#this is insane timing because i LITERALLY just started writing about them in the toy aisle of the pet store

[satancopilotsmytardis]

How about ghost for his name, he’s white so it matches and he haunts poor shiggy just like a ghost.

Also I just thought of something. Please tell me that Shiggy will get cat Dabi a moth toy at some point and name it snowball. I need that so bad.

Oh thats also cute!

And God damn it, now I've got to!

#this is insane timing because i LITERALLY just started writing about them in the toy aisle of the pet store #tanco speaks #ask #asks

[hoseoksluna]

STEAM | myg ft. jjk

pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x oc (feat. jungkook)

genre: smut

word count: 9.2k

summary: one video call awakens your neediness for two cocks.

playlist: steam / pinterest board: steam

warnings: female masturbation, mentions of shower sex, praise kink, toying with the idea of polyamory, a hint of voyeurism, oc rly goes through it and faces mental battles, fear, intoxication, punishment, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, choking, cum eating, manhandling, degradation, provocation, mutual masturbation, rough & raw sex, brief oral sex (f. receiving), pet names

note: IT'S FINALLY HEREEEEEE SKFDSFLSFJ, okay so—let me introduce to you a new yoongi series featuring JUNGKOOK oh my god. i am SO EXCITED about this and i wanna apologize for my insane ideas in advance... i'm so sorry, guys. nevertheless, i hope you like this as much as i do, i literally went mad writing this and i smoked so many cigarettes i lost count. please, let me kNOW UR FAVORITE PARTS CUZ I HAVE SO MANY AND I WANNA TALK ABOUT THEM. oh fuck, guys. ENJOY READING SDKFJSD. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

side note: btw, the playlist i made is literally perfect and depicts the fic wonderfully. you can listen while you read! <3

The scent of mangoes finds its way up your nostrils, heating your senses through its balmy touch as you rub the body butter over the damp skin of your arms. Fingers graze along your décolletage, tucking in the fragrance for your boyfriend to breathe in when he comes home. He’s out for the night—said something about his friend finishing his military service, so the whole group was going out to celebrate it. Yoongi was so frantic in his excitement, hastily putting on the first outfit that sparked his eye. Didn’t even touch his hair, only sprayed a mist of his sandalwood and tangerine-tinged perfume. Grabbed his phone, keys, wallet. Barely kissed you goodbye before he fled out of the door.

He didn’t even ask you if you wanted to come along.

You didn’t mind, though—you’re only in the early stages of your relationship. It hasn’t even been half a year since you’ve started dating. And you figure he deserves a night out with his closest friends because you’ve been attached to the hip since the beginning. Funnily enough, you no longer live at your own place. Somehow, you’ve settled in Yoongi’s apartment, never setting foot outside, save for your walks, grocery shopping, the few dates with your friends and work. There wasn’t any conversation about it; you just mostly spend your free time with your boyfriend.

And all you do is fuck, eat and watch movies.

The last time Yoongi took you out was during the first two months you’d been getting to know him. The realization of how long it’s been sends a trail of chills down your arms and you rub it away.

But because you’ve been spending all your time together, you’re glad to have a moment to yourself—glad to be able to take a long hot shower, to do your hair and skincare. Perhaps, you’ll even have time to do your nails and that energizes you, propels you to spread the body butter further down the rest of your body. It is your rose garden, these night times reserved for your hot showers. The place you go to—your hideaway from the pressure and nerves of life that the steam loosens and soothes, especially when you let your sultry playlist echo through the mightiness of Yoongi’s bathroom, your favorite singer’s voice reaching your veins like the growing stems of those roses; pretty, pink and so feminine. Yes, Yoongi’s therapy sessions and thick length might have been a great help, the best in fact, but there’s something about letting yourself be burned off of all that’s been weighing you down and watching it trickle down the drain that is just so satisfying.

It was all that you were once used to. That is, until you met Yoongi.

Showers with him are something else.

Something you never thought you could ever have the blessing to encounter. Showers with Yoongi are intense, so out of pocket that you find yourself thinking about them fondly whenever you’re alone with your thoughts. There, beneath the downpour of the warm water, he lets you see the other side of his ever unyielding stern façade. While holding you, he would make you laugh, then make you moan and break that sound with each hard plunge of his cock. Hair slicked back, smirk adorning that delicious wet mouth, causing him to look like a Mafioso bent on absolutely ruining you. He would tell you the most insane story he heard from his friend, then talk you through the build-up of your orgasm while continuing to the point of that story—seamlessly waving through, never losing tempo. “Then, he went up to his hyung to ask him about what he did—yes, just like that, honey, take it. I know you’re almost there, just listen.” You would come all over his cock, sprinkling him with your essence, right there at the end of his story and like a hungry man, he’d get on his knees and eat you up, muttering how good you are and how well you did along with each swipe of his tongue. Your lungs would heave due to the overstimulation, your legs would tremble, unable to stand and he’d gather you into his arms, fold you like paper into the crooks of his body and let his thick duvet drape over you. He’d fall asleep first, breathing in the scent of your shampoo, snoring softly behind you while spooning you, never letting go of his deathly grip around you. And while you would breathe in the haze of lilac sprayed on his pillows, you’d become aware of the drowsy rhythm of his heartbeat, the lift and fall of his chest against your back, the snug heat of his body and it would lull you to sleep.

That has become your new version of hot long showers.

And if it isn’t this, then it’s Yoongi letting you quickly wash yourself before he’d steal you away, dragging you into this bed, only to carry you back there an hour later.

You speculate he has a serious, adorable case of attachment issues.

That is why you enjoy your exceptional alone shower all the more—you haven’t had it in so long. Only this time, it’s quite different.

You feel him everywhere.

You feel him in the drift of your hand down your tummy because you recollect the way he likes to pepper kisses there on his way to eat you out. You feel him when you round your palms across your backside because you know he particularly likes to leave traces of saliva when he presses open-mouthed kisses there. His love for you circulates in your bloodstream, mingling with the little love you have for yourself, making it bigger, turning it into a turbulent rush of liquid. You sense it tapping beneath your skin, asking for more of your body just like Yoongi does, always begging, begging for more—for more skin to kiss and lick, for more sensitive parts of you to find and nibble on.

Your hands sense the ghost of him even when your fingers slip past your mound and realize that the film of your memories dampened your cunt. You hear the words of praise he’d utter into your ear at the discovery and you sigh at your tender touch. 

That’s a good girl. Messy for me. 

The rotund case of your body butter remains opened, forgotten. You suddenly have better things to do—like give your body the self-care, the self-love it deserves.

It’s a part of the solo girl's night.

A mewl comes out of your mouth at the first round of circles on your clit. Furrowing your brows at the pleasure, you prop your free hand on the edge of the bathroom counter, riding the pads of your fingers. And then, just like Yoongi taught you, you take your digits away, edging yourself, taking them elsewhere. You cry out at the contact of your wet fingertips on your stiff nipple and you pinch the nub, a spasm of delight coursing through your sensitiveness.

You imagine Yoongi standing behind you. Not touching you, merely guiding you, telling you when to stop, when to pick up the pace—when to fill your hole. Watching you in the mirror, hands in his pockets, having a perfect view of your slick-caked folds, of your clit swollen and asking for his tongue. Determined to make you lose your mind by teasing you, letting you only slap your pussy once you’re close. Your essence drips out of you at that thought, making a mess on the floor and you plug it in with your finger, fucking yourself steadily, inflamed by how slippery your heat is, how easy it is to slip the digit inside. Hot flashes close over your body, pearls of perspiration kissing the crook of your neck. You fuck yourself faster and—

A sudden ring of your phone jolts you. And the picture of your boyfriend, half dressed, with the early morning sunlight leaking over the scars and tattoo on his shoulder, crammed inside your screen, greets you.

You pant hard, your finger still inside of you. Delirious.

He must be on his way home. You don’t even know what time it is. 

Leaning forward, you hide your breasts behind your forearm and you swipe your finger to accept his video call.

Blurry Yoongi. The night sky, starlit and alive, behind him. A shoal of silhouettes, some lanky and some buff, all short-haired and all as woozy-lidded as you. The picture smooths into a crystal clear view and there you see your boyfriend, the nocturnal breeze brushing his ebony hair back. Not just him, however, but another male craning his neck to regard you fully. 

His eyes flicking from your neck to the smallest of your exposed décolletage, a smirk blossoming on his face like your imaginary roses. 

Yoongi slaps his phone face down. You withdraw your finger from your heat, a cacophony of giggles, whiny cries and the exclamations of his name emitting out of your mouth. 

He is not, in fact, on his way home. 

It is a warning, his low and strict call of your name back and, heeding it, you take your phone into your hands, so he’s only able to see your deeply flushed face. Device back in his hand, he’s not looking at you at all. As a matter of fact, he’s shooting daggers fueled with deadly nightshade at his friend, grumbling something that you can’t quite make out amidst the chaos and bustle of the outing. The shoal of the rest of his friends and strangers disappear out of the perspective, as if threatened by the cold energy. 

You wish you knew what he’s saying to him. Even your pussy aches to hear it. The principle of him scolding his friend for looking at you at your most private moment scorches you and you’re red, flattered and majestically horny. 

Yoongi turns his head to see if you’re well-behaved and you beam at him, the pulse on your clit intensifying, forcing you to say, “come home, Yoongi.” 

He chuckles, aware of the reason behind your words, pretends he isn’t. “What were you doing, baby?” 

The growth of your grin doesn’t falter. You show him the sheen of your wet finger in the ivory bathroom light, the glint, the stickiness as you push your index finger to your middle and pull away, your arousal on full, filthy display. 

He curses under his breath. Doesn’t give a fuck that his friend sits beside him and adjusts in his seat. Bites his lip briefly. “Stick it in your mouth for me.” 

Doesn’t say the words that so very often follow after in that sentence. Taste yourself. 

Why he doesn’t step aside to take this video call eludes you, but something about you being watched by two pairs of eyes excites you. Enough for you to do as he says. Perhaps it’s due to the fact you don’t know the male sitting beside him and Yoongi is letting him keep his sight glued to the screen. 

Two sharp inhales of breath. Not one of yours. Yoongi readies his hook to feignedly lash out at his friend and you press your thighs together to alleviate yourself of the unbearable feeling between your legs. Confidence, a bad, bad version of confidence suffuses you whole, turning you into a person gone mad by lust. You swirl your tongue around your digit, the tanginess of your taste causing your eyes to narrow, the principle of driving not just one, but two men mad just the same intoxicates you, as if you were there among them, drinking. 

A pair of round eyes peek at the corner of the screen. Soft, naive, so terribly innocent. A dash of sobriety washes over you, owed to those brownish effervescent orbs, a sprinkle shame pooling low in your core. A reality check. You sense some kind of stability of that reality beneath those eyelashes of his, the stability that whispers—is this the right thing to do? 

It’s not rough, it’s not stern, it’s not Yoongi coded—it’s anything but. Gentleness is what you detect, free of any prejudice. 

You sigh. Millions of thoughts about how you could toy with them pass through your mind, but you decide against them, the stability a pillar that blends into your spine, helping it unbend. You can’t do this; you can’t do this to Yoongi and you need to keep your dignity intact in some way, despite the fact that every fiber of your body compels you to do the opposite. You distract yourself by screwing the lid of your body butter back on. 

“Good girl,” Yoongi coos, causing you to whisk your eyes to the screen in perhaps disbelief, shame or your still pending arousal—you’re not sure. How can you be a good girl when you let another man see something so lewd? How can your boyfriend validate something like that? “One more beer and I’ll be home. Wait for me on the bed. As you are.” 

Naked. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks, to the surface of every part of your skin, dragging away small ounces of shame. You curse, mentally, running a hand down your face. Yoongi downs his drink without taking his gaze off of you, watching your reaction, adds once he swallows, “and don’t touch yourself.” 

And with that, he hangs up. 

The harsh comprehension of what the fuck just happened envelops you in a confining embrace, the precipitately increasing weight of shame now a burden on your shoulders that you just can’t shake off, even when you slink your arms through sleeves of your silky robe and welcome in the summer breeze coming to caress your face on the balcony—even when you burst your lighter to a flame and light up your cigarette, inhaling the smoke that you hoped would rid you of its such uncomfortable hold around you. 

You licked your cum clean under the gape of a guy you don’t know in front of your boyfriend. 

His friend heard the order. Don’t touch yourself. Yoongi didn’t whisper it. Didn’t camouflage his words in any way. Uttered them straight and bare, allowing his friend to hear them, despite the fact he almost fought him then and there for sneaking one glance at your moderately naked form. 

Question marks hover in your mind and the pulse on your clit cries, seemingly knowing the answer. 

Did Yoongi like it as much as you did, the aspect of having an audience? 

The wetness in your heat dribbles out, staining your thighs. You squeeze them together, the drag of your cigarette hard and long, expecting to feel your nerves burn off. You gain no such thing—no relief, no lifting of the burden, just constricting tangles in your tummy, zippy spasms of butterflies going mad, mad, mad. 

Perhaps Yoongi didn’t like it at first until he perceived the auspicious debauched look on your face. Saw the way you didn’t hesitate to oblige him when he told you to stick your finger in your mouth. And perhaps the fact that you didn’t express any signal of discomfort was the key to unfastening the leash on his possessiveness over you. 

What have you done? What have you so selfishly and disgustingly done? 

You hang your head in your hands, the white smoke intertwining with the burden on your shoulders and pressing down harder on you. 

That’s why he let his friend hear the command. Don’t touch yourself. He saw the way you indulged in it, and that awakened his liking for it.

Yoongi lied when he said he’d have one more beer. 

By the time you hear the thunder of his voice, all the roses in your garden have wilted, leaving faded, withered petals in its wake—leaving a path of your internal battle all around the apartment for Yoongi to follow. You’ve paced, your bare feet stepping on them. Tried to untangle yourself from the incarceration of your mind by chain-smoking, but to no avail. The only change that took place in your body was the decline of your shame, for you couldn’t help but imagine what could have happened, had you let free rein to your desire—had those round eyes never looked at you with such purity. You figured there wasn’t anything bad about letting your imagination be colored like that, and so you sat on your boyfriend’s couch, cigarette switched to a coconut-flavored vape, and dreamed.

You dreamed about those two men being of service to you, right here on the same couch, where they would lay you down and make you squirt over and over again, betting between each other who could make you come the fastest, counting down your orgasms until the number was a mere blur to you. 

The throb on your clit heightened to heavenly levels and when you emerged from your dream, you found yourself being able to breathe—your momentary disappearance tricking your shame into leaving. It was difficult for you not to touch yourself and you opted to adhere to Yoongi’s wish, not risking to feel worse than you already had. 

The war ended, undeterred by the fact you never expected it to. 

Loud swear words roar in Korean. You rise to your feet to open the front door for Yoongi and you discover that he’s not alone at all. 

The same pair of round eyes, the cause of all the ruckus you just departed from, meet yours, hauling you back there with a force. Your mouth falls agape and before you can react any further, Yoongi stumbles into you. You almost topple over, realizing you didn’t care to steal a glance at the state of him, but the male grabs a hold of Yoongi’s jacket and pulls him back. You wish you had tumbled over and the floor had opened up and swallowed you whole. It would have been less embarrassing than to be stuck in this situation. You want to run, you want to scream— 

“He’s drunk out of his own mind,” the male says, his voice deep like the warm wind before a tumultuous storm, fitting just right with the thunder of Yoongi’s intonation, his gaze wandering over the entirety of your shock-stricken face, taking it in; giving you the same attention that fucked you up hours ago. Yoongi begins to mumble something you can’t momentarily focus on, his hands grasping your waist, lips latching onto your neck. No, you cannot for the life of you focus because the man steals you all over again and you hate how easy it is for him to do that, when you’re far from being available. “Don’t ask what made him drink this much.”

Did Yoongi get drunk because he let his friend in on your most intimate moment? 

Humiliated, turned on and angry altogether, a concoction that simply worsens everything, you draw back from your boyfriend. You want to beat at his chest with your fists just to have some sort of relief from blaming him—because if you blame yourself, only doom consumes you. Why did he call you? Or, essentially, why didn’t he step away to take that damned video call? 

“Thanks for walking him home,” you say eventually, your voice smooth, despite the violence of your feelings, despite wanting to say something else entirely. Your first words to him and, wholeheartedly—despite it all, you hope they aren’t last, even if that possibly makes you a despicable person. 

Yoongi’s friend nods. Chews his bottom lip and lowers his gaze to the ground for a split second. You wonder if he feels the need to remove himself from this uncomfortable situation as much as you do because you can’t read anything in that paleness of his countenance. Not a hint of any emotion whatsoever, just blandness of expression, slightly dimmed by the few thick strands of black hair that have fallen from his disheveled, pushed back mullet. As if they did fight after all, perhaps on the way home, or wrestled if Yoongi was being difficult. 

You don’t realize you and the male are just staring at each other until Yoongi places his hand on your cheek, brushing back a wisp of your tresses. Only then do your eyes flick to Yoongi’s and you finally notice him, the gloss in his hooded irises searching and searching for you, the rosy blush on his cheeks, dry parted mouth and the dart of his tongue as he wets it, softening the flecks that have been created there. 

This is it. If you are focused on him, all things are made right—all things that have been stained get purified and dreams get turned into dust. This is the man you’ve fallen for, who puts you before himself and has done so every day since the moment he made you his. You can’t let anyone else get in the way of the home that your relationship has become, you can’t let your feelings flee—

“For the record,” Yoongi’s friend starts, hand massaging circles on the nape of his neck, the leather of his jacket tight around his arm. Your heart jumps and beats against your chest ferociously. “I didn’t see anything, if that helps you sleep better tonight.” 

It’s such a fat lie and you’re about to shake your head, but then he looks at you with such sincere regret that, ultimately, you choose to believe him. Just to keep your peace of mind unscarred. 

Yoongi tightens his hold around your waist, which grounds you, and a small part of you begins to bloom in healing, disseminating little by little across your whole body. 

A healer with big, round eyes. A good man. 

With a swing, Yoongi closes the door but you don’t hear the click. No, the light spills in from the hallway. Your hands reach for the doorknob but Yoongi blocks them and wraps them around his waist while swaying on his feet. He traces the shell of your ear with his lips, his alcohol-reeking breath wafting over you, and softly, you whine his name. Shuffling beyond the door, feet never entirely moving—the male is still standing outside and he hears as Yoongi hums at your call, as the sound grows into a groan at the feeling of being alone with you at last, at the feeling of all that makes you feminine under his hands. He hears your gasp as Yoongi pushes your chest flush to his body, kisses you harshly and cups your bare pussy. Hears the smack of your mouths, the pop once he withdraws, the squelch of your wetness. Hears as Yoongi murmurs, “you been horny, baby? Wet for me, hm?”

It’s those words that make him shut the door for you.

You made Yoongi drink a lot of water. 

And while he downed the glasses, you ordered him Thai food from his phone, which he now devours. You had wanted to change out of your flimsy robe into your plush pajamas, but Yoongi stopped you with a tight grip on your shoulder and with the nastiest puppy eyes he could manage, considering his plastered state, he begged you not to. Informed you that he wanted to fuck you in your little robe and you told him that if he wanted that, he needed to get sober. 

He’s your boyfriend and you trust him, but you don’t feel comfortable having sex with him while he’s wasted and you’re not. It’s a dangerous territory you don’t ever want to cross. 

So, now he eats as quietly as a mouse, feeding you every other bite with his chopsticks, meanwhile you’re jittering your leg with your arms crossed across your chest, mind full of the male who walked him home. Of the way he pulled you under and resurfaced with you soon after. Of the calm peace you feel all over the perimeter of your mind that peculiarly stresses you out. Of what would happen if you voiced your little dream to Yoongi, especially. 

Was it out of the question or would he consider it? 

Your leg jitters harder. 

You want to tell him, badly. Seeing his friend in real life changed fucking everything. If you hadn’t, you would’ve forgotten about it in the days to come. Yoongi would’ve fucked it out of you in most probability. But those eyes… those eyes got under your skin. 

“Stop fidgeting,” Yoongi scolds with his mouth full of food, no hint of slurring. The hot meal and hydration worked a miracle. “You’re making me nervous.” 

He picks up two cut pieces of chicken with his chopsticks and stuffs your mouth, adding a few pieces of vegetables as you’re chewing. Watches you swallow it, noticing how your eyes are focused on nothing in particular on the other side of the room. Tucking his utensils under his palm, he places his hand on your thigh, halting your restless motion. 

You still won’t look at him. Too lost in the overthinking maze, debating whether you should speak or remain quiet about your desire. A strong part of you fears his reaction and the other half is horrified at the possibility of being turned down—

Yoongi takes his hand away. Props it on his cheek. 

“I can see your pussy from here,” he says, licking his lips. “You’ve shaved?” 

You breathe a soft laugh, turning your head to face him, covering yourself with the small fabric. Dark, but tender eyes, void of any glossiness, awake and stirred—amused. Cheeks awash with color. Lips puffy, a dark tinge of red coating them. A sturdy fist on his cheek, the milky jawline underneath. That messy hair, the slicked-back look ruined by the constant rake of his fingers through them, now falling to the side from the middle. That slender body, clad in the night from head to toe—legs outstretched under the table. So fine, so delicious. A beautiful strong man—all yours. Why do you want another one? 

You slide your leg across his thighs and Yoongi slouches in his seat, discarding his chopsticks. 

“I shaved everything,” you respond, cocking your brow at him—a sly invitation for him to feel its smoothness. 

And he does. Runs his hand up and down your skin. Goes as far as lifting your other leg onto his lap, cradling them both, thumb caressing your calf. The movement causes your robe to expose you again and, cursing the fabric, you go to cover yourself, but Yoongi stops you. 

“Don’t bother,” he mutters. “I wanna look at it.” 

You raise your brows altogether, looking up at him. “You wanna look at her?” 

Yoongi smirks. That dangerous tug of one corner of his mouth to the side. Your death, your undoing, the root of your submission to him. “I want to have her at my disposal.”

You gulp and Yoongi catches it, chuckling. Drifts his hand down your calf, to your heel, to the middle of your foot up to your toes. He plays with your pinky. You note the fact he changed the pronoun after you did. 

Your arousal returns at full speed.

“Did that make you wet?” Low, low is his voice—you feel it prodding at your core, thrumming vehemently. 

You blossom like your roses, thoughts put to the side. 

“I’ve been wet this entire time,” you say, zeroing in your gaze on the flick of dimness that whirls past his eyes. “For hours.” 

He makes a sound of pitiful nature. “Poor baby.” Furrows his brows and juts his bottom lip out, making you weak. Lets his hand roam on your thigh. “So you listened? You didn’t touch yourself?” 

You merely nod your head quickly. You were too distressed to give your body the pleasure it sought. Too busy flaring your lungs with the burn of smoke. And you respected his wish enough to keep your hands to yourself. 

Yoongi coos. “Good girl.” 

A flashback—your lips wrapping around your slick-coated finger, Yoongi praising you and… another pair of eyes watching. Chills spread across your arms, your stomach flipping. Thankfully, your shame is kept at bay. It relieves you. 

“Can I feel how wet you are?” 

A sweet, devious smile. “If you can manage to get to her.” 

You press your thighs tightly together. Yoongi looks at you as if you’ve greatly offended him and alas, he turns your chair so you face him head-on. Forces your thighs apart without any strain at all—and there you feel it, the embarrassment of fucking with him, once your pussy is at complete disposal to him just like he wanted. 

“If your pussy wasn’t so pretty, I’d make you regret your words,” he purrs, eyes fixed on your drenched flesh, hands pushing your thighs back until your knees are at level with your shoulders, folds parting with the movement, revealing more of you. Yoongi wets his mouth with his tongue. 

He thumbs your gleaming lips back and forth, collecting your essence, mesmerized by them. Looks at you intently. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to say sorry, though,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. “Would it?” 

You grin at him. “Sorry, Yoongi.” 

He rubs your swollen clit in slow circles, still with his bedewed thumb, still with his eyes on you. You choke out a moan at the delight permeating through your being. “That’s not the proper way to apologize, now is it?”

You lean your pelvis into his touch, a natural body reaction unfolding. He disapproves. You scrunch your face. “What should I say?” 

Yoongi tuts. “I’m barely touching you and you already forgot your manners?” 

The only answer you emit is an uncouth whine. 

He shakes his head, putting pressure into his circles for a mere beat of time before he slaps your pussy curtly. A vivid spasm of pleasure fills you and you moan. “Needy girl. Don’t I take care of this pussy enough? What’s this behavior?” 

Another whine. A roll of your body, asking for more of his touch. “Spank her again.” 

A cock of his brow. Harsh, stern, evil. His hand remains propped on his thigh, shoulders hunched. “I didn’t hear you say please. You wanna be bad? You want me to make you cry?” 

You know just how much he’s capable of doing that. You shake your head ‘no’. You want gentleness, the kind you saw in his friend’s eyes—

You flutter your own shut to get rid of that thought. Take a deep breath. 

“Spank my pussy again, please.” 

Yoongi massages the apex of your thigh, dangerously close to your cunt, squeezing the flesh every once in a while. 

“Apologize first.” 

“You didn’t tell me how.” 

He clicks his tongue and pinches your folds and your clit between his fingers. You cry out, and then Yoongi gets up to his feet, leaning over you, propping his hand on the back of your chair. He begins to swiftly spank your pussy over and over again. You just jump at every contact, moaning, eyes flicked to his, never breaking apart. Taking it, taking it so well that Yoongi kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Then, he grunts. Fingers flat against your clit, he moves them from side to side. Roses, a myriad of them, flood your form with their freshness and dewiness, with their beauty and delectation and you shudder, you scream, you arch your back off of the backrest—

“Say, ‘I’m sorry, Yoongi. I’m such a bad girl that I deserve every spank and I’ll take it until it hurts.” 

Flabbergasted and horny beyond measure, your mouth falls agape. Your brain turns into mush, the pleasure paralyzing you, your sounds now loud and obscene, the roses in you flitting, growing and murmuring. Yoongi adds more pressure to your clit and your eyes sink back into your head, his darkness wafting over to you, seeping into your skin—now completely yours. 

You repeat after him—word for word. With a simper on your face that causes him to scowl at you, as if you dared to toy with your punishment he bestowed upon you. But then, a tongue prods the inside of his cheek and he laughs, taking a hold of his dominant role and making sure you know. He spanks your clit twice in a row, hands lifting to fondle your nipples. 

“Good,” he praises. “You like that, don’t you? Spanks on your pussy?”

You don’t like that softness. Like the personified thunder he is, it is the calm before the storm. It unnerves you, the expectation of what might come next and your disliking of it. Nonetheless, you brim with the craving to have his fingers inside of you. Your hole clenches at that and Yoongi notices, hissing under his breath. The language of the darkness rises on your tongue and you figure that if you let loose, you’ll get your wish fulfilled.

“Yeah, it feels so good—” He pinches your nipples between his knuckles and you mewl, your lashes shaking at the impact, another set of wetness coating your folds. “Please, fuck me with your fi—”

You don’t even get to finish your sentence. Yoongi plunges his middle finger into your heat, cursing at your tightness, at how slippery you are and at the delight of being filled at last, you knit your brows. With his other finger, he traces the outline of your puckered mouth, his breathing hard and ragged. 

“I’ll do anything for that pout of yours, fuck, no matter if you deserve it or not,” he utters, slipping the digit inside. Instinctively, you suck on it and only then does Yoongi begin to pump you slowly. “You just need a little roughness to be good, don’t you?” 

Dumbly, you nod, swirling your tongue around him, but a faint, silenced part of you begs for the gentleness that you know hides somewhere deep inside his chest, never once unfurled during such intimate times. 

You pay it no matter, too fucked out to think. 

When he adds a second finger into your heat, he does the same thing with his other hand. Two fingers in your cunt, two fingers in your mouth. And he fucks you with both until you gag and a light flashes in his eyes—then, he withdraws all together, leaning against the table, his bedewed fingers coming to rest at his hardened length in his pants. 

Roses, opening. Roses, sighing. 

You breathe heavily, needing to finish, needing to have him in your mouth—

“You liked being the center of attention today?” he husks, surveying your whole body, bent in half. 

There it is—the storm. Just what you expected. Cold sweat dribbles down your spine. And it is fear, what you feel, even when you refuse to admit it. Stiff, tempered fear that pervades each and every vein on your body, regarding being possibly degraded, being made feel dirty—regarding, even, tasting the dark wine of his wrath. 

Such a stark, sudden change. 

You don’t want this. You don’t want any of it.

Abruptly, an internal question comes and pokes you in the middle of your forehead.

Will you succumb to it or will you, with the wildly fresh darkness within you, fight against it?

You take a deep breath, and in with the air also follows, with the little rationality you have amidst the sensuality of your lecherous appetite, the decision to take a hold of it all. To take charge. Just like he did.

You shall prioritize yourself. Your feelings, your desires—your roses.

Your choice envelops your fear in bubble wrap. It doesn’t dissipate. And as much as it pains you, you take a mental note of that. 

“I did,” you spit out, angered by the fact you’re afraid of your boyfriend, and so you stand your ground. “It made me so fucking needy and I want more.” 

The relief that hits you almost causes you to weep and you lower your legs to the ground. Not wanting him to see the film of tears clouding your eyes, you avoid his gaze. Yoongi crosses his arms across his chest and clicks his tongue at you, disapproving. 

“Keep your legs where they belong.” 

“No.”

A lift of his brow. He crouches down to your level and cradles your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him. And there he sees, under the waterfall of your hair, your emotions at his disposal. Yoongi studies you, frowns at you and you want to sob, you want to go home. Shame slithers towards your spine like a ghost, and although it keeps a distance, you feel its presence prickling your back. You cover your cleavage. 

“Why are you crying?” Yoongi asks, a silky murmur, eyes flicking between yours. His fingers don’t caress your skin; they merely hold you firmly, making dents in the skin. 

You don’t trust that voice, dismayed by what might lie under. 

“Why did you do that to me?” you ask in return, and it’s a blue fire shooting out, engulfing the room in stifling heat. You catch a glimpse of its sparks in the dimness of his eyes, of how he’s momentarily stricken by it before it folds beneath the shadows.

“You want to get fucked by someone else?” 

A question for a question. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat, caused by your frustration. 

Your devotion to him didn’t let you go as far as to imagine being fucked by his friend while Yoongi watched, but the brief flash of it in your mind is enough incentive for the heat to spill into you, mingling with the darkness, turning you candescent, traveling through you until it finds your core—and there, it stays. There, it finds home. 

The pulse on your clit returns, filling you with abrupt energy. 

There’s something about him coming up with it that makes you unhinged, but you’re so utterly sick of the instability of your feelings. You need it to stop.

“And what if I do?” you retort. “What will you do?” 

Truthfulness, at last.

Yoongi takes in a sharp inhale of breath, and that is the only reaction you receive from him. Nothing else on his face flickers; no wrath, no sliver of jealousy, not one thing. You stare at an empty canvas, ready for you to paint on. And you simply decide that you want to start. 

You push his hand away from your face. Stand up to your feet. But the hardened look he gives you inclines you to sit back down. 

You fight against it. 

Untangling the knot on your robe, you let him see your bare femininity. The perkiness of your breasts, the long dip of your stomach that he likes to pepper kisses on. Yes, you’re aiming for his weakness. 

And you decide to repeat history. 

You reach your hand down, lower and lower while he stares you down, and you collect your glimmering essence. Sinking your finger into your mouth, you make a show of rolling your eyes back and moaning faintly, softly. Your other hand, in the meantime, unbuttons his pants. 

The breath Yoongi inhaled hitches in his throat. 

“Is this not evidence enough?” you purr, dragging down his zipper. “How else am I supposed to show you?” 

You pull his manhood out as you suck on your finger, all while maintaining eye contact. You don’t touch him beyond that. In fact, you withdraw your hand altogether. 

And then, you collect your essence again. 

This time, you smear it across his bottom lip. Yoongi lets you. Your heart thuds, threatening to jump out of your chest. 

“Your actions during the video call told me everything,” you whisper, catching the sliver of wooziness scattering along his narrowed eyes. “And I think you liked it more than me—the thought of sharing me. You can’t hide it. Not when I saw it.” 

Yoongi growls. Then, he surprises you. 

He parts his lips for you. 

And the contact of the pad of your finger with his wet tongue coaxes a string of your dewiness to drip down the side of your thigh. You moan for him. Relieved, fucked up, woozy just the same. Finally, finally, finally. 

You’re in charge. And it feels divine. 

His length twitches against the fabric of his T-shirt. Long, hard, drooling. Such a delight for you—and so you continue. 

“I also think it made you hard. Not just because you called me when I was touching myself, but because your friend was right there beside you,” you purr, your voice a seductive sound of silk—leading him to wrap his lips around your digit. You moan for him, showing him how much you like that. “Isn’t that right, baby?” Your walls clench at the pet name, solely due to the fact that these soft terms of endearment have always been addressed to you, never the other way around. It thrills you. “I’d always be devoted to you, even if he fucked me. I’d look at you the entire time. If that’s what you want. I had a different idea, but yours is just—” you pause, and again you make a show of sighing and rolling your eyes back, “better.” 

A straight hit to his core. A glee for you. 

But you don’t realize how much you fucked up until Yoongi grips your waist and the hold hurts enough that you wince. 

And then—then he manhandles you. 

Lifting you and laying you down on the table, Yoongi spreads your legs. Watches you drip, watches as the satiny fabric follows the movement of your limbs and reveals you in all your entirety. He pulls you closer to him with a sharp tug until you collide with the tops of his thighs. Bends over you. Hovers his lips above yours. You expect him to kiss you—he even angles his head and rubs the side of his nose against yours—but he never does. 

He only leaves you waiting. Leaves you submitted to your empty expectations, taking charge, taking his control back from you. You shiver in anticipation, reaching for him, however he pins your hands down on either side of you. An angel in a rose garden. 

Yoongi chuckles, darkly, his teeth glinting in the yellow light. You fight against his hold, hips rolling against the underside of his length, beckoning him to do something, anything. You merely manage to prolong the thunder of his laughter. 

“One cock isn’t enough for her, so baby wants two,” he spits. That smirk, the crinkles around his eyes—he’s enjoying this. The hint of degradation doesn’t reflect what’s swarming inside of him, doesn’t reflect the face of pleasure coursing down his body. You smile and he scoffs. “I have enough friends for you to choose from in case you want more. I think you’d be stellar at taking three cocks. Four, even, huh? Would you have enough then? One in your tight little virgin ass, two in your cunt, one down your throat?” 

You gulp, frozen, eyes widening. 

Yoongi bites his shiny lips, nudging the tip of his nose against yours. Kisses you once. Begins to rock his hips, his length sliding across your wet fleshiness. The moan that escapes your throat trembles with each delicious motion. 

“You watch too much porn, honey,” he coos, giving you tiny kisses on the mouth. “I’d kill anyone who would come near this pussy. And I’d kill Jungkook, too, if he so much as glanced at her.” 

So that’s his name. You mewl, knitting your brows. That’s his pretty name. The entirety of your form shivers at the discovery, at the pleasure given to your throbbing clit. 

Yoongi pulls back, setting your hands free. 

You prop your elbows on the table, pouting. Yoongi grasps his length, spreads his arousal and begins to jerk himself off. 

“You’re not fucking Jungkook. You’re mine.” He groans, squeezing his tip; your hole clenches. “Rub your clit.” 

Like him, you spread your arousal on your seashell, the arousal long caused by his presence and now the mention of his name—the reason behind your frustration and his, the reason why you’re spread on the dining table, why your boyfriend is hard. You rub your clit from side to side, amused. 

“No,” Yoongi disapproves, knowing you do the motion when you want to prolong the build-up. “Circles. Make yourself come.” 

You change direction, obeying him. A sly grin blossoms on your lips, dark eyes looking up into his, permeating them, permeating into his soul. You pick up the pace, moaning into your expression of elation. 

“Jungkook is such a pretty name,” you provoke and you heighten your sounds in volume and intensity just to piss him off, just to have your way. 

A grunt escapes him, matching your pace. He wraps his fingers around your throat and squeezes. You hum. 

“A pretty name to moan in my opinion.” A layer of sweat coats your body. Yoongi grasps your jawline firmly and your satisfied laughter inches you closer to your orgasm. You feel the hot flashes, roses surrounding you—its tender petals grazing your feverish skin. You give in, watching Yoongi do the same, his mouth in a tight line, hissing and sizzling, an open fire, an open fire you want to be radiated by, burned whole by. “Just imagine him here, watching us. Oh my god, imagine him knowing he’s the reason why you and I are doing this.” 

Yoongi has had enough. 

He pushes you down harshly. Fills your hole to the hilt without letting you adjust, observing himself disappearing inside of you and begins to pound you into the table. The sound of skin slapping, the hard and quick strokes, the ravaged grunts he lets out, the fast change—it all takes your breath away, so much that you can’t, in fact, breathe. He grabs your face and makes you look at him. The dead of the night captured in his features, you absorb it, whining like the brat you are onto his mouth, mingling into your noises your approval, your yes’. 

Swallowing it, he kisses you, keeping his eyes open. “He could never fuck you like this.” 

You laugh. He swallows that, too, moaning. “What if he could?” 

He taps you on the cheek, a warning, giving you an exceptionally hard stroke that causes you to scream. He pauses. Does it again. Over and over—and your screams echo across the room, your own soul slipping out of your body. Petals flutter against you and you’re done for, hanging off the edge. You’re close, so terribly close. Your eyesight blurs and Yoongi pulls out entirely and rams into you. Again and again, abusing your cervix. 

You moan his name, gone—entirely gone. 

“Yes, moan my name like that. Just mine,” he mutters. “Who’s fucking you this good? Who’s gonna make you come?” 

He rams into you more rapidly than before. Your senses leave you until all that you know is Yoongi. His name, his scent, the wholeness of the night encompassing him. 

“You, Yoongi, you. Fuck, I—”

Yoongi laughs maniacally. “Yes, that’s right. That’s my good girl.” 

He rolls his hips, slowing down the coming of your orgasm, owning you. Lets your senses come back to you momentarily. You swallow, your throat dry and you blink, dazed still. Yoongi kisses you, giving you all that he took from you. 

“Who’s only capable of fucking you like this, honey, hm?” he asks, his voice tender and sing-song. “My pretty honey, so fucked out. So out of it.” 

You whine and you don’t control what comes out of you, your body answering for you. “You, Yoongi. You’re fucking me so—so good. I can’t—fuck. You’re the only one.” 

He smiles down at you fondly, kissing your nose, then your lips, parting your mouth and swirling his tongue around yours briefly. Then he withdraws, begins to fuck you again, slowly, reaching to the side for something. 

Once you see his phone in his hand, your heart stops. And when he puts the device to his ear, your throat dries up even more. You suddenly become aware of the silence all around, especially in your chest. You can’t breathe, you can’t blink—

Yoongi jackhammers into you, purposefully luring your loud noises out of you. “My girlfriend wants to fuck you.” 

You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut, the suddenness, the quickness of pleasure you haven’t yet felt piercing you. Fuck hot flashes and petals, you feel a heavy urge of your orgasm closing down on you. 

“She’s so desperate for you, even when I’m fucking the life out of her.” 

You flutter your eyes open to see Yoongi surveying you. You scrunch your face—so close, so fucking close—and then he puts the phone to your ear. Breathing, hard, ragged breathing fills all of your senses and you come. 

It’s an explosion. Roses bursting, their dew soaking you and Yoongi whole and you exit. You exit out of this situation, this world, this universe while your soul remains here with them. Vibrancy, colors so beautiful and sensations so vivid, ardent and fierce. You don’t know what it is you’re feeling or where you are. That is, until Yoongi’s voice yanks you back to planet Earth, back into this world, this situation—back to them. 

“In fact, she just came for you. Squirted.” 

You sob. Overstimulated, rhapsodic, but effulgent. Yes, you emit light and glow. You can see it in Yoongi’s softened eyes. 

“Think about it. No pressure. Just know she won’t shut up about you. I recall her saying your name would be pretty to moan while she played with her pussy. I think it’s only right you fuck it out of her.” 

With that, he hangs up. 

You brim with so many emotions that it numbs you. Happy tears flow out of your tear ducts—and happily, endearingly, Yoongi chortles. You don’t even feel humiliation or shame. On the contrary, you’re ready to come again. 

Yoongi kisses you and the sounds he slips into your mouth divulge how happy he is about this, how pleased he is with himself. 

You pout, burning your eyesight into his. He begins to rut into you. 

“What, you’re not even gonna thank me?” he says, grinning, as if he wasn’t fucking you at all, as if you two were still sitting at the dinner table, conversing. 

You stammer, head empty, silencing yourself and trying again. “What—what made you change your mind?” 

Yoongi places open-mouthed, wet kisses along the bone of your jaw, and there he seals his answer. “I made up my mind the moment you admitted you wanted to be fucked by him, but you wouldn’t shut up about him. I wanted to hear you babble for me. About me. I just had to mess you up to get to that point.” 

You mewl, running your hands through his sweat-slicked hair. Like a cat, he perks up to your touch, lifting his head, angling it. He kisses you, deeply. Kisses your relief. 

“Where are your manners, hm?” he whispers onto your mouth, giving you hard strokes that erase your vocabulary. You want to make him come and so you push against his thrusts, but to no avail. The intensity won’t allow you. 

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you murmur, cradling his face, pecking him, giving him the softest eyes you could muster so you can show him how much it means to you. 

He approves of your effort on bettering your manners and to reward you, he lifts you up and fucks you in the air. Your breasts bounce against the material of his T-shirt, stimulating you and he alters between jackhammering into you and sliding you up and down on his length. Your pussy squelches around his girth, tightening and Yoongi—

Yoongi loses his mind. 

And it’s him who begins to babble when you snap your hips down on him in circles. 

“Just like that, honey, oh fuck. So good, so good for me.” 

He takes it until his sounds grow in volume and you focus so much on his pleasure that you forget about yours. 

But you don’t let him take charge. 

“Let me fuck you, please, Yoongi. I wanna make you come.” 

Just like you, he’s out of it and because of that, because you asked so nicely, he lets you. 

His chest heaves, staccatos of his choked out breaths sail through the room and you can see it on his face that he’s close. Brows furrowed, bottom lip bleeding due to the way he bites hard on it, the way his mouth pops open and his eyes flutter closed. 

You hold onto his neck with your dear life. 

“Look at me,” you demand and swirl your hips in slow circles around his tip. “I want you to look at me when you come.” 

You’re so stunned that he allows you to be in charge, even more when he truly does open his eyes and pierces his gaze into yours. 

“I need to pull out,” he breathes, but you shake your head, snapping your hips down on him harshly.

“No, I want your cum in me. And I want it to be inside of me when Jungkook fucks me.” 

Yoongi grunts and this is it for him. His cock twitches in you, over and over again and then you feel it—the hot, thick ropes of his cum stuffing you full. You’re so mesmerized by the feeling, by the blissfulness evident on his face, by the smoothness between his brows at last that you can’t even milk him dry. You’re frozen, stupefied by his beauty, by his personal rapture and you want to feel it in unity with him. You kiss him. 

It’s him who fucks him cum into you, burying it deep, moaning into your lip lock. 

It’s him who lays you down to your original position and briefly, feebly licks the sheen on your spread lips before devouring your clit. 

It’s him who gives you the fastest orgasm of your life. 

And it’s him who tells you—in the shower—the story of how he almost beat up Jungkook black and blue once he heard him say how pretty you are.

And it’s you who checks up on him. 

“You sure you’re okay with this?” 

You’re stroking his hair in the bed, the duvet heavy and warm around your body and his, the night overflowing into morning—Yoongi, too. 

He’s falling asleep, but still conscious, still here with you, purring. 

“I wouldn’t be waking him up in the middle of the night if I wasn’t,” he whispers, opening his eyes to look at you, to see you enveloped in the extra blanket of the dawn’s rosy light—glowing, throwing the sun off of its throne. “Poor guy just got out of the military and you’ve already rocked his world.” 

You smile, fondly, thumb caressing his temple. Yoongi hums in appreciation. 

“I’m happy for him he’s getting pussy—one that’s mine. Before he enlisted, he spent all his time painting and getting drunk alone,” he pauses in a thought, blinking at the light. “You still want this?” 

You nod, settling into his chest. Yoongi pulls you closer, tucking the duvet into the lines of your form, bringing in comfort and sleepiness. 

“I’ll make sure you have the time of your life. I’ll be here the whole time, taking care of you,” he promises against your hair and you squeeze him. 

“He hasn’t said yes, though. He could turn me down.” 

“I’ve seen the way he looked at you. You have nothing to fear. He’ll come to you like a puppy.” 

Yoongi sinks the promise onto the plane of your forehead and holds you as you drift to sleep. Happy, relieved, steamed off of all the negative things you went through. It evaporates into the dawn—far, far away from you. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / READ part two 

#yoongi x oc #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts imagine #yoongi imagine #min yoongi #bts scenarios #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #yoongi one shot #jungkook smut #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine

[moonssalad]

Am I the only one who is disgusted by seeing how many people actually seriously excuse Rhysands fucked up actions?

I have seen so, SO many people talking about how he hid the truth about Feyres pregnancy from her and always excuse it by saying how he didnt want to stress her out 💀. Or that he was looking for a way to save them before he told her, like he shouldve told her right away. And how he told the IC about it before he even told Feyre and told them to keep their mouths shut too and even worse is that they fucking listened to him, like what the fuck?? And how always in discussions about only Rhysand keeping it from Feyre people always start talking about how Madja didnt tell her either, like dude this is a conversation about what an asshole Rhysand is and not about Madja, keep to the topic! And how people hate on Nesta for telling her, like fucking hell. Ive even seen people say that Rhysand not telling her is AS BAD as Nesta telling her to hurt her or whatever. Its just insane, I think I lose braincells every single time I see posts like those 🤯. Feyre literally says throughout the books multiple times how she hates when people choose for her or dont tell her something because they think it would be too much for her and Rhysand literally keeps one of the most important things from Feyre.

Also what the hell was that bullshit about Amren saying how Rhysand should be High King? Hes literally one of the worst options for it. Bro cant even handle 2/3 of his court 💀. And lets so many people suffer in Illyria and Hewn City even though he has had CENTURIES to change something. Honestly none of the IC even try to change something about the Hewn City, like are you seriously telling me that Mor was the only person who was good in that shithole? Whats even more insane is how Mor doesnt change anything about it when she had LIVED THERE for years and now has the power to do it! And Illyria, Cassian seems to be the only one who is actually trying to make it better even though its not really working. Why the hell cant healers heal wings but can heal someone whos guts are basically spilling out?? Hell why the hell doesnt anyone know about c-section? Just insane. What the hell does Rhysand even do for his court? Just sits on his ass and thinks only about Velaris? Because it seems like that.

And am I the only one who was mad how Rhysand chose to show off Feyre as if she was his plaything in the Hewn City. Like yeah yeah keeping up appearances or whatever but how the hell will they see Feyre seriously after that? I think Feyre was in the Hewn City two times and the second was when she was High Lady and Rhysand got her to sit on the throne after the first time he showed her off as his toy. You cannot convince me that the Hewn City residents take Feyre seriously and its all Rhysands fault.

Talking about keeping appearances, the whole 'mask' thing is so stupid. When someone doubts the IC intentions they have the fucking audacity to be mad about it as if they arent the ones who made sure eveyone thought they were all incredibly evil.

I dont even want to start talking about UTM and how fucked up it was.

People always say that he does things like these because he is 'morally grey' but to me hes just a toxic asshole. You dont write a 'morally grey' character and then excuse every fucked up thing he has done, its just not how it works.

Rhysand is literally the worst MMC ever and its insane how so many people say how wonderful he is, how he is the man of their dreams 💀, fucking worried about yall if you seriously think that.

Feyre should take Nesta, Elain and Nyx and get the fuck out of there because they all deserve so much better than this.

#anti rhysand #anti ic #anti inner circle #pro feyre #pro feyre archeron #pro nesta #pro nesta archeron #pro elain #pro elain archeron #feyre archeron #high lady feyre #high lady of the night court #nesta archeron #elain archeron #they deserve so much better #girls pack your bags #take nyx and leave #anti acotar #anti cassian #anti amren #anti morrigan #anti azriel #anti acosf

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Tease (18+)

Pairing: Dom!Aaron Hotchner x Dom!Spencer Reid x Sub Fem!Reader

Dedicated to @hausofwhores <3

WC: 3.1k of the nastyyyy

Warnings: SMUT (18+ ONLY // MINORS DNI), threesome, dirty talk, brat taming, oral (m and f receiving), very light bondage moment, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, power imbalance, light slapping, some choking, just a smidge of degradation and humiliation, spit kink, edging, swearing aaaand i think thats it but lmk if i forgot something!!

A/N: I LOVE WRITING THREESOMES!! And who better to write about than these two 😏 i literally wanted more content of threeways with them sooo thought i’d make my own hehe im literally frothing at the mouth this was so fun to write hope you like and aaaaaaaaaaaa

———————————————————————

You loved being a tease. 

There was no polite way to directly ask someone to fuck you brainless, after all, so you had to get creative. It was an art that took some time to perfect; A thrill you would never tire of. Especially because you knew it was going to cost you eventually. 

And it seemed tonight was the night you would pay your dues.

All week, you had ramped up your efforts, in a not-so-subtle way. Your usual targets were Spencer Reid and Aaron Hotchner, but the way to tease them was vastly different.

To get under Hotch’s skin, brattiness was necessary – Glossy, pouty lips and clothes that hugged your curves just so, which were sure to attract his eye. Just a little less willingness to follow orders, paired with sassy remarks and little eye rolls. Catching him looking at you and winking, always feigning innocence. It drove him insane, truly.

As for Spencer, the key was to get him all flustered. Words whispered close to his ear, fingers toying with the curls at his nape when no one was looking. Your undivided attention when he rambled about his interests, a small smile tugging at your lips. Playfully defending him from Morgan whenever he kept needling poor Spence.

What you didn’t know was that they’d been formulating a plan to get back at you.

The team had just returned from a case in Colorado, all at different levels of exhaustion. You and Spencer climbed into Hotch’s SUV as everyone broke up in groups to head home. The two men sat in the front, and you sat in the middle seat in the back.

Spencer was uncharacteristically quiet, twirling his thumbs anxiously. You could tell something was on his mind by the firm set of his shoulders and the way a muscle in his jaw ticked.

“Hey, Agent L/N, you up for one last little adventure?” Hotch asked, glancing at you through the rearview mirror.

You nodded eagerly, not thinking anything of it, hoping this adventure would involve food. But you passed all the commercial areas, soon crossing onto a more residential area. The drive was mostly silent, and there was a palpable tension in the air. Much to your surprise, Hotch soon pulled into his apartment’s parking garage. 

“What are we…” You started, but Hotch cut you off. 

“Oh, we’re just gonna go up to my apartment and have a little chat,” he said. “I think you’re in need of a lesson to remind you of your manners, which have been severely lacking as of late.”

You blinked, momentarily unsure if this was really happening. Realization hit you all at once, making you shudder. You pressed your thighs together as a broad, cheshire cat style grin spread across your face. 

“Oh? Is that so?” you asked, feigning innocence despite the mischievous look in your eyes. “I’m so sorry, sir. I just have no clue what you’re talking about.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“I wouldn’t make things worse, if I were you,” Spencer said, voice low and almost sympathetic. 

Oh, but that was the whole point, wasn’t it? You liked fanning the flames, especially when you had a clear view of Hotch’s white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. You couldn’t help but squirm a little in your seat.

Once the three of you were in the elevator, heading up to his floor, Hotch placed his hands on his hips. His eyes searched your face for any sign or discomfort or hesitation.

“This is exactly what you wanted, wasn’t it?” He asked, which was his way of checking you were actually okay with this.

You bit your lower lip, batting your eyelashes. “Was I that obvious?”

The two men shared an incredulous look, and Hotch shook his head once more. His voice lowered, momentarily losing some of its edge 

“Well, if you change your mind at any point…”

“I won’t, trust me,” you stated, winking in Spencer’s direction to further drive the point home.

As soon as you were past the threshold of Hotch’s apartment, you tried to reach your hand towards him, but he took a step back.

“Reid, take your tie off and bind her hands,” Hotch ordered. “Since she doesn’t seem to be able to keep them to herself.”

You raised an eyebrow, a cocky smirk on your lips. “Can’t tie me up yourself, sir?”

You could hear Spencer’s intake of breath behind you, along with the slight rustling of fabric as he slipped his tie off. He knew well you were in for it.

As he gingerly tied your hands behind your back, Hotch stepped forward and grabbed your face with one hand, lust and fury darkening his gaze.

“Just who do you think you are?” He growled. “Being such a smart-ass to your superiors? It’s really no wonder you’re in dire need of some discipline.”

You couldn’t help shivering a little as a tingle trailed down your spine. He noticed this, of course, and he grabbed your arm and walked you to the living room.

“On your knees,” he commanded, and you immediately complied. “Any ideas, Reid?”

“I say we put her mouth to good use,” Spencer said. “That way, she won’t be able to talk back.”

You nodded in Hotch’s direction almost imperceptibly, letting him now it was okay to proceed. He gestured towards you as he began undoing his own tie, undoing the top buttons of his shirt.

“I think that’s an excellent idea. She’s just been such a naughty girl with you too, hasn’t she? Why don’t you go ahead and remind her of her place?”

Spencer nodded, undoing his pants and pushing them down just enough to pull his cock out, lazily tugging at it. Your mouth watered at the sight, your hands straining against his tie in your desire to get them on him.

He stepped closer, his free hand coming to rest at the back of your head, guiding you forth. 

“Tap your foot three times if you need me to stop,” he whispered, just loud enough for Hotch to hear so he knew the signal as well.

You appreciated them both for being so considerate, despite everything, but you knew there was a slim chance you’d be taking them up on it. This was a punishment you more than gladly welcomed. 

You stuck your tongue out and swirled it around the head before wrapping your lips around it. He let out a sigh as you took more of him into your mouth, the soft underside easily sliding against your tongue. 

You hummed around his length, eyes momentarily fluttering closed. His movements were slow as he began shuttling his cock in and out, getting closer to your throat each time.

“There we go, that’s better,” Hotch praised, which made you open your eyes once more. “Go on, get to work. I know you can take him deeper.”

His hand replaced Spencer’s, and he gathered your hair away from your face, holding it as he guided your head. He kept it down when you’d reached the base of Spencer’s cock, nose against his pelvis. 

You breathed in through your nose, tears pricking your eyes at the effort. Then he relented, letting you come up for more air, drool spilling all over your chin.

“Just look at the mess you’re making. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Hotch said, making you look up at him. 

With his free hand, he palmed one of your breasts over your shirt, which made you arch your back. You smirked, licking your lips. 

“I want more,” you said.

“Oh, do you now?” He raised a dark brow, half amused. “Greedy thing. Think you can work two cocks at once?”

Your pupils were blown wide with lust, chest heaving with rapid breaths. “Yes, oh god, yes.”

“She hasn’t learned a thing yet,” Spencer tsked, feeling more bold now that he was so aroused. “Say please, now.”

For a moment, you stubbornly pursed your lips.

Hotch gave your cheek a little slap then, sharp enough for you to feel a sting, but light enough for it to not have a lasting impact. The smirk never left your face, heat roaming all over your body.

“Please use my mouth,” you said finally.

And so, Hotch undid his slacks as well, tossing his belt to the side. The head of his cock glistened with precum, which you eagerly lapped up. He hissed a little as your tongue made contact with his skin, which was the only indication you were getting to him more than he was willing to admit. 

The two of them took turns fucking your mouth, Hotch being rougher than Spencer. Still, you did not ask them to stop. You could feel that your panties were absolutely soaked, some of your arousal beginning to trickle down your inner thighs. Your cunt clenched around nothing, and you shifted in a futile attempt to get any sort of friction.

It was Hotch’s turn now, his fingers buried in your hair. You didn’t break eye contact as you worked him, hollowing your cheeks. He truly was a sight to behold, giving in to pleasure like that – hair disheveled, eyes glazed over, mouth a little slack. His low moans were music to your ears, the smell and taste of him utterly narcotic.

“Filthy girl… who knew you’d be such a diligent little cocksucker?” He said, groaning. “I think you’ve earned use of your hands once more, but only so that you can take those clothes off. No need for them right now.”

Spencer took the chance to kick his pants off and he knelt behind you. He untied your arms, massaging them a little in the process. You released Hotch’s cock with a loud pop, and obscene string of saliva still connecting your lips to it.

Spencer helped you stand and hurriedly, you began undoing the buttons of your shirt. You soon tossed it aside, along with your bra. He reached around you to undo your pants, pulling them down along with your underwear. 

You could feel his shaft pressed against your lower back, still hard and demanding attention. Arching your back, you ground your ass against it, still not done with your teasing ways.

With a small hiss, Spencer pulled back and smacked your ass. Your body jerked a little at the contact, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips, your nipples hardening. Your senses felt heightened, every touch to your skin almost electric.

Hotch chuckled at this. “A brat through and through.”

“It’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it?” Spencer said. “She’s dripping and yet we’ve barely touched her at all.”

“Let’s see,” Hotch said, stepping right up to you, effectively sandwiching you between the two of them. 

You gasped as he reached down, his fingers parting your folds. He slicked them with your arousal, his middle finger sinking into you. Your lips parted in a soundless moan, and he brought his fingers to your mouth, making you taste yourself. 

You hummed around his digits as you sucked them clean. He retracted them with a low groan, this time grabbing your face to kiss you. It was a ferocious, hungry kiss, in which he dominated your mouth. His tongue parted your lips, tangling with yours. Your head spun as his teeth grazed your bottom lip.

You felt Spencer’s broad palm on your lower back, gently pushing you forward a little. He knelt behind you once more, this time spreading you open and licking a long, languid stripe through your folds. His tongue swiped the inside of your thigh, subsequently raking his teeth there before chasing away the sting. Then, without warning, he buried his face in your cunt.

You let out a shuddery, “fuck” into Hotch’s mouth, your eyes screwed shut and brows drawn together. Your hands gripped his strong arms tightly, anchoring yourself lest you utterly lost yourself in the decadence of Spencer’s tongue. 

“You poor thing. You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He smirked down at you, gently wiping hair away from your forehead. 

His fingers stroked your face, and he used his thumb to open your mouth. He let a trail of saliva fall into it. You swallowed, body involuntarily beginning to squirm a little in an attempt to find your release. Spencer’s hands kept your hips pinned in place as he continued his relentless, delicious torture on your clit.

Your body went rigid as he inserted one finger into you, pumping it in and out at a steady rhythm. He soon added a second one, curling them inside you to reach a spot that had your vision swimming. He pulled back only to bite one of your ass cheeks, which made you whine as you clenched around his fingers. 

“Don’t make her come yet, Reid. She hasn’t quite earned that,” Hotch warned.

Spencer nodded, returning his smirk. You huffed in frustration, which earned you another little slap, this time on one of your tits. Hotch’s hand came to rest on your throat, barely squeezing, as he made you look at him. 

“What’s that, sweetheart? You don’t like being teased?” He taunted. “It’s not so nice, is it?”

“I never said I was nice,” you grinned slyly.

Spencer pulled back once more, standing up this time, which only left you even more frustrated. “Tough to break, this one.”

“Not for much longer,” Hotch assured him. “We’re yet to fuck the attitude out of her. Come on, get on the couch, hands and knees.”

He shoved you towards it, and you quickly positioned yourself. With his knee, he spread your legs further, one hand on your hip while the other probed your slit.

“You’re on birth control?” He asked, and you nodded in response. “Good, cus we’re both gonna fill up this pretty pussy once we’re done using it.”

You felt his cock lining up with your entrance, slowly pushing in. You moaned his name, pushing your hips back to take more of him. He tsked, two hard smacks landing on your ass to make you stay still.

“So fucking needy,” he grunted, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pushing your head down to rest on the couch. “Be good and I’ll give you what you want.”

His hand remained on your head as his cock bottomed out inside you. He was impossibly deep at this angle, reaching places you never thought possible. When he started to move again, his thrusts were hard and fast, almost punishing.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, nails digging into the cushion as desperate, almost inhuman sounds leave your lips. You couldn’t even feel embarrassed about it, any sort of coherent thought flying out the window as he fucked you like an animal.

“Y-you should feel how her pussy’s clenching right now,” Hotch said through gritted teeth. “Sucking my cock back in every time I try to pull out… fuck. Do you want to come, sweetheart?”

“Yes!”  You begged, right at the edge and unsure if you’d be able to hold it. “Please, please, please…”

“Hmmm, well, since she’s asking so nicely,” Spencer purred, stroking his own cock slowly, flicking his wrist near the tip.

“Come for me,” Hotch rasps, moving his hand away from your head to grab your hips, pistoning in and out quickly. “I want to feel you coming all over my cock.”

That was all the encouragement you needed, the tight coil in your stomach finally snapping. You cried out as your muscles locked, stars exploding in your eyelids as you gushed all over his cock, clenching around him even harder than before.

He came with a low groan soon after, shooting ropes of cum into your throbbing cunt. His movements stopped, keeping himself fully sheathed inside you as he rode out his high. 

When he pulled out, you felt it trickling down your thigh, coalescing with your arousal. He helped you raise the upper half of your body, kissing your spine. He brushed your hair away from your face, lightly massaging your shoulders.

“You okay?” Hotch asked, his voice losing its hardened edge to give way for. 

“Yes, sir,” you said, smiling beatifically.

He thought you looked so beautiful then, utterly unraveled and flushed with euphoria. That smile of yours was different from the others, more open and genuine. Oh, you were most certainly trouble. He could already tell this wouldn’t be a one time thing.

He kissed you, mirth dancing in his dark eyes.

“There’s a good girl, so docile now that she’s been fucked silly,” he got up as you turned to lay on your side. “Let me get you some water and something to clean you up.”

Hotch went to the kitchen, and because you were such an insatiable creature, you reached towards Spencer.

He chuckled, letting you pull him towards you, and he lied behind in order to spoon you. You turned your head to kiss him, tasting yourself still on his lips. Reaching behind you, you grasped his length and blindly tried to line it up with your entrance.

He helped you out, sinking slowly into you. He was much gentler, thrusting slowly and deliberately, never breaking the kiss. His hand trailed down your body, towards your overly sensitive clitt, rubbing it in circles in tempo with his thrusts.

The two of you shared breath as he picked up the pace, a languorous heat spreading through you as you came for the second time that night. Spencer followed suit, moaning against your skin as he moved to kiss your neck.

“So perfect…” he sighed.

Hotch soon returned with water for everyone, as well as a couple of towels. Spencer unsheathed himself from you, and they both took the time to gently clean you up as you downed the water. 

You grabbed Hotch’s shirt from the floor and draped it over your shoulders, scooting closer to Spencer as he sat back down. You tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, kissing his cheek. 

He blushed a little, which you found utterly charming, given that they were both so domineering mere minutes ago. Hotch leaned down to plant a kiss on your forehead.

“Think you’ve learned your lesson?” He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at you.

You snickered, grinning impishly with a shake of your head. “I might need a reminder… or two.”

The two men shared an amused look. They’d have their hands full with you, that was for sure.

Hotch took your empty glass to go refill it with water. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #aaron hotchner smut #spencer reid smut #aaron hotchner fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #minors do not interact #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #aaron hotchner x fem!reader smut #ssa aaron hotchner

[bekkachaos]

✨ Bekka's Buddie Fic Recs ✨

I just thought it would be nice to do some fic recs for some of the wonderful creators in this fandom because there is literally so much talent it blows my mind that these beautiful people are out here giving us pieces of their beautiful brains 💕

Long fics and AU fics

☀️ Kiss Me Before it's Over (if only for a Minute) by @buddierights aka the Baseball AU (Rated E, 54k words). Buck and Eddie are pro baseball players on opposing teams, and Buck never gets nervous getting up to bat, until Eddie Diaz, the new star pitcher for the LA Angels, is standing on the pitcher's mound, and his stomach flips and twists. He's pretty sure it's because he hates the guy, until, you know, he doesn't. {I love this fic, it's such a beautiful kinda enemies to lovers ride that you will love every sweet and sexy moment of}

☀️ Let My Ink Stain Your Pages by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels aka the Castle AU (Rated E, 107k words). Buck is a professional crime fiction writer in need of a new muse. Eddie is an LA homicide detective, and the last thing he needs is to be followed around by a reckless author. A sexy six foot plus mystery writer who he absolutely does not find charming and attractive. But when Buck decides that Eddie would make the perfect muse for his new book, that's exactly what Eddie gets. {I might have read this fic 3 times, it's one of my absolute favourites and you better believe I will go back and read it again}

Stupid People by @gayhoediaz (Rated E, 160k words). Eddie is new in town in LA, and he's just come to terms with the fact that he's gay. He figures that hiring a sex worker is the easiest way to explore that side of himself and keep it separate from his son and his work, to keep things uncomplicated. And that's how he finds his way to Buck. His plan works, for a while. {This was one of the first buddie fics I read, and it is an epic sexy, moving, emotional fic that I thought about for so long after, honestly I recommend anything that Nie writes!}

Unless You Ask Me To by @elvensorceress (Rated M, 182k words, in-progress). Eddie starts dating a man, and Buck is completely, one hundred percent Fine(TM). This is a beautiful fleshed out journey of a fic. {I believe one of the tags is 'the most oblivious obtuse pining idiots you will ever meet' and the accuracy of this is insane, I can't wait for the last chapter!}

☀️ never felt this way before (yes I swear) by @rewritetheending aka the dirty dancing AU (Rated M, 50.8k words). Buck and his family go on vacation to the 118 ranch and lodge, where Buck meets a number of new people including Eddie Diaz, and he's pulled into the world of the one-eighteen in a way he never expected, and learning to dance from the most beautiful man he's ever seen. {What more do I have to say other than dirty dancing AU? This fic is amazing from start to finish and so so hot!}

Explicit fics

Bases Loaded by @lamardeuse (Rated E, 2k words). Eddie wants to take things slowly, and Buck obliges him. {It's a sexy slow build between the two of them and just sucks you right in!}

More bang for your buck by @prettyboybuckley (Rated E, 14.2k words). Eddie's got a problem with a noisy neighbour, only, he can't exactly confront him because how do you knock on someone's door and say 'you have the loudest sex I've ever had the pleasure of hearing through the wall'? Because it is, a pleasure, the sound of him is just doing things to him. And then he finds the guy's twitter, and then his Instagram, and he is too far down the rabbit hole to back down. {This is hot the whole way through, and Buck testing toys and posting online? Spicy hot content!}

I lit the match, the firemen can do the rest by @honestlydarkprincess (Rated E, 6.6k words). Eddie needs to see Buck, so he drives over to his place to see Buck getting railed by Natalia with a strap on, and he can't look away, especially when Buck comes just by Natalia mentioning Eddie's name. When she leaves, Eddie feels the need to prove that it's even better when he takes things into his own hands. {This is Eddie pining for Buck and then getting to have him, all to himself}

☀️ today I live for a single drop of you by @alyxmastershipper (Rated E, 38.9k words). This is the 5 + 1 blowjob fic, five times Buck dreams of sucking Eddie's cock and the one time he gets to do it. Nuff said {Ryan just has such a beautiful lyrical way of writing that they can make an epic fic about blowjobs poetic, a masterpiece}

More AUs

mark me like a bloodstain by @monsterrae1 (Rated M, 6k words). A fic where your soul marks appear on your skin when they appear on your soulmate, when they are badly injured. Buck's first marks show up in college, and his first thought is that his soulmate is dead. He doesn't figure it out until his best friend is shot in front of him, and then he realises it's been Eddie all along. {I love soulmate fics and I love the shooting arc, and this fic is just so wonderful from start to finish}

and I'd choose you (in a hundred lifetimes) by @monsterrae1 (Rated E, 16.7k words). Eddie and Buck are pen pals when Eddie is in the army, and god it shouldn't have been so romantic, but he got Evan Buckley. And he thought maybe he might just be the person he spends the rest of his life with, until he completely disappears. Four years later, they meet again, only Buck has no idea who Eddie is. {did I include another Rae fic? Yes I did, because this one was just too good to leave out}

☀️ all I know is a new found grace (all my days I'll know your face) by @heartbeatdiaz aka the photographer Buck AU (Rated E, 4.5k words). Eddie is participating in the annual firefighters calendar, and the photographer is stupidly beautiful. Like, crazy gorgeous with big blue eyes and a smile that makes Eddie's palms sweat. {Photographer Buck is just such a beautiful thing to imagine, and honestly you could hit shuffle and pick any of April's fics and you're bound to love it}

even gods die by @kitkatpancakestack (Rated T, 7.6k words). This is quite a heavy fic, Buck has brain cancer and he and Eddie are at a cabin together talking about his diagnosis and how they feel about it. It's angsty with a hopeful ending. {This is a beautiful, emotional fic and it moved me so much to read. Not for everyone, but wow was this amazing}

Fun, Flirty and Fluffy fics

☀️ To have and to hold (what's mine is yours) by @the-likesofus (Rated G, 3.3k words). It's Buck and Eddie's one year anniversary (paper). Eddie gives something Buck has had all along, that last piece of his heart. {This is such a heartwarming Buckley-Diaz family feels fic and made me smile so hard}

Everything But (temptation) and Worth the Wait by @spotsandsocks (Rated T, 4.7k & 5.4k words). Five times Buck is tempted by Eddie and the one time he finally gives in, or, five times Eddie attempts to tempt Buck and the one time it finally works. {These fics are from Buck's pov and then Eddie's, and they were so much fun to read both times!}

smile to hide the truth by @fallingthorns (Rated T, 5.1k words). Eddie is getting married, only it's not to Buck. And Buck should really say something, should have really said something earlier. Because now Eddie is standing at the altar, only he's staring back at Buck and asking what would make him happier. {This isn't exactly fluffy but god the anticipation and the build up to that wedding, and the ending? You won't regret this read, I loved it}

still by @gayhoediaz (Rated T, 9.3k words). Based on an episode of Castle (are you sensing a theme here?) where Eddie steps on a plate in a house where they've just put out a fire, and he just knows that he's stepped on a pressure bomb. Buck refuses to leave him standing there alone while they figure it out, but time is literally ticking for them. {These two just fit the Caskett shoes perfectly, and this was tense, emotional and just a wonderful read}

between who you are and who you could be by @paranoidbean (Rated T, 5.6k words). Eddie is working at a plasma donation centre, and Buck just keeps coming back in, after making an impression the first time by passing out. {This is an adorable meet cute that just made me feel fuzzy inside}

(tell the gravedigger) better dig two by @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy (Rated G, 7.2k words). In which Eddie is buried alive, and Buck loses his mind with worry and grief. Basically a missing part to Eddie Begins. {This was a beautiful exploration of Buck's emotions as he's afraid he's lost Eddie}

I hope you all enjoy these fics as much as I did, just wanted to spread some love and appreciation 💕

#buddie #buddie fics #buddie fic recs #fic rec #bekka reads #just wanted to share some wonderful stories #please tell me if i tagged wrong!!

[doomsdaydicecascader]

my problem with postcanon jade was that it said she was a cis girl before fusing with bec. i took it as the same "true in a transmisogynist way" troll as transmasc roxy

like, truly, i miss transfeminine roxy every day, and my house is fairly glass when it comes to things here considering i'm writing The Butch Lesbian Jane Comic, but like. the way homestuck fans exert ownership over the text of homestuck is fundamentally what the homestuck epilogues and post-canon are about. act 7 is about the dead calliope saying "fuck canon" and making her own, and she does not know how to care for the characters in question. i genuinely believe reconciling these facts, that what homestuck wants to be and what fans want homestuck to be are tangibly, ideologically opposed, is what post-canon is about

"fans read this character as X identity" is fine and good but that's paratext at best, and making demands of a text that has no obligation to respect them at worst. the epilogues are cashing in that desire to not respect them. homestuck has always been shaking off its readers who exert too much ownership, feel too comfortable with it. this goes way back as far as act 5 act 2 - the author commentary describes switching between walkaround sprites and hussnasty mode in such close proximity as a means of saying "if you always get what you expect, you will become complacent and that's no way for a reader to be", the "come in, go away" routine of homestuck is so repetitive now that i'm surprised basically nobody's caught on - homestuck is always doing insane flips to try and shake people off of it.

and now homestuck is doing that with your headcanons. like, this is a thing i see genuinely, all the fucking time in fandom over the past 15 years or so, people hype themselves up on paratexts and pretend the paratext is the source. the worst i ever saw of it was people having full blown self-harm threatening panic attacks because klance was not endgame in voltron legendary defenders. genuinely, i remember this so well - i think there were still two more seasons of the show after that event too, but i didn't watch it.

i only looked on from afar because what i saw of season 1 wasn't especially novel. castiel was never gay, no matter how many times he was caught leaking omegamusk in walmart or whatever, i'm stealing valor with this joke i was never a superwholock omegaverse girlie. there's so many fandoms i'm not a part of, it's unreal.

anyway, my point is people get really invested in their reads on characters and pretend it's real for the same reason a normie's sports team is gonna go the distance this season. and when they don't, they riot. this is literally just sports fandom 101. we may as well be talking about fucking inflategate here. i also don't go to sports. it's basically just homestuck for me these days.

i imagine this is what it's like to run my little pony before bronies came along: the show was negligible in relevance beyond its capacity to show off the new toys to play with. but the difference is that my little pony is about the toys, it's about encouraging that kind of play, it's fundamentally a set of toys they made a show about, as opposed to homestuck, which was always niche art for webcomics weirdos that caught on, quite literally, with the brony audience. i remember the first time i ever saw dave strider was on fucking ponychan, chronologically it would have been mid-act 5 act 2. it was an image of dave ransacking the lohac stock exchange, which is an a5a2 thing, it was before season 2 started, etc etc.

this is one hell of a tangent to say as far as the text of mspaintadventures is concerned, problem sleuth characters have gender signifiers that are more similar in nature to drag and performance of gender roles than any actual sexual dimorphism. homestuck characters are built atop the gender expression of problem sleuth. jade was a 13/16-year old girl, and that's the only information there was. over time, this changed.

this was an explicit change, too - it's in the change to act 6, passing through the fourth wall, that these characters, who fundamentally are game pieces, that homestuck starts to contend with the fact that people are emotionally invested in them as people. people don't like dave or vriska in the same way that people care about problem sleuth or nervous broad, and this comes out in the text. we get a lot of the best stuff in homestuck out of that change, too, like. the retcon only works because of that emotional investment, and i go so hard for the retcon. the retcon is the coolest thing ever.

and with that change, now, in 2024, she is explicitly a 39 (? i think she's 39.) year old woman with a penis. she didn't go from "cis woman" to "trans woman", she went from game piece to human person. there is no "cis jade" to be overwritten. you're assuming a "cis is default" worldview of a team of transgender and/or nonbinary people and thats just like. its not ideal, really

#really letting these posts get away from me here. #i write really nonlinearly and got distracted to go post resources on the mspfa discord so if theres a sentence fragment in there: idgaf

[amazingmsme]

You're The Mouse

AN: I was having a hard time wondering just what I wanted to do for the chase prompt, and then I met Distortion Michael & the rest is history! This was an absolute blast of a fic to write, definitely one of the longer ones you'll see this month. I already miss Tim a lot so he gets a nice lil spotlight too. Posting this at 2am because I'm excited & the one time I did that it blew up. Hope y'all enjoy day 6!

It had been a long, tiring day with some rather harrowing statements he had to hear and record himself. His back ached from hunching over the desk for hours without a good break, and he felt tired down to his bones. Even his eyes felt tired, burning from the strain of staring at small font and lack of blinking. He couldn't wait to get home and crash in the couch. It was only Wednesday, which for him didn't bode well for the rest of the week.

He should've noticed the static. That fuzzy ringing in his ears that started out quiet, only to grow in intensity. If his mind wasn't so frazzled, he would've noticed that's not his usual office door.

A chill ran down his spine when he stepped through the doorway and found himself deep in the tunnels.

"Oh God," he muttered to himself, backing up and turning to run, but it was too late. The door was gone, and he ran straight into Michael's arms. Though he didn't remain there for long.

He screamed and started trashing, managing to elbow him in the stomach and stomp on his foot. Temporarily hurt, he recoiled enough for his grip to slip so Jon could free himself. He whipped around to face him once he felt there was a suitable distance between them. Although with Michael, he wasn't sure there even was such a thing.

"What the hell do you want now?" he growled, hands gripping the strap of his messenger bag tightly. Michael let out an echoing, disorienting chuckle.

"Oh archivist, I simply want some fun."

That was quite possible one of the worst things he could've said, at least in Jon's opinion. Because when Michael had fun, people usually ended up dead or insane, or in a cruel twist of fate, both.

"Maybe you should pick up a hobby, like drawing or golfing, or literally anything that involves leaving all of us alone," he suggested, though it felt more like a plea once it left his tongue. Michael let out a shrill giggle.

"You just don't get it, do you?" he asked with a tilt of his head. His wide smile was unnerving. "You're my favorite little toy."

Jonathan's face scrunched up in disgust as he looked him up and down, clearly not amused by his statement.

"Oh get your mind out of the gutter archivist, I didn't mean it like that," he scolded. "It's more like... when you were a child and you'd build fantastic cities out of blocks just so you could watch their destruction at your own hands." He took a step closer. "I'm just looking for a bit of fun amidst the chaos."

His held his hand out in front of him, reaching for Jon. His eyes widened in fear, stumbling backwards. Michael's hand distorted and stretched before his very eyes, long fingers growing in the darkness of the tunnels. Jon was already halfway down the hall.

Michael loved the thrill of the chase. He loved hearing the rapid thud of a racing heart, the panicked gasps for air as they ran for an escape. They were all the same, really, if he thought about it. Just a mindless chase through endless, winding halls that always ended victoriously. (For him, at least.)

Jon was frantic. Why now, of all days? He was so ready to walk through his front door, kick off his shoes and enjoy a nice hot frozen meal on his couch. It really was the least he could ask for, and yet, he couldn't even have that. The only saving grace was the fact that he was in the archive tunnels instead of whatever weird pocket dimension the Distortion liked to trap people in. His lungs ached as his feet pounded against the hard, dirt floor, eyes searching through the dark for something, anything to register with him and give him a clue as to his whereabouts, but it all looked the same.

"Joooon, come out come out wherever you are!" the voice was shrill and empty, the words hollowed out and stuffed to the brim with static. It echoed through the tunnels, and Jon couldn't tell where it came from, but the echo made it sound so fucking close and that sent him into a panic.

He ran ahead, ducking in a small alcove to catch his breath. He felt like he'd put a sufficient distance between them to be safe enough to do so. He gulped down air until the burn in his lungs subsided. He raised two fingers to his neck, checking his racing pulse and willed himself to calm down. Every reaction was just giving Michael exactly what he wants.

He needed to conserve his energy, move slower to remain quiet and keep his wits about him. He was pretty sure he had his bearings now, which was a plus. But if he really was where he thought he was, then they were deep in the underground maze. It took the better part of 30 minutes to even get to this point in the tunnels!

At least he knew where he was, he told himself, forcing himself to focus on the bright side of things. He walked at a brisk pace, a borderline jog really. He wanted to get out of here quickly, but he didn't want to give Michael the satisfaction of causing him to panic.

"Believe it or not, I don't want to hurt you, archivist. I simply want to have some simple, haaarmless funnn together, ehehehehehe!" His voice went shrill and warbly and distorted towards the end of his unnerving giggle so much that it became almost inaudible. And fuck, if it didn't make Jon run.

Could you blame him though? There was no way that- that thing actually meant what it said. It was absolutely going to hurt him. And it was probably going to do so in the most terrible ways imaginable.

Jon hated the deep, guttural scream that ripped from his throat when he rounded a corner and came face to face with the blonde monster.

His feet scrambled on the packed dirt and he was already turning around, but arms that were too long wrapped around him from behind, dragging him back as they retracted to a more normal length. He was screaming and kicking the air, arms fighting to free themselves.

"Shh shh shhhh, would you relax? What part of I don't want to hurt you did you not understand?" he chastised, holding a single finger to Jon's lips to quiet him. He went silent out of shock more than actual compliance.

"I don't trust you as far as I can throw you. Now what do you really want?" Jon demanded, mustering enough confidence to glare him down. Michael just laughed.

"Like I said, I'm just looking for some fun. You humans aren't the only ones who get bored you know," he said condescendingly. Jon remained silent.

"I tend to- peak in, from time to time, just to see how my favorite sheeple are holding up," he mused, causing Jon to visibly cringe and roll his eyes.

"Good to know there's actual reason behind always feeling like I'm being watched," he grumbled.

"Oh no, I'm not the only one, but trust me, I'm your favorite."

"Quite the opposite."

"Well, I will be your favorite," he winked and giggled to himself. "But last week, I noticed you playing with your friends. You looked soooo happy then... I'd like to make you happy like that too, Jon."

What a nice sentiment from such a not nice entity, not to mention he had no clue what he was talking about. "Bullshit, you don't want to make me happy, you want to ruin my life!" he snapped, still continuing his struggle.

"Oh, but can't I do both? Life ruining is such a long process, and I'd really like to hear that laugh in person."

Realization dawned on him the same time terror wracked his body, body going stiff and eyes bugging out. Michael cocked his head, that unnaturally large smile forming into a curious pout.

"Why archivist, if I didn't know better I'd say you look frightened," he cooed. "There's no need for that. You didn't have that look when Martin snuck up on you in the break room," he pointed out.

"You keep his name out your fucking mouth," Jon growled, and in a moment he was pressing into the Distortion's space. He had grabbed him by the shirt collar and jerked him so hard his neck snapped at the momentum, their noses almost touching. A few flecks of spit even landed on Michael's cheek from the force of Jon's rage. It genuinely took him aback before a wicked grin took over.

"Your boy toy's off limits, lesson learned."

"He's not my-" Jon cut himself off, seeing no use in arguing with him. His eyes were closed and he pressed a free hand to his temple. "Look. You said you wanted your sick fun, but all you've done since capturing me is talk. I'm a smart man, I know I can't escape this. But I'm fucking tired, and I just wanna go home, so the sooner you shut up and get on with it, the better."

There was a beat of silence, and then a shit eating grin followed by, "If you wanted me to tickle you already, you could've just said so."

"No, I want to go home you assho-" Jon cut off his own rambling mid sentence as Michael started fluttering his fingers over his sides, prompting him to clamp his mouth shut. He rolled his eyes.

"I'm doing this so I can hear that cute, funny laugh of yours archivist! The longer you hold out the longer I have to tickle tickle tickle you!" his taunt echoed off the walls. Jon flushed and hid his face in his hands.

"Y-you're sohoho fucking weheheird!" His voice pitched higher towards the end of his sentence when Michael tweaked his sides before drilling in his thumb. He tossed his head back with a discordant cackle of his own, seemingly amused by the response.

"Is that really the best insult you can come up with? How adorably pathetic!" he cooed, reaching around with his other hand to knead his belly. Jon writhed in his grip, snickering and squealing with no way to escape.

"Shut up or Ihihi'll- nohoho wahahait!" the threat died on his tongue, melting into frantic giggles. He kicked his feet in the air and gently shoved at the offending tickly hands, but to no avail. He slumped in his hold, leaning back over his arm and covered his face with his hands.

"Oh? And what exactly am I waiting for?" Michael asked, cocking his head. The way he was so calm while picking Jon apart made it all the more maddening. Those long, spindly fingers were able to work their way into every tickle spot they could find, and it was perhaps the most horrendous thing he's ever felt in his life.

"I-Ihihi dohon't knohohow!" he whined, yelping when Michael pinched and prodded at his soft tummy. "Just shuhut up!"

"Hm, I don't think I will. Especially if it gets you all worked up like that," he taunted. Ironically, he started tracing a large spiral over his stomach, closing in on his bellybutton. Jon snorted, covering his face with one hand while trying to push Michael away with the other.

"Ohoho you've gotta behehe johoking," Jon groaned through his giddy laughter, rolling his eyes.

"What? It's my signature, I simply have to," he said casually, closing in on the center of his stomach. Jon's deep chuckles morphed until they were high pitched and bubbly. He was blushing like a fool behind his hand, shrieking and wiggling in Michael's arms all the while.

~~~

Tim had the worst luck. He had been halfway home when he realized he'd not only left his wallet, but his keys as well, at the institute. He backtracked, grumbling to himself the whole time.

He hated nothing more than being alone in the archives. It was bad enough being there during the day surrounded by people, but at night when those endless halls and rooms were empty? It might as well be straight out of a horror game.

He was trying to get to his office as fast as possible, but slowed as he neared Jon's office. The light was off, and he couldn't hear talking, sure, but the door was left open. Jon never left his door open.  The sight filled Tim with dread.

"Boss? You still here?" he called out, but received no answer. He walked to the door and peeked inside, greeted only by a dark and empty room.

Maybe he just forgot to shut the door when he left, he tried to reason with himself. But none of them were that lucky, especially not Jon. Still, he went back to retrieve his things and be on his way.

Execpt that's when he heard it.

Muffled screaming. Coming from below.

Tim froze, unsure if what he was hearing was true. He bent down, putting his ear to the floor and listened.

He could just make it out.

"Please, no, have mercyyyyy!"

That was someone pleading for their life. That was Jon pleading for his life... He raced to the trapped doors.

He had the sickening feeling that he'd walk in on Elias standing over Jon's body, having killed him deep within the tunnels just as he did Gertrude. Well not today.

He descended into the tunnels, pausing when he heard frantic, hysterical screams echoing down the halls, but he could swear it sounded like... laughter. And now that he was within the tunnels, he could hear that it was undeniably Jon's.

Just what the hell was going on?

~~~

Jon knew he was going to die here, in these godforsaken tunnels. He had no way of stopping this, and Michael proved to be just as relentless now as he's ever been. And those long fucking fingers of his were absolute torture. Just one hand was big enough to vibrate over his entire stomach and still wrap around to dig  into his sides and scribble at the base of his spine. Jon was effectively in hysterics, shrieking and giggling with no end in sight.

He should hate this. Should hate that it was Michael of all people doing this to him, but an overwhelming part of him was relieved that he wasn't subjected to legitimate torture. A more foolish part of him thought that maybe Michael was warming up to them: that maybe he wasn't so downright malicious after all.

And then he felt sharp nails scratching behind both his ears, and that thought was gone as soon as it had arrived. If he hadn't been cackling so loud, perhaps they would've heard Tim calling out for Jon, telling him to just hold on, he'll be right there.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?"

If Jon hadn't been so preoccupied, he'd have jumped and shrieked in fright, though he was shrieking for an entirely different reason at the moment. Michael on the other hand, did startle, having been caught red handed. He almost seemed embarrassed, and dropped him like a sack of potatoes. Jon landed flat on his back, the breath being knocked out of his already breathless lungs. Tim was frozen in place, taking in the scene. He was knocked out of his daze when he saw Jon hit the ground, and he immediately rushed over to help him up.

Jon was gasping and wheezing, face red and hair messy, but he still had that rare, genuine smile on his face.

"Sorry you had to see that, I had thought the archives was empty," Michael said in lieu of an explanation.

"Yeah, it was. Good thing I had to come back," Tim snapped. Michael rolled his eyes.

"Oh please, he's perfectly fine. I didn't harm a single hair on his head."

"You fucking dropped me!"

Michael let out a shrill chuckle. "And that was a complete accident! But you can't really blame me for wanting to have my own fun with you. Especially after everyone else made it look like so much fun."

"Hey, you stay away from him! Only we're allowed to torture Jon like that!" Tim scolded weakly, but it was all he could think to say. Which just made him feel stupid when Michael continued to laugh at them.

"Oh, so you're the only ones who can toy with the archivist, is that it?" he asked tauntingly, cocking his head. Tim opens his mouth to answer, but stops short. Jon is sitting curled in a ball, hiding his face in his knees.

"No, you've got it wrong. We do it because we care about him, and want him to be happy, even if it's short lived. You do it for your own sick kicks!" Tim accused. Jon's head snapped up when he admitted their reasoning for why they always seem to tickle him out of the blue. It brought a shy smile to his face as he recovered from the ordeal.

"... Well that's a rude assumption. I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about."

Tim snorted, "My point exactly." They were all quiet, the three of them engaged in a bit of a stalemate. "Aren't you going to show yourself the door?" he boldly prompted. Jon choked on his own spit in shock.

Michael's smile widened. "You know, I wasn't quite finished yet. And I'd hate for you to feel left out," he playfully threatened, and his limbs stretched ever so slightly as he spoke. Tim took a step back, eyes wide. Jon was just now making to stand, and pointed at him sternly.

"No." He stood up and dusted himself off, glasses askew on his face. He straightened them and cleared his throat. "Haven't you had enough? You leave him, and everyone else alone." And just because he knows better than to trust Michael, added, "That includes me too."

"I'll think about it. It'd be easier if you weren't so fun to tickle. Isn't that right Tim?" Michael asked, even winking at the pair. Jon blushed and turned away, and Tim failed to fight back a smile.

"Heh. Right." He shook himself out of it, glaring at Michael as he stood by Jon protectively. "B-but you just mind your business."

"Ha! Unlikely, diet archivist."

"Hey!" Tim snapped at the insulted and Jon stifled an amused  snicker. He was just about to give him a piece of his mind when Michael opened a door that hadn't been there a second ago, standing in the doorway.

"Until we meet again," he waved at them, closing the door behind him, leaving them stunned and alone.

Now that Michael was gone, Tim turned to Jon with a teasing smirk. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah, I'll be fine. I'm honestly... more confused than anything." Tim barked out a laugh and patted his shoulder.

"You and me both."

They began their trek out of the tunnels, walking side by side quietly until Tim broke the silence.

"So, what's it like being tickled senseless by the Distortion?" he asked in a teasing tone. Jon flushed and shot a glare his way, but he had that happy, sheepish grin plastered on his fast, just like every other time they wrecked him.

"Oh, should I have let you find out for yourself?" Jon quipped to mask his own embarrassment.

Tim looked down with a faint blush. "Fair point." A beat, and then, "You know we have to tell the others, right?"

Jon choked on his own spit, and Tim stopped walking to give him a moment. He looked at him expectantly, while Jon looked at him with a floored look.

"Are you joking?" he asked.

"As much as I wish I were, no." The shit eating grin on his face said otherwise. "You heard what that thing said. We're all fair game in his eyes." Jon gave a noncommittal hum. "They deserve a bit of a warning, don't you think?" It was true, but he didn't have to be so damn smug about it.

"Yes," Jon begrudgingly agreed through a growl.

"Think it might be best if you made a statement. You know, so we have an accurate account for the record."

Jon groaned and hid behind his hair. "I would literally rather die." Tim barked out a laugh and threw an arm over his shoulders.

"Always with the dramatics! So you're saying you'd rather tell them in person? Look them in the eyes and admit how I saved you-"

"Don't-"

"From the big bad ti-"

Jon didn't think he'd ever been so embarrassed. "Stop!"

"The big bad tickle monster named Michael!" Tim rushed out in one breath, laughing at the flustered squeak he made as he marched ahead. It took him no time at all to catch up, thanks to his long legs. "Oh come on, you know it's funny!"

Jon huffed, unable to hide his lingering smile. "Only because it wasn't you, asshole."

They continued their playful banter back and forth, unaware of the tape recorder that had appeared in Jon's pocket the moment he entered the tunnels, listening in and capturing every word.

~~~

Tim was relieved when he made it back home, slipping his key in the door and stepping inside. Strange, how he didn't seem to notice the change from handle to doorknob.

His eyes flew open when he was met with the sight of an endless, shifting corridor. He felt sick. A chill ran down his spine, his ears were ringing, his head filled with static and he stumbled in an attempt to get his bearings. There was a sinking feeling in his gut, and he felt so trapped.

Michael walked out from the nothingness, grin much too wide for his face. Tim hugged his arms to his body and stepped back, fighting an involuntary smile tugging at his lips.

"Y-you stay back! I'll fuck you up!" Tim cried, bravely putting his hands up, balled into fists and ready to swing. Michael laughed, and it was a sound that unsettled Tim to his very core. He held his hands up, and Tim couldn't help but flinch at the movement.

"Believe it or not, I'm not here to torture you. I'll save that for a rainy day," he added, chuckling at his own joke. Tim lowered his arms, staring at him skeptically.

"Okaaaay. So what the hell are you doing in my home?"

"But I brought you to my home," he corrected, and that wide grin turned just a tad condescending. Tim narrowed his eyes and set his jaw.

"Yeah, through my front door!" he argued before sighing in defeat, pinching the bride of his nose. "So what do you want?"

"I wanted to give you something." Tim perked up, looking at him in shock. He jumped and yelped when Michael was standing right in front of him. He held out the tape recorder.

"A little... souvenir from earlier. I doubt Sasha and Martin will believe you without proof." He placed the tape in Tim's hand, leaving him dumbstruck. "And I really have a hard time believing Jon will corroborate your story, don't you?"

Tim didn't know what to say. "Um... thank you?"

Michael winked at him. "You're welcome." And because he couldn't help himself, he skittered his fingers over his belly. Tim jerked back with a surprised laugh, a blush and a growing look of fear on his face.

"Relax. Like I said, rainy day."

He gave him a small wave and opened a door off to the side and left. Everything melted into his flat, and he was safe in the middle of his living room.

~~~

Jon walked into work the next day as if it were any other, eager to forget the events of last night. He went to the break room for a cup of coffee to start the day and walked in to see Sasha, Martin, and of course, Tim, huddled around a tape recorder. They all wore a look of concern. Well, except for Tim.

"What're you listening to?" he asked. Sasha and Martin jumped out of their skin when they heard his voice, whipping around to meet him. They looked rather guilty, but more concerning, they looked worried.

The next thing he knew, Martin was hugging him.

"I'm sorry, what's-" A voice on the tape interrupts him.

"Joooon, come out come out wherever you are!"

"I-I'm so sorry, we left you here alone, and Tim said Michael got you and-"

"Did he now?" he asked, cocking his head.

"Now Jon, is that any way to speak to your knight in shining armor?"

"Oh please, you're not my bloody knight." He spoke over the sound of his own erratic breathing and feet pounding against hard packed dirt.

"Were you even gonna tell us Michael attacked you?" Sasha asked, brows furrowed with worry. "Because I really doubt it."

Jon floundered for an answer, face going red. "Um- it- look, it really wasn't as serious as Tim undoubtedly made it seem." He glanced up at his smiling face and said, "Would he really be grinning like that if it was?"

Of course, as soon as they looked at him, he schooled his features into a serious expression, but they each caught a glimpse of a fading smirk.

"Okay what's... what's happening right now?" Martin asked, looking between the two.

"You wanna tell them yourself Jon? Or uh, let the tape do the talking for you?" he asked, holding up the tape.

"Shh shh shhhh, would you relax? What part of I don't want to hurt you did you not understand?"

"I don't trust you as far as I can throw you. Now what do you really want?"

Jon refused to meet his friends' gaze as he spoke over his previous conversation. "Look, I'm fine. He didn't hurt me, didn't psychologically scar me, the only thing damaged was my pride."

The tape played on in the background as Jon tried to explain himself. Michael's endless talk of having fun did nothing to calm Sasha and Martin's nerves for past-Jon. "I-I don't really know why he t- uuh, did what he did, but he seemed almost... friendly isn't exactly the word I'd use, maybe tame? Toned down?" That was about the time Michael mentioned the rest of them, and how they all "played" with Jon. A hesitant smile ghosted over Sasha's lips as she thought she knew what he was hinting at, and judging by Jon's reaction, she might be right, but there was just no way... Was there?

"Jon, did Michael-"

"Yes," he cut her off before she could finish the sentence. "Yeah, he uh, said you all made it look like fun, so he decided to try it out," he said, staring at the faded break room carpet.

"Wait, so it's our fault?" Martin asked, and Jon immediately felt guilty for saying it like that.

"No! God no, you guys are just trying to make me loosen up. Michael's just... morbidly curious."

"Right," Tim agreed, suddenly more serious. "He uh, told me he was waiting for a rainy day. So obviously, he has his sights set on all of us. Which is... unnerving to say the least." He locked eyes with Jon, a soft smile on his face. "So I'm not just doing this to fuck with you. But that is an excellent perk!" Jon couldn't help but chuckle. "But I thought everyone deserved a bit of a heads up. And maybe ease some worry while I'm at it." "Where'd you even get this?" Jon asked, pointing at the recorder just as his own bubbly giggles  started pouring out.

"Michael gave it to me."

"Very funny." When Tim's expression didn't change, his jaw dropped, "You're serious."

"Where else would I have gotten it from?"

"Fair point."

A loud shriek followed by shrill cackling and snorts emitted from the tape. All heads snapped over to look at him with amused grins and fond expressions.

"Right. Well, I lived through this once already. No need to stick around for a second time," he said, cheeks burning from embarrassment. He paused in the door. "I'm never gonna hear the end of this, am I?"

"Not likely."

"Nope!"

"Absolutely not."

He gave a curt nod, lips pursed together. "Thought so."

#tickletober #tickletober 2023 #tickletober day 6 #michael shelley #michael distortion #jonathan sims #jon sims #tim stoker #martin blackwood #sasha james #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fic #tma #tma fic #tma tickle fic #ticklish!jon

[trashytoastboi]

Could I request a pregnancy and parental headcannon for killer I loved your others and killer is one of my favorite. I love your writing!😍😍

Heyya! Of course bean ^^ so sorry for the late reply and long wait, hope you enjoy~

Headcanons: Killer x F! S/O - Pregnancy and Parental 

(Female pronouns) 

Killer

Pregnancy

🍜 Honestly, probably some of the most unexpected pieces of news Killer ever anticipated on hearing. He had been preoccupied with survival and grandeur dreams of elevating Kid to be the pirate king. While navigating the craziness that was the grandline and the new world. So hearing {Name} tell him the news of her pregnancy was very unexpected. She waited, hoping to find an opportune moment but one never arised, so in perhaps a little more casual manner than she wanted, she delivered the news over sharing a bowl of pasta.

🍜 Well after the initial choking on his noodles, Killer had to take a moment. He gathered his thoughts, being the worry wart he weighed the pros and cons of the news. {Name} knew Killer, so his outright lack of a reaction was expected but still anxiety inducing nevertheless. “Are you sure?” Was Killer’s first words, {Name} confirmed once again and explained being checked three times by different doctors who all confirmed the news. Truth be told, Killer felt so out of depth but still he concealed a smile beneath his mask. 

🍜 Killer is the pique of information, he knows every good food, bad food, and expected symptom. Everything, in fact he was so involved that he developed morning sickness. The condition is better known as sympathetic pregnancy. Killer becomes a bit overbearing and tries to restrict {Name’s} contact with anything dangerous and begins to think in extremities. {Name} does calm him down, explaining that all that information is very vital and his concern is valid, but she knows her body as well. Sometimes all it took was placing his hand on her stomach to feel those over energetic kicks to really calm him down. 

🍜If he could, he would literally carry her everywhere. {Name} refuses, but Killer still offers all the time. To make up for this Killer does frequently insist on giving {Name} foot massages, knowing that her feet will hurt after too much walking and standing. The rest of the crew also got a tad annoyed by Killer’s baby proofing of literally everything on the ship. Or accidentally neglecting duties because he is too distracted reading all those parenting books. 

🍜Had roped Kid into preparing a whole bunch of stuff like toys, a crib and even a mobile. The crew honestly got so excited thanks to Killer that there was a silent war over who would be named the official godfather. Though Killer had already dubbed them all the uncles. Killer also grew insanely adept at sewing because he made a majority of {Name’s} maternity clothes and some babygrows, one in just about every colour. 

Parental 

🍜 Killer had been imagining the moment when he would first see and meet his child. He never knew what he would feel, or how he would react. Newborns admittedly looked a little uglier than he expected. He couldn’t fathom how such a tiny and fragile human existed. Killer never once sat and thought about how everyone started as babies, it’s not one of those things he thinks about but seeing his child and just how tiny they were, they could practically fit in the palm of his hand. 

🍜 So hesitant and afraid to hold the tiny baby. Takes a lot of encouragement and reassurance from {Name} before Killer feels secure enough to hold his child for the first time. He remembers being nervous, but also excited. The soft bundle of warmth that made some weird noises while remaining fast asleep in his arms. Much like {Name} the process of learning to be a parent was an arduous one, Killer was more afraid of accidentally hurting them than anything. 

🍜 10/10 Killer would do anything for this tiny human, no questions asked. The feelings of being a parent was not just the anxiety, the questions of if he was doing it well or even regretting mistakes where he could have handled it differently. It was an inexplicable and sometimes overwhelming feeling of love and joy even from the most mundane things. Looking forward to seeing them grow but at the same time being sad about it, a bittersweet feeling. 

🍜 In terms of how Killer tries to shape his parenting is a little on the strict side. He explains the best he can, to a level that could be understood by a child for the rules he enforces. He is permissive at times when it can be afforded and does indulge and encourage curiosity unless it something that could be detrimental or dangerous for them. On some things he is immovable and stubborn. A fair example was when he put his foot down, not allowing his babybean to eat too many sweets in fear of them getting stomach aches or cavities. Killer was devastated when they said that they hated him though. 

🍜 Before making any big decisions or needing some form of council he always fell to {Name’s] wisdom, she always explained things in a different way or could see things differently. Sometimes he didn’t know if he was doing this whole dad thing right, he felt insecure in himself despite always trying his best. He knew that sometimes his intentions couldn’t easily be conveyed or could be misunderstood. Killer truly wants the best for babybean, and constantly tries to work to achieve that.

#one piece #one piece killer #killer #trashytoastboi #female pronouns #fluff #sfw #murder machine killer #kamizo the manslayer #massacre soldier killer #one piece imagines #one piece scenarios #one piece headcanons #female reader #killer x reader

[cherryanony]

IN DEFENSE OF ELENA GILBERT: Why Do Yall Hate Emotional Women?

Vampire Diaries - Elena Gilbert pictured doing nothing wrong

HUMBLE BEGINNINGS

I started watching The Vampire Diaries back in 2016, right as it was coming to its long overdue close. To say I was obsessed was an understatement.

I would spend hours, days, WEEKS, consuming fan content, rewatching episodes and scenes over and over agin, discussing stupid plot points and writing descions that were made and throughout all of that one question has always dangled over my head...

Why does everybody hate Elena Gilbert?

Despite The Vampires Diaries being a dark supernatural teen drama filled to the brim with freaks & weirdos, murderers, psychopaths, evil forces and THE ACTUAL LITERAL DEVIL... Elena Gilbert reigns as the most hated character on the show by viewers.

But, why?

Elena Gilbert starts off the show as a 17 year old teenage girl who just experienced some of the craziest trauma any person, let alone TEENAGER, could ever go through. She was in the car with her parents when they died off Wickory Bridge and now suffers from a serious case of survivors guilt, a trait and mo motif she struggles with and must come to terms with throughout the show.

She falls for two vampire brothers who bring nothing but more hell into her life, she finds out she's adopted, her birth mother is a vampire and a piece of shit, her birth father is her insane negligent Uncle John, she's lost more loved ones than one can count over and over again, and she's constantly paranoid and never safe because she's a doppleganger with special blood that many dangerous supernatural creatures want.

"But she's whinyyy and a crybabyyy😩..."

As if one of her friends or family aren't on the brink of death every episode. Elena didn't do enough crying if we're being honest.

Elena is by no means a perfect, innocent character. A lot of people are right about her flaws; she can be very selfish with a what-about-me & and look-at-me-this-isn't-you complex and she's constantly getting away with a lot shit since she's the main character. And a lot people say she never faces any consequences but.... she does.... and it's called...

VAMPIRE!ELENA

THAT'S IT! That's where everyone says her character went completely wrong, her character completely falls apart. But I'd argue that Vampire!Elena is a culmination of all her descions coming back to bite her in the ass.

Throughout S1-3, Elena struggles with survivors guilt. She should've gone off the bridge with her parents. She's depressed, she's moody, she's "whiny" all while feeling like the supposed "love of her life" is trying to "fix her" when she's not ready.

In season 4 episode 10, Elena clearly states that Stefan looks at her like she's a broken toy that needs to be fixed. I could go on a whole rant on what I think Stefan's problems are but to sum it all up — Stefan turned into a vampire at 17 years old — a teenager — and spends his entire vampire life struggling with his heightened personality and his Ripper Gene which led him down a path to losing everyone he's ever loved.

(He killed his own abusive father, lost his best friend due to his own brother who he forced to turn with him and now wants him dead after a wedge is driven between them.)

I say all that to say I get Stefan's character. He's scared and insecure, similar to Elena, to be alone and lose everyone he cares about. However, all of his efforts to better himself and relationships only drives people away. People bring up Damon killing Elena's brother, Jeremy, all the time

(again.. HE WAS WEARING THE GILBERT RING! HE'S FINE! YOU DON'T ACTUALLY GIVE A FUCK ABOUT JEREMY, NOBODY DOES!)

But NOBODY talks about Stefan endangering Jeremy and almost getting him killed by forcing him to continue the Hunter's Mark because he thought Elena being human again would make her be in love with him again. (sorry but that's fucking insane😭😭😭!!)

Stefan wasn't only afraid of losing Elena, he was also afraid of losing her to his brother. All these efforts drove Elena away, right into the arms of the person he wanted to keep her away from.

I think Elena felt as if Stefan was just like everyone else who wanted "the old Elena" back. The person that Elena use to be before the accident that the show alludes to in the first season. But that Elena is dead and gone, she'll never be the same person she was before going off that bridge. Apart of her died that night and again when she went off the bridge for the second time and became a vampire.

Elena struggles with being a vampire and basically dying twice and instead of being supportive Stefan immediately wants to fix and change her. Damon is the only one she feels free and alive with. A statement Elena makes herself throughout the show. Despite the stupid discourse over the Sire Bond, Damon was the one she felt the safest with after that plotline was resolved.

But enough about comparing those brothers, this is about ELENA! You know who she gets compared to..?

KATHERINE

KATHERINE IS A LOSER!

Before you raise your pitchforks, I love Katherine. Great character, great villain, but she's a loser!

People LOVE to compare Katherine and Elena!

"Katherine's such a badass and Elena is a whiny crybaby." But I would argue the opposite.

See Katherine's backstory here, despite everything Katherine's been through, the show makes a point that while, yes, Katherine is a survivor, she's also an avoidant runner. She spends 500 years running from the big bad Klaus and once he fianlly lets her go she continues torture, manipulate, and harrass people.

She continues her streak of only whining and complaining about the life she never had because of the things that happened to her, which... fair!

However, despite being given several chances with a romance with Elijah, a life with her daughter as a mother, all the people she's ever wronged helping her and forgiving her on her death bed, taking over Elena's body and essentially starting over in a new life and even being THE QUEEN OF HELL... it was never enough. Nothing was ever enough for Katherine.

She was given many chances to change, to finally LIVE HER LIFE but she chose to continue down her path of destruction. Which, in my opinion, is fine for her character! LET KATHERINE BE THE SAD AND TRAGIC CHARACTER SHE IS! She doesn't have to be some anti-hero badass.

The contrast of Katherine and Elena, two girls who had their lives and innocence stolen from them at a young age thanks to tragic events out of their control and two vampire brothers, is great and executed as well as TVD writing could do (infamously known for shitty writing and plot holes but I digress).

The pieces to the K/E puzzle were so obviously placed, Katherine who was jealous of Elena living the life she never got, chose the path of selfishness and power, and Elena chose the path of love and regrowth and not letting her past define her.

But viewers missed the big picture. Katherine is a survivor but where did that get her? Dead and unloved. Besides freedom from Klaus, she didn't get a single thing she desired. Not a life with Stefan or Elijah or as a mother with her daughter or as Elena Gilbert or Queen of Hell! No! She lost everything and blamed Elena. SHE LOST! SHE'S A LOSER!

She survived, but she didn't live.

In my opinion, Elena is the real survivor. She didn't let her past consume and lead her to a similar fate as Katherine. She chose to be selfless and to love again after being hurt.

She chose to be alive.

SO BACK TO THE PROMPT....

Why do y'all hate emotional women?

"Elena has experienced more grief than anyone I've ever met." - Sherrif Liz Forbes

Every character has went through a lot and have done similar, if not worst, things as Elena as a result yet she's the most hated character?

There's a pattern of fans hating certain female characters who are more sensitive and cry instead of bury their feelings and just punch a man and suddenly get crowned "Most Badass Female Character". Characters, not just female, expressing their emotions is strong and badass and might inspire audiences to do the same and not keep grief in and become self destructive. It's healthy and natural and makes the character not so one note.

It's not fair to compare Elena's trauma and experiences to other characters (espically not Bonnie, that's topic for a whole other post). But why do other characters get a pass despite being ten times more flawed and problematic?

Why are certain characters able to cry, complain, self destruct, fuck someone over, etc but Elena can't?

Genunine question.. let's discuss...

-*- I wasn't able to fully delve into my thoughts on Elena and certain TVD characters, plot points, theme, etc because this post will be 50 pages long. This is the brief version.

***There will be a part 2 to this post where I delve deeper into the trend of hating characters like Elena.

#the vampire diaries #tvd #tvdu #elena gilbert #discussion #fandom #essay #character #for the girls #delena

[desertfangs]

The parallels between the first time Armand kisses Daniel as a mortal and the first time it happens right after Daniel is turned are driving me insane!!!

As a mortal:

"He'd come silently out of the shadows into the moonlight, a young boy in dirty jeans and a worn denim jacket, and he had slipped his arm around Daniel and gently kissed Daniel's face. Such warm skin, full of the fresh blood of the kill. Daniel fancied he could smell it, the perfume of the living clinging to Armand still. (...) Daniel had been trembling, on the edge of tears. And why was that? So glad to see him, touch him, ah, damn him!"

As an immortal:

"He steadied himself, but the sight of Armand made him want to cry. Even in deep shadow, Armand's dark brown eyes were filled with a vibrant light. And the expression on his face, so loving. He reached out very carefully and touched Armand's eyelashes. He wanted to touch the fine lines in Armand's lips. Armand kissed him. He began to tremble. The way it felt, the cool silky mouth, like a kiss of the brain, the electric purity of a thought!"

Armand: *puts his mouth on Daniel's*

Daniel: *instantly starts shaking all over*

So much had changed, so many years had passed, but Daniel's reaction stayed the same. Armand's kisses made him lose his mind! He began trembling and wanted to cry, scream, touch, kiss, and never let go. My boy is absolutely head over heels 🥲 Imagine their first kiss post-reunion, Daniel was probably like one of those toys with shaking heads that start wobbling like crazy when you touch them 🥲

Anon, I want to thank you so much for this ask!! Because oh my gosh, yes, he's totally head over heals, totally desperate to be close to Armand and touch him, you're so right! Both kisses are so intense and powerful! Daniel trembling and shaking with desire and the sheer overwhelming emotion of it is just chef's kiss. You can absolutely feel the love he has for Armand in both scenes.

I think a lot about how in that first passage, Daniel was probably scared Armand had vanished and he'd never see him again. He's trying to write, trying to find some semblance of normalcy in the world when he knows the monsters it contains, trying to cope with the fact that vampires exist and he may never find them again. And then suddenly there Armand is, kissing his face, arm around him, burning from the blood of someone he'd killed (Of course our boy is into that! Daniel being so into Armand as a monster is my jam) and he's literally on the verge of tears with relief.

The second time, he's just so enamored with how he sees Armand with his vampire vision, the way he notices every little detail of his face, the light in Armand's eyes, and the way the kiss now feels like such an electric connection fusing them together. Anon, I'm going to cry!

So their reunion kiss has to be equally incredible! Daniel nervous and trembling, because it's been so long, because time and distance have created a gulf of uncertainty between them. But then there Armand is in front of him again, his personal devil, his immortal lover, his beautiful maker, and I'm sure in some ways it suddenly feels like nothing has changed.

I don't know when it happens. Is it a stolen kiss in some empty room of Trinity Gate, a brief encounter because they've snuck away for a moment to be alone? Is it on the street in New York after they go hunting together, the streets slick and glittering with rain? Is it back in Armand's bedroom, Daniel standing there unsure if Armand is going to kick him out before sunrise?

Wherever it happens, I have no doubt it's an incredible moment, Daniel's hands trembling as he grabs fistfuls of Armand's shirt fabric because he's clinging so tight, Armand trying not to tremble himself as he reaches for Daniel and their lips finally meet after so many years apart. How soft and jolting the kiss is at the same time, how it quickly turns passionate and desperate as they hold each other and don't want to let go. 😭💖

Thanks so much for the ask, anon, this has been such a great thing to spend my day thinking about. I'd love to know what you (any of you) think their reunion kiss was like, any and all versions of it, because no matter how or where it occurred, it was definitely memorable.

#anonymous #daniel molloy #armand #armand/daniel #devil's minion #post-canon shenanigans #i feel like i've posted a similar response to an ask before so apologies if i'm repeating myself #my brain is still skipping like a scratched cd from working so many hours this week #anon i really really appreciate this ask and the similarities of daniel trembling when he and armand kiss!!! #vc #vampire chronicles

[tegr1dy]

happy sunday here’s what kind of vintage i think the boys would be into if they were in the flea market scene

stan: just there as a buyer. he’d collect tees of his favorite bands of course and he’d spend lots of time flipping through record booths. he splurges on little toys and funny things he remembers from his childhood & doesn’t really care about rarity he just likes the nostalgia & novelty of it all. also picks up a few cheap basics like flannels

cartman: he’d be a t-shirt dealer. INSANELY overpriced. middle schoolers go wild for his booth. he probably has a lot of 90s anime tees + jncos and jorts. literally doesn’t give a fuck about customer service, sits there smoking a joint all day. leaves his booth to go get stuff from the food trucks like minimum six times throughout the day and makes butters watch for thieves. butters nearly starts crying because people keep asking him for prices (oh yeah cartman wouldn’t write prices on anything)

butters/marjorine: also just there as a buyer. doesn’t really give a fuck about labels or value as long as it’s Y2K and slay

kenny: mostly into pre-1960s/antique workwear, denim. crazy ass who’s always on the road rescuing shit from old barns and abandoned houses, climbing into mineshafts. doesn’t wash anything before he brings it to sell. everything in his personal collection is falling apart + stained that’s all he wears. but he also has the rarest shit and is the most successful out of all of them purely due to his insane work ethic

kyle: im not sure he’d care about vintage clothing because it took him a while to not be grossed out by his skin touching things that are so old and used. similar to stan he partakes for environmental + ethical reasons. he nerds out about old photographs, books, sports and game memorabilia, etc. also buys little toys or dumb keychains/magnets/pinback buttons to surprise stan with

#this is very like california flea market scene specific #originals #please talk to me if you’re into vintage by the way this post is my two main interests colliding

[toomuchracket]

blood anon is so real i need matty to rail me so bad it aches to move the next day and there are bruises everywhere but i still wanna go again because it was that good it made me forget my own name and what county im in

this all feels so d word to me... thinking maybe he's just back from tour, and him coming home to find you waiting for him in one of his shirts and some new lingerie underneath leading to an actual whole night of non-stop sex. like, you've used all the toys you bought in your sex shop haul, you were (both) tied up (btw i have blurbs about this specifically to write lol), and both you and matty have broken your own personal records for most orgasms had in one night lmao. matty is ridiculously proud of this, and makes several comments about how "you've just needed a man to keep up with you the whole time, babe, yeah? not like those boys you were with before", while you're clinging to him literally quivering with elated exhaustion, completely unaware of anything but him. you're both so tired that your usual aftercare shower is out of the question, because neither of you can actually stand for any longer than about a minute lol - matty cleans you up with a damp washcloth, then gently guides you to the bathroom so you can go to the loo and brush your teeth before the two of you collapse back into bed and go to sleep. you wake up first the next morning like OW, aching and desperate for something to soothe your muscles - you decide to run a bath, and matty finds you doing this 5 mins later like "jesus christ babe you look wrecked. shit, i'm so sorry. those bruises are insane, fuck". and you're like "babe you are literally no better. and shut up i enjoyed it", and matty grins like "oh, so did i", and then you have a sweet little kiss and an "i love you" exchange before you both get into the bath. the relief of the hot water is almost instantaneous; you sink back against matty's chest contentedly, and he absent-mindedly traces little patterns across your skin. it's sweet, and needed, but your mind flashes back to last night and how good it was, and soon you're taking matty's hands and moving them to your boobs as a hint - he giggles and starts playing with them, like "you really are insatiable, aren't you?", and you sigh happily like "your fault for fucking me so good and making me needy for you all the time". and matty's turned on too, so he kisses your neck and in your ear asks "yeah? what do you need, baby?", and you softly moan "you inside me again"; matty turns your head to kiss you properly, then pulls back and says "go on then, sweetheart". and yeah, you ride him then and there - slower and softer and more romantic than last night, but still so good <3

#mads muses #mads answers asks #matty asks #smutty asks #d word matty

[dirtbag-linecook-kyloren]

OUT TAKES FROM 2800ft

NORMALLY I JUST DELETE THESE ENTIRELY but in the directors commentary for 2800ft I make a lot of references to the BDSM draft of the fic and I FOUND SOME OF THEM so here they are entirely unedited because it felt like a waste, a thing I have LITERALLY NEVER THOUGHT BEFORE IN MY LIFE

I'm still so sad the BDSM didn't end up suiting the tone of the fic, but I am glad I removed it. There was going to be a whole bit where Hux reached into his pocket to feel the key for bens collar as the plane when down, but i think the fic stands better on it's own

HAVE THESE ANYWAY FUCKERS

(edit: I'm going through my document conflicts on scrivener and I found a few more so I'm pasting them at the bottom but ur not getting fomating on these bc I'm lazy)

6/9/22 St. Louis, Missouri The Organa-Solo Residence

"You're insane," Ben says as the front door closes behind him. "You know that, right?" "I see you got my request," Hux replies, looking up from his book. He's been reading on the couch since he got home, waiting for Ben to land. "Tell me you didn't actually get this notarized." He holds up the piece of paper Hux slipped into his bag a few days ago, in anticipation of the event. "It's a remarkably cheap fee," Hux tells him, setting his book aside. "There's a limit on how much notaries can charge in Missouri, if it's a financial concern." Ben stares at him before reading the paper aloud. "A formal request of Ben Organa-Solo, made by Armitage Organa-Solo, to be fulfilled on June 9th, 2022," he starts. "If both parties are amendable, and schedules align, in celebration of the national holiday, Mr. and Mr. Organa-Solo will-" Ben stops, setting the paper down on the entryway table. "A formal request for sex?" Hux takes in the flush of Ben's cheeks, the hand toying with his hair. He's not furious, he's just embarrassed, but if the pace of his breathing is any indication- He stands, coming to meet Ben at the door. "You don't know what to be mad about, do you?" Hux asks, loving how Ben's head tilts downward, his eyes half-lidded. "You weren't expecting it, but it's within all out limits, and-" It comes to Hux, then. "You're not upset at all, you're just surprised." His hand comes to Ben's neck, pressing his thumb into the tense muscles and letting his fingers dig in between vertebrae. "Do you need a moment to adjust?" Ben shakes is head, so Hux steps closer, putting himself firmly into Ben's personal space. A soft hand on Ben's chest is all it takes to have him against the door, strong hands clenching at his sides listlessly. "You can touch me," Hux tells him, and his hips are held in a loose grip. "I'm sorry I surprised you. I thought we had done enough things similar, that it wouldn't be too much of a shock." Ben mutters something, and Hux uses a finger to tilt his chin up. "What was that?" "I thought you had a lawyer write it," Ben admits. "It sounded more formal than you normally are, in these things. I-" Words seem to fail him as his flush moves from his checks down to his neck. "The notary on top of that was a lot of strangers knowing I was going to suck your dick." "I tried a new style," Hux says. "I've been reading a few books on contract law in my spare time, thought it would be fine to try out. The notary was a half-asleep woman at the post office, she didn't even bother to read the document. Just had me sign it and her coworker witness it." He pauses. "Did you like that they might know?" "Didn't like it, how much I liked it." Ben draws a breath, letting his head roll back against the wall. "It's infuriating, wanting people to know what you do to me, all while refusing to let them see." "Private exhibition," Hux says. "Well, theoretical, more like." He pauses, wrapping his arms around Ben's shoulders. "I'll keep that in mind, but you haven't submitted a reply to my request." Ben laughs, leaning into him. "Request approved," he says. "Although I refuse to grant it holiday status." "National Day of Sixty-nining is sacred," Hux replies, pulling Ben from the door to lead him towards the bedroom.

-

10/07/22 St. Louis, Missouri The Organa-Solo Residence

"And he has no idea?" Hux rolls his eyes at Poe, taking the cake out of the freezer so it can thaw on the counter. In their small living room, most of their friends are gathered, drinks in hand and broken off into conversation circles. Phasma is asking Rey about Charlotte, Mitaka is meeting Finn as someone outside of the airport, and not just another employee he passes coffee to, and Han and Leia are having an unsurprisingly delightful time telling stories of Ben as a teenager to anyone who will listen. "I told him I was working, and that we were booked on fights, so I wouldn't have time to come down and see him, but I gave him specific instructions, and-" "I can't stress how much I don't need to know about your sex life," Poe says, cutting him off. "They weren't sexual," Hux huffs. It's an absolute lie, though. The instructions were incredibly sexual, but they were also meant to start the party a few hours later, and instead everyone started showing up early. Hux will just have to make up the disappointment to Ben later. It wouldn't be the longest Ben has handled social interaction with a cage on. Besides, Ben has his own key to it for emergencies. If he wanted, he could take it off while he changed, and Hux would understand. "I hate you so much," Poe whines, pulling Hux away from his thoughts. "Both of you, honestly." Hux shrugs. "Not my fault you're boring in bed." They leave the kitchen and the conversation behind as Hux hears a car door slam outside. "All right, I'm gonna meet him outside, everybody hide." And he does, steps onto the porch. He's supposed to be at work, but he's not so cruel as to allow Ben to completely embarrass himself. He's just smart enough to do it without a paper trail. "You're-" "Act surprised," he whispers. "They all thought this was a great idea, and showed up at our house without consulting me, but your parents flew in, and you know I feel bad saying no to them." "I hate surprises," Ben mutters, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I know, but I couldn't get away to call you. It was supposed to start at six, I was going to tell you when you got home, after-" he looks down, and Ben curses. "Up to you." "Not in front of my parents," he says. "Jesus, I'm gonna need a second." "Buying you time won't be hard, I haven't pulled the cake. I'll vamp." And then Hux is opening the door, ushering Ben in and watching as someone turns on the lights and their friends and family pop out from behind pieces of furniture. They sing happy birthday, and then Hux sends Ben to the bedroom to change and asks Han to tell the story of when Ben broke his window trying to move his bed. It's at least a ten minute story, and a good one, so no one will notice if Ben takes a moment longer to change than strictly necessary.

It's not until later, when guests are shooed away and they lay in bed, covered in sweat and fluids, that Ben curls into his chest. "I love you," Ben says, pressing idle kisses to his skin. "I just- Used to have to deal with their terrible ideas for my birthday alone. They'd get a cake everyone liked, instead of the one I wanted, they'd try to make me invite the whole class. I know they just wanted me to have friends, but it was awful. I didn't stop hating my birthday until I moved out." "It's the least I can do, given your agreement to entirely ignore mine." He runs fingers through long hair, pressing lips to the top of Ben's head. "Next year, I'm just forcing them to bend to my will, but I thought one year in was too soon to become your controlling spouse." Ben laughs, breath warm against his skin, and the arm hanging over Ben's shoulder pulls him closer. "You've always been controlling," Ben tells him. "Luckily for you, I'm pretty into that."

-

Smaller outtakes:

From the scene where they're heading to ikea:

“It should be the Malm,” Ben insists, because apparently, their earlier discussion about which bed frame to buy wasn’t finished. “It’s not practical,” Hux says, and then lowers his voice, “there’s no place to tie on that headboard, and I’m not buying under the be straps.” The red tinge that takes over Ben’s cheeks is well worth his own discomfort at bringing up their sex life in public. “So not the Malm,” Ben mutters, and Hux smiles into his drink. “You’re both gross,” Mitaka yells across the empty Starbucks. The early flights are only just starting, the line for security not yet backed up by the entrance. Hux flips him off as Ben’s skin returns to its normal color.

This scene was replaced by 5/30/21 take 2, which i think was a better scene because 'airport might get a bird dog' felt too on the nose

His feet are tucked under Ben’s thighs, still freezing despite the chill outside. It’s the start of a long weekend for both of them, three days where neither of them have any reason to be at the airport. Normally, this was cause for a trip, but spring cleaning had overtaken both of them the last few days. Now, with the last cobwebs and remnants of winter cleared from the apartment, they settle into a calm evening. “I heard the airport is thinking about getting a bird dog,” Hux says idly, not looking up from his tablet. Ben’s eyes are closed, his head lolled onto the back of the sofa, but his breathing is still relatively shallow. “If nothing else, the social media team is excited to have someone who won’t say no to their ridiculous video ideas.” Hux may still be bitter about being asked to join a group photo for Saint Patrick’s Day, even after he told the man three times that being ginger did not automatically make him Irish. “A dog on the ground isn’t going to prevent bird strikes in the air,” Ben grumbles, sitting up and blinking his eyes open. “I’m not sure it’s the best way for the airport to spend it’s money.” “Studies say otherwise,” he retorts, but lets the matter die. “And what would you have them spend money on?” Ben laughs, some joke Hux isn’t privy to. “No, really, what can they buy for the cost of a dog that would make you happier?” “They could just give you that money, and I’d be fine.” Rolling his eyes, he closes out of his email and sets his tablet aside to crawl into Ben’s lap. Any edges of sleep vanish, as do conversations of work.

#my fic #my fic: 2800ft

[bincutie]

i feel like I could easily get away from Chan or Hongjoong, everyone says they’re smart and think of everything but I feel like I could definitely escape ❤️- :)

ps: ur writing is so nice admin <333

Thank you, my darling 💙

Tw: degradation, yandere behavior, as always read at your own risk. Not an accurate representation of Chan, hongjoong, stray kids, ateez, JYPE, or KQ Entertainment. If anyone actually treats you like this, it's unhealthy and I encourage you to find resources to leave that relationship.

I actually wanted to write little blurbs for this because this is something that I've thought a lot about and it heavily influenced their intros. Absolutely no ill-will towards how anyone writes any of the boys, because I genuinely love seeing how others analyze them. But it sometimes throws me off that nearly everyone portrays Chan and Hongjoong as criminal masterminds who are always one step ahead, and watch your every move.

The same men who could forget to breathe because they're too focused on their work. It just doesn't check out for me. What I think would happen:

Chan would occasionally leave you to your own devices, when he wants to work alone. He doesn't necessarily trust you yet, and he doesn't actively know about your plan to escape, but he knows it's a possibility. What makes him scary is his charisma and his confidence. He literally could not care less if you escape, because he knows that he's going to get you back. He knows a lot of people, and none of them would suspect that he's insane because he's Chan. He'd be back with you in less that three hours. And I think that occasionally he would let you stay out long enough to think that you're free, but that's him giving you the opportunity to come back by yourself because surely you know that it's inevitable by now? But after a day, he's coming to get you, and this is the time where you get punished for it.

"If you think you can escape then go ahead, love. Just make sure you're back before dark, you know I worry."

Hongjoong is busy all the time and honestly, I think he'd probably be emotionally constipated at first. That's why he just sees you as his toy when he first takes you. You're for stress relief and he's too busy to process how he really feels about you. He's in love with you but ignores it, essentially. And since he's always working and ignoring everyone around him, he might not know you're gone for awhile. But once he finds out, you better make damn sure you have a plan to make him forgive you. It's not that he's necessarily meticulous in his plans to capture you and keep you locked up. He doesn't have some insanely genius strategy to keep you close. He's a simple man. Like Chan, he's confident. But he also leaves no room for your mistakes. If you fuck up his schedule because he has to come get your ass, you're royally fucked. He has so many ways to punish you, physical and nonphysical (which could potentially be discussed in other posts if interested), and he won't hesitate to make your life a living hell. He doesn't give a shit about how you feel about him, you'll learn. And if you don't, it's not his problem.

"I can't believe you made me leave my work just to play these games. I knew you were stupid but I didn't think it was this bad. But since I'm already here we might as well start with your first lesson. You do not disobey me."

#yandere ateez #ask chan #yandere chan #yandere stray kids #lovely anonnie #ask Hongjoong #yandere Hongjoong #chan x reader #Hongjoong x reader #yandere kpop #:) anon

[honeyhotteoks]

Hello Chai!!

I need to say this every time, but I appreciate v much how much time and care and energy you put into your writing. It never goes unnoticed. 

I LOVED ch.8. It was most definitely a fantastic smutfest, but I also wanted to say that this chapter felt exciting to me in so many other ways too.

1. This chapter was chock full of moments where we really got to see woosanhwa's individual thought processes – preferences (sexually and otherwise), insights into how they show care, how they all feel about each other and how they feel about mc being amidst the dynamic. Etc etc etc. All those details were expressed so seamlessly and made the characters so fun to read. 

1b. A sub-point re characterisation: the individual differences between woo, san and hwa made the smut SO interesting. The comfort of woo, the playful teasing of Mr. I-want-you-to-beg-for-me hwa… and then san! You see that initially he's caught off guard seeing mc suddenly involved in the unit, and as a result his approach to sex with mc feels much slower – slightly cautious even. He’s lasered in on care rather than pleasure, in a way that feels much more serious than the way woohwa approach looking after mc. Also stark contrast to how he’s just so consumed by NEED for hwa, fucking throwing him around like a paper doll with his big buff Sannie arms lmao. Anyway, the differences in the way they handle mc are really nice. It varies the pace, creates opportunities for you to see all the characters from different, nuanced angles.

Also, a question as a follow-on from the observation of san seeming more reserved with mc: he's obviously so so caring and wanting to make mc feel good and safe, ofc, but he seemed like he didn't want to cross a certain line of intimacy with her? When san used the toy rather than giving his own knot, that sort of confirmed that to me. That's not me reading san as distant towards mc in any way, but instead I think the way you wrote San here reflected (or maybe I'm projecting) my own headcanon of san being a loving and caring guy to everyone equally, but only ever giving himself fully to those he loves loves. Was that your intention with san? Either way, that's how I read him and it rang right for me!

2. The stuff about the reality of being an omega: the looks they get. Not feeling safe with alphas out and about in the big wide world. The reality that these certain alphas only back off if they think an omega is "taken". As a WoC in a MaN's WoRlD, it just felt really real. It's fucking sad, but I'm insanely in love with how you're consistently making parallels with the real world in this fic, and I really appreciate that that conversation was in there.

3. Okay so the line 'even in the easiest relationships, things are hard' was so perfect for summing up the absolute idiotic lovesick mess everyone's in. Because even though this chapter is most definitely fun™, when the theme of "complicated relationships" started emerging - when sanhwa's story started coming into the picture, woo not wanting to get caught between them (what's his deal anyway..? He seems suspiciously easy going about it all👀), and then that last line about mc thinking that when it comes to yungi maybe she just needs to learn to dance around it like san – god, i nearly wept. I really like this subtle shadow you've added to what on the surface essentially is meant to be a light chapter. It makes the chapter really rich and full and I loved it so so much. 

Literally, to the anon who called your fics literature - AMEN.

☁️ anon xx

omg ☁️ bless you for your long reviews i love how thoughtful you are 😭

to answer your observations / questions:

thank you for noticing those differences in woosanhwa's approach and liking it!! you're absolutely spot on about san too, and i really was trying to write that intentionally and i was hoping people picked up on it. he never knots reader himself, and i wanted to make sure i spelled out that he was happy to be involved and help, but he's not going to cross that line. you're right too, that's both for himself because he's not going to give himself over like that, but it's also for the MC. she was deep in heat when he came over and he's not going to just assume consent here for something like that. i wanted to make sure that that contrasted heavily with how he is with seonghwa, someone he's already crossed those lines with and where consent is fully assumed and understood and somewhere where his emotions are already well established. anyways i really appreciate you reading it that way, i meant it that way!!

THANK YOU!!!! I've been reading omegaverse for years and it's literally impossible for me to not see very obvious parallels with how real life is. omegas are marginalized heavily and treated like a commodity, and while there are safe spaces for them, unfortunately very few places are 100% safe for marginalized folks. it's really important for me to have that inform the story here, otherwise i think what makes our boys good alphas is a little lost in the sauce.

what's woo's deal........ honestly i've always read wooyoung as someone who gives his 110% authentic self to everyone, but not everyone wants to receive it. so despite his positivity and chill attitude, he's seen some shit and been treated poorly in the past. that will come up a bit later as i reveal a bit more of his character, but i think ultimately he's protective of both seonghwa AND san but at the same time they're protective over him. it just leaves us in a pool of emotional soup and even though they all talk like they know their shit, they're just as confused and relationship fucked as y/n is.

thank you as ALWAYS for your lovely reviews!!

#answered anon #☁️ anon #this night together ask

[forjongseong]

knock, knock!

nanaaa, its been so long ahh 🥹 i’ve seen that you’ve updated your carmesí series and GODDD it was that good?! beforehand, i know i’ve missed out on a lot so i had to backtrack and read from where i was up to before 😭😭✋🏼 (didn’t remember what ep but then i remembered i wrote it down in my notes and i’m sooo glad i did ssjdhsis) i just wanted to start off with how are youu? i hope you’re doing well, eating well, drinking well, taking care of yourself well! i’ve been offline n online here and there and i miss a lot of my favourite people on here, including you </3 i’ve missed my v v talented tante sm :(( i hope we can talk again 🫶🏼 (in fact, jays been hitting different lately and the recent ep made it sm WORSE. its raining heavily down there girl, let me breathe lord have mercy)

OKAY SO,— ouh the butterflies the fucking butterflies. who doesn’t want husband! secretary jay hello??? the way hes so incredibly ARGHHGGHH i can’t even describe how hubby he is like i want him like this is so bad for me pls. and the way hes always comforting his beloved wife and just genuinely loving her, taking care of her throughout the ep got me GIGGLING KICKING MY FEET i had to put my phone down to calm MYSELF down. god when can i have a man like him. “You look very fuckable, husband.” PLEASE. WHEN DOES HE NOT???? you always devour w the spicy scenes it got me.. ykwim.. and don’t even get me started w that little present he got her like i had so much fun reading that part bye.

the way he shows his love for her— the way they show it to each other through everything i might cry (i did) my heart instantly melted, i love everything about them 🥺🥺 and the ending omg!! 😭✋🏼 i was so excited for them ☹️ (although i already knew it was bound to happen i was so happy) i’m horrendously downbad for this man 🧎🏻‍♀️ its insane how talented you are and the amount of hard work you put into the series i could never??

eh tau ga, pas mereka di jakarta buat gda, yk i was supposed to be in indo at that time but pasporku abis bodooooo 😭 i need to renew it asap sihdjwhdjsvm i wanted to cry like i watched the live & videos and everything and all i thought to myself was I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THERE ughrugrjugu theres still a next time, (maybe LMAO) but we should go together and meet up one day 🥹🫶🏼

ahh i know this feedback (its honestly just me yapping and ranting ab how much i love the seriesjanishaid) doesn’t seem like a lot but i hope yk i’m still a sucker for the carmesí series forever n ever ‼️ i’ll keep rereading every ep if i have to (i will bae dw) i’m proud of you nana!! i’ll be cheering for you from afar always <3 🤍

who's there? BOYNEXTDOOR--

so glad to see YOU in my inbox after experiencing a major loss of moots going on hiatus and never ever coming back coughORIcough anyways!

I don't blame you if you had to backtrack because it took ME a long time to reread everything because I literally forgot where I left it?? and then I didn't wanna repeat or write similar smut scenes so I'm like... what...?? BUT I'M SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO UPDATE

props to YOU for having it written in notes omg notes app is superior I use it for everything! but you making notes of my fanfic just makes me feel important 🙏 I hope you're doing well too! still in Brisbane I assume?

GLAD YOU LIKE THE PRESENT! that TOY is based on a real life device I have seen and I am considering buying BHAHAHA but I don't have a partner to use it on me so I am sadddddd when is Jay gonna be my partner irl you know what I'm sayin

it's okay, I didn't watch GDA either, and I went to PS in the afternoon only to find out Jake and Jungwon went later in the evening lol definisi ga jodoh, but glad Jay didn't make an appearance anywhere otherwise I will be jumping into Sungai Ciliwung

I don't mind ANY type of feedback even if it's just you yapping! thank you so much for being such a loyal reader of carmesi a.k.a carmesimp since day 1. your support means A LOT to me! and don't hesitate to drop by my ask box any time you want.

#nanaanswers #nanafeedbacks #fic: medialuna #from.val #brisbane bestie val