#so I can’t get the stuff i need for my chafing

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

this just popped into my mind at like 3am last night so here we go, imagine edging sebastian on his heat and he’s just really desperate and stuff? ok i’ll go now

Those are some really good thoughts, thanks for sharing em!!

(Pic by @haroksan !)

Sebastian (edg/ing, heat cycle, (light) cock slapping, (light) pact play, sq/uirting (m receiving), )

Spring was such a wonderful time of year, things started to bloom, the animals are more active since there’s more food, and you get to see baby animals! You never thought much of how it was for the animals, just admiring them was fun, unfortunately you don’t get to watch them as often as you used too.

Your butler, Sebastian, always got so troublesome this time a year…He only wanted to have sex, nothing else, he’d get so damn whiny if you ignored him. You enjoyed the extra affection from him, but you valued your personal space more. You had made him tell you what was wrong after the first day, he struggled with basic task and it was worrisome.

When he told you he was in heat, how could you not use that as ammo against him? Especially after the sight you’d just walked in on, Sebastian had shoved a pillow between his legs, letting one hand hold the pillow while he has the other hand holding a pillow close to him. With a quick glance you can tell he’s biting the other pillow to try and muffle his whines.

His clothes were in shreds on the floor, if you had to guess, he hat impatient trying to take them off. You don’t miss the way his hips snap forward, dragging his cock against the pillow. The demon seemed to have not noticed you yet, so you use the opportunity to sneak closer to him.

You wouldn’t mind if he was in one of the bedrooms, but he’s not, he’s in the living room humping a coach pillow. You have to hold back a laugh at the pathetic growl he gives when the pillow between his legs slips, leaving him to hurriedly trying to shove it back in place.

With the way he keeps squirming around, you can see the pillow under him is completely ruined, it is covered in his pre, he hasn’t even realized that theres a small puddle forming underneath him.

You can tell he’s getting close, his hips speed up and you can’t help but worry that he’ll chafe his poor little cock if you don’t intervene, after all, a good Master takes care of their things, right?

“Sebastian. Stop.”

He freezes in an instant, a weak whimper escapes him. He makes no attempt to cover himself, instead he rolls onto his back, now facing you, his hair is a mess, half of it is sticking to his face and the other half is all sticking out, as if he just got out of bed.

“M-master, please-“ Sebastian whines, hand slipping down to stroke himself. You close the door behind you, the door has no lock, but the two of you were alone anyway. You knelt down beside him, throwing the pillow to the side, grimacing at the wet sound it made when it hit the ground.

With a better view, you can see how desperate he is. His cock is bright red towards the tip, leaking pre consistently. You don’t even need lube, grabbing his cock and stroking him. “Naughty boy, touching yourself when I’m not around? You know better that that.” You pinched just under the head of his cock, earning a gasp. “Maybe I should punish you for this…”

Sebastian growled, though it melted into a moan when you thumbed the head of his cock, you can see how he’s shaking from just a little contact. “P-please, Master, need you…” Sebastian pulls you into a rough kiss, nipping your lip when you tried to pull away.

You stop your strokes, instead giving his cock a light smack. Sebastian whines out a few things you don’t catch. Your hand grabs his cock roughly, pumping him at a brisk pace. “You ruined that pillow, Sebastian. Maybe I should ruin your orgasm as compensation?” You purr out, grinning at the worried look he gives you.

“I-I didn’t mean to-“

He cuts himself off with a shaky sob, as your hand had gripped the base of his cock harshly. “I’m sure you didn’t mean it,” You purr out, your other hand now flat against the tip of his cock, rubbing quick circles. “You just got a lil excited, huh? Needed a little extra attention?”

Sebastian mewls, nodding. Your hand gripping his cock is the only thing stopping him from bucking against you, his cock bobbing eagerly in your grip. He’s close, you can feel it in how his cock is pulsing in your grip. Your grip tighten at the base, so much so that Sebastian yelps at the sudden contact, quickly trying to shove your hand away, only for it to result in his cock getting tugged on painfully.

You stop after a few more seconds of torture, letting go of his cock completely. Sebastian shakedown a bit, trying to figure out if he wants if it would be worth it to finish himself off, but before he could do anything, slap his cock roughly.

To your surprise, it bobbed and shot out a little but of cum onto his stomach. You grinned, rewarding him with a couple strokes. “Good boy! That was so cute!” Your hand let go of his cock after he whined about being close.

Sebastian whimpered, thrusting against nothing. He was panting so heavily you decided to give him a bit to catch his breath. You ignore the whines that escape when you get up, stepping away from him. “Sebastian, I’m heading to my room, clean up a bit and meet me there.”

#black butler #sub black butler #sub sebastian #sub Sebastian Michaelis #dom reader #mating cycles/in heat #black butler x you #black butler x y/n #black butler x reader #sebastian x you #sebastian x y/n #sebastian x reader #cw edging #edge play

[ageofzero]

Yuna is the antagonist of a potential Final Fantasy X-3, thank you for coming to my TED Talk

edit: okay I'll put it under a read more since it'll be a long post (but not as long as my entire conversation was), but what's promised is due.

Now that I have to make the post for real I had to do some wiki reading on what the actual Things going on in the novella were, and… well, a lot of my theorycrafting was based on incomplete and kinda inaccurate information. BUT I can’t read Japanese, the book was never released here, and I am going to go with rule of cool for a little bit of this even as I keep the stuff that sounds kinda dumb on the surface. I’ll be the first to say that Tidus exploding from a bomb he thinks is a blitzball is dumb (true), and Chuami thinking she’s Auron’s daughter is a dumb plot beat (petty), but I’m weaving this bridge and I’m not going to rewrite those. I am going to change some contexts and make them exist in a narrative that I hope is compelling. That’s my disclaimer, now I’m gonna get into it.

SO.

The scenario from the novella and audio drama is thus: Tidus died again in an accident, and Yuna brings him back. But he’s not back in the same way that the Fayth gave this dream a real living body at the end of X-2. The official term for it is “beckoned”, but I probably won’t use that to describe him based on my previous understanding. No matter if he’s beckoned or not, or whatever terminology you want to use, the thing is that Yuna summoned him back. She’s holding him to life, and he can never know. It’s been a year since the moment Tidus died, and Yuna has seemingly regressed into patterns that put her into what was once Yevon’s circle. Tidus is looking injured/weakened (“Chuami: It wasn’t just [Tidus’s] words that felt hollow. When I shook his hand, his grip felt weak and lifeless... I think he’s injured. Or maybe he’s sick or something.”), and people are looking to Yuna for help or information regarding the strange not-quite Unsent (the beckoned) that are appearing in places in Spira. Help she is not capable of giving. Wakka and Lulu are protecting her as she prays in Besaid Temple. The world is seemingly acting out, with a second shoopuf appearing in the Moonflow and its energies overflowing and drawing more illusions into reality. (“Yuna: The Moonflow energy is responding to the will of the living. It’s as if… we’re in the Farplane.”) And it’s more vivid than what the Farplane is capable of, even breaking the rules of “beckoning”. This is something new, something worse. Something worse enough to bring back Sin (which I thought was just me extrapolating a potential, but they actually mention it in the audio drama that it happens). Yuna promises the people that she will defeat Sin, but Wakka tries to keep her from being made to promise such a thing at first, which is an interesting choice (“Wakka: Yuna, let’s go back to Besaid. They’ll push this all on you… Sin is for summoners, in their minds.”).

Where does the world go in this present circumstances? Why IS Yuna seemingly content to do what chafed her in the Eternal Calm short movie and stay praying in Besaid and helping the elders who are lost now that Yevon as they knew it is in shambles? Why are Lulu and Wakka enabling and protecting her in that? Why is Tidus looking injured and weak and why is Yuna keeping him at arm’s length? Why does she tell him that she’s fallen in love with someone else?

I know the typical story beat interpretation is “Yuna told him that and pushed him away so he wouldn’t be in danger for what she needs to do, bc defeating Sin caused his death last time”. But hear me out. Yuna knows Tidus isn’t alive. She knows that revealing that information to him will cause him to disappear again. She’s actively summoning him back to life and he has no idea (but he must suspect something is wrong, even before Yuna formally pulls away from him, he’s weakening and he probably doesn’t feel right in his own skin). I posit that her maintaining Tidus’s life is what she’s really doing praying in the Besaid Temple. She doesn’t want to get involved with the Moonflow situation, the shoopuf or the overflowing energy of the Moonflow itself. She doesn’t even really act when seeing all the ghosts in the crowd, and actively stops Kurgum from acting (plausible deniability: she and everyone else decide that sending them in that moment would be the wrong call and riots would break out, but that density of ghosts means that’s a significant amount of pyreflies that could become fiends at any moment).

I posit that Yuna’s powers are working, that people close to her think her powers aren’t working (Lulu and Wakka), and she’s hiding it from everyone else. That her powers aren’t working because she’s currently using them to maintain Tidus’s existence. And this maintaining is breaking the Farplane in half, because she’s powerful but has no idea what she’s doing. (Why would she really know what she’s doing or the consequences? Who has any information of what she’s doing and what will happen if she does it?) I posit that Yuna’s love for Tidus is so strong that it corrupts her sense of right and wrong. X-2 is Yuna largely going on a personal quest, and incidentally helping people but separating herself from the title of High Summoner and doing something she wants to do. Rikku encourages her to do something for herself for a change right before she agrees and runs off to become a sphere hunter. She still saves the world, this time from an ancient danger Old Yevon buried and an Unsent is threatening to use (for love, notably), but she did it in the course of looking for Tidus. Who the Fayth return to life, who she hugs and is so so relieved to have in her arms again.

She’s not going to let him go, she couldn’t let him die again so much that she called him back to life.

(side note: I never truly knew how this happened so I had to consult the wiki page on the novella, and I suspect what original information I was working with was misrepresented and misinterpreted. I openly admit that the wiki page doesn’t really help me fully understand what happened, aside from explaining how Tidus ended up in proximity to a bomb. My understanding from someone’s explanation was that an Unsent summoner on the island Yuna and Tidus got washed up on after a storm told her she could call back the dead if she wanted, as a summoner. They’re all made of pyreflies, Aeons and Fiends and People and Unsent alike, and summoners are in the business of manipulating pyreflies. Either calling them from the Fayth to form an Aeon, or Sending them to the Farplane so they do not become Fiends. A summoner with enough power could summon someone back from the dead, could they not? And this Unsent summoner knew how it worked, and told Yuna how to do it. But I don’t know how real that scene could be, or how accurate it is to what’s written in the book. It’s my rule of cool moment, though, and I worked with that as my understanding when I made this theory. We have to make our peace with that, if you’ll allow me this extrapolation of Spira’s rules and a summoner’s powers.)

(The meme is Tidus kicking a blitzball and it turned out it was a bomb and his head gets blown off, but wiki says they ended up on a vision of a Besaid from 1000 years ago, and the bomb was something neither Tidus or Yuna had seen before and to them it looked like a blitzball. So, Tidus approached what he thought was a blitzball, wondering who’s ball it was, and it exploded as he reached it. I still think that’s really dumb but I’m not editing it out bc Tidus’s death creates very interesting consequences.)

So, if Yuna is summoning Tidus back to life, and she desperately doesn’t want him to find this out so she avoids him and pushes him away through any means necessary, but he’s still weakening and fading enough to be noticeable by people… perhaps also himself… Yuna returning to Yevon in some capacity could just as likely be her looking for a means to keep feeding power to this summoning she’s doing so she doesn’t lose him. And what kind of consequences does it have to do this? He’s being summoned, but he’s not actually an Aeon. He’s not an Unsent, he’s not just being beckoned. He wasn’t even real, he was a dream in a summon held together by the raw power of Yu Yevon turning into Sin. The Moonflow overflowing and seeing a long-dead shoopuf is the least of the consequences. The Farplane is delicate, it requires careful maintenance, and here Yuna is shoving her foot in the door and holding it open for a solid year! And no one knows she’s doing this! Spira’s past is full of history, some of that long-buried secrets that no one was supposed to find again. Sin wasn’t supposed to be able to come back, but the ghosts aren’t staying ghosts anymore (“Lulu: I mean Sin came back, right? What’s to stop anything else from coming back?”).

Even people who only know her by reputation seem to think she’s acting strangely (“Kurgum: I thought Lady Yuna was… a righteous person.”), because something is wrong and no one can put their finger on what. Who would have the pieces to put any of this together, and who would even suspect Yuna in the first place? She’s actively not getting involved in politics, she’s locked herself in Besaid, she seems reluctant to answer someone she worked with and should be amicable with now (Baralai).

I think the story should follow down this path, I think it should find Yuna at the end of it, once savior and now destroyer. She’s willing to let the world rip apart in order to keep Tidus, and I think that’s a compelling premise for X-3. The past surging forward like ghosts, vengeful and lost and wanted and terrifying. Who sides with Yuna (Wakka, Lulu) and covers up the problem? Who bands together to face down the High Summoner (Tidus, Rikku)? Who doesn’t know where to place their allegiance, or who changes sides when they realize the extent of what Yuna’s hiding? What does she do when she’s faced with her friends, and the person she loves so much, telling her to stop?

There’s a line in Eternal Calm where Yaibal (named in X-2 but not in the movie itself), after asking about whether or not she’d be joining one of the factions, if she’d be making a faction of her own. And I think in this potential X-3, she’s making her own faction through the actions of becoming antagonist. She’s made Wakka cover for her, she acts in a way that make Lulu and Wakka both protect her regardless of whether or not they know what she’s doing. I think it would be so fascinating to make this a conscious decision on her part. Things have broken so utterly, and she’s desperate to hold them together, and becomes the antagonist in the process.

Squeenix would never do it, they’d never be so bold as to make Yuna the antagonist and follow through on this trajectory of her lying to people to hide that she’s the one breaking the world in half (up to returning the ghost of Sin itself to terrorize Spira). Sin isn’t the final boss in this one, it’d have to be Yuna, we have to stop her and fix what went wrong. It’s not ever gonna happen, but I still think Yuna should be the antagonist of X-3.

#Final Fantasy X #Final Fantasy X-2 #Final Fantasy X-3 #FFX #FF10 #meta #theorycrafting #personal #Let me weave you a really compelling bridge out of the malarky I know of post X-2 content #I promise you that Yuna is the antagonist in this scenario and Squeenix are cowards who’d never do it #Tega writes #it's under the read more #I did not go whole hog into the entire plotting out I did I've just introduced the premise #I had a deep conversation with my RBB writer involving my interpretations #He introduced other ideas that were rad #I don't have an exit strategy though #as in I have no idea how the game would resolve in this projected scenario #or how I would WANT it to resolve #I came up with a ''good'' ending that's tailor made to feel bad about your choices lmao #but that's not what I think the true ending would be #anyway none of that is specifically about how Yuna should be the antagonist #it's more like the delicious possibilities while the plot leads you to that conclusion #there was a lot and I already wrote nearly 2k words just to explain this much #I have to sort out the rest still it's stream of consciousness discord messages

[evewritingsteve]

wrong place, wrong time

jesse pinkman x reader warnings: kidnapping, normal breaking bad stuff

summary: You are Lydia's daughter, and just so happen to be kidnapped by Mike. Takes place in the episode before they do the train heist

note: not my best but i needed to get this concept out of my head, enjoy xx

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“Well Lydia, we’ve got the kid so I suggest you come out of hiding and talk this out like the adults we are. You got 4 hours to get over here or little miss y/n gets to meet an unpleasant end. Your choice.” You hear the man hang up the phone, sighing a little. “Well y/n, let’s hope your mother has a little empathy for her secret daughter.” 

You’d reply, and say you weren’t really a secret, just the result of a teen pregnancy, but the gag in your mouth unfortunately stifled any smart remarks. Maybe it was for the best, you didn’t have the best danger meter. Opening your mouth would probably get you hurt. 

But you weren’t hurt, surprisingly, despite the circumstances. Being kidnapped automatically brought your brain to violence, but so far, they hadn’t been overly rough. Certainly not nice, but no harm had been done. You thanked whoever was listening for that. You were hoping this was all for ransom, that your mom would pay, you’d walk out of this fine, and this whole thing would be a terrific story to take back to graduate school. 

Hopefully. 

You were bound to a chair, rope chafing your arms and legs. You wiggled again, hoping for some give. From what you gathered about the kidnappers, they were old as shit. One sounded too anxious and the other just sounded annoyed. At first you had been terrified, but as the adrenaline wore off you felt yourself growing more annoyed than anything. 

You’d been in the chair for hours, and the phone call the first man made was one of the first times you had heard them speak in hours. You were bored. You’d think being kidnapped would be more action and less anxious waiting. Not that you were complaining. 

You hear a door open and steps making their way closer. 

“Yo who the fuck is this?” A younger male voice cuts through the silence. 

Another one? Jesus. 

“Change of plans,” the annoyed older man speaks and you desperately try to see through the cloth covering your eyes. “Can’t find Lydia but her daughter was there so now here we are.” 

“Her daughter? What yo we’re fucking kidnapping random people now?” 

“Jessie!” The anxious one yells and the room goes silent. 

“Both of you, outside, now.” 

So the younger one was Jessie. You definitely weren’t supposed to know that. You hear them leave and somehow the silence is scarier now than when they were in the room. You close your eyes. God mom, you better have a ransom money stash. 

-

“What the hell was that? Saying Jessie’s name? You’re going to get us caught Walter!” Mike jabs his finger into Walt’s chest, fuming. 

“I didn’t ask to kidnap an innocent college student Mike! This- this is insane! What are we doing?” 

“Yeah what are we doing?” Jessie throws his hands up, still clueless. 

“Lydia planted that tracker on the methylamine. When I went to her house to have a little talk Lydia was gone. She knew I was onto her and decided to run, but her daughter just so happened to be there. I’ve dealt with Lydia before. She’s skittish. So we take her daughter to get her to come talk to us so we can put an end to this ordeal.” 

“So what, this chick is our hostage now or what?” 

“Yes Jesse. As soon as Lydia gets here we’ll cut her loose and deal with the real problem. The kid is just collateral that we have to deal with now. As long as she doesn’t see our faces this doesn’t have to end with anybody’s death but Lydia’s. Capisce?” 

“Fuck. Alright I guess.” Jessie puts his hands on his head, following Mike when he gestures for them to go back in. 

When they open the door, they all stop. Lydia was already there, undoing the last rope holding you to the chair. You both stop and look up when you hear the door, slightly panicked. 

So much for the blind. 

“Mike what the hell? My daughter?” Lydia stands, helping you do the same. Your eyes are wide as you scan the 3 men’s faces, growing more confused by the minute. Your mom knew these people? What the fuck is she involved with? 

The one that you’re going to assume is Mike, makes his way over to your mom, grabbing her arm and throwing her on to the chair you were previously occupying, dragging her and the chair to a nearby table. You jump out of the way, Mike ignoring your mom’s protests, pulling out handcuffs and locking her to the table. 

“You,” He points at you, grabbing the gun on his waistband, “Stand next to her and don’t move or I swear it’ll be your last.” 

You make your way over, giving your mom a questioning and slightly terrified look. 

“Jesus Lydia you just had to make this harder on me.” 

“Mike we can talk this out but let my daughter go. I didn’t plant that tracker, I swear to God, she knows nothing of this just please, let her leave.” 

“Mom-” 

“She’s seen our faces, Mike, we can’t just let her go with that information!” The other older man speaks up. The younger one puts his head in his hands. It seemed clear to you that he was dragged into this, and for some reason that put you at ease a bit. They all begin to argue with each other, and you glance at your mom again. 

“She’ll get on a plane right now.” 

They all pause. 

“She’s doing graduate school abroad, she can get on a plane right now and be out of the country in a few hours. Please Mike, she barely knows anything right now, definitely not enough to put you guys away. Just, please Mike.” 

“Mom I can’t leave yo-” 

“Shut up Lydia.” Mike thinks for a while. He didn’t want to kill you. He saw his granddaughter in you and knows he would never forgive himself if he had to kill you to save himself. It was risky, but something told him you really wouldn’t say anything. 

“Alright Lydia. We’ll take her to the airport. But you need to understand one thing,” he turns to you, “I have people everywhere y/n. The second you open your mouth, I’ll know. And then it’s game over for you and everyone you love.” 

You think of your little sister and suddenly realize you’re going to have to take this to the grave. Not that you even knew the entire story, it felt like you walked into the middle of a show and missed all the important parts. But still. Silence was the only answer. 

You simply nod your head in response. 

“Jessie, I would like you to take this young lady to the airport, buy yourself a ticket so you can wait at the gate with her and make sure she gets on the plane. Come back here after. Lydia, you’re gonna make a little call for us.” Mike tosses Jessie the keys, along with a pair of handcuffs. 

“Are these for her?” He gestures to the handcuffs and then to me. If it weren’t for the situation at hand, you might have blushed. 

Mike gives him a look and Jessie almost rolls his eyes. “Alright man shit.” 

He makes his way over to you, mumbling an apology that confuses you even more. It seemed like Mike was the only serious one here, the other two almost acted like they were hostages too. You feel the handcuffs tighten, and you give your mom a final glance. 

“Mom?” 

“It’ll be okay I’ll call okay?” A pit sits in your stomach at the expression on her face, so you try to give her a small smile, not trusting your voice. You really hope she didn’t get herself into something she can’t control. Jessie gives you a small nudge and you can’t fight the tears that fill your eyes. 

-

Once you’re in the car, Jesse says something about the handcuffs looking suspicious and takes them off. You grab at your wrists and flinch as the car is locked from the inside. At this point reality was setting in hard. Now that your safety seemed more or less intact, you were nauseous over the thought of your mom still down there for God knows what. 

The car starts moving and your breathing becomes shallow. Jesse takes notice and steals a glance at you. 

“Hey, it’s gonna be alright okay?” It didn’t even sound like he believed his own words. 

“What the fuck.” Is all you can reply. “What the actual fuck?” You laugh a little, about to go into hysterics over the entire thing. 

Jessie looks at you, even more concerned. He had been through some shit and the only time he laughed was when he was really about to lose it. You're trying to control your breathing, and he feels bad, but he can’t help but notice how pretty you are. He can’t believe that you somehow got wrapped into this. It didn’t seem right. He feels horrible. 

At this point you're no longer laughing, just sniffling and trying to stop yourself from sobbing. 

“What are they going to do to my mom?” You look at Jessie. You were never close with your mom, she was distant and cold but always provided for you. She was your mom at the end of the day. Despite being in boarding schools most of your childhood, she was always there when you came home to visit. She couldn’t just be taken from you like that. “What about my sister? What will she do?” 

“You have a sister?” He sounds surprised. You faintly wonder if you should just shut your mouth, and not volunteer anymore information, but some part of you feels like Jessie isn’t going to use this information maliciously. Still, you don’t respond. 

“Listen, I promise nothing will happen to your mom.” 

“How can you possibly promise that?” 

He goes silent and you realize that he probably can’t make that promise. 

The rest of the car ride is silent and you spend some of it observing him. He seems almost shy, despite the rough exterior and style he possesses. For a split second, you wonder if, in different circumstances, you two would have crossed paths and been friends. Maybe flirted. The reasonable part of your brain stomps that out, and politely reminds you that he was somehow involved in your kidnapping. 

The car rolls to a stop at the drop off spot. Once again, you’re confused. 

“Don’t you have to come in with me? You can’t park here.” 

He looks at you, slightly startled. He half expected you to jump out of the car and run to the nearest security guard. He spent half the ride preparing for his life to be over because of the pretty daughter of a criminal. “Oh, uh, I guess I didn’t think of that.” 

You stare at him for a beat. 

“I won’t run to tell anyone. Honestly getting out of America as soon as I can sounds nice right now for what it’s worth.” 

He turns in the driver's seat, fully looking at you for the first time. 

“I know.” 

“You believe me?” 

“I’m a shit kidnapper huh?” 

Despite the situation, you find yourself laughing a little. 

“Sort of.” 

You both sit for a minute until he raises a hand to scratch his head sheepishly. “Look uh, you can just go. I think it’ll be weird if I buy a ticket and don’t get on the plane.” 

You looked at him, shocked that he was actually agreeing to let you go.

“Oh, okay,” you go to open the door, pausing to look at him one last time. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a real bad guy. It just seems like you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time.” You give him a small smile, leaving without waiting for a response. 

You run across the street, nearly missing an impatient car. You feel like you’re on autopilot as you step through the automatic doors, trying to find the nearest help desk to book a flight. Your brain was in override, trying to make sense of everything that happened. You only hoped that once you landed, your mom would answer the phone and everything would be okay. 

You almost gave in when you saw a security personnel walking by, but thought of Jessie. You couldn’t explain it, but you knew going to the authorities would somehow cause more harm than good. You only hoped that Jessie’s sincerity was real. 

-

Jessie watched as you ran to the doors, seeming more dazed than scared like he imagined you should be. He didn’t understand your final words to him, he was implicated in your fucking kidnapping for fucks sake. But there you were, saying that he wasn’t a bad guy. A car honked behind him, pulling him from his thoughts. He put the car in gear, making his way back to the shitshow he really didn’t want a part of. 

He picks his phone up when he hears the familiar ringtone. 

“Yo.” 

“Jessie, is she gone?” 

“Yeah, we’re good. What’s going on?” 

“We have to rob a train.” 

Oh fuck. 

-

reblog, like, tell your momma (aka me)

#breaking bad x reader #jesse pinkman x reader #jesse pinkman #x reader #breaking bad #mike erhmantraut #walter white #kidnapping tw #jesse pinkman imagine #jesse x reader #breaking bad fanfiction #evewritingsteve

[trailmixedup]

OKAY! So!! I am one week post op from top surgery and here are the things I have learned:

• nothing prepares you for how fucking bloated you get. It is emotionally and physically devastating.

• eat protein or you’re going to start dreaming about it.

• get ready to literally not have any reading comprehension or speaking ability until you’re after the heavy pain med. and then after that as well…

• holy shit your back is gonna hurt. You can’t crack it. No twisting.

• you can’t use ice packs on your actual chest, but they’re lifesavers to sleep with- I put mine under my neck on my pillow to keep my neck from cramping.

• the pressure and tension on your chest is uncomfortable but not unbearable. Mostly it’s just annoying.

• you need pockets. Dear gods you NEED pockets.

• you do not want pants with a button. The button pants will not fit and it will make you sad. It’s just not even worth trying. Just have drawstring pants, it’s easier on the ego.

• wiping your ass is hard now. I’m sorry.

• blowing your nose hurts. Sneezing hurts. Coughing hurts. Laughing hurts. Just… avoid needing too much lung capacity all at once.

• If you have body hair prepare for your compression garments to hurt. My skin is so tender and painful all of the time. And there’s no break.

• if you keep your nipples you won’t be allowed to shower for 2 weeks. You’re going to start stinking. Have someone around you that is willing to wash your hair like how they wash babies hair. Also have rubbing alcohol so that you can neutralize your armpit stink because deodorant is off limits for your healing incisions.

• chapstick is not optional. You’re going to want it.

• same goes for a big cup with a well-sealed lid and a straw. Drink so much water.

• you’re going to feel helpless and useless. It sucks. It’s okay. Don’t push yourself.

• you’re going to want to wear pants with pockets to bed so you have somewhere to put your drains. You’ll be so tired that it doesn’t matter for the first couple days.

• you want the longest phone charger known to man. I promise. There is no such thing as too long.

• ask for the anti-nausea patch. You’re going to want it, and it lasts like 3 days. Throwing up HURTS.

• the healthier you can be before the surgery the easier your recovery is going to be. It isn’t fatphobic or stuck up or whatever else people say to lose excess weight and eat super clean before your surgery. Start moving your body every day. Start practicing going from sitting to standing and laying to standing without using your hands. Your body will reward effort to be healthy with safer surgery and easier healing.

• oh my god buy a serious laxative that you know works for you. Your body will literally forget how to shit.

• if you can, buy paper medical tape, gauze pads, and extra strength Tylenol. You will use them.

• plan to take naps. There is no weakness in a nap.

• get up and stretch your legs hourly. I promise it’s worth it. You will feel so much better.

• you’re going to want a hat or some sort of hair control.

• if the binder doesn’t fit you in the arm holes, you don’t have to let it chafe at your armpits and hurt like a mother fucker. Just cut the arm holes wider with a pair of scissors.

• have some sort of routine. You’ll fall apart otherwise.

• you’re going to be snippy and bitchy. Get ready to apologize for being an asshole. Short tempers happen, but don’t forget to say sorry.

• prepare yourself for all the random tape and other stuff to itch. You just have to grin and bear it. Things are so itchy.

That’s all I can think of right now, plus I’m sleepy. I will add to the list when I think of more ^_^

#online diary #top surgery #top surgery recovery #ftm #transmasc #post surgery

[banamine-bananime]

opinions on wash? for character bingo ^_^

I do love wash but for me he’s like, blorbo by proxy to soooo much of the fandom that i’m like aight he doesn’t need me there’s other people appreciating him way better than i would anyways. It’s also kind of that “zone of compelling mediocrity vs having nothing to add to a complete concept” thing for me. Like his character arc is arguably executed the best, at least one of the best-executed, in the show, and then any things to elaborate on have been elaborated on so well by so many awesome writers in this fandom that i’m like *thumbs up* tight story I have nothing to say. But since i don’t talk about him much i’ll take this opportunity to just list things i do love about wash:

really funny guy in both intentional dry sarcasm ways and unintentional ways through being so fucking… how to describe it… sort of a Stoic Military Man who Endures Things and represses Unnecessary feelings and denies himself pleasures when he does not need to do that. He does such weird things and he’s like so serious about it, sighing deeply and resignedly at Yet Another Time The Universe Is Testing Him, yet at the same time recognizes the absurdity in these situations but just… doesn’t take that recognition to the point of removing himself from the situation or refusing to engage and instead he just Endures but also wisecracks about it.

obviously all the epsilon stuff. Man. situationship of all time

LOVE the marathon-winning grudgeholding in a way that he’s entirely silent about it until suddenly he is very not silent about it. guy who CANNOT just fucking let it go but you’ll never realize that until it’s too late. reactive dog with growl violently trained out of them “bites out of nowhere!!!”

going along w that, yay repressed anger issues!!! sorry that’s flippant but i have so much love and sadness and anger for ~Troubled Kids~ railroaded into violent professions and places based on being branded with labels of violent/oppositional/defiant/angry/dangerous instead of being helped. “hey you’re struggling with something that’s making you so angry you can’t contain violence or feel so unsafe that the only defence you’re left with is aggression or feel that you need to make people fear you to feel a little less unrespected and powerless or so that they get a taste of it for once. instead of addressing that i think we can use it. you know how people believe you’re Bad and that you’ll never change and lots of doors are shut to you? well, this one’s wide open and it’s what you’re meant for, as a person who is good at violence and not trusting people. come here and we’ll train it into you some more.” i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again: cop-dog-coded motherfucker

really really good juxtaposition of this with being the goofball rookie. i know some people get frustrated with the inconsistency between pfl-recruit-era wash in book-extras vs in the show but to me it really adds something. a guy can both be goofy and have repressed anger. that guy might play up the goofiness trying very hard not to again be railroaded into Being The Crazy Angry Dangerous Kid. he is friendly and wants friends! that guy might also internally chafe at the kind of friendship that exaggerated “i’m not a threat! i’m not a threat! i swear i’m not a threat i’m just a little goofy guy!!” presentation begets. being treated as the dumb hopeless class clown sidekick is demeaning and makes you resentful no matter how hard you’re trying to make yourself think “hey, they’re my friends, this is good, they like me, they’re joking with me so they don’t hate me, this is so much better than being disliked”. and then you’ve got this internal spiral going of fear of your own capacity for anger and resentment -> overcorrect -> more things to resent

YAYYYYYYY JUSTIFIED VILLAIN ARCS MY BELOVED. love s8 washie so much.

as with carolina, really well-executed redemption arc of growing to accept friendship and rest and forgiveness and hanging onto hope that there is something better (frands and luv for them) you can shoot for than just getting revenge. wash: life is just unending cycles of violence forever change my mind. *blues offer him forgiveness and unconditional acceptance* wash: wait. i didn’t know they could do that. brb recalibrating my entire worldview to account for the power of friendship.

i actually don’t like a lot of fandom “wash and cats” content because it often hits kind of a woobification tone i’m not interested in, BUT i love imagery of alleycats, cats with nine lives, cats that always land on their feet (even when they fall off something in the goofiest, most clumsy way possible. wash paradox of dexterity/somehow surviving against all odds and dumb clumsy accidents/bad luck real). cockroach kitty wash : )

otoh my Hot Wash Take is i think sometimes some fans swing the pendulum too far the opposite way from All-Characteristics-Erased-Except-Trauma-And-Protectiveness-And-Cats Woobie Wash. yeah he’s obviously extremely competent but he’s far from the most skilled character in rvb (not his fault the competition is insane) and he is a bit goofy. let him goof up a little i promise it’s okay he’s gonna land on his feet

#alexa send post #rvb #wash

[thisisadonaldduckblognow]

i wish i had the energy and eloquence to fully and properly get into the family therapist mikey thing tbh it’s so hard to just. explain what i MEAN. 

(ftr i am an adult who does regularly touch grass. i understand interpretation and ymmv on characterization. i understand the catharsis of vent art and vent fic and projecting issues onto characters to process them. i don’t read through stuff i’ve found issues with and then seethe about it, i keep scrolling or hit the back button and find something else. 

i am still gonna talk about trends i’ve noticed and things that i don’t get or that rub me the wrong way. please don’t come into my posts about my personal thoughts and opinions to, however well-meaning or politely, judge me for expressing them. consider doing what i do and keep scrolling. i won’t engage with that. i would ask that no one else engages with that in replies or comments.

i also legit don’t Get tone indicators just ftr. they elude me.)

bc so much of the draxum moral realignment stuff was mikey being motivated largely by what mikey wanted. he wanted to see barry as family, he wanted barry to become part of the family, he wanted the story of their mutation to be less uh. objectively crummy.

now, mikey’s wants in that area served as a CATALYST for other development, him pursuing that (often very hamfistedly and despite many objections) wound up paving the way, but it was ultimately in the spirit of his personal desire. which ftr im not criticizing that’s very much part of the character.

he brought draxum to the big hidden city day out because it was a Family Event and he personally considered draxum family. splinter and draxum kinda coming to a truce, splinter reconciling that his mutation (despite the horrific trauma and long-lasting impact of it) was still what gave him his sons who he loves more than anything, that was all splinter and draxum. mikey’s action of bringing barry along was a catalyst, he was able to speak to his own feelings about it to splinter when it came up, but he wasn’t sitting there going “tell me how that makes you feel and we’ll talk through it” yknow?

and it’s the same with the dr feelings thing with donnie, which is arguably as close to Playing Therapist as mikey gets on screen. bc that was just a very Extra way of confronting donnie about the shelldon stuff. like. that was mikey inserting himself into the situation so he could give his personal opinion about how donnie was messing up, just with a sweater and a powerpoint. like. an intervention i guess. if donnie hadn’t gotten the picture from the slides he was probably all lined up for a dr delicate touch meeting.

which like, was also not being donnie’s therapist as much as a once again very hamfisted way of addressing something that mikey felt in the right about?

i’m wondering if maybe what i picture when i hear about a child having to play therapist for the family isn’t the same as what modern fandom means by saying it. because i picture like, what steven universe went through. which was practically singlehandedly, as a child, walk a bunch of adults through their own grief and insecurities and shortcomings with unending patience and support, to a point of pushing all his own needs and emotional issues aside.

where steven seemed convinced there were things that he wasn’t allowed to express or outright things he never got to learn to express, mikey is probably the most emotionally open and honest of all the brothers. he feels more outright sheltered. 

especially where his big brothers are concerned. the entire episode about his first solo mission he was chafing about being unnecessarily overprotected by raph. there’s a lot tied up in his relationship to raph if we take what the creators said about them growing apart as they’ve grown up into account. 

so i guess for me, in my understanding of the trauma of playing therapist at a young age, i can’t really reconcile what canon gives us with the idea of any of the other brothers or splinter (who is notably emotionally disconnected from his sons at series start) genuinely dropping their issues on his lap. 

but in that vein, for as much as he’s emotionally open and honest, i’m sure there are also insecurities and issues that mikey doesn’t express. or. that canon for some reason just decided to not dig into in any of the episodes that actually got made.

but ohhhhh that’s a whole separate can of worms.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt mikey #rise mikey

[thaliaisalesbian]

i get myself twisted in threads

Chapter 17: i sit there silently

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 18

“I hear you have assignments for me?” Steve’s leaning against the Byers’ porch railing. He’s trying to look smooth, but he’s pretty sure it’s not working. Not when Jonathan knows he’s leaning because he’s not supposed to put all of his weight on his ankles too often yet.

At least he’s got good crutches that don’t cause chafing, and Will’s even offered to decorate them when he gets a chance.

Luckily for him, that doesn’t seem to stop Jonathan from kissing him once the door is shut behind them.

“Yeah, they’re in a folder in my room.”

“Really? You’ve just been keeping them here the whole time?”

“Yeah. There are a lot, man. You don’t have to go back, you could just graduate with us instead.” It’s nice that Jonathan thinks he could graduate this year if he went back. He doesn’t even think he could graduate this year.

Jonathan’s probably only saying it to soften the blow a little.

“I think I need something that’s at least a little normal, right now.” That’s what he’s been telling everyone, and for the most part they’re accepting it as an answer.

El always looks suspicious when he says it, but that might be because she doesn’t want him to move out of the cabin.

He’s currently choosing to believe that she can’t actually read his mind, despite some of the things she says and does that make it seem like she can.

“Well, I’ve got homework tonight, we could work on it together.” Jonathan gets the folder—it must have been hidden, because Steve hasn’t seen it before—and then gets himself set up.

Steve stares at the first page; it’s an English assignment from early December, copied down in Nancy’s handwriting.

“Okay, so an essay.” He puts that aside for now. If it’s a book report, he can’t do it right now anyway. He doesn’t have the book with him.

The next one is a math assignment, which he can do—at least some of it. He starts on the standalone questions, not bothering to look at the word problems. He always struggles the most with word problems. They suck, and he kind of wants to rip them off the page and burn them..

By the time Will and Joyce get home, he’s gotten through three assignments total, two for math and one for his ‘arts’ class—since he can’t take gym, he’ll need another class to make up for it. So they’ve just given him a bunch of random art assignments, apparently.

He wonders if there are written assignments for the drama classes. Probably not. And if they were, they’d be about those hard-to-read plays, so he wouldn’t be able to do them anyway.

“Are you at a good break point?” Joyce puts a hand on his shoulder, and he jumps a little. “Looks like you’ve gotten a lot done, after being out of school for so long.”

“Some of the math is pretty easy.” He shrugs. “English, history, and science are gonna be harder.” He likes history, though. It’s just so hard to read the tiny print in the textbook. He did a lot better last year, when his teacher acted out some things and read others to them dramatically. His notes hadn’t been the neatest, but he’d gotten his first A- in a class since middle school.

He’d been so excited when he’d seen that on his report card. Of course, that one A- hadn’t been enough to get him out of trouble.

His teacher this year—Mrs. Click—doesn’t do that; she mostly just assigns reading and then has a quiz on it.

He’s not doing great.

“So you’ve decided to go back, then?”

“Yeah, I think so. I want something a little normal, you know? And maybe people will stop trying to spy on us and stuff.”

He knows that Nancy and Jonathan have tried to hide it from him, but there are people watching them. They’re curious, and he knows it’s only a matter of time before someone says something to them directly—or worse, goes to Will or Mike, or any of the other kids. They might ask Joyce, too, but he doesn’t think anyone wants to try asking Hopper.

“Well, you know you’re welcome to study here anytime. Do you know what you have to get done before you go back?”

He looks over at Jonathan. He hadn’t thought about that.

“Most of it.” He says, apologetically. “Nance and I will help, don’t worry.”

“I can help too!” Will takes the seat next to him, looking way too excited about homework. “I can read stuff to you if you need it.”

How had he known?

“That will help, Will, thanks. But you’ve got your own stuff to do.”

“Will, what do you mean?” Joyce asks.

“He did all the math problems but the word ones.” Will shrugs. “So he can do the math, but maybe the word problems are hard to read or something. And he likes it when El reads to him.”

“El’s a good reader.” It’s a weak defense, and he knows it. He probably should have at least offered to read to her.

“We can talk about that more later. What do you guys want for dinner? Steve, I’ll call Jim and let him know you’re staying the night.”

He wants to ask why, but the last time he did that, Will gave him a weird look, and Joyce just looked sad. 

“Can we have pizza? Since Steve’s here?” Will bounces, and Steve grins at him. He kind of wants to bounce, too, but he’s too old for that.

“Don’t expect that to work for long,” Joyce warns. “Steve’s Jonathan’s boyfriend, I think he’s going to be over a lot.”

“But it works for now, and that’s what matters.”

“Oh, so you’re just using me to get pizza? Wow, little Byers, I expected better of you.”

“That’s not what I’m doing!”

“Seems like it is, Will.” Jonathan adds. “Maybe Steve and I should stay in my room, if you’re just going to try and use him like this.”

“Or maybe you just want to make out with him.”

“That’s a benefit, yeah.” Jonathan admits, kissing Steve with… a little flair than he normally would in front of the kids.

“Ew. Mom, tell them to stop making out in front of me!”

“Are there any clothes off?”

“No.”

“Then no, they’re fine.” Steve pulls away a little. He could really get used to this. He and Nancy could never make fun of Mike this way, her mom would have had a fit. But Joyce doesn’t care, and Will doesn’t mean it in the same way Mike had. He’s not rude or mean, he’s only teasing them. Sure, he’s probably a little grossed out, but only because Jonathan’s his big brother. Not because he hates Steve.

“Should we go to my room until the pizza gets here?” Jonathan murmurs. “I’m sure Mom wouldn’t mind.”

“No, stay out here, it’ll be ten minutes.” Joyce knows everything. “Will, grab the paper plates, will you? Jonathan, Steve, clear the table. If you put things back in Jonathan’s room, the door stays open.”

“How much did you get done?”

“Most of two math assignments, and one of the random arts ones.” He’s still got months’ worth of work to make up. He’s starting to see what Hopper went when he said he might want to wait.

It would give him more time to catch up, not that it would matter when he’d just be starting the year over.

“Want me to hand them in for you?”

“Not yet. I don’t think Hopper’s told them either way. Maybe when I look at some more of these, I’ll change my mind.” He won’t. He knows he won’t. He probably should, since even with Nancy and Jonathan’s help he’s not going to make it through even half of this work, but he won’t.

He’s too scared of what will happen if he doesn’t even try.

finish on ao3 or continue reading

The three of them fall into an easy routine, over the next few weeks. Nancy would like to call it a nice routine, but the arguments with her mother that have become part of the routine is not at all nice.

It’s after one of these fights that she’s meant to hang out with Jonathan and Steve at the Byers’. Maybe do homework, but she’s doubting they’ll actually get much done.

“Next weekend.” Steve’s gotten dangerous on his crutches, lately. He and Jonathan are on the porch steps, and she keeps thinking that he’s going to fall. “Next weekend, and I get to go back to my house.”

Nancy’s not so sure that’s a good thing; Steve’s happier than she’s ever known him to be now. But he wants to go back. None of them, not even El’s puppy dog eyes (which, of course, Steve had taught her to use) can sway him.

“What about school?” She’s not a part of getting Steve up to speed on schoolwork, mostly because her mother will try and lock her in her bedroom if she spends any more time with her boys, no matter who else is around.

“I’m going back on Monday, Jon’s been turning in some of my stuff for me as I get it done. I think it’s enough to get me through a couple of classes.”

Some of his work is good, she’s sure, but Nancy’s seen some of his essays. She’s worried about what will happen when he finds out that he can’t graduate this year.

She honestly doesn’t know if he expects to graduate this year. She hasn’t asked.

“Nance,” Steve leans towards her, so much that she’s worried he’s going to overbalance and fall, “How would you feel about spending the weekend with me and Jonathan?”

“We’re going to help him move back and get readjusted.” Jonathan corrects, smiling a little. “I’ve been promised movies and pizza.”

“And kissing.” Steve adds.

“Oh, yes, that’s the deciding factor.” Jonathan wraps an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Your mom will have a field day with that, though, right?”

“Yeah, she’ll be pissed. She’s already mad at me.”

Nancy hasn’t told either of them what exactly her mom had said the first time she’d rebuked her for spending her time with Jonathan and Steve.

“Still?” Steve asks.

“You know, she’s never needed someone to babysit Holly so often until I started spending more time with you both. She doesn’t like that I’m alone with you, is what I think it is. She never seemed to mind before. At least not this much.”

Nancy can’t figure out what’s set her off this time. She hasn’t heard anything at school, and most of what goes through her mom’s church gets around the high schoolers just as quickly. So she doesn’t think it’s a rumor.

“Want to talk about it?” Steve finally lets Jonathan guide him to sit on the steps, but that’s probably just because he’s distracted with her. He’s got his little worried face on; it’s one he usually tries his best to hide.

“I… don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Want to talk about how you feel about it?”

She’s still figuring that out, too. On one hand, it’s really annoying and overprotective of her mom to be acting like this. On the other hand, she doesn’t think she’s had so much of her mom’s undivided attention since before Holly was born.

“You don’t have to!” Steve starts to backtrack after she’s quiet for a minute. Jonathan’s gone inside, probably to grab drinks or something.

“No, I’m just… I don’t know, it’s one of those things where the attention is nice, it’s more undivided attention from her than I’ve had since she was pregnant with Holly,” That’s also around the time her dad checked out. She’s still not sure if it’s because he hadn’t wanted another kid, or if there’s something else at play. “But I don’t like how she’s giving me attention, if that makes sense. She’s being more overbearing and overprotective than anything, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

It feels strange, to admit that out loud. She’s so used to knowing what to do for everything, or at least being able to figure it out. She’s done that with monsters from alternate dimensions! Her mom should be easier to handle than those!

That’s not how things are shaping up, though, and Nancy doesn’t like the pit that forms in her stomach when she thinks about it.

“Yeah, she’s being weird about it.” Steve agrees. “It’s not like you weren’t spending time with me alone, or time with Jonathan alone, before. Why is this so different?”

“I don’t know. She won’t actually tell me, she just keeps saying that I’m in trouble.” Jonathan hands them both a water.

“You could just stay here.” He offers. “Mom won’t mind.”

“Yeah, and that’s going to go over so well.”

“You could tell her that you’re going to move in with Steve, and then pretend to compromise with moving in here.” Jonathan suggests, looking a little too amused by it.

“Oh, she’d hate that.”

Thankfully, Jonathan and Steve steer the conversation away from her mom after that.

She’d never actually move in with the Byers’, Joyce has enough on her plate already without having to worry about her, too. But it’s nice to know that it’s an option, if she needs it.

They sit out there until it starts to rain, just talking, and if anyone is watching to report back to her mom at church, they’re not going to find anything untoward happening.

“Are we actually going to do homework now?”

“No, I’ve got a surprise for you.” Steve says. “I think you’ll like it.”

“Should I be worried?” She looks at Jonathan, but he shakes his head.

“No, it’ll be great.”

Inside, Steve’s ditched his crutches to set up the table; it almost looks like he's made them a fancy meal.

“I didn’t know about it until yesterday.” Jonathan tells her, pulling out her chair for her.  “He started then and just stayed the night.”

Nancy pushes down the jealousy that flares up. She’s glad that Steve and Jonathan are getting closer, but she can’t help but be upset that she’s not getting the same opportunities to spend time with them.

“He did say I could make dinner, though.”

The table’s only set for three—for the first time since she’s arrived, Nancy wonders where Joyce and Will are.

“Mom took Will to the arcade and then they’re having dinner with El and Hopper at the cabin.” Jonathan answers before she can ask. “Mom was very insistent on clearing out. You’d almost think she’d been waiting for it.”

“She was!” Steve sets down a large pot—one that’s probably too big to use for canned soup, at least. “Jonathan made us soup.”

“And I have to wait and see what you made us?”

“Yes, you do.”

It’s dessert, then, but what type of dessert? How had he managed to make it so that Joanthan hadn’t known about it until yesterday?

Between the three of them, they manage to eat most of the pot. Since they cooked, she clears the table, washing out their bowls while Steve gets his surprise ready for them.

“Wait, is that…”

It’s not exactly like the picture, but it looks like one of the cakes Mrs. Henderson had shown them when they’d asked her for recipes.

“I wanted you and Jonathan to have the first thing I made from it. I still don’t think I can thank you enough for that. I don’t even know how you figured it out.”

That’s easy. They’d gone to his house to get him clothes and a few other things, and they’d snooped.

Well, she’d snooped. Jonathan had stayed in the living room like a good, boring guy who was pretending he didn’t want to know more about his crush. She’d been the one checking the corners of his room, under his bed, the top shelves of his closet (she’d had to go in there anyway to get clothes), and even opening every kitchen cupboard to see if there was a secret passion she could uncover.

It meant they’d been able to give Steve a thoughtful, personalized gift though, so Jonathan had only complained about it a little.

“He spent all day making it.” Jonathan leans over, not quite whispering. “He wanted to wait and bring it over today.”

“Then I reconsidered, because if I made it at the cabin then it might not survive the trip here.” Steve plates them all big pieces—over half the cake, total. “But Jonathan wasn’t too nosy about it. Will kept trying to steal the batter.”

“Will is a well-behaved child who would never do such a thing.” Jonathan can’t keep a straight face.

“Will is a menace like the rest of his friends, but he’s better at hiding it.” Steve counters. “Even Max is a menace, she just likes to pretend otherwise.”

“Okay, so they’re all menaces.” Nancy jumps in. “But I think we can agree that Mike is the worst.”

“Yes.” Steve points at her with his fork. “He is. He still hates me, you know?”

“Oh, he’s faking it now. At least most of it.”

“You two don’t have to live with Will, you don’t know anything about menaces.” Jonathan takes a bite of his cake, and the expression that he can’t keep off of his face afterward ruins the rest of the bit. “He steals all of my stuff, he’s always hiding things from me.”

“No, he’s not.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Sounds like you’re stealing that line from Lucus.”

“And so what if I am?”

“Then it’s a lie. I’m going to have to tell El about this, Jon. If she doesn’t know already.”

“Yeah, Jonathan. Friends don’t lie.” Nancy leans into Steve’s side.

“We’re not friends, though, we’re dating.”

“That just makes it even worse! I might have to take a page out of Munson’s book and get on the table to explain to you.” Steve only wraps an arm around her, though, so he’s not going anywhere.

“He hasn’t done that lately!”

“Well, it’s usually pretty funny, he should!”

“Aren’t you the target of most of his speeches?”

“Nah, not really. He hasn’t taken a dig at Hargrove yet?”

“No. After what happened to you, I don’t think anyone wants to.” With that, Jonathan effectively ends that line of discussion.

Somehow, though, it’s not awkward or weird when they finish eating their cake in silence—Nancy wants to say ‘fuck it’ and eat the entire thing tonight, but it’s so rich that they’d probably all be sick from it.

After everything is cleaned up, they manage to squish together on Jonathan’s bed, but they’re all full and tired. Neither of them even react when she takes her shirt off. She’s pretty sure if she took her pants off it’d be a different story, but she’s not in the mood for that.

“Naptime?” She could probably make Steve move so she can be in the middle, but that would take effort.

“Why does it feel like we always end up napping when we’re together?” Jonathan grumbles.

“Cause we do. We like sleeping, I guess.”

“Sleeping and cuddling.” Nancy corrects. “We always wake up in the weirdest positions.”

“That’s Steve’s fault, he moves so much. And he’s an octopus.”

“If I were actually an octopus, neither of you would leave this bed ever again.”

“That sounds pretty good, actually.” She’s the only one with her eyes open; the boys are both half-asleep already. “Wait, Jon, is your mom going to wake us up when she gets home?”

“Probably, cause you can’t stay the night, can you?” They can’t see it, but she shakes her head.

“No, she’s staying.” Steve turns a little so he can squeeze her. “See if you can get me to let go.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Steve.”

“It’s definitely how it works.”

“Stop bickering and go to sleep.” Nancy closes her eyes.

It’d be nice if that’s how it worked; she knows that Steve really wouldn’t let her go, and she really wouldn’t mind.

<- 16 18 ->

#stranger things #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #stoncy #jonathan byers #joyce byers #karen wheeler #will byers #mike wheeler #jim hopper #steve harrington's self esteem issues #hurt/comfort #emotional whump #emotional hurt/comfort #i get myself twisted in threads #nix writes #st fic #stranger things fic #stoncy fic #ao3 fic #wip wednesday #fic update #wip update #whump #whump writing

[punchdrunkdoc]

Just Breathe - Ch.12

Summary: Six months after the events in Gotham Square Garden, Bruce is struggling to find balance between his role as Batman and his responsibilities as Bruce Wayne. His life is made even more complicated when he learns that someone knows his secret identity.

Notes: This is a multi-chapter, slow-burn Battinson/original female character story with romance, angst, and crime solving!

Also available on AO3

Masterlist

Reference pics and stuff

“How’s it going with my apartment?” Beth asked. 

She was sitting cross-legged on the chair he’d brought down to the lair for her. She never sat normally; it was one of the things he’d learned about her since they’d started living together. If she was reading, she’d curl into the chair with her feet on the cushions and her legs bent to prop the book against; if she was watching something on her phone, her back would rest against one of the arms of the chair and her legs would hang off the opposite one, her feet swinging in the air. The other night, he’d spent more time watching those sock-clad feet than reading the Wayne company financial statements Alfred had foisted on him. 

Right now she was bent over the suit resting in her lap, repairing a tear in the arm with neat stitches. He’d gotten too close to a knife-wielding thug last night who’d sliced a 3 inch gash in the leather. She’d offered to sew it for him before he went out again tonight. 

“And not because this is classed as ‘woman’s work’,” she insisted. “I just miss stitching things up. I used to find it almost therapeutic sewing up the bodies after autopsies. Putting things right again…” She’d shrugged and grabbed the suit from his hands. 

It wasn’t the first time she’d mentioned missing her job. She’d explained her absence to the M.E. by way of a family emergency and was using up the leave she’d accrued over years…but it was obvious she wanted to get back to work as soon as possible. 

And now she was asking about her apartment. 

“Alfred says the decorators are almost finished,” he replied. She’d taken the news of her damaged home surprisingly well, but he’d purposefully downplayed the extent of the destruction. She didn’t need those images in her head when she eventually returned to it. He’d offered to find her a new place, but she’d settled for him arranging for repairs and refurbishment.  

“So when do they think I can move back in?”

He sighed and swivelled on his stool to face her. “Beth, you know its not safe to go back yet.”

“It’s been two weeks, Bruce. I can’t hide here forever.” 

The sentiment was repeated by Alfred the following morning. “How long is that poor girl going to be holed up here?”

He told him what he told Beth. “As long as it takes to find Newsome.”

“And just how hard are you looking?”

“What do you mean? I’ve got facial recognition software running on cameras set up around Beth’s apartment, the GCPD are monitoring the bus and train terminals, every informant in the city is on the look out…”

“Hmmm,” was the only reply. 

“What are you getting at, Alfred?”

“I’m just wondering if you aren’t subconsciously trying to keep her here.”

That got a glare in response. Alfred threw his hands up in surrender. “I’m just pointing out that for someone with an intense fear of losing people, keeping them locked away from the world would be a convenient coping mechanism.”

“Enough with the amateur psychology, Alfred. I’m not subconsciously - or consciously - doing anything.”

Newsome was in hiding - completely off the grid - and there wasn’t a way to flush him out that didn’t put Beth in danger. Bruce was sure he was still in the city, biding his time, waiting for his opportunity…and Bruce wouldn’t give him that. 

So Beth had to stay here.

He knew she was starting to chafe against her confinement, but there was no alternative. He wasn’t manipulating events to make her stay, and he never would - no matter how much he liked living with her. 

“I have to resort to ‘amateur psychology’, as you put it, because you won’t seek real help!”

It was an old argument, one that had been grumbling between them for decades. “I told you, Alfred, I don’t need-“

“You do! You always have. But I let it go - for years. But things are different now. You have someone in your life now, and eventually she is going to leave this fortress and be out in the world again. Can you honestly say you’ll be able to cope with that?”

Bruce said nothing, knowing that Alfred was right. He hadn’t gotten over his fear of losing Beth or going through that kind of grief again - it had all just been lying dormant. 

Alfred took advantage of the silence. “Please just hear me out - for once.”

Bruce nodded, resigned.

“The fear of losing someone you care about will never go away completely - its a normal, valid emotion that we all experience in our lives. But its not normal when it leads you to sabotage your relationships or retreat from human kind all together.

“I’m aware of that, Alfred.”

“Well, are you aware that there are techniques to mitigate the fear? Make it manageable? For example, there’s a kind of exposure therapy, where you picture what your life would be like if they died. Really imagine it. And then you picture yourself coming out the other side of that, knowing that you’ll be able to go on. You are resilient, Bruce. You survived the absolute worst thing imaginable once, and you would be able to do so again. You need to have faith in yourself.”

Bruce shook his head. The thought of sitting down and really picturing what life would be like if something happened to Beth…

No. 

He couldn’t cope with that kind of ‘therapy.’

“I appreciate your help, Alfred. I really do. But I can’t deal with this right now.” He stood up from the table and started heading upstairs to his room. 

Alfred’s voice called up after him. “Bruce, if you live your life clinging to the knowledge that you will eventually lose everything, you’ll never actually gain anything. Just remember that. Please.”

Bruce paused on the steps as the words penetrated. But he shook his head again. That was a problem for another time. Right now, he needed to sleep… 

Then he needed to get to work. 

While the search for Newsome was cold, tracking down the weapons dealer was his top priority. He had a lead to go on - thanks to Gordon - and he needed to start digging into it. 

He passed Beth’s room on the way to his suite and a faint noise stopped him as he walked by her door. She’d gone to bed an hour ago, so she should be asleep…

Concerned, he put his ear to the door and heard her crying out, her voice strained.

She was having a nightmare.

He eased open her door and softly padded to the side of her bed. She was on her back, the sheets tangled up around her legs. Her head thrashed from side-to-side as frightened whimpers escaped her lips. 

So that’s where it goes, he thought. The unknown traumas from her past, the dark memories collected from killers, the tragedies she dealt with at work…all of it stagnated in her subconscious, hiding behind her smiles and sunny optimism, waiting for the night to emerge. 

Just like the fake smile that covered up her desperation for human touch, this was another sign that she was living a lie. Another sign that she was struggling with her circumstances and her past.  

He wondered if she was even aware of it.

He perched on the edge of the mattress, unsure how to comfort her. Would she want to be woken to find him here, a witness to her vulnerability? He would hate that, if it were him.

So he opted for a different tack. He brought his hand up slowly, and gently placed it on her cheek - finally completing the gesture he’d started a few days ago - and set about replacing the terrorising images she was experiencing with something more peaceful. 

The first thing that came to mind was a recreation of their night under the stars, and he concentrated all his thoughts on it, hoping she could pick up on it in the depths of her uneasy sleep. 

He pictured the night sky, vast and wondrous. He pictured the gentle, warm breeze rustling through the field of corn. He pictured the two of them, lying together on a blanket in the middle of that field. He was on his back…and her head was resting on his outstretched arm. 

He tried to project a feeling of calm. Of contented lethargy.

In the scene, she turned her head and smiled at him. He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, his hand brushing against her silken skin. He shifted on to his side and continued his exploration, his finger gently tracing the arch of her eyebrow. The slope of her nose. Across her lips. 

She tilted her head up as he bent down, a move so choreographed it spoke of endless familiarity. 

His lips met hers. He tasted her smile, his tongue flicking out against her plump upper lip as it curled in delight. 

The kiss was unhurried. 

Languorous and wonderful. 

His hand cupped her head to change the angle of the kiss, and it deepened. Became passionate and vital. He felt her fingers grasp his hair and she tugged until he moved over her, his hips now cradled between her thighs. Her other hand smoothed over his back. His lips moved to her neck, gliding over the warm skin, desperate to feel more of her, lay claim to every inch of her-

Bruce sprang from the bed, severing the contact. 

His breathing was hard and loud in the quiet room and his eyes flew to Beth’s…but she was still asleep. She looked relaxed and at peace now, a small smile curving her lips. 

He took a deep breath, relieved that she hadn’t woken and realised what he’d done. 

What he’d revealed. 

He desired her.

He wanted her.

He’d been deluding himself all these weeks that this was just a platonic relationship. Even the other night, when he admitted that he wanted to touch her, he’d somehow convinced himself it was just as a means of comfort. 

It was all bullshit. 

He fucking craved her. 

He wanted to kiss her. Caress her. Strip her bare and bury himself inside of her. 

He scrubbed his hands over his face. He couldn’t think about his here. Not when she could wake at any moment. He grabbed the duvet from the end of the bed and pulled it up, smoothing it over her sleeping form. 

She was still wearing his pyjamas, he noted. She’d bought several outfits online to wear around the house - she hadn’t wanted anything from her apartment that Newsome might have touched - but for some reason she was still wearing his clothes to bed. 

He really couldn’t think about that now. 

He left the room, quietly closing the door behind him and leaned back against it. 

He wanted her. 

He wanted Beth. 

He’d had some encounters with the opposite sex in college, but it was an aspect of his life that he’d tried to sublimate. There’d been a moment of weakness with Selina last year, but he’d worked hard to extinguish the spark of desire she’d lit in him. 

But that spark was back. 

Within moments of imagining a scene with Beth where he was free to act as he wanted - with no abilities stopping them, no missions distracting them - he’d kissed her.  As if it was the most natural thing in the world...  

But it didn’t matter. It didn’t change anything between them.

Beth was unwilling to touch him. Unwilling - unable - to take on his memories. To see Batman’s world in all its technicolour brutality night after night. And he understood that.

He was grateful, in a way. 

Beth had erected the barrier between them that he needed.  

He couldn’t afford to give in to these desires. 

He couldn’t afford to be distracted from his work, and he couldn’t afford to get any closer to her.  

 ———

 Later that afternoon, Beth padded downstairs and smothered a yawn with the back of her hand. She didn't feel rested at all, despite a full eight hours in bed. She'd been plagued by her recurring nightmare - the same one she'd been experiencing since she was 12 years old. Her psychologist at the time thought it was her mind's way of bringing repressed memories to the surface, but in all the years she'd been having the dream, she was none the wiser on what it meant. 

It was just her, in the dark, immobile and powerless, calling for help. 

That was it. 

No clues were offered about the first decade of her life and what she'd been through. Instead, she just woke up drenched in sweat, haunted by feelings of despair and terror. 

Except for last night...

Last night the dream had morphed into something entirely different. Something much more enjoyable, involving a blanket, a starry sky and a certain vigilante billionaire. 

That dream had been much more pleasant...but she still woke feeling an echo of despair. 

Because it would always remain a dream. 

A fantasy of a different life. 

She’d been trying her hardest this past week to act naturally around Bruce. To not let on that she was in love with him. To not let him see that she was dying inside from the sheer want of him. She’d even broached the subject of moving out, as if she was itching to get some distance from him. When the truth was - as much as it was torture in its own way - these last couple of weeks had been the happiest of her life. 

So she’d been trying to put some distance between them...but apparently all she’d done was suppress all her wants and desires until they'd sprung forth during her sleeping hours. 

"What's all this?" she asked as she reached the dining table. Instead of food, it was covered with documents and photographs that Bruce and Alfred were pouring over.

Bruce looked up at her voice. His eyes flicked over her face, but he quickly dipped his head to shuffle the papers in front of him. 

Alfred answered for him. "We're chasing leads on the distributor of the gas."

"What gas?"

“She doesn’t know?" he asked Bruce, surprise in his voice.

"The gas those bus hijackers used on me," Bruce replied, his focus still on the pages in his hands. "I've come across it a couple more times on the streets. Someone's supplying it to Gotham's criminals.”

She felt hurt that she hadn’t been included in this. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just didn’t want to worry you.”

“Well, now I’m worried about all the other things you don’t feel I’m capable enough to handle.”

He stared up at her. “There’s one way to solve that problem, isn’t there.” He held out his hand to her, palm up, as if daring her to take it. 

She frowned at him and shook her head, all her earlier thoughts of happiness and love dissolving in the face of his cruel behaviour. “Why are you being like this?”

 ———

 “Why are you being like this?” 

Because I’m an asshole, Bruce thought.

The moment she’d walked into the room, he’d suddenly felt wired. As if all his senses had gone on alert. But he didn’t know how to act, or what to say. He could barely look at her. 

His composure was wrecked.

And he’d been too keyed up after that…dream or projection or whatever it was…to sleep much. Which meant he’d be hitting the streets tonight distracted and tired. 

It wasn’t fair to blame her for any of that…but a part of him did. So he’d lashed out with a callous gesture. He’d offered the one thing she wanted the most - human touch - just to hurt her. 

And he felt like a complete bastard for it. 

He watched from the corner of his eye as she turned on her heel and walked away. He tipped his head back and blew out a long breath. 

“What the hell is going on between you two?” Alfred asked.

“It’s complicated.”

“That didn’t look complicated. It looked like two children sniping at each other. If you want to make this relationship work-”

“We’re not in a relationship,” Bruce interjected.

Alfred sighed. “It’s not a conventional relationship, I’ll grant you. But there is something between you two-“

“We’re just friends.“

“-and don’t say you’re just friends.”

The two men stared at each other, with matching obstinate expressions.

“Whatever it is, Bruce. You need to apologise to her.” Alfred stood up and left the room. 

Bruce nodded and stared down at the table. 

Like two children sniping at each other…

That was the problem, wasn’t it? He was stuck in arrested development, never progressing past that traumatic event from when he was 10 years old. His whole identity was tied to it, and everything he’d done since was a reaction to it. 

He’d cut himself off from the normal progression of life. He had no friends, no social life. And he’d never had a proper, adult relationship - friendship or otherwise.

Which meant he didn’t know how to deal with these feelings. He didn’t know how to treat someone he cared about. Someone he was attracted to. 

When he felt he was getting too close before, he’d ignored her. 

And when he’d gotten closer still - and admitted to himself that he wanted her - he’d lashed out and hurt her.

He clenched his fists on the table. He needed to do better. None of this was Beth’s fault. It wasn’t her fault that he had no experience with relationships; it wasn’t her fault that he didn’t know how to handle these feelings…

And it wasn’t her fault that she had an ability that kept them apart. 

If he was honest with himself, that was another reason he was feeling angry and frustrated this morning. She’d walked in to the room looking adorably rumpled, the tiredness in her eyes doing nothing to detract from her beauty…and all he’d wanted to do was take her in his arms and kiss her. 

And he’d known it was impossible. 

Last night he’d been grateful that her ability acted as a barrier between them - a buffer to keep him safe. 

But now he just resented it. 

He’d wanted her to call his bluff, take his hand, see how much he wanted her…and tell him she felt the same. It was a fantasy he needed to wake up from. They were friends. And that’s all they’d ever be. 

And friends didn’t hurt each other. 

Bruce set out to find her and apologise, but she wasn’t in her room or her usual haunts - the chair by the fireplace, or the lair downstairs. He felt a prickling of unease grow as he searched from room to room. What if she’d left? What if she was out there, on the streets and unprotected? What if he’d driven her out into danger…?

As a last resort, he ventured out on the rooftop, to the small seating area that offered a view of the Gotham skyline. 

And there she was.

He exhaled in relief. Then took a deep breath as he tried to come up with an opening. The only thing he could think of was an inane fact from his childhood. “Do you know the President of the United States once sat there?” he asked, coming to stand in front of her. He leaned against the stone balustrade and pointed to her chair.

“Which one? The current asshole or the asshole before him?” Her tone was annoyed, but he didn’t care - at least she was speaking to him.

“I think it was the asshole before that. My parents threw this big fundraiser when he was running for re-election and canvassing in Gotham. This whole rooftop was strung with lights and it looked like something out of a fairytale. I was only five or six, and wasn’t allowed to attend the party, but I snuck in.”

“What happened?” She sounded curious despite herself. 

He took a seat beside her on the wooden bench and stared out over the city. “My mom found me running around in my pyjamas stealing food from the buffet tables. She lifted me into her arms, introduced me to the leader of the free world, then tucked me back into bed.” He could feel a smile lift the corners of his mouth at the memory. 

“You never really talk about that period of your childhood,” she whispered.

He turned to face her. “Neither do you.”

She shrugged and huddled into her cardigan. It was an unseasonably warm evening in Gotham, but the sun was starting to set, and a cool breeze drifted through the air. “There’s not much to tell. I have no memory of my life before I was 12 years old.”

She narrowed her eyes at his silence. “But you already knew that.”

He nodded. 

She blew out a breath. “Wow, you really do know all my secrets.” 

‘Any you know all of mine,’ he wanted to reply. But that was no longer the truth. Not when he was keeping his feelings for her hidden. He settled for apologising. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the gas. And I’m sorry for what I did downstairs.”

“That was a dick move.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Truly sorry. I was tired and frustrated…and that’s no excuse.” He raked his fingers through his hair and tugged on the strands. “It’s just…I’ve never had something like this in my life. A relationship, like this. And I don’t know how to handle it sometimes.”

“And you think I do?” She offered him a small smile, and the churning shame and regret in his gut started to ease with the sight.

“So am I forgiven?” he asked. 

She nodded and he smiled in return. “Thank you.”

She shivered and tugged her cardigan around her. “We should go inside,” he said. 

“I want to watch the sunset. But you can go. You need to get ready for tonight.”

He shook his head. “It can wait.” He cautiously wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close against his side, offering his warmth.   

They sat together in comfortable silence and watched the sun wash the sky in lavender and orange as it dipped below the horizon.

 ———

 Bruce was asleep. 

His arm was loose around her shoulder, and his head rested against the back of the bench. His chest rose and fell with deep, even breaths. 

Beth watched him fondly, unused to seeing him so relaxed. He must have been exhausted to have fallen asleep so quickly…and in such an uncomfortable position. 

She would need to wake him soon, otherwise he’d end up with a sore neck. But for now, she was content to watch over him as he rested. 

He’d been working so hard these last couple of weeks, out for hours and hours at a time scouring the city for Newsome. And now she’d discovered he was facing a new threat, the manufacturer of the gas that had nearly killed him before. 

Which worried her. If he was exposed again, she wouldn’t be there to save him…

She couldn’t stand that thought. So she would help him in anyway she could to find who was responsible and stop them.

And she would cut him some slack when he occasionally acted like an ass, like he did earlier today. He was stressed, tired, and he was fumbling with this strange, wonderful relationship of theirs as much as she was. 

He may not love her as she loved him, but he cared about her…and that was obviously alien to him. 

The breeze ruffled his hair, causing the long strands to fall onto his face. Carefully - so carefully - she moved them back into place and stroked her fingers along the locks, surprised at how silky they felt. Bruce shifted slightly and she pulled her hand away, but not before her skin brushed against his…

She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. 

He woke at the sound, coming alert in an instant. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. 

He noted the position of her hand - inches from his head - and smoothed his hand over his hair, as if feeling her phantom touch. He frowned at her. “Did you..?”

“It was an accident. I’m sorry,” she repeated.

His frown deepened. “What did you see?”

She hid her smile and put on a serious expression. “Something…unexpected. I’m not sure what to think about it.”

He looked nervous at that, and leaned away from her. “Wh-what?” 

Her composure slipped and she giggled. All this time she’d been so worried about what she would pick up if she ever touched him again, and… “You were dreaming about fixing your car.”

He huffed out a laugh and ducked his head. 

She dropped her hand, and her cardigan fell off her shoulder exposing her skin. Before she could cover it up again, he stopped her. “Wait.”

“What is it?”

His gaze was fixed on her upper arm. “You were holding out on me.”

She cocked her head to the side, not catching his meaning.

“You have scars too,” he explained. He nodded at the jagged, four inch long line that wrapped around her shoulder. “What happened?”

She rubbed her finger over the faint mark. “I don’t actually know how I got that. It was from…before.”

“Before you were found, you mean?”

She nodded and drew her cardigan back into place. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it…?”

She shrugged. “There’s not much to talk about. My earliest memory is being on the streets, feeling hungry and lost. A cop found me and dropped me off at social services.”

“And all you remembered was your name.” 

She sighed. “That’s the official story. But the truth is, I remembered nothing. But everyone kept looking at me with such…pity…and I couldn’t stand it. So I made up a name and pretended it was mine.”

He looked surprised at that. “Your name’s not Beth Carraway?”

She shook her head. “The psychologist they sent me to had loads of books in her office. One time when I was alone, I looked through some of them, and picked out a name. ‘Carraway’ is from The Great Gatsby, and ‘Beth’ is from Little Women.”

Her whole past was a lie. She wasn’t Beth Carraway. She wasn’t 32 years old - social services had estimated her age based on her reading ability and height, but she was sure she was at least a couple of years younger. She had no idea where she came from, or why she was found wandering the streets with no memory.

“If I’d known how that Beth died in the end, I would have picked ‘Amy’ - at least she got the cute boy. Choosing the dead girl feels like a bad omen.” She was used to making light of the gaping hole in her psyche; it was a coping mechanism she’d had to adopt at school, when her life was ripe for bullies to attack. 

But Bruce didn’t see the humour. He grabbed the sleeve of her cardigan. “Don’t say that.” His voice was fierce. 

“Hey,” she whispered, shifting closer to him, their legs tangling together with the action. “I’m sorry. It was just a bad joke.” She rubbed circles over his shoulder, trying to soothe the muscles that had tensed at her careless words.

He was still staring at her intently. His hand squeezed her arm softly, his thumb stroking her skin through the woollen material. He leaned forward…and she felt herself swaying towards him, drawn to him almost against her will.

His eyes dropped to her lips, and he moved closer still. 

“Bruce…,” she whispered, torn between pushing him away, and dragging him into her arms…

“Bruce, there you are.” Alfred’s voice rang out over the rooftop. She froze, and Bruce sprang to his feet and away from her. “I’ve found something.”

----

CHAPTER 13

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[subbyenbywitch]

[tv review] ds9 1x04-1x08 (1993)

ds9 threatening me with a good time.

1x04 “a man alone”

if you’re like me you want to write this one off for being principally about odo being so oppressed because *checks notes* it looks like he may have used his position as a cop to murder someone and then chafed at being removed from the investigation of a murder for which he is clearly the prime suspect, like regardless of whether he is or not he obviously needed to be taken off that case like a million years earlier than he was? and him being so butthurt about it is just wild?

seriously the main plot of this episode is just infuriating. and the secondary plot of keiko becoming a schoolteacher is… not that much better? like, you cannot convince me that ds9 wouldn’t materially benefit from an arboretum, and even if you wanted to take her character this direction, having her just kinda wander around scowling disapprovingly at all the children on the station is also just about the worst way you could’ve chosen to get there? so in one corner we have just absolutely wild copaganda, and in the other we have a bad idea poorly executed. super.

the problem is, this is also the episode that started jake & nog’s iconic friendship, so you can’t just totally write it off without losing something pretty vital to the series. not that their first few interactions were anything all that special, and it’s rather interesting seeing rom pop up in these early episodes because they clearly just had no idea who he was yet, but regardless jake & nog’s relationship is just such a big part of the show and one of the all-time great trek friendships in its own right, so you can’t just totally ignore this episode unfortunately.

also there’s some good quark/odo stuff and no matter how much odo infuriates me, i do certainly love how blatantly those two are husbands.

but yeah, y’know. the rest of it is still pretty awful. acab. c-rank

1x05 “babel”

there are kind of way too many episodes of season 1 that follow this basic format nearly beat for beat, but the aphasia virus is so novel that it kind of pushes this one to the top of the pack among those at least. plus we get a pretty awesome example of kira just bulldozing her way to a solution, which is pretty much always gonna be a plus. extremely “glad she’s on our side” energy.

also, with quark & odo basically the last two people on the station not affected by the virus, we get even more of them just blatantly being husbands, which is just about the only time i can stand odo. so, yeah. that’ll work. b-rank

1x06 “captive pursuit”

this wasn’t a terribly well-written episode, and o’brien is just about the least sensible character for them to decide is just… in charge of this alien just because he’s the first guy who encountered him? like, literally any other senior officer would’ve been better equipped for this, it seems like? like, don’t get me wrong, i did enjoy the clearly predator-inspired bullshit for, ah, totally not kink-related reasons. (don’t check.)

that doesn’t make this a good episode or anything, but like when the one hunter guy is berating the prey guy about how he’s gonna be put on display for people to insult & punish for allowing himself to be captured alive yeah i was hella into it, so i can’t say i didn’t get anything out of this pretty lackluster episode. c-rank

1x07 “q-less”

why the fuck was this a ds9 episode? like, i guess they needed to give ds9 one (1) and only one (1) q episode, but of all the ways to involve q in the show you’re gonna have vash’s return happen on ds9? really? what a just truly bizarre choice.

also like, in terms of q’s only ds9 appearance, following vash around making threatening comments and then getting punched in the face by commander sisko wasn’t exactly a great use of your one john de lancie appearance. c-rank

1x08 “dax”

i love a good courtroom episode, and dax is probably my favorite ds9 character, but it’s hard to say that the combination here makes an entirely satisfying whole? also like, i’m beyond infuriated that the only way dax was rescued from being kidnapped early in the episode is that bashir was being a fucking creeper? like, we’re basically being narratively told that his behavior was actually okay? so that fucking sucks.

the trial itself is actually pretty interesting, and i fucking love the old lady judge who is just doesn’t want to be there & consequently has no patience for anything. and i loved sisko fighting tooth & nail using every loophole of the legal system to keep dax from being extradited. this is a great sisko episode, honestly. the problem is that it’s not a great dax episode, and for it to work it would kind of have to be. c-rank

#star trek #star trek deep space nine #star trek ds9 #ds9 #deep space nine #tv review #reviews #tv

[senescenceandsensibility]

Rambling in the New Year

Here we are. Happy New Year.

The holidays were fine. I traveled for Thanksgiving but was home alone for Christmas. In the past, family might join me (or us, when my husband was alive) and that felt right. But now it feels weird to tack myself on to established traditions in other households, even my sisters’.

It is inevitably hard. There isn’t a single piece of media one can consume at this time of year that doesn’t hammer at you about family and togetherness and love, either how vital it is for human existence in general, or how tragic it is when all that isn’t present on this one day above all the days. I felt okay on Christmas, but I was a lot better the day after. I was white knuckling it. Just get behind me, please.

When I was about 14, I said I didn’t want a party for my birthday. My extreme teenage self-consciousness was on the rise, and I couldn’t conceive of a party at our house that I could enjoy. That was true and I didn’t change my mind even as I cried on the day. Sometimes being alone is the next best thing, and you take it. I had and have a lot to be grateful for. I’m incredibly lucky. Also, occasionally, lonely. It’s not a death sentence even if everything this time of year makes you feel like it is.

And now, the new year. Ahh. What will it be?

I just read some advice about making a list of 10 things you love to do, a reference for hard days or when you’ve been doing for others for too long and have forgotten what fills your well. But I can’t come up with 10 things. Read, knit, jigsaw puzzles, crossword puzzles….that’s it. That’s my list. All of them safe at home.

I suppose I should put writing on the list, but although I *do* feel better for having done it, it’s not something I turn to with any eagerness. Everything seems to take a bite out of me. And because I am perhaps a little too wary of things that might drain me (and to be fair, almost everything does), I’ve boxed myself in.

I have had memory issues lately, bad enough to have spun myself into thinking there’s Something Wrong, even though there are plenty of reasons for me to be distracted and forgetful, namely the 50+ hours per week I spend at the beck and call of 150 people. It’s not a mystery why I’m not particularly present when my mind is a hundred places at once. I’m taking some steps, implementing tools to help me. Trying to use my time more wisely, etc. Deleting apps, unsubscribing from emails. The usual new year stuff.

There’s so much we unconsciously buy into. You’re only really legitimate if you’re loved, you’re only really loved if you’re shapely and fit and fashionable, and so on. It’s a lot to carry around. I do feel like I’m unloading some of it but not really sure what’s on the other side. Also, I want to be loved. I was trained to want all of that stuff.

Not surprisingly, given my mother and my husband, I used to think a lot about dying from disease. But I seem to have reached an age where I’m more concerned about dying suddenly. About a car accident, the hail of gunfire. I don’t feel like I’ve started, let alone finished, what I’m here for. And that seems especially important now that I can see I’m not here for the Big Love. That’s not going to be my story, so then, what is? And can I manage it alone before I’m gone?

Ha, not a cheerful new year post, sorry.

Lots of people chafe under parental expectation, familial responsibilities, partner needs. I don’t have any of that. No one but me cares what I do or if I do anything but what I’m already doing, which at the moment is going to work and then coming home. That used to bother me a lot because I also had no money. I’m financially more secure than I was, and because that tremendous weight has been lifted, I failed to recognize what is almost certainly a low-level depression. One that would certainly explain my distractedness, my loss of spirit. One that is also a hundred percent to be expected. We’ve all been through some stuff lately! I’ve never been one for uncomplicated feelings. I can feel lucky and sad. I am both grateful and disappointed.

So, I am resolving. To write things down, even if I think I’ll remember. I will do puzzles and read and knit. I will maybe, just maybe, pick up my manuscript and finish that thing once and for all. I will try to recognize what restores me and do more of it.

Here’s to a year better than last. I hope you found the best notebook ever.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

One Night🌙11

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, angry Andy, hormones, awkward dinner, y’all know what it be.

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: One night changes your entire life.

for @kittykatlow​‘s 200 Follower Celebration

Note: Okay, here’s an update.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You wore a black dress, barely loose enough to fit over your bump as the hem floated high in the front. Your forehead beaded with sweat as you took out the heavy glass pan from the oven and puffed. You set it down and removed the lid as steam clouded out. You heard your father’s voice from the living room and Andy’s baritone response.

The night was smooth so far. Your father was particularly impressed by the autographed baseballs on the mantle but never outspoken, the conversation didn’t stray much from sports or cars. Your mother’s posture and expression betrayed her discomfort but she masked it with a cordial tone. You were thankful for it as you didn’t need to deal with her attitude and Andy’s at once. You were too hormonal and tired for that.

You began to take down plates from the cupboard and your mother’s voice sounded from behind you. She neared and reached up next to you as she grabbed the next plate before you could. She stacked the four of them neatly and grasped them in her knobby hands.

“You’re too pregnant for that,” she said, “you grab the silverware.”

You gave a small smile and turned to open the drawer as she left you. You took out the utensils and followed her into the dining room. You set the table and she returned to the kitchen. You came after her and she used a dishcloth to lift the hot pan.

“Get the door, will ya?” she said as she angled around carefully.

She passed you as you held open the swinging door and she set the pan down on the mat in the middle of the table. She inhaled deeply and glanced over at you. 

“Stuffed peppers?” she asked.

“Your recipe,” you said, “I’ve been craving them.”

“Next time, let me make them,” she smiled, “you still don’t know the special ingredient.”

“I’ll figure it out one day,” you rubbed your lower back.

“Sit,” she pulled out a chair, “I’ll go get the men.”

You neared her and leaned on the back of the chair, “mom,” you said quietly.

“I’m trying,” she said grimly, “I’m just… not happy yet.”

You nodded and hung your head, “yeah, you don’t have to be, but thank you.”

“I don’t like that man,” she hissed, “a wife in the hospital and he’s knocking up a stranger--”

“Mom,” you warned her, “please.”

“I know, I know,” she shook her head, “but you’re my daughter and he’s… I don’t know, who knows what really happened to the wife.”

You gave her a look and she pursed her lips. She retreated and you sat down heavily and cupped your cheeks. All you had to do was get through dinner. Then you could say you were tired and hide in your room.

You heard her voice in the next room and the impending footsteps before they appeared in the doorway. Your mother and father sat across from you and Andy took the seat to your right. You waited awkwardly and he cleared his throat.

“Well, sweetheart, aren’t you going to serve the guests?” he intoned.

“I can do it,” your mother offered, “don’t make her work any harder than she needs to. Not in her condition.”

You were slightly taken aback by her effort but you didn’t miss how the corner of her lip twitched as she eyed Andy. She didn’t like and didn’t trust him. You couldn’t say you did either and almost for the first time in your life, you felt a kindred connection to your mother.

She stood and scooped a pepper carefully onto each plate with a generous spoonful of sauce from the bottom of the dish. She set them back carefully before each diner and returned to her chair and sat. She smiled, a forced smile, and shifted her chair closer.

“So, you have some time but… once the baby’s here, I’m sure you’ll be back to work,” you mother began, your father always content to hide in his food, “me and your dad talked, we could watch the kid once and a while--”

“She’s not going back to work,” Andy interjected, “especially not at the diner.”

“Oh,” your mother’s lips pressed together in a firm line, “she isn’t?”

“Maybe after a year?” you began as you glance at Andy, “once I get the hand of things--”

“No,” Andy said, “you’re staying home with her.”

“I guess we haven’t decided,” you offered calmly, embarrassed by Andy’s attitude, “as you said, we still have time and we’re figuring stuff out.”

“Once the kiddo’s in school, you’ll have the time to get a job,” your dad offered, “that’s what your ma did. She kept on a few hours here and there when you were real small but once you hit kindergarten, she was back to full shifts.”

“We’ll talk,” Andy threw a hand up and grabbed his fork with his other, “it’s really not your business. It’s ours.”

“Andy,” you chided, “they’re just curious--”

“And where were they for the last couple months?” he snarled, “they weren’t so curious then.”

“Alright, calm down,” you hissed, “sorry, mom, dad--”

“Don’t apologise for me,” he snipped, “they should be apologising to you. That’s why I welcomed them into my home.”

“What?” you gulped, “Andy, they don’t need to--”

“No, no, my child is gonna have at least one set of grandparents and if it’s going to be them, they’re going to respect you and me,” Andy insisted, “so they can apologise or they can leave without dessert.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you uttered.

“Don’t you tell me how to act,” he cut into the pepper, “so…” he looked across the table at your parents, “she made this delicious meal and I think she deserves at least a little appreciation from the two of you.”

You dad looked angry for once in his life as your mother’s lips curled in mortification. You gave them both a shameful look and shook your head just slightly. You mouthed an apology as Andy huffed and tapped impatiently on the table.

“We’re sorry, honey,” your mother began, “we overreacted. Just like I said earlier, I was surprised.”

“Sorry,” your dad forced out as he glared at Andy, “you know I always love and support you, no matter what.”

“Thank you,” you said softly, “now,” you touched Andy’s arm gently, “we can move on. It’s all good.”

“Mhmm,” he grumbled as he leaned forward to take a bike, “we can… but this doesn’t happen again.”

You wanted to shrink down and hide under the table. The tension that rose was palpable and threatened to choke you. You had false hope in the beginning that this might feel normal, that you might end the night with a new standing between you and your mother. 

You knew then that Andy’s goal had never been to bring you back together, it was only to gain another degree of control. He made it clear that no one could help you, not even your own parents.

🌙

You were almost thankful for the sink full of dishes. It kept you distracted and gave you a reason not to sit and stew with Andy. Your parents left shortly after you cut the cherry pie and you cleaned up as they bid their farewells. You were completely humiliated by Andy’s hubristic demands but you didn’t dare argue with him. Especially not in front of guests.

You scrubbed the dishes as your stomach pressed to the wet counter and placed each in the drying rack. Andy came in as you pulled the drain and you took the dish cloth from its hook.

“Here, I’ll dry,” he offered.

You stared at him and wiped the water from your hands and gave him the cloth. He went to the rack and opened a cupboard. You took out a container and began to pack up the leftovers from the pan and wrapped the top of the pie. The silence made every clink and clank louder as you moved around the kitchen.

You shut the fridge and sensed him behind you. You flinched as his hands settled on your hip and you gripped pressed your palm against the cool metal. He pulled you back against him and slid his hands around your bump as he hummed.

“Did I tell you this dress looks wonderful?” his fingers brushed the dishwater along the front.

“Andy,” you grasped his wrists, “what are you doing?”

He rocked you as one hand grazed beneath your bump and his fingers dangled over your vee. He bent and inhaled the scent of your scalp. You went rigid as he wiggled against your back, his arousal twitching tellingly.

“Andy, please--”

“Can’t knock you up a second time,” he purred.

“I… no, please, I’m tired--”

“Come on, honey, that night… wasn’t that amazing?” He turned you to face the island and you caught yourself against the edge, “that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“It was a mistake, alright? Look at us now--”

“Look at us, hmmm?” he pushed his hand down and cupped your cunt through your dress. You gasped and squeezed his wrist, “I lay in my bed thinking of you all night… and you’re just across the hall. Why are we playing this game still?”

“Get off of me, please,” you begged, “Andy--”

He pressed his fingers to your pants and pushed the cotton against your folds. You bit your lip as he found your clit and the chafing formed a pressure beneath his touch. You shook your head and leaned back into him, trying to shove him away.

“Let me go…” you breathed.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” he urged, “I can feel you getting wet already. You’re lying to yourself.” He pulled your panties aside and dipped two fingers between your lips, “why do you gotta be so damn stubborn?”

You sucked in air and tensed as he played with your bud so that your thighs quivered. You tucked your chin in and bit down as you tried not to let out a moan. Your nails sank into sleeve but he kept on. You felt how powerful he truly was, his chest pressed against you as his arm remained immoveable.

He bent you slightly as he snaked his hand further and poked a finger inside of you. You squeaked and he added another, curling them as he began to rock his hand. He buried his face into your neck and his hot breath permeated your skin.

“Mmm, isn’t that nice, honey? I just wanna help you relax?” his teeth grazed your neck, “I can be nice, you see?”

Those words turned your blood to ice. You closed your eyes as you returned to those hours ago when his fist crashed into the wall. When his voice was rigid and unloving, when you were certain he would do worse than just yell. Now he was all over you, coaxing you as if it never happened, as if there hadn’t been months of this precarious tug-of-war.

“Andy, really, I’m tired,” you pleaded, “that night… I told you--”

Your voice caught in your throat as he thrust his fingers deeper and moved his hand faster. The pressure throbbed inside of you, pulsing through your veins and you kept your hand tight on the counter as you gripped his arm with the other. Your ankles threatened to bend as you shuddered and came in a sudden rush.

“Tired?” he mocked as he led you through your climax, “I’ll do all the work, honey.”

You shook your head and whined through your teeth. He kept on until you were weak and clinging to his hand. He slowly drew his fingers out of you and slid his arm out from around you. You slumped against the counter as he let you go, the subtle tinkle of his belt gleaned in your ear.

You turned to him as his belt hung open and he caught you by surprise. He wrapped one arm around your back, his other hand across your ass as he lifted you with a grunt. You threw your hands back to keep from falling across the island as he put you down on the marble. You tried to slide forward as his hands grasped your hips and held you in place.

His blue eyes burned and dilated. He reached under your skirt and pulled your panties down. You whimpered as he tugged them down. He quickly pushed your legs apart and moved between them, your knees wide around his thighs. He grabbed your chin and tilted your head back, his lips covering yours hungrily.

You clawed at the front of his shirt as his other hand danced along your pelvis. His fingers crawled down your thigh and she shifted as he fumbled blindly with the front of his pants. You pushed against his shoulders as the panic erupted from your stomach and swelled in your throat.

He brought you closer to the edge and pulled his hand back to grip himself. You opened one eye as you tried to peek down but couldn’t see beneath your bump. He leaned on you until you fell over the marble and bent over you as he slipped his tip along your cunt. His lips strayed to your cheek and down to your throat.

“Andy,” you begged one last time as he pressed against your entrance.

He purred against your neck as his hand slid past your shoulder and stretched over your tit. He pushed into you slowly and you gulped as tears pricked in your eyes. You bent your legs so your heels pressed to the side of the counter and gritted your teeth as he got deeper. 

As he bottomed out, he rasped against your skin. He stood up straight and dragged your ass over the edge of the counter. He puffed his chest as he thrust into you and his eyes rolled back. He growled as he did it again and your walls clenched around him. Your reached down and pressed on his open pants with your fingertips, trying to push him away pathetically.

“Andy,” you whimpered as he hooked his arm around your thigh, “Andy--”

His other hand flipped up your skirt and he stretched his hand over your round stomach as he rocked into you. You shook your head and covered your face with one hand as you gripped the edge of the marble with your other. Your breaths grew shallow as you fought your own body and the pleasure blooming around his intrusion.

He sped up as the wet noise filled the kitchen and you bit the heel of your hand to keep from crying out. Another orgasm flowed over you and knotted your muscles around him. His groans and grunts grew louder as his flesh slapped against yours, his fingers drawing circles on your stomach.

“Oh fuck,” Andy hissed and jerked his hips harshly.

He sank into you as deep as he could go and wiggled his hips as he flooded you. He twitched as he leaned his head back and sighed, his fingers tight on your thighs as they painfully poked your tender flesh. You moaned and trembled as you felt his release hot inside of you. 

He stilled and let your legs splay around him. You stared at the ceiling in shock as he shuddered. You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked between your legs as his cum dripped out around him. You pulled off of him and shoved him away. He seemed to awaken from a trance as you did and his lashes fluttered.

You dropped down carefully to your feet and stormed away. He called your name but the vomit was already halfway up your esophagus. You weren’t going to make it upstairs. You closed yourself in the half-bath under the stairs and wretched into the sink. You held yourself up weakly until the violent ripples quelled. You looked at yourself in the mirror and winced. 

One night cost you the rest of your life. One night meant your body, your soul, your days were his. One night would be countless nights, your fate decided in a single careless act.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #series #dark fic #dark!fic #one night #defending jacob

[tittysmith]

how did you get so into anal :o

any tips for a girl whos scared to try it

Speaking as frankly and sincerely as I can. so you can get the most out of what you’re asking me. im so sorry if this is scary i love you

Unprotected anal sex is unbelievably prone to chafing, blunt trauma, and STDs (see: pain) so. please understand that it doesn’t really lube itself.

I highly recommend stretching, condoms, lube, beginner plug (i like my lil silicone boy), incredibly blunt open feedback, safewords, clitoris-or-other stimulation to ease some of that discomfort or pain, and the knowledge that you will at least need to spend two days recovering from soreness or tearing. yes in your anal cavity. doesn’t matter how experienced you are. This is key to playing it safe. If it doesn’t feel good, pause or stop. If it feels uncomfortable but you wish to continue, switch over to fingers and ease in your sphincter muscles, increasing slowly as needed.

Chat about pain:

My ass is rather… sensitive, and i have advertised the feeling of stretching it as both “agonizingly gut-wrenching” and “i want to die please let me die.” The amount of pressure, resistance, friction, and pleasure i dont like to talk about because i’m horny and flustered depends on how far up your colon you’re trying to get this thing, but for the most part I almost entirely feel like someone’s forcing me to take a painful shit for four minutes, all the while my cramps have randomly started and nausea is overtaking my brain. It hurts like passing a knuckle through your nasal cavity and each thrust forces your guts apart and back together like a second divorce. It feels swollen and hurts to touch after, with very minimal bleeding that’s normal as long as it’s a small amount. Your anus won’t self lubricate, so you are at a higher risk of bacteria/sti’s entering your bloodstream than vaginal sex.

PS: Sometimes I can’t speak when I’m overstimulated—sometimes I grit my teeth and swear and can’t manage much more than names, and that’s really hot and all for me, but should I ever need to stop, I tap out immediately. i gesture much faster than i talk.

PPS: if i get an iffy feeling about someone, or even if i’m just a little bit unsure about them, fuck no i’m not letting them in my ass. no no no.

Chat about pleasure:

Please don’t ever choose masochism it’s terrible i can’t help the fact i have a very tolerant attitude and bad stretching habits

The pressure melts my sentences, messes with my emotional state, and what’s left of me is laser-focused right on my entrance and my walls. I love the fact that someone likes all of me, and i present my ass as an… alternative… hole… to use. Kind of cathartic to let yourself be at the mercy of someone else. It feels unholy and that alone sells it for me.

tips: stretch yourself well beforehand (short nails if you can!) and don’t try shoving something in too fast or too dry or else you’ll start feel tearing right away. Lube is your best friend—use it! Several times! anything butt-stuff in the shower is also a practical option that gradually relaxes all my nerves, feels intimate, and keeps me clean. Another option is to listen to an erotic audio if you want to follow along at your own pace. (I love an attractive voice.) The pressure is overwhelming for me, but i love melting into someone i do trust.

#I choose suffering but ✨you!✨don’t!✨have!✨to!✨ #long post #questions are always welcome here #psa #nsft #4nal #@nal #asks #story time #favorite posts #mine

[deluluass]

hi

could yoy do please some yandere kuroo and kageyama headcanons? 💕

nsfw is welcomed 😊

My first headcanons 🤞🏽

Yandere! Kuroo Tetsuro

Content warnings: markers of a toxic/emotionally abusive relationship; dumbification; daddy kink; sex toy(s); mild public play/exhibitionism

😇SFW😇

This boy has a fascination for messy people.

And by "messy", I mean that Kuroo has a soft spot for those who put up some sort of front. A performative mask to hide their crumbling psyche.

Oh.

Those are his favorites. (Especially when they're not even aware that they’re hiding something.)

Maybe it's because they're so easy to manipulate? (Or perhaps it's a mild case of schadenfreude?)

It's the instigator in him.

He knows which buttons to push and at what time to exactly do it.

Kuroo lives for being that guy who causes a full blown fight by simply dropping a backhanded comment or two.

For being the final straw that eventually breaks the proverbial camel's back.

And then slipping back into the shadows to watch the Drama unfold.

So it's not unlikely for him to form an obsession for someone who's so emotionally vulnerable.

Someone who has the weight of the world on their shoulders; who has everything locked up inside to the point of bursting.

Because then it won't take much to have them falling apart and unraveling before him.

But he's also a caretaker, you know.

He's opportunistic and covertly callous and mischievous, yes.

But you've seen how much he tends to those close to him.

So when you do fall apart, you will do it in his arms.

He will take care of you.

He'll say everything you've always wanted to hear.

You're beautiful and wanted and loved and you don't have to be brave anymore.

Kuroo's here and he understands you.

From the barest changes in your inflection to your most subtle facial expression.

Other people won't catch it.

To Kuroo, though? Tell-tale signs that you're hiding your feelings again.

He understands you in a way that no else had; that no else cared to try.

And eventually that’ll be the very thing that you’ll hold onto.

Never mind that his every word has become an indisputable fact (when it shouldn’t be).

Never mind that the line between Kuroo just being a mindful boyfriend AND Kuroo disregarding your boundaries has become too blurry that it’s impossible to tell which is which.

Never mind that your entire world has narrowed down to just him and you.

Because all your friends have, one by one, made their way for the exit.

They tell you that they're so tired.

They've warned you- begged you, actually- to end this insidiously suffocating relationship.

"I know he's only been nice to you and to us, but there's just...something wrong about that guy," they say.

But until they pinpoint, exactly, what that "something wrong" is; and until you see it for yourself, you're sticking by his side.

Damn whatever people say.

So.

Kuroo's not the yandere who'd chain you up in his basement or something.

Not that he's above it, but because he doesn't really need to.

Not when he has you bound right where it really matters.

😈NSFW😈

Kuroo has perfected being a dom down to a Science.

He knows exactly when to be mean and hurtful and sweet and kind and giving to you.

Kuroo's very generous, methinks! But only if he believes you deserved it.

So you better prove that you earned it!!

He'll having you cumming and gushing into his hand if you pleaded just enough!!

Looked into his eyes all pouty and teary and pliant to all his wishes.

Very into treating you and talking to you like you're not capable of comprehending words.

Oh, darling. I know I'm hurting you. I know I am. But you like it, don't you? That's right. Fuck yeah, you do, you fucking slut.

That's because you're just a dumb little baby, aren't you? You'd be happy as long as daddy makes you cum?

And you'd nod and say yes so obediently as he pounds your little hole even though you can't hear him over the sound of your own moans.

ALSO!!!

HE IS A TEASE!!!!

A FUCKINGN!!!!!!!!! TEASE!!!!

Every seggsy time is edging time!!

Has a thing for slapping your ass until your cheeks are bruised and tender under his palms.

And for sticking a vibrator inside you while you're out in public.

Just to teach you a lesson whenever he feels like you're not learning enough.

"Do you want me to come back until you're ready?" the waiter droned, obviously suppressing the urge to roll his eyes when all you did was grip the napkin in front of you.

You couldn't even look at poor kid; couldn't even make out a sound. You're too busy stifling the tingling within your walls, prompting you to cross your legs beneath the table and squeeze your thighs together.

And Kuroo's just...scanning the menu. Sitting idly before you. He's resting his chin against his open palm, long fingers brushing under his nose, while you're practically grinding down the chair.

You feel yourself leak into the crotch of your underwear, sticky liquid squelching against the crack of your ass as the toy continued to vibrate, burning you up and melting your insides, the buzzing a white noise only you could hear.

His indifference was unflappable. Kuroo even managed to call out, "Excuse me. Sorry about that earlier. We're ready now," so smoothly despite your desperate attempts to catch his attention. Then, he recited a bunch of dishes that you didn’t have the appetite for. Like you’re not outright writhing and earning a few disconcerted looks from the table next to you.

All you wanted was for him to put an end to this. You've learned your lesson. You're not gonna disappoint him again.

Instead, you watched in agonizing fear as he reached for his pocket. And immediately, without a warning, you felt the toy shake violently inside you.

"Ah!" you cried, sharply folding your arms and legs, making the plates and utensils clink against each other as your wrists chafed against your hard nipples.

Your boyfriend halted, leaned closer, and looked at you in a convincing display of concern.

"Are you alright, babe?" he muttered, caressing your knee, his nails pressing down just a tad. Not too hard. Just enough for you to hiss in a heady mixture of pleasure and pain.

You managed a small, quivering "uh-huh" as you begged him with your eyes. Conveying as much message as you could.

"Daddy, I'll be good for you. I swear. I won't lie anymore. I won't make you angry. I won't do anything that you wouldn't be happy about. Everything I do from this moment on will be just for you, daddy. I promise, daddy-"

But Kuroo only huffed out, a small, faint grin tracing his lips as he turned back to the waiter and said, "One cream pie, please."

Yandere! Kageyama Tobio

Content warning(s): rape/noncon

😇SFW😇

Fourth wall break, if you will: thank you, anon, for putting these characters together because I Believe that they’re each other’s foils in terms of yandere-isms. And this is gonna be an interesting contrast to see (at least, I hope it would be).

So Kuroo’s all subdued mind games, right? Like, you have to do a whole routine of mental gymnastics if you want to dig deep and analyze how he had your head spinning. 

But Kageyama? 

Kageyama says fuck that.

Kageyama, genius though he is, is about as subtle as a metal bat to the head when it comes to his darling.

He has no qualms about tying you to his bed once the opportunity presents itself to him.

But it didn’t start out like that.

At first, perhaps Kageyama was just an aloof classmate whose entire life revolved around volleyball.

The one who couldn’t even take a time out of his day to hang out with the rest of the class on a weekend.

Though Kageyama has a knack for attracting hostility from other people, there comes a time (rare it may be) that it is offset by people who are sympathetic to his idiosyncrasies.

His darling falls under the latter.

That's what draws Kageyama to you.

Hearing stuff like "D'you know what they used to call him before? King!" and "King because he's an arrogant dickhead who thinks he's better than everyone" are not new to him.

But hearing these are: "Stop that. It's rude to talk behind a person's back."

"Kageyama's passionate about volleyball. More than anyone we've ever met. Ok so it's alienating for us! Whatever! But isn't it admirable that he's doing his best at a thing that he loves?"

Kageyama did not get it.

You're not his teammate.

You're not his..anything.

You had no cause to try and be nice to him and defend him and..understand him, really.

So the rest was history.

The beginning might have been awkward.

Every time he tried to talk to you, Kageyama, for some reason, always blurted out the wrong things.

But you didn't mind. You just liked being his friend.

And Kageyama liked having you by his side.

Kageyama liked it, especially, when you're in the sidelines and cheering him on. (This caused quite a ruckus in Karasuno.)

It should have been weird. Kageyama had not known anything else besides volleyball.

Your presence should’ve been that of a stranger encroaching on someone else’s property.

Somehow, though, you fitted in so perfectly.

Like you’re made to be there.

So he tells you: “You’re free, aren’t you? You should be watching me play by now” and “You should be waiting for me after class” and “Stop making excuses. You’re not tired. You can still drop by practice” 

You’ve tried to reason with him. (Even contemplated about ending your friendship.)

But it’s not like you’re ever gonna shake him off.

Besides, you know that he wouldn’t accept anything less than perfect.

😈NSFW😈

His darling was his first sexual experience. 

And like any beginner, Kageyama was pretty...uh..bad at it ngl.

Add that to the fact that he’s on the bigger side and your first with him wasn’t consensual.

At that time, all Kageyama knew was that he really, really wanted to touch you and kiss you and fuck you senseless until you acknowledge that there’s no running from him. 

Trust, though, that Kageyama will not settle for being bad or, heaven forbid, mediocre at it.

Nope.

Not. a. chance.

Doesn’t matter that you’ve spent the entire day fucking.

Kageyama will not rest- not let you rest, until he drags out a moan from you; until you’ve ruined the sheets with how much he’s made you cum; until he has you begging for more. 

Will experiment a lot.

Will test out how fast and hard he has to fuck you to get what kind of reaction he wants from you.

Very attentive even to your quietest gasp.

If you so much as show a sign that you’re finding whatever it is he’s doing to your body pleasurable- curl your toe or arch your back- Kageyama will amp it up to the point where you’re screaming.

He’ll have this haughty, shit-eating grin while doing it too.

“Yes, you can,” Kageyama growled. “Spread those legs and show me how you do it.”

You shook your head, your body protesting at the slight movement. You’re already on the verge of blacking out. And you don’t have to check the ticking wall clock to know that, by now, Kageyama, too, should be knocked out and dozing off beside you.

But he only grabbed your wrists, making you howl in pain as soon as he touched the cuts and bruises across the skin. Remnants of the nylon rope that bound them together not too long ago.

“Touch yourself,” he repeated.

Kageyama’s voice is a rasping noise to your ears, his hot breath causing goosebumps all over you as he pressed his lips against the shell.

“No-no more, Kag-Kageyama,” you forced yourself to say, though your throat was dry and aching from all your screeching. 

He clicked his tongue. 

You flinched.

And you didn’t think it possible for Kageyama to be more frightening than he already is. Until you’d done as he’d told and, like a wolf patiently waiting to pounce, Kageyama zeroed in on how you moved your hands, his own reaching for his cock.

He didn’t take his eyes off of you, groaning as you trembled and mewled under your featherlight touch. Kageyama stroked himself, grinding into his fist until pre-cum dripped from the head.

“That how you like it, huh,” he croaked.

Before you could even reach an orgasm, Kageyama had already pushed you on your back, mimicking the way you pleasured yourself. Only this time it was rougher, more unforgiving, and indifferent to your cries of “Stop! Stop it, I can’t- Enough, Kageyama!”

#tw non con haikyuu #yandere headcanons #dark content haikyuu #yandere kuroo #yandere kageyama #yandere haikyuu #tw noncon #y/n's gender is not specified

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 24 part two

(Masterpost) (Pinboard)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Arguing

After enjoying a tense  afternoon with Lan Xichen, Wei Wuxian comes home to enjoy a tense evening with Jiang Cheng. He pauses in the doorway as he takes in Jiang Cheng’s mood and decides which metaphorical mask he will put on to interact with his shidi. As someone who grew up with explosive people, I find this routine very familiar. 

Wei Wuxian is always carefully playing a role as he interacts with the people in his life. Clearly he has read the classic sociology text The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life and is using it as a how-to guide. We see him do this same calculation over and over, in which he reacts internally to a situation, comes to a decision about what persona to inhabit, and then dons that persona. It’s a typical abuse survival tactic and...it is exhausting. 

This is why I think his leaving to be alone for a while in Episode 50 is a good thing. Being alone isn’t better than being with someone else, usually, but for Wei Wuxian, who is (by Episode 50) assured of love but not sure where he belongs in his own life, being by himself for a while is going to be the best thing for him. He can learn how to just be a person, instead of constantly trying to mold himself to fit everyone around him. 

For the current tense situation, Jiang Cheng is polishing his sword, which, incidentally, is slang (in English, not necessarily in Chinese) for masturbating. Which makes their conversation about how frequently it needs doing kind of a hoot. “One time a month should do,” per Wei Wuxian. 

Jiang Cheng yells at Wei Wuxian--fairly, really--for being drunk all the time and not working on clan tasks. Then he responds to a hug attempt by shoving Wei Wuxian and knocking him down. JC asks WW if he’s too drunk to manage his spiritual power. Now, we know that he doesn’t have any spiritual power to manage, and that’s the main point of this interaction. But it also shows us something else about their dynamic. 

This was just a quick hit, and when it takes WWX out, JC asks why he isn’t responding with spiritual power.  Which means that apparently *every* time Jiang Cheng gives Wei Wuxian a shove or a shoulder check, or strikes him--like he’s been doing constantly since Episode 3--he’s putting spiritual power behind it. That’s...really harsh. 

Jiang Cheng wants Wei Wuxian to fight back, and Wei Wuxian can’t; this is a big part of why their relationship breaks down. Casual blows loaded with spiritual power are part of their vocabulary, and Wei Wuxian can’t speak that language any more, even for basic defense. He’s literally not safe having simple interactions with Jiang Cheng now, because he’s secretly disabled, and Jiang Cheng is casually injuring him whenever he gets too close. 

(more after the cut!)

This time Wei Wuxian has had enough, and raises Chenqing to Jiang Cheng, who immediately backs off. Jiang Cheng has seen that thing in action, not just on the battlefield, but in a small room full of whatever remained of Wen Chao when they were done with him. He takes this as a serious threat, and backs off, disturbed and puzzled and hurt.

Jiang Cheng thinks the change in Wei Wuxian is coming from apathy, not from disability, and so he misunderstands it over and over.  Think of a friend saying “whatever, I’m sick of arguing with you, do what you want.”  Jiang Cheng is very ready to feel rejected, and not at all ready to look at Wei Wuxian’s behavior and try to actually understand it. 

Crying Over You

Wei Wuxian bails and goes to see Jiang Yanli in the ancestral hall, where she is polishing a name plaque. I turned the gamma way up to see whose it is and...I dunno. This character might be 江 (Jiang), I guess?

Jiang Yanli is the only one of the trio who knows how to mourn properly, in that she is taking some time to sit and be sad. Mourning the dead--both ritually and just in the emotional sense--is as important a part of reclaiming Lotus Pier as the training of disciples and having good times on the lake.

She asks him about his fight with Jiang Cheng and he says he’s used to fighting with him. Jiang Yanli asks him if he’s tired of living there, and Wei Wuxian deflects and deflects, saying “it’s my home, where else would I go?” and that if Jiang Fengmian hadn’t adopted him he would still be begging in the streets. He says “no matter what happens, I won’t leave Lotus Pier,” which is not an answer to her question.

It’s also not true. Like so many of his promises, it’s an expression of his wishes, with no space for the surprises real life is made of. He promises her that he won’t be reckless again, and asks her not to be mad at him. She says she can’t be mad at him, and then they share a flashback about Jiang Fengmian finding him on the street. This is a story, not a memory; Wei Wuxian can’t remember but he remembers her telling him about it. Jiang Yanli wasn’t there, in the moment. So this is her telling the story as it was told to her, probably by Jiang Fengmian. 

Flashback Time

In the flashback, picky salad-hating Wei Ying is out on the street, looking for food in a cartload of pretty okay scraps. I mean, yeah, skip the tomatoes, but most of the greens look fine.  

He’s found and fed by Jiang Fengmian, who recognizes him and decides to take him in. 

Within a couple of episodes, we will see Wei Wuxian paying this favor forward, saving someone he finds starving on the street. Just like Jiang Fengmian, he's going to upset and disrupt his family in order to help someone for whom he feels a deep connection.

During this flashback we get a look at Jiang Fengmian’s sword, and it is a beauty. 

What is Love

As the flashback ends, Wei Wuxian is smiling, hearing Jiang Yanli tell this touching story of starvation and orphanhood. She tells him he was born with a smiling face, and that he never minds much about sorrowful things; no matter how bad the situation is, he is always happy. Way to reinforce that metaphorical mask he’s wearing over his deep, deep despair, sis!

They talk a bit about Jiang Cheng’s bad temper.  Then Jiang Yanli says now that her parents are gone, they three are the closest in the world, and he responds by putting his head down on her knee and theatrically saying he’s hungry. But he’s crying for real, and so is she.

Then he decides to ask her why people fall in love, basically, and claims that he does not have anyone in his heart. He says there’s no need to like a person that much, that it’s like “haltering your own neck,” according to Netflix. Let’s have a look at that figurative language for a second, and what’s missing from the Neflix translation. 

What he says is (as near as my qhanzi.com skills can make out) “這不就是自己給自己脖子上套犁拴韁吗” which Google tells me means "Isn't this just putting a plow on my neck with a rein?" The part of the image that’s missing from Netflix subs is the plow, and the hard labor and animal servitude involved in pulling a plow. This isn’t a pro-romance image.

He’s clearly thinking about Lan Wangji when he lies about having no-one in his heart, but right now the yoke that he wants to escape has nothing to do with Lan Wangji. The person he’s harnessed to in a team, the person who he labors with, the person he wants to escape, is Jiang Cheng.  What’s chafing his neck is the promise he made, to stay and serve as one half of a pair, when he can no longer pull his weight. 

Busted

Speaking of Jiang Cheng, he is hanging around outside the shrine, listening to the conversation. Wei Wuxian busts him, pointing out not that eavesdropping is bad, but that it’s bad for grownups. Jiang Cheng points out that he’s the master of Lotus Pier so he’s allowed to go anywhere he wants.

(I love how he looks framed by this giant lotus behind him)

We Wuxian has another of those moments where he assesses the best approach to Jiang Cheng before responding. 

Then he picks a fake fight with him about soup.  Yanli comes out and tells them both to grow up, saying that JC is losing his demeanor as clan leader. He jokingly fixes his already-perfect robe ad they all have a chuckle.

Then Jiang Cheng reminds Wei Wuxian of his promise for the millionth time, and Jiang Yanli goes to make soup for the millionth time. As soon as the boys see that she’s gone, the smiles drop right off of their faces. They’re both performing their typical relationship dynamic for Jiang Yanli.

Being Reasonable

The brothers repair to the main hall, and stand behind the lotus throne looking out of this complicated wall/doorway thingy, while they talk about Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan. 

Jiang Cheng is being mature and sensible here, trying to give Jiang Yanli what she wants and also explaining very, very basic political stuff to Wei Wuxian, who is too caught up in his hate boner for JZX to want to think about the bigger picture. He also thinks that Jin Guangyao is a nicer person, but Jiang Cheng says that nice doesn’t matter.  

Wei Wuxian is getting a full head of steam going about what a jerk JZX is, when Jiang Cheng makes him actually stop and think, by pointing out that it’s not for them to forgive or not forgive Jin Zixuan’s past behavior; it’s up to Yanli.

Wei Wuxian sees the reasoning in this, and starts to say he can’t understand why Yanli chose to like this person, but then he stops himself and goes through a rapid series of thoughtful, uncomfortable expressions. 

Perhaps he’s realizing that he himself has chosen to like an infamously stuck-up, fancy cultivator, albeit one with no soup-related character deficits.

Library Time

The stuck-up cultivator in question is currently in the Cloud Recesses library, where he has snuck into the forbidden books room, against his uncle’s express command, for the purpose of helping Wei Wuxian. The forbidden books room is an entire basement floor of the library; it probably has more books than the not-forbidden part of the library, since the main floor needs space for the restrooms, circulation desk, and copy machines.

(Did OP photoshop the Wangxian-in-the-Library porn picture onto Lan Wangjis’ book? She did.)

A couple of other Lans come along and see the main door unlocked. The lock is a big fish that probably uses magic for locking; it definitely doesn’t use a key. One of them steps in the doorway, glances back and forth without walking through, and does not check the secret door to the forbidden vault. Gosh, how did Su She and/or Jin Guangyao  ever manage to steal secrets from this highly secure location, wow.

Lan Wangji hears the Lan disciple on guard duty say “don’t tell Hanguang Jun about this!’ and has a series of microexpressions that might indicate some kind of feeling about simultaneously being a rule breaker and a rule enforcer.  

Boat Time

We end with an idyllic scene on the lake in Lotus pier, where a new batch of disciples is harvesting lotuses and learning the opposite of boat safety. 

Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian are having a good time, and seem utterly carefree; both of them are good at living in the moment, or faking it. 

Wei Wuxian thinks, in voiceover, that it seems that it’s not so hard to go back to the old days. Uh...ok.

Except he’s hiding a massive secret and these replacement kids are not the same juniors he used to hang out with, and he can’t actually teach them cultivation, since he has no socially-acceptable magic power, and everything is about to go to shit in the next episode. But you gotta take your joy where you can, I guess. 

Note: There are a lot of questionable effects in The Untamed, but there are also beautiful scenes like this one, which looks like a Maxfield Parrish painting. Compare with the BTS below and you can see what a good job the VFX team did in bringing this lake to life. 

#the untamed #cql #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #the untamed gifs #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs

[lcksndkys]

Title: Official

Pairing:  Namjoon x reader

Rating: 18+, smut, fluff

Genre: secret dating au

Word count: 1,467

Summary:  You can only hide your new relationship from your friends for so long.

Warnings: oral (m. receiving) + a ruined shirt RIP

A/N: This lil smutty piece was written for the ghostie drabble marathon. Song lyrics:  “Because all of this is not coincidence.” (DNA). Inspired by @jinpanman ​ ‘s post about "Namjoon fixing his zipper in the middle of the performance”. Also, by law, tagging @sahmfanficbts <3

You grunt quietly as Namjoon presses you against the wall, mouth sealed tight against yours as he kisses you deeply between racks of clothing.

Hand pressing against his chest, you push his heaving body off yours.

“You have to go on in like,” you look down to check you watch, “15 minutes.”

“Mmm, that’s ok, plenty of time,” comes his low rasp as he continues to lick into your mouth, grinding his hips into yours.

You let him kiss you languidly for another minute, basking in the pre-show privacy. No hiding from curious friends or judgemental peers. Just you and Namjoon for these precious, fleeting moments.

Namjoon had begrudgingly agreed to keeping your relationship private upon your request. What had started as a drunken hookup months ago had evolved into under-the-table hand holding, sneaky kisses, falling asleep on nightly phone calls. 

“Ah, Joon, you- they’re gonna come lookin for you,” you pull back, panting and trying to reason with him.

Instead of replying, he ducks his head burying face first into your neck where he suckles at the soft skin he adores so much.

Whimpering, you claw your fingertips up and down his sides, feeling the silky material of his top. You pull his shirt free from his pants and send your hands underneath to feel his bare skin. 

“Fuck,” you whine. “No marks, Joon” you gasp, feeling the sudden increase in suction against your pulse point, losing himself to the taste of your skin.

You feel the rumble of displeasure in his chest as he yields to your command. 

He knew you were exclusively dating him, but when no one else was privy to that information, it almost seemed negligible. He was tired of biting back his frustrations when your mutual friends would try to set you up on dates. (Not that you would ever agree to any.) He was tired of pretending the two of you weren’t more. He was ready for the world to know about your relationship, but he knew you were still hesitant. 

Namjoon detaches his warm lips from your neck to peck lovingly at your forehead.

Pressed against the length of him, you feel the evidence of his excitement prodding against your abdomen.

“And how exactly do you plan to hide that?” you giggle, cocking an amused brow at him.

He brushes your hair aside and lets his large hand rest against your throat. Possessive, yet gentle.

“Mmm, it’ll go down,” he mumbles as he reattaches his lips to yours. 

Kissing across his mouth and planting a few along his jaw, you make your way to his ear.

“Or I could help you,” you whisper seductively, cupping his clothed erection.

You smirk when you feel Namjoon shiver at your gentle fondling. His body is like a live wire, crackling and exposed at your electric touch.

“Oh shit, I- I can’t return the favor though,” he pants.

“Take care of me after the show,” you purr, hands unbuckling his belt and reaching for the zipper. “You want this?” you ask one last time to which he nods vigorously. 

Impatient, he pushes your hands away to free himself from the confines of his pants. 

You wrap an eager hand around his length and swirl a thumb around his flushed tip. You gather the moisture there and spread it in slow circles around the rim of the head making Namjoon groan deep in his chest. 

You spit generously into your hand to avoid chafing him.

Skin smooth and soft, you pump him quickly to jerk him to his full potential. 

Thunk. Namjoon’s head falls back against the wall, eyes closed in bliss, as you tighten your grip around him.

“Eyes on me, big boy” you whisper, sinking down to your knees for your man.

His gaze follows you all the way down until you settle comfortably between his parted thighs. 

Your hand continues jerking his cock as you pepper open mouthed kisses to his groin and lower stomach. Your otherwise unoccupied hand pins his hips against the wall.

“Love these,” you muse.

Caressing the supple skin of his powerful thighs, you feel him throb wantonly in your hand.

You sink your teeth into the muscle. All pressure, no pain. 

There’s a garbled groan from above you.

“Baby, please,” Namjoon pants, “We don’t have much time”

You inspect his cock as it pulses in your grasp. “Oh, I think you’re only gonna need a few minutes,” you cackle.

An endearing flush spreads across his cheeks, dimples flashing as he chuckles along goodnaturedly. “Well, my girlfriend is very hot,” he argues.

You gulp, trying not to go rigid while holding his length in your hand. Neither of you had explicitly labeled your relationship, opting to silently agree that you were exclusively seeing each other.

Rather than stutter out a response, you stuff his cock deep into the wet heat of your mouth, wrapping your lips around him the way he likes. 

Namjoon’s hands immediately push your hair back and hold it in a makeshift ponytail as you sink down his length. He’s not about to miss the visual of you blowing him.

Holding him by the base, you bob up and down, gagging lightly as he slides down the back of your throat. You try to relax, inviting him into the depths of your mouth and coating him in a sheen of saliva.

“Fuck,” he moans, feeling you increase the suction around his shaft.

Your hand begins pumping what won’t fit in your mouth, suckling around the crown and urging him towards his climax.

“Baby, look at me, eyes up” he pants over you, unraveling quickly with your enthusiastic servicing of his cock.

You lift your heady gaze up to meet his desperate eyes. Brows pinched with his lower lip held hostage between his teeth. He’s so close.

Your mouth focuses on his sensitive tip, hand furiously working his shaft. His legs quake with his impending release.

With an obscene groan, Namjoon cums, erupting in your mouth. You continue to suckle at him, hand slowing down but pumping leisurely to help him ride out his high.

You do your best to hold his load without immediately swallowing the unsavory fluid.

“You know what I wanna see,” he whines, encouraging you to open wide.

Namjoon moans in appreciation, seeing his seed fill your mouth as you swipe your tongue through his cum to lick at your lips. You swallow most of it and let the rest dribble down your chin and onto your chest.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Namjoon-ah! Are you still changing?” comes the tinkling of Jin’s voice.

Fuck. 

You urgently flip through the rack of Namjoon’s clothing to find something to clean up with. Pulling a semi-plain shirt from its hanger, you wipe down his wilting cock and leave him to tuck himself back into his briefs as he pulls up his pants.

Cleaning off your mouth and chin and the residual cum off your chest, you haphazardly replace the top on its hanger and try to shake feeling back into your feet.

You check your watch again. Six minutes to show time. You smirk.

“Break a leg, bubs” you smile up at him and push him toward the door with a parting good-luck-kiss.

You watch happily from backstage as the group performs another stellar show. The crowd cheers when Namjoon makes a joke about his opened fly. Choreography and vocals all flow smoothly as the night unfolds, leading up to the final few songs.

The seven men pile into the dressing room for a final change for the encore when there’s a ghastly shriek.

“What the actual fuck,” Jin hollers. 

Several pairs of eyes look over to Jin as he gingerly inspects an article of clothing.

Oh no.

No, no, no.

Jin looks from his soiled shirt, to you, and back down to the shirt he’s supposed to change into.

You had forgotten you had worn lipstick tonight. And it was smeared all over Jin’s top along with residual ejaculate and spit that had begun to flake as it dried.

Incriminating at best, evidence at worst.

“What’s your lipstick and whateverthefuckthisis doing on my shirt? Why was Namjoon’s zipper down all through the first half of the show? And why did Namjoon-ah get all pissy when I tried to set you up with Sejin-hyung last week?” he fires off suspiciously, eyes darting back and forth between the two of you.

The room falls dead silent and all you hear is the pounding of blood between your ears.

“Because all of this is not coincidence,” Jin continues, gesturing wildly.

“I'm with Namjoon,” you confess quietly. 

The room erupts in hoots and hollers, I told you’s, and all you see is Namjoon beaming at your admission, happy to finally love you officially and publicly.

#namjoon fanfic #namjoon x reader #namjoon scenario #namjoon smut #btsghostiemarathon #blow #job #secret dating au