids, momentarily running over the soft fabric of his black bandana.
“i don’t know why you’re acting so pissed off.” he whispers against my lips between kisses, becoming more rough with his movements. “you act like you’re angry, but you didn’t tell me to stop, did you? why?”
i stay silent, attempting to ignore his question, instead pushing his face even closer to mine, deepening the kiss and slipping my tongue into his mouth.
“i can tell you why.” he states matter of factly, pressing his body against mine, his hard on prominent through his jeans. “you didn’t want me to. you liked me touching you, even though your parents were right there, didn’t you, hm?”
i whine lowly in response, palming him through his jeans, watching the way his mouth falls open slightly, an almost inaudible groan escaping from it. i can sense his desperation, hell, it was clear the second he gave me that look in the living room, and it had failed to go away for the entirety of the evening. if i weren’t equally as needy, i would be scolding him, calling him out for his stupidity, though i am just as reckless as him, bringing him closer into me as i kiss his lips, moaning into it.
“we gotta be quick baby, okay?” he mumbles against me, his hands moving downwards to hoist me upwards, placing me roughly on the bathroom counter, clearly paying little attention as a few things fall onto the floor with a quiet thud. i hit his chest, pulling away momentarily, though he doesn’t seem to care, shrugging his shoulders and moving his hands underneath my dress to tug my panties off.
he lets them pool at my feet, hurriedly undoing the buckle on his belt, letting his own jeans fall to the floor, not even bothering to fully remove them. his boxers follow as he lifts up my dress, separating my legs apart and moving in between them, eyes lustfully staring into my own.
“you gonna be quiet, yeah?” he whispers, forehead against mine as i quickly nod my head, feet hooking around his hips in an attempt to bring him inside me faster. he strokes himself a few times, positioning himself at my entrance.
his lips collide with mine as he slowly slides inwards, muffling the low noises that spill from them, instead silencing my small whines with his tongue, slipping it into my mouth whilst his cock slides further into me. about halfway in, he stops, sensing the way my eyebrows furrow in discomfort, unable to accustom to his size so quickly, the lack of time we have leaving me a little unprepared.
“c’mon baby, take it. you can take it. just like that, doing so good.” he praises, grabbing my hips, angling them slightly differently, the change in position allowing him to push into me inch by inch, my walls clenching around him.
“fuck- you’re so tight, always so good for me.” he mutters, face burying itself into the crook of my neck, planting slow and soft kisses there, his hips beginning to rock back and forth once he senses that i am comfortable, the pain finally subsiding. his kisses become firmer, teeth occasionally nibbling downwards on the skin, leaving purple-ish marks in place of his lips, though i am too dazed to care, focusing on the way he dick slips in and out of me, tip prodding against my g-spot.
he pulls his head out of my shoulder, his hands removing their firm grip on my hips as he rests his forehead against mine, hands coming to either side of my face. his eyes burn into mine, though he sees a lot more clearly - my own rolling to the back of my head every few seconds, clenching around him when the pleasure becomes a little too much. though from the brief moments my eyes stay open and i am able to study his face, the sight is almost enough to make me cum on the spot.
his eyes are half-lidded, consumed by the hazy need for pleasure, eyebrows furrowed as a few wrinkles form on his forehead when they knit together. his lips are slightly parted, falling open further when his dick would hit a certain spot inside of me, small yet almost audible grunts sounding from the back of his throat.
a loud moan emits from my lips unexpectedly, tom hurrying to press his lips to mine, slightly covering up the sound. he pulls back soon after, his hands returning to my hips, using them to maintain the steady thrusts that i can tell are becoming harder for him to continue, the way his dick twitches inside of me letting me know that he is almost there.
“shhhh.” he coos, admiring the way my face twists in pleasure, knowing that he is completely responsible, nobody else able to have this effect on me. “almost there baby, so close.”
i nod weakly in response, attempting to meet his thrusts, grinding myself against him half-heartedly, this clearly having some effect on him as he throws his head back, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to prevent any sounds from spilling out.
“shit, yeah. like that baby, keep going.” his voice is shaky, on the verge of letting out a moan, i can tell from the way he swallows harshly, hips faltering momentarily. i comply with his words, continuing to move my own hips at the same speed of his, pushing us both to our climax, though tom continues to do most of the work, his pointer finger reaching downwards to rub my clit in soft, slow circles.
“c’mon schatz, can’t hold it anymore. cum with me, mhm?” he groans, lips inches away from the crook of my neck, his teeth sinking into it harshly to prevent the loud groan that begins to sound throughout the bathroom as i feel him shoot his cum into me.
his thrusts remain slow and deep, fucking his cum into me as i reach my climax, eyes rolling to the back of my head, lips squeezing shut. he places one hand firmly over my mouth, hushing the restricted moan that sounds from it, his hips eventually slowing to a smooth stop.
he pulls out of me as i hiss at the loss of contact, a small ‘sorry’ spilling from his lips. my body falls forward, totally exhausted, chest heaving up and down as he pulls his jeans back up, wrapping his belt through the loops, bringing his lips to mine quickly.
“you okay?” he checks, running a gentle hand across my cheek, smiling gently once i nod my head. he bends down, sliding my panties back up and over my hips, pulling my dress downwards so that it covers my thighs.
sensing that i am still slightly weak, he picks me up, helping me down from the countertop, my legs buckling a little. it doesn’t take long for me to come to my senses, wondering how tom and i were going to return to the table. we couldn’t go back together without looking totally suspicious, my mind racing to find ways to avoid the utter humiliation that would come if my parents found out what had just happened.
“how the fuck are we gonna go back?” i sigh, running my hands through my hair, visibly stressed out. “how did you manage to leave, what did you say to them?”
he shrugs, hands loosely resting on my hips, evidently nowhere near as concerned as i am “just said i needed to use the bathroom.”
“okay…” i trail off, playing with the material of his jacket as i think, certain that if we are absent for much longer, my parents will begin to grow suspicious regardless of if we return together or not. “i’ll go first. wait a couple minutes then come back, okay?”
he smiles at my serious tone, stifling a laugh as i tilt my head, looking at him in annoyance.
“okay, okay. i got it, a couple minutes.” he laughs, placing a soft kiss on my lips, letting go of my hips once i nod my head, turning away from him to quickly check my appearance, surprised that i only have to smooth my hair, fingers threading through a few small knots.
“act casual. and get that stupid smirk off your face, i can’t believe you convinced me to do this.” i sigh, wiping the lipstick that had smudged onto my face, eyeing tom’s expression as all he can do is keep that same smug smile upon it, clearly not regretting any of it. my hand reaches for the door handle, about to tug it open, not before tom pulls me back, wrapping his arms around my waist.
“don’t be mad at me. i love you.” he pouts, pecking my lips a few times, his eyes soft as they look into mine, attempting to win me over, with some success much to his surprise. i shake my head, smiling warmly at him, mumbling a small ‘love you too’, before heading out of the door, making sure not to close it behind me, reminding myself that my parents think i have been outside.
i enter the dining room, my mom’s face lighting up once she sees me. “you feeling any better?” she asks, beckoning me back over to the table as i take my seat.
“much better. where’s tom?” i ask innocently, furrowing my eyebrows in forged confusion, determined to keep our acts a secret, acting as if he wasn’t inside me literally two minutes ago.
“he said he needed to use the bathroom. he should be back soon.” my mom replies, sipping from her glass afterwards, a wave of relief spreading over me as i realise that she is completely oblivious, as is my father, who finishes the food on his place absent-mindedly.
“a nice boy you’ve got yourself honey.” my mother says out of the blue, a genuine smile on her face. my eyebrows raise in surprise, her sudden approval unexpected, but the way my father nods his head in agreement throws me off completely; slightly suspicious of how fast they have warmed up to him, knowing my parents to be extremely standoffish.
“really?” my voice is uncertain, a small laugh leaving my mom’s lips at this.
“why so shocked?” she says, my eyes drifting towards the entrance to the dining room, seeing tom walk through it. he shoots me a quick wink, moving past me as my mother spots him, her face lighting up.
“tom! we were just talking about you!” she smiles, watching as he takes his seat, an intrigued look on his face as he ushers her to continue, giving my thigh a quick squeeze from under the table.
“i was just saying how much you suit her.” my mom begins, shooting me a quick grin, turning her attention back to tom. “i’m so happy she’s found someone like you tom. so polite and put together, i admire it, really. very unusual for boys your age. i’ve never met anyone as mature.”
i stifle a laugh at her words, looking downwards into my lap, finding her obliviousness amusing, wondering how she would react if she ever found out what had just happened, using such positive words to describe him, completely unaware of the fact that minutes ago, he had been the complete opposite of all of them. my eyes shoot upwards in his direction, seeing his lips curved into a smile, soaking in all of the positive attention, using it to fuel his ego, clearly proud of how he has managed to pull this whole thing off, winning over my parents in the process an added bonus.
༻❦༺
“thank you so much for having me. it was great to meet you.” tom repeats, smiling widely as we say our final goodbyes, my parents waving us off as they close the door, tom and i walking down the driveway, hand in hand.
“i can’t believe you won them over so easily. that’s literally never happened before. every time my sisters have brought a boyfriend over, they literally hated him. one time my dad made my sister break up with a guy, in front of everyone.” i laugh, never witnessing my parents be so fond of a guy before, not expecting them to welcome someone like tom with open arms, usually approving of boys who were nothing like him.
“told you i’d surprise you.” he grins, that infamous smug smirk tugging on his lips once again, his hand squeezing mine as he looks downwards at me. i can tell that he will be smug about this for a while, this night being something he will bring up for the rest of our relationship, soaking up his own pride. he pauses, tongue swiping across his bottom lip as he opens the car door, climbing into it as i follow. “and, i love your parents house…
especially the bathroom.”
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requests are open! keep sending them in!!
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anthurak · 27 days
Text
Takeaways from the Volume 9 Epilogue:
--
One thing I really like about Oscar’s ‘If there was anything I wish I could borrow from you…’ monologue is that it laid out/confirmed something I’ve always felt was a major aspect of Oscar’s dynamic with Ruby that I nonetheless feel a lot of the fandom has missed: That Oscar very much sees Ruby as a mentor and an example to follow, and how their dynamic is specifically a foil to what we saw between Ruby and Ozpin. That Ruby acts as a mentor and example to Oscar in the same way Ozpin was to Ruby, and that Ruby is a far BETTER mentor and example to Oscar than Ozpin ever was to her. Which, as an aside, is a dynamic I can’t help but feel a lot of people have been misinterpreting as ‘ship-teasing’ and is one of the main reasons I’ve simply never been able to see Oscar as any kind of viable love-interest to Ruby. Frankly the dynamic of ‘Ruby is the mentor and example to Oscar that Ozpin couldn’t be for her’ is simply so much more INTERESTING than any kind of romance could ever hope to be.
--
Even in animatic form, Winter basically going overdrive on the maiden powers was a sight to behold. And her own monologue had all the self-deprecation we were expecting. Our girl is clearly holding on by a thread and it’s going to be REAL interesting seeing how she reacts and adjusts to her sister not actually being dead. As in, I can imagine a situation where Winter tries to throw herself into a heroic sacrifice with the belief that Weiss would make a better Maiden than her.
Also, Winter’s monologue giving major focus to how Penny is super-super-dead-dead-and-definitely-not-coming-back-for-really-realsies, as she is talking to the sister who she ALSO believes is DEFINITELY also dead? Specifically with the words that Penny is gone, when Penny’s last words to her were that she’d be ‘part of you’?
Yeah, there is no way in hell we’ve seen the last of Penny XD
--
The CROWN. Like it was only a few shots, but as someone who read the CFVY Books (which you totally should if you haven’t, they’re great), holy shit I was NOT expecting them to pop up here.
I mean, in hindsight it makes perfect sense that they’d be involved in Volume 10. They’re basically Vacuo’s equivalent to Vale’s criminal element and the White Fang splinter faction as Salem’s co-opted insurgency group, with Jax and Gillian joining Roman, Adam and Jacques as the latest of Salem’s unwitting patsies. It’s definitely going to be real interesting seeing the crew deal with them. Like it’s really fun to imagine Team RWBY in particular being kind of exasperated at seeing Jax’s probably doing a whole ‘With Salem’s help I shall be King!’ shtick after everything they’ve seen with Roman, Adam and Jacques.
Oh and if you don’t know, Jax has a mind-control semblance, so him trying to use that on Yang could actually lead to a sneaky callback to the Justice League crossover, ie; Yang doing a ‘Yeah, I’m not doing THAT shit again.’ XD
--
Qrow’s whole vibe through this is fascinating. Like his section may have been the one we already saw, but after seeing the abject depression and growing despair of all the other characters, Qrow actually being OPTIMISTIC hit so much harder.
--
Raven showing up at the end is… interesting.
I’ll admit that ever since we saw that specific clip a few months back, I’ve been rather conflicts about Raven showing up to deliver RWBY+J to Vacuo, particularly after Ruby’s tree vision. Like for one it felt a bit random and unnecessary. The tree already deposited the Ever After team outside of Vacuo so they didn’t exactly need help getting there. Not to mention that it kind of clotheslines the story-thread set up by Ruby’s vision; that she now has a reason to track Raven down to get the ANSWERS to what happened to Summer. Finally, it’s just kind of… random? Like where did Raven even come from to get the team?
But now having seen the clip with its intended context, I’m definitely more on board with it. Particularly hearing from Kerry and Eddy that the original ending for the penultimate episode had RWBY+J going through the portal to arrive at their memorial stone, and met by a ‘Mysterious Figure’, ie; Raven. Here it feels like were getting more set up to get answers later as to what Raven was doing at the memorial.
And really, now that I’ve thought about it more, this method kind of puts the thread of Ruby going to Raven for answers even MORE into focus. Like the story reintroduces Raven in the present right after Ruby got a vision basically saying ‘hey, Raven is important’. And now going into Volume 10, we’re pretty much perfectly positioned for Ruby to pull Raven aside for those all-important ‘Why were you fucking my mom? What happened to my mom?’ questions.
--
Finally… yeah that ending hit me a LOT harder than I was expecting. Like that ending was HOPE in its purest form and it was honestly beautiful to see. Particularly right now with the future of the show seeming so uncertain. I’ve personally been optimistic about RWBY’s future (in a manner not unlike Qrow’s vibes I suppose lol), but damn the hopefulness of that ending hit especially hard, and was something I’ll admit I needed. And I imagine the rest of us could use as well.
We'll be getting Volume 10. And 11, and 12, and however many more it takes to finish this story. At this point, I have no doubt of that.
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fandomfucker · 27 days
Note
💳 💥💳💥💳💥💳 Rhea Ripley social media posts / talking bout her girlie in interviews part 2 pleaseeeeeeeee 🥵🙏
I mean, if yall are insisting…🤷‍♀️
For the purposes of this, you're not a wrestler
Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/fandomfucker/745782885181734913/do-you-think-you-could-do-one-for-rhea-were-its?source=share
Also, currently getting my first tattoo as I write this so please ignore any possible grammatical errors
With the ass video going around, you’d repost it with a “😋🍽️” caption and she would immediately repost it with a “🙇🏻‍♀️🍑🍽️” or sum shit to rile up the fans
You don't have a hug social media following yourself, but they do often ask for more content. Specifically outfit of the day(s)
You make Rhea do them with you because she makes you feel more confident and in every video you can see her just staring at you in the mirror the whole time
I've already said Rhea will bully people off the internet for being me to you. But you? Oh my god you’re worse than Rhea is
If one of her co-workers says something even slightly unkind about her in an interview (Becky👀) you will go with Rhea to her next show and find them backstage
You don't even wrestle or fight but Rhea has had to pull you away from multiple people now because you will fight anybody and everybody for her
One of said fights happened to go viral online, no punches were actually thrown as Rhea had dragged you back first though
People online either loved the love between you two as a couple, or wished they had a partner absolutely willing to throw hands will someone over them
Rhea would do your makeup for videos and she'd always do her makeup on you to see what it would look like
She also does voiceovers on your own makeup videos, or a day in the life, or something
The fans always eat it up too cause Rhea's commentary is hilarious
Whenever you're backstage and Rheas going to take photos, she’ll ask you to do the shoot with her so that her fans, and yours, can get sexy pictures of you both to thirst over
Totally not because she loves seeing you both look like that and wants a picture for her lock screen
Rhea started a war of bad facetime screenshots between the two of you on Instagram and you're determined to win
To the point that you have called people to interfere in the background while Rheas at work to get a bad reaction photo out of her
She's too proud to admit it, but it's worked several times
Your tiktok has pretty much become a house reno account
You build all the furniture and shit, make the cool decorations and put them up, paint, do everything yard-eorl related while Rhea picks out what's pretty and the pretty colors
She'll also help you carry heavy stuff around cause she's jacked and you like watching her work but she mainly kinda just like, flounces around
The fans are dying for the two of you to have a show on HGTV together
Which may or may not be in the works
SCARY DOG TREND
It went VIRAL
that's how most mosherz were introduced to you as Rhea’s partner
You started vlogging, though not very often, just so that you could have the permanent memories of all the different experiences between you and Rhea
You only post like once a week but people eat it UP
You have your own merch now
Most of its the two of you but there is a shirt or two thats just one of you
There are mercy plushies of both Barry and Luna that you always have to put up for pre-order cause they sell out in seconds
Clothes for said plushies are in the works
She posts little video clips of you on her story the same way she does her dogs
And it's always the embarrassing ones where you're completely cuddled into her and shit
She got Saints of the Undead (the people who make her leather jackets) to make you a personalized one as well even though you don't wrestle
It's your favorite thing in the world and you wear it more than you should
Like it matches with nothing that you're wearing it with
But, it says “Mami’s” on the back of it so you make sure to wear it especially when you go with her to Raw, Smackdown, any povs, etc so that people know you belong to her
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withoutyouimsaskia · 2 months
Text
Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 2)
Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4
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​GIF: Originally posted by @harleytudinous
Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader
Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)
Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Threat. Dream manipulation. Masturbation. Voyeurism. Plot related cigarette use. Dubious consent.
Word Count: 2.5k
A/N: So I know I initially billed this as a two shot but the story has run away with me in the most lovely way. Part 3 will be coming soon. Thank you for all your kind responses to part 1, it honestly means so much to me. Hope you enjoy this one too. All my love, Saskia xx
Sandman Masterlist
---------------------------------------------
The veil of sleep comes down upon your weary body with a feather-light touch, trying to coax your mind back into the world of dreams.
Dreamscapes have been a whole new experience for you in the past month of your life. Before, you would wake with no recollection of what had played out. Not even the slightest inkling. Now, you remember everything.
They are staggering; bursting with details and ideas beyond your most outlandish daytime imaginings. The emotions that are conjured by them, both when asleep and also awake are just as bold.
And even though it's been 23 nights since it started you are still finding them predominantly jarring and disorientating. You are baffled by how other people cope with the sheer vividness. The unpredictability. Maybe they have become desensitised. You can only hope that the same will happen for you in time.
One thing you tell yourself with each sunrise:
Thank goodness they weren't nightmares.
At least, you don't think they are. There's no resemblance between yours and what you have heard others describe over the years, nor to those outlined in a dream decoding book you had checked out of the library last week. There's no obvious threat or fear. No re-living of traumatic events. Just weird subtext.
The first dream found you standing barefoot on a beach. A mirage distorted the particulars of the scene making it impossible to see further than half a meter in front of you. The temperature of the sand under your soles was verging on painful and as such, it forced you to walk into the unknown before you.
A groaning wind started to brew and lifted the sand into sparkling flurries. You shielded your eyes from the abrasive particles.
The sun was at its apex when you heard the ear splitting bangs. Unmistakably gun shots; you didn't last much longer in the dream and woke with a start.
For the next week, your dreams had been like a series of video clips edited into a supercut.
Raven wings. Black cats. Hellfire. Ruby red glow. Sprawling library shelves. Landscapes hewn by earthquake fissures. Hotel corridors. A handsome, blond haired man wearing sunglasses, holding a blood covered knife.
If you didn't know any better, you would begin to suspect that your new box of tea bags had been laced with a psychedelic. Alas, no. Your hypothesis was unequivocally disproved when you friends had been completely unaffected after stopping by for a Sunday afternoon catch up.
This quick fire of snapshots eventually stopped, transforming into lucid long form dreams. You often think back to the first one where it happened.
Standing in the the empty room, and the appearance of the figure dressed in black. The colour that had flashed in their midnight eyes had the quality of liquid silver. Sometimes you wonder if you see the same image in other dreams, standing in amongst a crowd.
From that point on, regardless of what dream you are in, you cannot shake the intuitive prickle down your spine that tells you someone is watching you.
You reason that it is nothing to be concerned about. Humans dream, and you cannot deny that some of them - swimming in a sea of clouds, re-visiting childhood haunts, trying out superpowers - have been quite fun.
You roll over on to your left side and close your eyes.
You dream.
The room you see is expansive in breadth and depth. Impressive windows bring brilliant light into the space which bounces off the ivory stone of the floors and walls. There are statues positioned at equidistant intervals, implying that the chamber is a gallery of sorts.
One effigy, fashioned from bronze, and rich in colour draws your attention. The lines and curves of its form intrigue you, despite not knowing the creature it was portraying.
You are about to move on when the feeling of being watched sparks through your skeleton.
Everything changes.
Clarity gives way to haze. Sun is swapped for moon.
You see a man across the room. He stands with a perfect posture. Graceful, powerful. His elbows are bent, fingers interlaced, palms facing upwards. Sheer black fabric floats around his frame. It moves languidly, giving glimpses of his bare body beneath.
The man's face is imperceptible. The distance between you too great but somehow you know you are the focus of his attention.
His robes fall to the floor with a gossamer sigh. The pale, unmarked skin of his slight form glows beautifully in the moonlight. You look down in embarrassment as arousal flushes through you, and you see that you are suddenly as naked as he is.
You gasp, and snap your gaze back up.
The sight you see is rather unexpected. The man is intimately touching himself.
You feel compelled to mirror him. You immediately reach between your legs. The man groans as you make contact.
All it takes is a little bit of attention on your clit before you are ready to slide two fingers into your core. The noise you make at the feeling of the stretch is salacious. The man echoes you with a sound that is just as dirty.
It spurs you on and you burrow deeper.
You curl your fingers until your legs are weak and quivering. You long to sink to your knees so you can finish in a more comfortable position yet you can't. An invisible force is preventing you.
It keeps you on display.
Just like the statues to your left.
You wonder if it is for the man's benefit.
You try to focus on him but it is impossible to do so through the trembling glaze over your eyes. All you are able to sense from him now is the sound of the rhythmic pump of his palm around his cock and his panting breaths.
Desperate whines escape your lips. You are teetering on the edge of an orgasm but you can't seem to lose your balance and fall into the abyss. The unsteadiness in your legs is too much of a distraction. You rub at your clit again in the hope that it will bring the satisfaction you need.
It does nothing.
You are so frustrated by your body's disobedience that it is almost painful.
"Please. Please. Please," you mutter under your breath.
A voice suddenly speaks next to you ear. A velvet voice with the timbre of a thunder rumble. It pours like a soothing syrup into your brain and commands you to do exactly as it bids.
"Let go."
You climax intensely, crying out in relief, squirting all over your fingers and onto your hand as you legs finally give way.
The fall jolts you back into consciousness and you wake with a barely contained scream of pleasure in your throat and adrenaline lighting up your nervous system.
Daylight is peeking through a little gap in the curtains. You take a deep, grounding breath.
That was obscene.
The context, the actions, the sounds. That sultry voice at the end. From the throbbing in your vulva and the twitching of your legs it seems like you didn't just finish in the dream.
There is really no point in looking it up in the dream decoding book.
You were clearly horny on a subconscious level. Or craving attention, hence the exhibitionist behaviour. The latter is not usually in your nature to seek out but if it is the reason, you might not have to wait long before the desire is fulfilled. There is a work event happening this evening that may require you to accept an award and address the crowd.
You love this time of year where community projects get recognition; a nomination alone is a sure-fire way of garnering publicity which in turn helps the charity's outreach.
But first, a normal day at the office. You throw back the covers and go straight to the bathroom to rinse off the evidence of your wet dream.
---------------------------------------------
Your right hand connects with the metal push plate of the function space's front door. The heels of your boots click and clack as you cross the threshold, moving from floor board to paving slab.
It's fortuitous that you brought a long, thick coat with you this evening for the wind is wintery and unforgiving. You stay close to the wall of the building to try and shelter from it as much as possible.
The pavements are slick with recent precipitation, streetlamps bouncing off of the water with caustic white light.
Then you see him; a figure cut from shadow.
He's breathing in such a laboured way that you wonder if he is sick.
Your phone is still inside the venue, currently being guarded by a colleague along with your bag but it wouldn't take long to retrieve it and call for medical assistance.
"You okay?" Concern colours the simple question.
His reply comes quickly and assertively, "I am well, thank you."
You nod, not entirely convinced for the stranger's response was as stiff as his posture, and reach inside the pocket of your coat for the box of cigarettes and lighter stashed within.
You settle one of the sticks between your lips and use your thumb to bring forth a flame. The crackle of smouldering paper and tobacco perforates the damp air and you take a needy drag. The nicotine taints and tantalises in equal measure, filling you with guilt and relief. You've been trying to give up but the little voice inside your head had won this evening. You close your eyes and focus on the pleasure it brings before flicking some ash into the tray mounted to the wall.
Your attention now back on your surroundings, the stranger steps into the scope of the streetlight. The angles of his cheekbones, jaw and nose are accentuated to an incredible extent in the gleam. His dark hair is being buffeted about the wind, locks of it very close to falling in the blue eyes that are unwaveringly trained on you. He begins to talk again, showcasing his deep baritone.
"I'm afraid I wasn't entirely honest with you just now. It is not how I envisaged our first interaction transpiring. I hope that you can forgive me for my deception."
You laugh nervously and take another quick drag. "It makes no difference if you're honest with me or not. I don't know you."
"You are correct. You don't know me. Not yet -"
"Oh," you cut in quickly. "I'm not looking for a hook up."
While you cannot deny that he is arrestingly beautiful, you are technically working and have never been one for one-night stands.
"You mistake my meaning. I have been searching for you for so long. I oftentimes doubted your existence however I was wrong and I find myself humbled to be in your presence at last."
The grandiose declaration is one of the stranger things you have heard in your life and you used to deal with drunken patrons when you worked at a university bar. Maybe he was intoxicated; it would explain a lot.
"Look, this might work on other people but I just came out here to have a cigarette -"
It is his turn to interrupt you now. "You will have no need of those going forward. Your addiction to them will be replaced by me."
"Excuse me?"
You are trying to sound incredulous, however, inside you are rather frightened by the turn the conversation has taken. His gaze is not helping either.
The crystalline eyes are embodying every part of the descriptor; a hard, chill inducing blue. Ash drops from the smouldering cigarette as a tremble of fear rattles through you. The man sees this and the ice suddenly melts to a warmer hue.
His tone turns soft and gentle. "We are supposed to be together. Our union is fated."
He's staring at you expectantly even after your two attempts at rejection. You swiftly stub out the part-finished cigarette and take ownership in ending the interaction.
"I've had enough of this. I'm going back inside now. If you try and follow me, I will speak to the venue's management. If you are still here when I leave later, I will call the police."
You turn towards the door.
He calls your name. Your full name. Middle name too.
Despite your brain chanting at you to go inside, you can't stop yourself from looking back at him. "H-how do you know my full name?"
The profound rumble of his voice resonates deep in your ears. "I know everything about you, Y/N."
He's right in front of you now. His posture is bordering between desperate and predatory. Like he can't quite decide if he is seeking comfort from you, or if he wants to consume you.
You are fumbling behind you to find the door handle. "Please get away from me," you say hoarsely.
He reaches for your hand.
You jump back and struggle to get out of his grip but his strength is inhumanly strong. His skin of his palm is glacial against yours and yet somehow, the touch makes heat snake up your arm and settle in your chest.
You become aware of an internal feeling that you've always had, like that of chapped lips. Low level but something that constantly nags. Something that existed every minute of your life until the moment he touched you.
You grip his hand and look up at his face in astonishment.
"Good. That's it. Look into my eyes. See what you know is there."
You do as he says, totally stunned by the depths that seem to reside within them. It's as if there are universes suspended inside. Maybe there are. Perhaps you could float among the celestial bodies if you asked him to show you how.
You feel so alive and overstimulated that you welcome the delirious thoughts taking over your mind.
You welcome him.
It's like there is a cord connected between your heart and his that is shortening in length. The intensity scares you.
You obey, feet moving of their own accord and then you are standing before him, just centimetres apart.
"Give into the pull," he urges darkly, sensing your anxiety.
He smiles triumphantly and presses you flush against his body.
His free hand comes up to cup your jaw, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. More heat sears through you from the additional skin-on-skin contact.
Your peripheral vision closes tighter and tighter with every passing moment. The outside world is gone.
He leans in further and you wonder hazily if he is going to kiss you or break your neck. Both options are equally viable given the behaviour he has exhibited. You keep staring at him regardless.
His irises flash silver as he intones his next sentence. "Y/N, I claim you as my soulmate."
-------------------------------------
Taglist: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt
"Am I your dream girl? You think of me in bed. But you could never hold me. You like me better in your head."
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peachesofteal · 10 months
Note
Simon praising Darling for being a good girl when she announces she’s pregnant 😮‍💨 like I’m sorry sir, who gave you the right to be so damn hot when you’re FICTIONAL?!
And Darling is just confused af about wtf he means. Like does she ever find out they fucked with her BC and knocked her up?? I must know, I must have more 😈🤭
He's like, 'you've done so well, darling' and she's like 'wait, what the fuck just happened?'
AU - not canon for Dead Disco Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. Brief mention of smut, mature themes. Angst. Vomiting. Doctors. Pregnant reader. Relationship issues. Dark themes.
"I've got ya." Johnny coos while he rubs your back where you are kneeling over the toilet, breakfast and bile coming up your throat with every other heave.
"I hate this." you moan between pants, propping your arm up to rest your head. He clucks his tongue, standing to run a cloth under the sink and returning to press it to your forehead gently. It's cold, and soft, and moving in easy circles.
"I know, darling. I know." You push away, slumping into his arms, letting him cuddle you close while he leans back against the bathroom wall and you count his heartbeats from where your head lays on his chest.
The door creaks open, and Simon's halfway inside, peering down at the two of you, mild concern in his eyes while he studies your slouching form.
"Third time today." He notes with a frown, and you nod. They count, keep track of everything, so they can recall it for your doctor's visits and make sure everything is still within 'normal' range. Morning sickness, your doctor has assured them too many times to count, is very normal.
"Morning sickness, the nausea, vomiting, is all normal."
"She's sick multiple times a day." Simon grits out. Johnny shifts his weight nervously, while you sigh and pat his hand comfortingly.
"If we were seeing drastic weight loss, or the panels were coming back outside of normal range, I would be concerned. But that's not happening. So, you've nothing to worry about." You give her a relieved smile, and hope they'll actually listen this time, although you know it's kind of pointless. "So," she claps her hands, and then motions to the table, and Johnny visibly brightens. This is everyone's favorite part, the ultrasound. You always glue your eyes to the screen, holding you breath to see the baby, the little blob in black and grey, your own little bean. You're obsessed with the sound of the heartbeat, taking comfort in its strength, its steadiness. So much so you bought a fetal doppler, just so you could all hear it at home. "Should we take a peek?"
"I'm fine." you assure him, holding a hand out. "Help me up." He grips you by your elbow, pulling you to your feet and into him briefly, so he can nuzzle his nose into your hair with a deep breath. "Now get out, I'm gross. Need to wash my face." You insist, pushing both him and Johnny into the hallway playfully before closing the door.
You have a lot of drawers, in this bathroom. Almost all of them actually, and most of them are a bit of a mess, unorganized, things strewn about. Sometimes, like now, you have to dig around for things. You're looking for something specific, a heavier moisturizer, one that can combat some of the dryness around your nose. Your fingers flip through tubes and tubs and creams, old mascara and half busted hair clips. You tsk, irritated that you're having a hard time finding the blue jar, until-
Your fingers brush against your old birth control pack. Encased in a cream colored piece of plastic, little pills lined up in a row. Just the sight of it frustrates you. After so many years, it finally failed. Finally let you down.
You don't know, but you pull it out. Maybe to look at it closer, to see if it will be expired by the time you finally need it again, or maybe, just to look at the thing that was your one constant since you were practically a child.
Either way. You study it closer, and that's how you notice the corner of the pill tray. The little foil piece on the corner is lifted, just a smidge, just enough for you not to notice, but when you peel it, it comes away so easily, so perfectly, with minimal adhesive. Like's it been pulled away before and put back in place. Like it's been moved.
When you realize, the floor room spins. It shudders around you, bathroom walls curving closer and closer to where you stand in front of the sink, eyes wide, dumbfounded. They wouldn't. They wouldn't. Would they? You blink at yourself in the mirror. You look, tired, but mostly healthy, a true testament to absolute hovering that has been occurring in your life over the past five months. You never lift a finger, you don't want for anything.
Because you're pregnant.
Because you're pregnant, with their baby, that you thought you got knocked up with on accident.
Your stomach curdles. They did this on purpose. Your fingers clench against the stone of the sink while you remember, all those nights when they pressed you to the mattress and made you see stars, while they filled you with their come over and over, every day. They were actively trying. They wanted this. A giant black hole rips open inside of you. It sucks your joy, your happiness, your dreams of future into it immediately. It dismantles everything you thought you knew as truth, takes a hammer and smashes apart every single second of the last five months.
They took your choice away. You stomach flips, and the you’re flinging yourself back in front of the toilet, bile spewing on your lips while you dry heave. It burns, the sting matching the sear of the tears that track down your face.
How could they do this?
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tsukana · 7 months
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GOD but rewatching the bit where phil teleports to the favela and strides into the order again makes me feel so insane like-
the movements of the cubito are expressed so so well because even though you arent hearing the clips of his mouse or keyboard like he's slamming them theres such an intensity and urging purpose behind all of his movements. everything is done efficiently and precisely and it FEELS like im hearing sounds the way you do when etoiles is clack clack clacking away and you can hear him over the stream and every other player in the vicinity.
but when he enters that meeting room? you barely even see him whip around and close the door behind him before he faces forward again. its literally a SPLIT SECOND of motion on the stream. it happens so quickly i genuinely had to take a moment and be like this man just aggressively slammed that door closed. it is a moment that i literally see no way to interpret as any thing BUT q!phil throwing the meeting room door open and slamming it shut behind him in a split second before launching himself into the chair at the head of the table; wanting to slump into it under the weight of everything he's feeling but not being able to because of the tension threaded through his body from the high sense of emotions of exactly what he's just been found and seemingly taunted with, especially given the specific situation differences compared to the rest of the static photos found
(specifically seeing more of the actual egg bodies compared to their items like in the other photos, the photos found at places that are specifically dear to his kids and NOT just in a chest on these fucking freaky alien ships)
just. you can tell that phil himself is definitely feeling the intense emotions, but damn he translated the expression of that into the movement of his character in the game so well.
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cissa-calls · 4 months
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Rewatching Crimson Peak & Things of Focus and Notice:
As a child at her mothers funeral, Edith wears butterfly/moth earrings
Is the pen her father gifts her the one she later uses to stab Lucille? He describes the importance of having “The right tool for the job,” is that foreshadowing for gifting her the tool to begin her escape from Crimson Peak?
Is Edith wearing a butterfly hair clip when she dances the waltz with Thomas?
Lucille’s iconic crimson red gown is so detailed, so beautiful. It represents the skeletal ghosts with its spinal column along the back, crimson peak itself in color, the carapace of a bug on the sleeves and structure, and the upper bodice has trim that blooms outward (present similarly in her blue gown) but is bisected by buttons…creating a familiar shape…a moth?
The candle they hold during the waltz is held at the same level Edith holds her iconic candelabra, a subtle parallel
The trim on the collar of Lucille’s black dress references the spikes and trims of gothic architecture - which is very heavily featured in Allerdale Hall
Lucille says that: “At home we only have Black moths, formidable creatures but they lack beauty.” Knowing the parallel between her and moths, it implies that she sees herself as a survivor and powerful, but something no longer beautiful because of it
Lucille places the butterfly she holds directly into the ants, an action that’s brutal but quick. Is it foreshadowing to her execution of Edith’s death? Something quick for such a beautiful thing, done by her hand?
The LOOK Lucille gives Thomas when they realize Edith’s father knows their past. THE LOOK (JESSICA CHASTAIN YOUR ACTING)
“You seem the more collected one my dear” Lucille is called this. She always holds the mission undetered in her mind, as opposed to Thomas who seems more easily swayed by emotions
When Thomas breaks Edith’s heart by ripping apart her book. He says: “What do you dream of? A kind man? A pure soul to be redeemed? A wounded bird to be nourished?” He is telling her exactly what he is. None of those things, none of the dreams she has built of him in her mind. Not with a past and life such as his.
The significance of gramophones and wax cylinders: it is what plays when Edith’s father is murdered, it is also what saves her from meeting the same fate
I want to know more about Lucille!! Her character is so rich, so so complex, she needs more screen time!!
Need a prop replica of the ring NOW
[the house] “is a privilege we were born into, one we can never relinquish” METAPHOR ALERT METAPHOR ALERT metaphor for the cycles of abuse and trauma they could not break
HOW THE FRICK did I MISS the fact that Thomas’ workshop is in the attic when that was where him and Lucille were locked up as children. SO MANY IMPORTANT SCENES HAPPEN THERE. So many significant to their past we never see, so many ghosts not visible but are so real and present to have caused this
The trail of smoke like red essence that emanates from the ghosts as they walk, like they are still bleeding
Lucille’s hair looks black in darker lighting, but a dark brunette in others. It’s provides a black, dark shroud when she’s in America, and catches more light when she’s in Allerdale Hall
“I like to think she can see us from up there. I don’t want her to miss a single thing we do.” UM MA’AM
“…in time, everything will be right” LUCILLE QUEEN OF FINAL OMINOUS STATEMENTS IN SCENES
The amount I WISH to explore this set. To pry apart each detail and pick apart each piece, so much of it had to be handcrafted pieces for the movie or vintage pieces sourced for it. LET ME IN
THE LIGHTING MUAH
The ghost in the hallway has a rope dragging behind her…is this a gory detail, or an allusion to how she may have died (if not by poison)?
The ghost in Edith’s dream is pointing, though it is never shown to what. Is it to the exit, her warning to leave as all the other ghosts try to do?
The children’s laughter after the presumed scream of their mother’s ghost as she is stabbed, is it just for creepy effect, or did Lucille and Thomas actually laugh after they murdered her?
The scar on Lucille’s lip? Never noticed it before!
Not the first time I’ve noticed it, but the act of her clutching hot steaming food with her bare hands is chilling every single time
Were the bodies of Thomas’s wives left in the vats of clay? I don’t know HOW I didn’t make that connection before, originally i thought it was merely for creepy effect.
Many people villainize Lucille and try to make Thomas out to be solely a victim. But as stated in the wax cylinder, he was fueled by his desire to pay for and make his machine. Him and Lucille are both complacent in using their victims money for their own gain
We need to bring Chatelaine’s back into fashion. That is all.
The scrape of the spoon over the porcelain cup, it screeches and is a subtle way that shows Lucille act of caring has a harshness to it, an unpleasant sound resulting from an otherwise pleasant action: tending to Edith
Such an interesting camera choice to have the camera focus in a circular inwards and outwards
also also Lucille has a temple scar on her forehead?
The small amount of glee Lucille takes saying Edith “thought [she] was was a writer” as she throws the pages to her novel in the fire.
The absolute deadpan, matter-of-fact-ness Lucille has to Edith when she signs the papers “you have nothing to live for” & “mercy killings.” This is a familiar repeated cycle
“Sign your name! Sign your bloody name!” Bloody is not just for emphasis. Edith’s name is soon to be nothing but blood
Lucille’s night gown sleeves as she flies down the stairs in pursuit - like a moths wings fluttering towards its prey
Lucille and Edith fought each other with bare feet on the stone and in the snow
Lucille is the only one of the two who knows how to start Thomas’s machine, because she was the one who witnessed it working
It is only the stab wound on Thomas’ face that bleeds and smokes when he is a ghost, perhaps because it is the wound that bears his betrayal by Lucille, reminiscent of tears of his lingering pain
Edith now has a facial scar, gifted to her by Lucille, who bore ones of her own. It is a passage, a continuing of the cycle, but it is its finale. It is Edith’s souvenir from Lucille, who took her own souvenir (her hair) from the other like a prize
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little-diable · 5 months
Text
Saturn swallowing his son – Professor Aaron Hotchner (Profiling 101 Series, Part 3/?)
Chapter three, here we go! Promise there will be lots of smut (the next chapter is finally full of smut), but please show some love to this chapter which has barely any smut in it. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx
Summary: The reader enrolls in professor Hotchner's class "Profiling 101", a man she has always looked up to, a man who treats her like an asshole from day one. Will her need for academic validation manage to push the two closer together? Will her bright mind push her into the world of Aaron Hotchner and the BAU team? Will he manage to keep his distance before the world he tries to protect her from can get its grasp on her?
Warnings: none, just some typical CM talk
Pairing: Professor!Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (3k words)
Profiling 101 Series Masterlist
Part One Part Two Part Four
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If one of her friends had asked (y/n) what she was planning on doing this Sunday morning, she’d probably have replied with “Sleeping in”, perhaps she’d have told them she was planning on going for a morning walk, perhaps grabbing coffee at a store she frequented. But none of these things were now happening, instead (y/n) was sitting in a black SUV, right next to Professor Hotchner.
She had been awoken by her phone going off, indicating that a new email had been sent to her, eyes struggling to focus on the bright screen of her phone. Her heart had skipped a few beats as she had read the email professor Hotchner had sent her, asking her if she’d like to join him on a trip to the BAU. He had attached his phone number for her, asking her to call him, and as he had explained to her that they were discussing her idea at the BAU, she had began to hastily dress herself, telling him where to pick her up.
“Here, don’t lose this.” Professor Hotchner pushed a visitor’s card into (y/n)’s direction, watching her clip the card to a belt loop, nodding at him as they walked towards one of the elevators. Barely any words had been shared on the drive, relishing in the calmness this very Sunday morning offered the two, grateful that they wouldn’t have to force themselves through any uncomfortable smalltalk. 
“Is there anything I should be careful with, professor?” His dark eyes met hers, pondering over her words for a few seconds before he cleared his throat, having to force himself to stop looking at her. 
“You can call me Hotch while we’re here, (y/n).” The way her name rolled off his tongue left her trembling in surprise, swallowing the gasp wanting to rip through her. “For now all I need you to do is to be as observant as you can be, don’t hold back on theories, and put enough trust in yourself. You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe in your work.” An unfamiliar sense of pride thumped through (y/n)’s veins, not used to the professor praising her like this. She could only nod, not trusting herself to speak up, pressing her lips tightly together. 
Before either one could speak another word, the elevator came to a halt, exposing the parts of the BAU (y/n) had been dreaming of seeing with her own eyes for years. She followed the tall man, eyes taking in everything she could admire from afar, unable to bite down the excitement filling her body with every step she took. 
“I’ll introduce you to the team first.” He led her towards what appeared to be a conference room, eyes instantly drawn to the familiar faces of Spencer Reid and David Rossi. “This is (y/n), as I told you, she’ll assist us on this case.” 
“It’s good to see you again, (y/n). I’ve been waiting for you to find your way to us.” David Rossi shook her hand with a smile, making heat simmer inside of her, freaking out that the man could still remember her from all these years ago. She shook the hands of the others, not noticing how Aaron Hotchner kept watching her with a slight smile playing on his lips. 
“As (y/n) pointed out to me, the scenes have a very dramatic touch to them. (Y/n) said they remind her of Goya’s Saturn painting.” 
“The painting depicts Saturn swallowing his son. It was foretold that one of his offspring would ultimately usurp his rule. In order to thwart this prophecy, Saturn devoured his own progeny. He managed to consume five of them, yet Jupiter was destined to escape his father's fate thanks to his mother's clever ruse. She replaced the infant with a stone in swaddling clothes and presented it to her unsuspecting husband, who remained oblivious to the subterfuge. Many years later, Jupiter overthrew his father, thus fulfilling the prophecy. During this momentous event, Saturn regurgitated his children, along with the stone.” Spencer kept rambling on, sharing everything he knew about the painting and its history, instantly drawing (y/n) in as she couldn’t hide her amazement. She tried to remember every word that was shared, very well knowing that this was a chance she’d perhaps never get again.
“So, what? Our unsub is fascinated by Greek mythology?” The guy (y/n) and her friends had seen at the bar days ago, who had just introduced himself as Derek Morgan, cut Spencer’s rambling short, muscular arms crossed in front of his chest. For a few seconds they were engulfed by silence, eyes focusing on the pictures of the crime scenes. 
“Maybe he is reliving some childhood trauma? It wouldn’t be surprising if the unsub grew up in an abusive household.” (Y/n) watched Emily Prentiss pick one of the pictures up as she spoke, eyes zoning in on the wounds the victims bodies were littered with. 
“A study from the early 2000s shows that most serial killers displayed similar patterns of severe childhood neglect, patterns developed from birth through adolescence. Our unsub definitely knows about Greek mythology, perhaps a professor or a teacher?” A hum left the others at the information Spencer shared, though (y/n) couldn’t focus on the numbers, speaking up before she could stop herself from doing so. 
“I doubt it's somebody with an academic background, these scenes wouldn’t be as dramatic otherwise. But what about somebody favouring art? A painter?” Her eyes instantly flickered up to meet Aaron Hotchner's, the man who was already looking at her, giving (y/n) an encouraging nod, allowing her tense muscles to relax. 
“Garcia, cross reference people who are known as painters around the area, somebody who also shows up in reports from domestic abuse from the past thirty to forty years.” Aaron turned towards (y/n), speaking a soft “Good job, (y/n)” that left her heart skipping beats in excitement. 
……
“Thank you for driving me back.” Her words filled his dark SUV, voice kept quiet to match the calmness they were engulfed by. (Y/n) didn’t dare look away from the handsome man, knowing that she shouldn’t miss a single second fading by, not knowing if or when she’d ever get to share these moments with him again. 
“It’s on me to thank you, (y/n). You’ve done well today.” Only now did she begin to realise how close they were sitting, forearms about to touch, resting on the middle console. She couldn’t stop her eyes from flickering down to his lips, allowing herself to imagine him pulling her closer, softly kissing her as the rain kept pitter pattering down on the windshield of the SUV. 
For the first few seconds (y/n) wasn’t sure if she was only imagining it, but it seemed like Aaron was caught in the same thoughts as (y/n), slowly moving closer. Her heart roared in her chest, praying to whoever was listening that he’d close the distance between them, kissing her like she had hoped he would for years. 
(Y/n) could almost feel his breath on her cold skin, could almost pick up on the shaky breaths leaving him, but before either one could give in the sound of Aaron’s phone going off ripped them apart. His eyes grew cold once again, nodding towards (y/n) as if he was wordlessly saying goodbye, answering the call as he watched her leave the car, clothes instantly soaked through by the heavy rain. 
Disappointment flushed through (y/n), finding her way into her apartment with a sigh breaking through her. She couldn’t help but curse whoever had forced them apart, asking him to return back to the cold demeanour she was all too familiar with by now. 
Would he treat her the same way he had treated her for the past weeks in their upcoming class? Or would he treat her a bit kinder, just like he had done today? One question after another filled her mind, painting scenarios that’d leave her sleepless for hours on end. 
……
“Hi (y/n), it’s Emily Prentiss. Hotch told us you didn’t have any time to keep on working with us on the case, but the girls and I would love to grab some drinks with you if you're up for it?” (Y/n) had been staring at the text message for what felt like hours, rereading every word carefully, hoping that she wasn’t misinterpreting what Emily had texted her. 
Hotch told us you didn’t have any time to keep on working with us on the case – the words felt like blades piercing her heart, cutting deeper and deeper, about to rob her of her last breath. (Y/n) had to blink her tears away, not understanding why he’d tell them lies like this, actively keeping her away from him and the team. 
Ever since that moment in the car he had been back to his brooding self, cold demeanour keeping his distance from (y/n), not even looking at her once in class. She had gotten the memo, had instantly seen through the game he was playing, and yet she was hurt by it, not understanding how he could pull away this easily. Back then she had promised herself that she’d also keep her distance, not wanting to chase a situation this toxic, but now, two weeks later, (y/n) couldn’t help but give into the anger simmering deep inside of her. 
With a deep breath leaving her she tapped on Emily’s contact, calling the agent before (y/n)’s rational self could catch up with her actions. Within a few moments she and Emily had shared information about the whereabouts of the group, promising that she’ll be at the bar in a few, set on distracting herself from her heartbreak. 
……
“(Y/n)! It’s so good to see you!” Penelope was the first one to greet her, followed by Emily and JJ, hugging the women who had already ordered (y/n) her drink. And even though (y/n)’s system was still taken up by her anger, by the ever growing annoyance, she couldn’t help but feel grateful for the three women who treated her like she had been their friend for years.
“So tell us, what or who is keeping you this busy?” JJ’s eyes glimmered with mischief, oblivious of the hurt (y/n) had to fight against, expression growing sombre as they watched (y/n) avert her gaze, clearing her throat as if she was feeling awfully uncomfortable. For a second she pondered over her choices, and yet her pettiness spurred her on, parting her lips to reply with her eyes flickering between the three. 
“Uhm, I don’t know why he told you that I’m busy, I’m really not, but I guess he simply doesn’t want me around. I just wish he’d told me that himself.” With an almost pitiful expression thrown her way, Penelope wrapped her arm around (y/n)’s shoulder, pulling her closer. 
“I’m sure he has his reasons, maybe he simply wants to protect you. He can be very cold at times, but I promise, he means well, and you did help us a lot with the Porcelaine killer situation!” 
“He never told me what happened with the case, care to elaborate?” (Y/n)’s eyes kept flickering between the women, waiting for either one of them to tell her who the killer was. 
“It was an artist downtown, we found him through the Goya replicas he tried to sell. The victims all bought the pictures from him, it was some deep rooted family trauma he was guided by, since his father had always told him he’d never be as good as Goya.” With a sigh leaving (y/n) she nodded her head, barely listening to the words Penelope spoke to redirect the conversation. 
Emily’s words about Aaron kept ringing in (y/n)’s ears, even as the three women started to pour shots down their throats with (y/n) mimicking their movements. 
……
“(Y/n)?” Aaron Hotchner’s all too familiar voice rumbled through her, eyes focused on Penelope and Emily, unable to bite down her drunken chuckles. It took her a few moments to reply, struggling with her blurred vision and the way her surroundings kept spinning all too fast. 
“You know what, Hotch?” She slurred her words, breaking out in laughter as Penelope almost lost her balance, leaning onto Emily and JJ as they waited for their taxi to arrive. “You’re the biggest asshole ever, I take back my apology.” 
“Are you drunk, (y/n)? Where are you? Are you alone?” Concern dripped from his words, an emotion her drunken mind didn’t pick up on, attention torn between his words and her newfound friends. She wrapped her arm around herself, trying to shield herself from the cold as a hum left her, wondering what she should tell him. 
“‘M not, Emily, JJ, and Penelope are here, the ones you lied to, in case you forgot.” An angry huff left Aaron, she heard him shuffling around, wondering what he was doing, or where he was going. 
“Where are you? Send me your location, I’ll pick you up.” (Y/n) ended the call, barely able to focus on the screen as she sent him her location, unable to ponder on what was about to happen. She could barely concentrate on the words she shared with the three women, telling them that somebody else would pick her up and that she’ll text them in the morning. And within minutes, (y/n) found herself watching an all too familiar frame walk closer to her, wordlessly wrapping his arm around her shivering frame, guiding (y/n) towards his warm SUV.
“Why did you lie? You could have just told them you don’t want me around.” She whispered her words, interrupted by a yawn rumbling through her, sinking further into the comfortable seat. But her eyes didn't leave his frowning features once, wondering what he was thinking about, wondering how he was feeling about being around her once again. 
“It’s not that simple, (y/n).” Aaron Hotchner matched the tone of her voice, hands tightening their grip on the steering wheel. Her mind screamed at her to shut up, to let it rest before this conversation would spiral out of control, and yet (y/n)’s racing heart urged her on to keep on talking, to ask the questions that wouldn't let go of her for months on end otherwise. 
“I know you don’t like me, but it would have been nice if you’d at least told me that I won’t be able to help any longer, to my face.” A sigh left Aaron, teeth grazing his lower lip as he stared stoically ahead, clearly telling (y/n) that their conversation was over. With her eyes wandering to her window and a huff leaving her, she kept watching houses blur by, no longer recognising the area they were in, wondering where he was taking her to – a question her professor answered without her having to ask. 
“You’ll stay at mine for the night, I don’t want to leave you alone in your state.” Angry, drunken words wanted to leave (y/n), words that were silenced by the realisation of what was about to happen. With his hand placed on the small of her back he guided her into the apartment complex, stabilising (y/n)’s frame till they stepped foot into the dark living room. She swayed slightly as she kicked her shoes off, not noticing the amused glance he shot her, watching her struggle. “You can sleep in my bedroom, I’ll take the couch. It’s the last door down the hallway, I’ll bring you some water in a minute.”
“I should take the couch, but you deserve to wake up to some back pain.” A laugh clawed through Aaron Hotchner as he turned from her, missing the sight of (y/n) disappearing down the hallway. With a deep breath being exhaled, he poured her a glass of water before he made his way to the bedroom, freezing in his step as his eyes found her frame, cuddling further into his comfortable pillows. 
“Here’s some water, do you want a shirt to sleep in?” She could only tiredly nod her head, hands working on her top, not caring that her professor was in the room with her, shuffling out of her clothes till she was only wearing her underwear. He had turned from her the second his mind had picked up on what she was about to do, wordlessly pushing the shirt of his into her direction without looking at (y/n) once. “I’ll be back in a few.”
She watched him leave the room with hurried steps, unable to stop her drunken chuckles from leaving her as she fell back against the mattress. The soft shirt she was now wearing smelled like him, a scent she’d always recognise, no matter how much she tried to pull herself away from the grasp her crush on him had on her heart. Years ago she had fallen prisoner to Aaron Hotchner, to the mere thought of him, mere images that were further from the truth than she had originally anticipated.
“Do you need something else?” With tired eyes she watched him approach once again, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a black shirt. She silently prayed that she’d never forget this very moment, the almost domestic feeling the sight of him shot through her. No longer could she guide the words rumbling through her, no longer could she stop her body from acting on the actions she’d curse herself for in the upcoming hours. 
“Stay?”
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ioniansunsets · 5 months
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Hi! Recently found you, and i LOVE your writing and ideas! Their very tasty, like high-quality chocolate &/or caramel!
I offer (potentially angsty) scenario(you don't have to do) with heartsteel kayn & Idol or k/da!Reader?
What if a stage malfunction happened during readers' (or kayns) show?? (Or a sabotage from a fan? Perhaps?)
(Bonus: & What if... reader or kayn got hurt?) Thank you if you choose to do this ask🩷 (Sorry ahhh-- this is my first time sending an ask)
✖ Heartsteel!Kayn x KDA!Reader Where Reader Gets Injured✖
✖ Word Count: 1.4k
✖ Tags: Established R/S, Mild Injury, Ends with Comfort, IDK if I'd even tag this as Angsty (maybe a tinge)
✖ A/N: I think its cute how Ahri, Akali, Evelyn and Kai’sa all technically can dash towards you with their actual in game skills LMFAO so cute...these girls would do anything to protect you. I think it’s very cute when a lover goes batshit insane with worry for you. Have mercy too, I’ve never been hospitalized, only visited people LMAO
Also thank you for asking this! I am so happy that you love my thoughts and words >&lt;
✖ Wrote This Listening To: Drugs and Candy
----
There were always toxic fans. You knew that, and Kayn of course knew his fanbase were sometimes as batshit insane as him. But the past few weeks were great! Social media was abuzz with positive comments about you two, fans congratulated you at fanmeets praising how cute you looked with Kayn.
Everything pointed towards how the fanbase took the official announcement of you two dating well but of course, you know delusional, parasocial fans existed too.
What you don’t know, was how they got past security.
You don’t know how they sneaked past all the checks and stage tests.
Maybe it was on you, maybe you were training too hard and were too tired to notice.
Maybe the high of performing live on stage and all the bits and bops of things to do left it so you didn’t notice the creak of the bright lights above you. The lights in the same pink purple hues of Kayn’s hair. The last thing you remember was the crackle of lights, the screams of your fans, and all your band mates in a blur dashing towards you.
-
It was arguably just as bad for Kayn.
Sure he wasn’t there, he wasn’t injured, he wasn’t the target of the attack nor was he the one in the hospital but there was nothing worse than hearing that you were still out cold, uncertain of how hurt you actually were.
There was nothing worse really, seeing the clips circulating online of what happened being reposted by all sorts of accounts. The blood that flowed from you onto the stage, oh god he didn’t even know humans could bleed this much.
There was nothing worse than knowing that he was stuck on tour and couldn’t be by your side.
There was nothing worse than not being able to call you and check on you because according to Akali you were STILL in the ER right now, you’re still unconscious and the doctors have no updates. How! It has been at least 4 hours since your opening act. Since the incident.
There was nothing worse, than fighting with his bandmates and managers, begging to go back to be by your side, and only after Alune stood up for him saying how “ The Heartbeats would understand why Kayn was missing. Let him go or he would just sneak off at night and do it anyway.” That management allowed them to postpone their weekend show so he could book a midnight flight to you.
There was nothing worse, than sitting alone in the private airport lounge, checking socials for updates and finding out HIS fan was the one that was caught on CCTV being the perpetrator, the one that did this to you, the love of his life. They even wore a jacket with Rhaast’s icon sewn onto the back, almost mocking him. Sure you were the one physically hurt, but the way his emotions were all over the place, the way his heart refused to calm down, the way he haven’t felt so much like throwing up since he left his old band. He hated this.
Hands tightening around his already cracked phone, the only reason he hasn’t angrily thrown it against the wall was because Akali messaged him telling Kayn how you were stable now, you lived fine, you were still sleeping but you were out of surgery at least. He swallows hard, quickly picking up his small luggage as he runs over to the gate to board his plane. Kayn breathes heavy, only thoughts about being by your side when you wake up keep him walking and keep the absolute rage and chaos Rhaast has at bay. The flight couldn’t be any longer to him.
-
He ran, the second the Taxi dropped him off at the hospital he phased through walls and booked it straight up to your room, leaving Akali to sigh as she signs him in. The way his hands shook as he slowly opened the door to your ward. Feeling like it was somehow rude to phase through this one way although one, you were still unconscious and two he already violated the privacy of half the hospital.
“ My little demon…This is all my fault.”
Kayn slowly walked to your side after he steps in, watching and noting how you had your eye patched up, how bandages trailed down your body, how pale your skin was. He was going to throw up again, seeing you this way. Ahri who was in the room watching over you let him know you could still see of course, and nothing plastic surgery can’t fix about the scars. You would be fine after a week or two of rest. The shards of glass from the strobe lights missed all the important bits, only scratching up your brow, cheek and collar. Ahri offers Kayn a small sad smile before leaving to give him time with you. The other girls in K/DA has some cuts and bruises saving your from the falling light but otherwise were fine.
It was another hour of your steady breathing and the beeping of machines around him. To Kayn, it felt like hours. Inconsolable hours where his thoughts went wild. Rhaast kept at bay from trashing the place solely from how weak and shaky your breathing was. So when the beeping finally started to pick up Kayn was standing up, hand holding yours, calling out to you frantic and concerned as you slowly blinked and opened your eyes.
“ Oh my god you’re finally awake baby.”
You watched your boyfriend cry, silent tears falling as he spoke over and over about how he should have curated his audience more, warned them to not pull shit like this to you. Anger about how could his “obsessive fans” not know that hurting you would hurt him just as much. Frustration about not being in the audience this time to save you. Sorrow about seeing how much pain you were in right now because of him. Anger once again from Rhaast this time about how incompetent your security was for letting a mistake like this go unnoticed and finally…overwhelming relief that you were ultimately ok. It was new, seeing him so scared, so worried, no doubt all of these emotions were because of just how much Kayn loved you but still, you felt bad making him worry so much. Finally he updates you, telling you about what happened, how you would be ok, he would make sure of it.
“ I…I’m sorry you had to go through this because of me. If you want to leave me because of my fans I will totally understand.”
You watched his voice crack as his hand grasps yours tighter. Your lover’s brows furrowed as he thinks hard. Biting his lip so hard you could almost see it bleed.
“ No Kayn! I would never! It’s not your fault. None of it was your fault, my own crazy fans could have done this to me too y’know. Plus if I breakup with you, they totally won.”
You reply, throat a little dry from not speaking so long but you had to tell him. No way you’re letting some insane fan ruin your performance, your day and your relationship. You watch him finally smile a little as you speak, the corners of his lips barely curving, tears stopping at your frantic attempts to make sure he knows just how much you love him back. No way in hell or heaven would you give up what you have with him because of some lunatic. Especially after seeing just how much he loved you, flying here for you? Putting his work behind for You? How could you let this man go.
“ Hey, at least we can get matching eyepatches now?”
At your comment, he lets out an exasperated laugh.
" I’m sorry, I should be the one making you feel better not the other way around. Here.”
You watch as Kayn slips a finger under his eyepatch, pulling it off carefully before bending down to give your bandaged side a small kiss. Hands uncharacteristically gentle as they worked their way around your hair and all the gauze to put his eyepatch on you. Giving you another quick kiss on your lips before pulling away.
" Looking good darling."
" Only because you style me so well!"
Yeah, it will be ok, the two of you were motivated, hardworking idols, a setback like this meant nothing. As he smiles again at you, the signature cheeky, prideful smile you’ve come to love from him. Your heart flutters. Yeah, something like this won’t stop you from loving him.
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hauntedestheart · 8 months
Text
When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I do is I reach for my phone. I've seen a lot of articles say that doing this is supposed to be bad for you, you're supposed to limit your screen time and not use electronic devices in bed and blah blah blah... but whoever wrote those articles clearly wasn't living my life.
Hell, I barely know who's living my life.
See, the reason I check my phone in the morning is because checking it is the only way I'm gonna find out what I did last night. Take, for example, the photo I found on it this morning.
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Oh god, I'm cringing just looking at it. I didn't take this photo! Yeah, sure, I'm a hot guy who goes to the gym, but I swear I'm not the kind of douchebag who would pose nude like this. Someone else took this photo, and they used my body to do it.
Scrolling through the apps on my phone, I begin to piece together the events of last night. According to some Lyft receipts, my body left the house a bit before midnight and headed across the bridge to uptown, and didn't head back home until around five in the morning.
My bank statement informs me that I stopped at a fancy store to buy a new jacket (which I find in the closet) and then I headed to a bar I'd never heard of where I bought several rounds of shots and a plate of mozzarella sticks. It's even logged in my calorie counter app.
On Instagram I've been tagged in a story by someone I've never met before, and when I click on it there's a short video clip of a man standing on a table in some bar shaking his perky ass around and- oh, yup, the guy is me. I tap to the next video and my body has lost its shirt, probably so everyone can see my abs flexing as I do body rolls, and then in the next clip I'm down to just my skivvies and a stranger's hand is grabbing my junk and shaking it around. Thankfully, that's the last video in the lineup- though there's an ache in my ass that hints that it wasn't where the night ended.
This might sound like the kind of fun, drunken bender that a guy my age might get up to, but that's not what's going on here! I don't know why, but for the past few months every time I've gone to sleep at night, my body has woken back up and gone back out. At first I thought I was just sleepwalking- mom said I did it all the time as a kid -but sleepwalkers don't do the things that my body does.
Sleepwalkers walk. My body hits the town.
I always wake up safe and sound in bed in the morning, which is a small blessing, but everything else is a complete mystery. I don't know what is doing it, or how they're doing it, but I'm pretty sure it's another person. They basically told me so.
A few weeks after it started I bought a night vision camera and set it up to monitor my bedroom, hoping to glean some sort of clue about what exactly was happening to me, but whoever was in my body just deleted the footage. When I woke up in the morning, the only thing I found on the camera was a very long video of my body shoving a dildo up my ass, moaning like a whore while the other hand explored the muscles of my torso... and at the end of it, when my body was finally drenched in semen, it looked straight into the camera and winked.
The me in the video had a cocky expression on his face that I'd never seen before and to be honest, that kinda freaked me out! In a fit of desperation, I decided to leave a note taped to my bedroom door.
What do you want? I wrote. And when I woke up in the morning, someone had written something underneath it:
; )
Which... I still don't know what to make of that. I think whoever is doing this thinks that they're funny. Since then, my body snatcher has gotten into the habit of leaving me little notes and photos like the one up there.
My body snatcher seems to really like my body, which- hey, I'm proud of it too! You don't work as hard as I do on my abs without being a little vain, and if I was gonna snatch someone's body I'd probably go for someone who was packing a dick like mine. I can't even say that I blame them. But the number of photos I've found on my phone of myself groping my pecs, flexing my big biceps for the camera, licking my own armpits... it's a bit too much.
And that's the absolute worst part of it! Whoever's doing it is getting cocky. Look at that photo- the camera set-up, the hand written note, the strategically placed paint... this isn't just some random selfie taken on the spot, this required setup. They're mocking me, letting me know that they've got me where they want me and there's nothing I can do about it.
The pictures have only been getting bolder and more scandalous- some of the more recent ones were taken in public places, and they're starting to involve props. I'm nervous about what they're going to come up with next- but I guess I won't know until I wake up.
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