#I lobe them in every universe

[amphirrhvx]

HAPPY JOHNSHI WEEK EVERYONE ^_^

[hoshigray]

Had the most random thought, but what if you caught Miguel by surprise and sneaked a kiss on the back of his neck when he's stressed out?

An: Don't mind me, just feeling soft for Miguel because he's corrupting my brain at the moment, lol. Also, wanted to write this to distract me from the fact Pleasurable Practice got smacked with a community label ffs. But, tysm for the love on that fic <33, and [MAYBE] I'll work on pt ii for next week! Thanks again, you lovelies, and enjoy!!

Edited Note: Also, here's an ATSV masterlist I made earlier for your convenience!!

Cw: Miguel x reader - fluff - stressed Miguel bc when is he not - you give him a kiss on the neck - pet names (amorcito/little love, mi alma/my soul; amor/my love) - just you and Miguel being adorbs and him being whipped hehe~

Wc: 902

"Aaaaaarrgh!!!"

You snap away from what you were doing to find where the noise came from. Not to your surprise, it's from your boyfriend — Miguel O'Hara, who's expressing his dismay by throwing another tray full of empty containers you got from the cafeteria.

The man is descending from his [godforsaken slow-ass] station, tapping his feet and huffing by the second. His brows are furrowed in anger, and he moves a hand to soothe his forehead with his fingers. When his post finally stops, he jumps down to sit on a chair and groans into his hands.

That was the third time this week. A villain was supposed to be captured and brought into the Spider Society to be sent back to their own universe; however, that was two days ago. And for some reason, this evil-doer has been hopping in and out of multiple universes. It's been a hassle for the other Spiders to grab hold of them; Lyla has to have eyes on them within every minute of every hour, and Miguel...Obviously, he would like to have this matter taken care of already.

You get up from where you're sitting and walk up behind Miguel, whose face is still covered by his hands with inaudible curses that you can tell are in Spanish. "You okay?"

The rise and fall of his broad shoulders entail a huge sigh seething out of his system. "No, mi amor." He frees his face only to rest his forehead with a hand propped by his leg. "This game of cat-and-mouse has been going on longer than necessary, got Spiders who're tired of the chase — I'm tired, yet there's more stuff piling up and—" He stops himself with another deep sigh, and you place your hands on his shoulders. "I just can't right now...."

All you can do is hum aimlessly while massaging his shoulders, his trapezius and deltoids tense with stress. You understand that a lot is going on for Miguel, giving him his space and letting him do what he does best: being a hero. But of course, being a superhero isn't all sunshine and rainbows, and you're bound to get hit with obstacles that'll hinder your progress. Annoyingly so, if you're a leader of an organization like your boyfriend.

Nevertheless, he's only one man, and you know he forgets this fact when he's too wrapped up in work. He's dedicated to protecting his peers, his home, and you. And although you appreciate the sentiment sincerely, you wish he'd remember to not go too hard on himself before he's burnt out.

You sigh through your nostrils, your hands kneading out any remnants of tension while Miguel indulges before storming back to work. That's when an idea hits you when your eyes land on the back ends of his hair, a smile creeping in slowly. Your hand brushes the lower tufts of his brown strands, and you lean down to press your soft lips on him after pulling his suit to expose his neck.

Immediately, Miguel goes rigid at the feeling of your lips on him. And his breath hitches when your hands wrap around him, pulling him closer to you as you lay your chin on top of his head (which you realize is a rare opportunity as he's taller than you).

"Mi lindo araña," You chuckle to yourself when you notice hints of red sneaking on the lobes of his ears. "The more you stress yourself, the more you look like a grouchy face."

"A grouchy face?" His tone holds slight confusion. "You've been hanging with Peter B. too much, amorcito." He shakes his head while you giggle, and you two sink into each other's presence for a little while, taking in the silence outside of the calming breaths Miguel takes. If he were to confess, it's as if almost all his fatigue has vanished into thin air when he's in your embrace. But he doesn't say anything — he doesn't have to. Because you already know.

You set your lips on his temple. "Feeling okay now?" His body vibrates from a tiny purr, and you remove yourself to stand up straight. "Alright then, I'm gonna go to the cafeteria to get something to share. Because you clearly need a snack. And while I'm gone, pick up that tray and those empty containers off the floor before Lyla has another reason to call you a 'grumpy man-child.'"

His face molds to a deep scowl from the mention of his pixelated peer's name-calling. "I am not a man-child."

You give him a look. "You kinda are."

"And what gives you that—"

"Muñeco," Miguel quickly refrains from arguing when you call him by his nickname, the name only you can use. "If you're not a man-child, why haven't you stood up and done what I asked yet?"

The man opens his mouth, yet no words dare leave. Reddish-brown eyes are honed in on your figure as you survey his reaction, and he exhales in defeat when he stands up from his chair. Your smile flourishes. "I'll be back," is what you say as you turn to exit his domain and head to the cafeteria.

Miguel watches you leave until you're out of his line of sight, unable to fight the twinge of his lips while he moves to pick up his mess like you instructed him to.

"Sólo tú puedes darme órdenes, mi alma."

[cptnhngjng]

my starlight

“you are so beautiful,” he uttered quietly, looking at you as if you were his whole entire universe.

-soft!seonghwa x virgin f!reader -2k words -soft smut, mdni, 18+ only -c/w: fingering, oral (f receiving), protected sex, soft boyfriend seonghwa, inexperienced virgin reader, seonghwa uses pet names a lot (my love, darling, baby/good girl, my starlight), praise lots of praise (praise kink go brrr)

not proofread, may be typos and mistakes 🫶🏻

this was a typical date for you and seonghwa—you’d visit him at the dorm and you two would hang out in his room, either building a lego set together, playing animal crossing, or watching a movie. tonight the two of you were working on a new lego set that seonghwa had bought when he was away for tour. he had you sitting on his lap, his chin resting on your shoulder, as he watched you sort out the small lego pieces. it was the first time that you had gotten to see seonghwa in well over a month.

his arms wrapped loosely around your waist, rubbing his fingers up and down your tummy. he missed being able to just hold you close to him, missed your soft skin, and your sweet scent. you hummed quietly as you felt seonghwa place a kiss against your exposed shoulder, your loose tank top leaving very little to the imagination. as you continued to go through the small colorful blocks in front of you, you could feel seonghwa’s fingers moving lower. he started to rub circles on your bare thighs.

seonghwa continued to kiss your shoulder, slowly moving up your neck until he reached your ear. he nipped at your lobe before whispering, “i’ve missed you so much, my love.” his hands were still on your thighs, massaging them softly.

“i’ve missed you, too, hwa,” you say back to him, while you pick up a green lego brick.

seonghwa’s hands are slowly moving their way up your thighs, closer and closer to your core. you nervously shuffle in his lap, which causes you to accidentally grind against seonghwa’s crotch. he lets out a low groan, and leans his head against your shoulder.

“y/n, please,” seonghwa breathes out. now it’s seonghwa who is shifting around underneath you. as he moves around, you can feel his erection forming against your backside. he starts to kiss along your neck and shoulder again. “i need you so bad, love.”

you and seonghwa have never gone any further than steamy make out sessions with some slight dry humping. every time things would start to go past that, you would stop him, nervous to go any further. it wasn’t because you didn’t want to. god, no, you wanted him more than anything else in this world. but at the same time, you were beyond scared to be so open and vulnerable with him. you had never been intimate with anyone before.

“seonghwa,” you start, turning slightly to look at him. the way he was looking you, his eyes dark and pupils blown— you shuddered, he looked possessed, full of desire.

seonghwa moves you from his lap and kisses you harshly, his soft plump lips devouring yours. you kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. he pulls you close to his body, holding your hips tightly, as if he would lose you if he let go. with a few clumsy steps, the two of you fall back into his bed. your head on his pillow while seonghwa leaned above you, wavy hair falling into his face.

he leaned down to give you quick kisses all over your face. your forehead. your eyelids. your nose. your cheeks. finally reaching your lips. you run your fingers through his long, dark strands, lightly scratching his scalp with your nails. he gasps against your lips, feeling a shudder run down his body like an electrical current.

“y/n,” he whispers as he moves towards your neck to suck on the soft, sensitive skin. his long fingers find their way under your top, lightly caressing your soft stomach. “please let me make you feel good. i want to show you how much i love you. how much i need you.”

goosebumps flood your skin. you push seonghwa back away from you, allowing yourself to sit up, leaning back against the headboard. “hwa, you know i’ve nev—“ you start to say but get cut off by seonghwa kissing you softly, his palm cradling your cheek.

“i know, my love, i know.” he nuzzles his nose into your neck, inhaling your scent, becoming intoxicated. “i won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

you grab his hand and entangle your fingers together. he brings your hand to his lips and presses light kisses to your knuckles. “tell me to stop, and i will.” he stares right into your eyes.

“show me. teach me, seonghwa. make me yours.” your voice was quiet, but you were sure of this. you wanted seonghwa more than anything. you ached for him.

seonghwa nodded before going back to your lips and kissing you deeply, as if you were his oxygen. you leaned back onto the soft mattress, while seonghwa moved from your lips to your jawline, sprinkling your smooth skin with kisses. he makes his way down your neck to your shoulder, before stopping and marking eye contact with you. “i’m going to take your shirt off now, love.”

as he slid the loose fabric up over your torso, you lifted your arms to help him remove the tank top. your breasts were still contained by the simple, white bra you wore. nothing fancy or sexy, which made you embarrassed. you were not prepared to expose yourself to seonghwa. he worked his fingers behind you to undo your bra. the plain garment slid off, allowing your chest to be free. you crossed your arms in attempt to hide yourself.

seonghwa gently held your arms and moved them away from your chest. “you are so beautiful,” he uttered quietly, looking at you as if you were his whole entire universe.

he moves closer to you, fingers brushing softly against your nipples. his lips attach to your right nipple, sucking tenderly, while he pinches your left between his fingers. the feeling was electrifying. a gasp escaped from you as your hands made way to his hair, gripping it tightly. he hummed against your chest satisfyingly, sending vibrations through your body.

he breaks away from your nipple before making his way to the valley between your tits. he places a quick kiss before moving down your stomach, stopping right at the waistband of your shorts. he looks up at you, his eyes dark, full of lust, wanting your consent to continue. you give him a quick nod, and he smiles softly.

before you know it, seonghwa had pulled your shorts down, along with your panties, leaving you to be completely exposed. your thighs squeezed together subconsciously, wanting to hide from his hungry gaze. seonghwa leans back up towards you and kisses you softly. “let me take care of you, darling.”

you sigh into the kiss, “please.” seonghwa’s hands start caressing your thighs, slowly pulling them apart, gaining access to your cunt. he breaks the kiss and moves back down your body. soft kisses were placed on the plush skin of your thighs, making way up to your hot core.

slender fingers find their way to your slick folds. a shiver makes way through your body, as you feel him prod at your entrance. “tell me if you need me to stop,” seonghwa says before plunging two fingers into your waiting cunt. a quiet moan emits from you, causing you to be embarrassed. you felt your cheeks heating up and you try to close your thighs. but seonghwa’s hands were strong and kept them spread.

he leans into your pussy, placing a kiss on your mound before find way to your clit. his tongue rolls against the sensitive bud before sucking lightly on it, causing you to curl your toes. fingers pump into your wet hole, while he lapped up your sweet juices. the feeling was too much for you and desperate whines escape.

“ahh, seonghwa,” you moan out, hand reaching out to his hair, gripping hard while you press his face closer into your cunt. you could feel him smirk again your folds.

“good girl,” seonghwa laughed lightly, before pulling away. “feels good, doesn’t it? your pussy is so pretty and sweet tasting, i’m obsessed.”

a few more pumps from his fingers and you could feel yourself going over the edge. your thighs squeezed around seonghwa as you hit your climax, body shaking and your heart rate increasing. you fall back into the pillows, trying to catch your breath.

“my sweet girl, you are doing so good,” seonghwa whispers as he sat up, watching your chest rise and fall. “do you want to keep going?” he didn’t want to push you too far. this was all new to you and he wanted you as comfortable as possible. your eyes found way to his, and you nodded meekly, still coming down from your high.

“okay, baby girl,” he says with a slight smirk. “i got you.”

you sit up and kiss him, struggling to find words but wanting to show him how much you needed him. he was very much overdressed, still wearing all of his clothing. you tugged on the hem of his tshirt, hoping that seonghwa understands what you are trying to communicate. he chuckled softly, pulling his shirt off and tossing it to the side.

he kissed you again and you ran your hands down his toned abdomen, feeling the hard muscles under his warm skin. his honey skin. you reached the button of his jeans and you fumbled to undo it, fingers shaky with anticipation. seonghwa help you out, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down along with his boxers, before completely taking them off. he stood in front of you completely naked now. his cock was hard and already leaking with precum. you reached out towards him, wanting to touch him.

“go ahead,” he said, watching as your finally wrap your small hand around him. “i’ll lead you, my love.”

he lets out a low moan as you slowly start to pump your hand up and down his shaft. “there you go, keep going,” he encourages you. seonghwa places his larger hand on yours and guided your movements, setting the right pace. a few more moans escape as you continue to stroke his cock with his help.

he stopped you before he got too close to cumming. his eyes were hooded and lust filled. he needed to be inside of you now. he kissed you hard and with much need, laying you back down on the bed.

“i need you so bad,” seonghwa said, desperation filling his voice. “i need to feel you on my cock so bad.”

you finally find our voice. “seonghwa, fuck me, please,” you beg of him.

he clenches his jaw, nodding. he leaned over towards the drawer next to his bed and fishes out a condom. the wrapper is torn off in a hurry and the rubber is rolled onto his waiting cock. your knees are bent and they fall to the side as seonghwa lines his dick up with your entrance. he slowly pushes in, watching your face as you try to adjust to him. he rubs soothing circles on your hip and discomfort soon becomes pleasure.

he starts to thrust slowly, making sure to hit every inch of you. he wraps your legs around his waist as he goes deeper. moans from the both of you are filling the room. you could feel the pressure filling up in your stomach, you were close to your second orgasm.

“hwa, please,” you whine out, “touch me!”

seonghwa smirked and brought his fingers to your clit and started rubbing harshly, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm. your walls squeezed tightly around his cock as you finally came again. seonghwa grunted as his climax hit, filling up the condom with his cum. he pulls out and falls next to you on the bed.

the two of you were breathing heavily. your eyes were closed as you tried to come down from your high. meanwhile, seonghwa was watching you, admiring the flush that covered your chest and cheeks. he brushed your hair out of your face and placed a gentle kiss on your nose.

“you did so well, y/n,” he whispered to you. “i love you so much, my starlight.”

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

HIIIIII :>

Can I please request Ben, Puppeteer, Masky, Liu, and Ej with a s/o that has a HUUUGE hello kitty obsession?? Like room is COVERED in hello kitty plushies and all that fun stuff

Summary: Ben, Puppeteer, Masky/Tim, Liu and Eyeless Jack whose s/o is obsessed with Hello Kitty (headcanons)

Genre: Fluff!!

Warnings: None!

A/n: IM SO OBSESSED WITH SANRIO MY FAVORITE CHARACTER IS POMPOMPURIN I HAVE THIS GAME ON MY PHONE CALLED HELLO KITTY FRIENDS AND I KID YOU NOT IM SO OBBSESSED WITH THAT GAME THAT WHEN I CLOSE MY EYES TO TRY AND SLEEP I SEE THAT STUPID FUCKING GAME WAHHHHH

Credits: Ben Drowned- Creepypasta, The Puppeteer- Creepypasta, Tim Wright/Masky- Marble Hornets, Homicidal Liu- Creepypasta, Eyeless Jack- Creepypasta, Divider- benkeibear, Pictures- Pinterest

Ben Drowned

Honestly he can't say anything because he's obsessed with Hatsune Miku

He claims its Ironic, but it very obviously isn't

But his obsession with Miku (and vocaloid in general), is NOTHING compared to yours

He loves it though, because it gives you a cute dynamic

Every time he sees anything sanrio related, he thinks of you

It doesn't even have to be Hello Kitty specifically, just any sanrio product

And of course, he HAS to get it for you!

You've gotten sodas, plushies, snacks, earbuds, bags, even wipes

Because of Ben, you have almost anything in a Hello Kitty styled packaging

He likes to "trade" obsessions if that makes sense

For example, you wear a vocaloid shirt and he wears a Hello Kitty shirt

Complimenting each other's interests makes him so happy idk

And he DEFINETLY has some form of Hello Kitty merch himself

Whether it be something that you don't like any more, something you just don't have room for, etc, he has SOMETHING

And it makes him so giddy to know that a little bit of you will always be with him no matter what

Jeff makes fun of him for wearing your old Hello Kitty backpack, but he doesn't care because it smells like you, and it carries everything he needs so perfectly <3

He lobes his hello kitty partner

God forbid you break up, because ANYTHING Sanrio related will send him into a meltdown (fucking weirdo)

The Puppeteer

He's a very obsessive lover, so anything you like, he likes

When he sees your Hello Kitty obsession he immediately begins his research

He will learn all Sanrio characters, all characters closely related Hello Kitty, any lore in the universe, official merch, etc

He will fr pull up dripped tf out in hello kitty merch

The shoes, the pants, the shirt, maybe even a hat

You will giggle and kiss his chin, asking what he's doing

And he will shyly ask if you like it teehee

Your obsession is now OUR obsession

Well, with him it's less obsessed with Hello Kitty itself, more so him obsessed with whatever he thinks will make you like him more

You will literally be cuddling or just hanging out and he'll quote hello kitty to impress you

He's trying his best ok, just kiss him and tell him he's doing good

Masky

Your obsession kind of scares him

Not like, in a "omg this is so unhealthy :(" way, because he literally couldn't care less what you're into

He just gets scared of all the DOLLS

Oh my lord the amount of hello kitty dolls you have freaks him out

It's something about how all of them are the exact same thing, just over and over again

The sheer amount of them combined with the similarities between the dolls just weirds him out and gives him a chill up his spine

Good luck getting him to come into your room

He will refuse to unless you're like, sick or something

Other than that, he will not tolerate it

And this is a brave guy! He doesn't typically get scared of dolls, but idk man hello kitty just ain't it

Despite all this, he still loves getting you gifts with Hello Kitty

He knows how much you like it, and just because it freaks HIM out doesn't mean he's gonna not allow you to enjoy it

He won't actively participate in wearing merch like the other guys

He's definetly more of a "hold your plush bag while you go to the bathroom" type guy

Sorry pookies :(

Homicidal Liu

He doesn't get quite as into it as other's on this list might

He's more of a "Oh well I'm happy you've found something that makes you happy :)"

If you asked him to do something like match outfits he'd accept though!

He loves getting to do things like that with you, little stuff but it makes you both happy

He gives all your plushies different names and personalities

Maybe if you ask him nice enough he'll knit them little clothes and scarves...

He also loves to use the plushies to get what he wants

For example, if he wants to go out with you and you say something along the lines of "but im so tireeed" he'll grab a Kitty plush and begin "talking" to it

"Do you hear this? They say they're too tired to go get yummy food with me" He'll lift the toy up to his ear, nodding as if it's whispering something to him before going "I know! I was thinking we could go to their favorite restaurant too! Such a shame"

You'll scoff and roll your eyes playfully, while he brings the toy to your face making obnoxious kissing noises as if the toy is kissing you

Once your laughter fit dies down, he'll ask if you really just wanna stay home or go out

He will happily accept whatever response you give

Eyeless Jack

He is a lot like Liu when it comes to your obsession

More so just a "Oh good for you :)" type guy

He loves to just show up with random things

For example, he will knock on your door before opening it, and silently waving around a little trinket he thought you'd like

He loves seeing your face light up as you rush to come get the gift and kiss him over and over

It makes him feel extra giddy when he "earns" kisses

So expect a lot of gifts

And if you don't give him a kiss one time, he will pout until you do kiss him

grrr give that boy a smooch he loves them

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Kinkuary Day 4

AN: Given how much this man touches people's necks, this was a given. Also, I have been experiencing a bit of Hao brainrot lately so this came up at the perfect time lol.

Synopsis: Xu Minghao is not typically what you envision when you think of the word 'fuckboy.' However, with how often you've found yourself in his bed, the term fits him to a t. Not that you're complaining.

General tags and warnings: Xu Minghao x Fem! Reader, university au, non-idol, (sort of) friend with benefits! Minghao and this is pretty much pwp.

Primary kink: Choking.

Smut tags and warnings: hair pulling (f. receiving), biting (f. receiving), mentions of clawing (both f. and m. receiving), some manhandling, overstimulation (f. receiving), mild dirty talk, choking (f. receiving), dacryphilia if you squint and piv sex with a condom (I know, who am I?).

Word count: 1.8k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

You really did intend to spend tonight catching up with your friends.

Mingyu and Seokmin have been begging you to catch up with them for ages now and, you always feel like you've kicked two giant puppies when you apologise to them and have to decline every invite to hang out. Between essays and attending lectures all in an attempt to earn your Honours, you've barely had time to be a human being these past few months.

The two of them always understood. Because of course they did. They're probably the two kindest men you've ever met and, it's all just made you feel like even more of an asshole for constantly turning them down.

It doesn't help that you've been more than happy to spend time with their other friend either.

Calling your relationship with Minghao friendship would be generous. Frankly, it's a miracle the two of you can manage to stand each other given his disposition for cynicism and fondness for mocking your taste in music. However, to put it crassly, he's hot. All seemingly never ending dark locks, masterfully applied eyeliner and chipped, black painted fingernails. Considering your past ‘relationships’ with men like Seungcheol, Chan and even Mingyu that one summer, it's safe to say your friends were more than a little surprised when they noticed you and the perpetually stoic man gravitating towards each other.

“Am I boring you?” Minghao's words cut through your momentarily guilt swiftly. Long fingers winding themselves in your hair and tugging hard enough to provide a pleasant sting.

“N–No, I ah–,” your train of thought is interrupted by an especially harsh snap of his hips, his tip brushing against the part of your walls that renders everything but, him white noise. You claw at his sheets while he continues to fuck you into his bed. The obscene sounds of his hips snapping into your ass echoing throughout his bedroom. Luckily, the music blasting outside is more than enough to drown out whatever noises the two of you typically have to muffle.

“Good to know,” he laughs breathlessly into your ear, biting down on the lobe in time with his other hand gripping one of your breasts hard enough for the slight pain of his fingernails to shoot straight to your clit. If he wasn't holding onto you so fiercely, you're sure you would've fallen face first into one of his pillows by now.

You know Minghao fucks around with other people so, you're not going to delude yourself into thinking he's especially ravenous tonight because it's been a couple of weeks since the two of you have fooled around. However, it's hard not to think that way when he sinks his teeth into your shoulder while kneading your breasts in his massive hands. It's especially hard not to think that way when he's thrusting into you so deeply that you're sure you can feel him in your lungs and you're dangerously close to cumming again.

Sometimes, Minghao's phenomenal observation skills are great. Mostly, however, he uses them to drive you closer and closer to insanity.

“Close already?” He snarks against your skin, one of his hands snaking its way down your stomach to lightly brush your swollen clit. You reaction is immediate. A broken moan ripping itself from somewhere deep inside of you while your walls clench around him like a vice. He's barely touching you but, it's still enough for the network of knots in your core to grow tighter and tighter again.

“Hao,” you pant, your eyes squeezing shut when he graces you with more pressure on your clit. The circles he's drawing are lazy and slow but, it's better than nothing. You'll happily take what you can get at this point. “Please, I'm– It's– I'm so close,” you gasp out.

You're already too far gone to really pay attention to what he's saying but, your heart does leap into your throat when you feel the familiar weight of his hand around your neck. That simple gesture alone is enough to violently shove you over the metaphorical edge. Somewhere in the distance you can hear him curse behind you but, your brain is too busy breaking into a million pieces to really pay all that much attention.

It's easy to forget how strong Minghao is sometimes. In these moments, where he keeps you from crumbling into a heap on his bed while your body is hit with wave after wave of release, you're appreciative of that fact.

“–making a mess on my sheets,” are the first words your muddled brain can make out when you start to come back to your body. Everything is still a haze (and the purple lights decorating his room definitely add to that feeling) so you just barely register him manoeuvring you on your back. Still trying to catch your breath, a sweaty, eyeliner smudged Minghao entering your line of sight isn't helping matters.

He kisses you before you can think to do or say anything else. God, you'd almost forgotten how fucking great of a kisser he is. Full, plump lips leaving no room in your mind for anything but, him while his large hands spread your sticky thighs to allow space for him to comfortably position himself between them. He smirks against your mouth when you gasp in shock at the single thrust it takes for him to fully sheath himself inside of you again.

“Always so tight,” he groans, dragging himself out slowly enough for you to feel every vein of his cock before snapping forward. All you can think to do is claw at his muscular back while he fucks you into his bed once more. You're veering dangerously close to overstimulation territory but, you know from experience that that's what Minghao is hoping for. Precise thrusts making sure to hit that spot inside of you that causes your pussy to flutter around him and tears to build in the corners of your glossy eyes.

Minghao watches every twitch in your face like a hawk. Drinking every furrow of your brow and part of your lips in as though he needs them. Typically he's better at holding off his own release but, it's been far too long since he's fucked you and the way you're gripping him like you want to milk him for every last drop shoots sparks to the very tips of his fingers. However, he has to make you cum at least one more time on his cock before he lets himself go.

Everything in you seizes up for a brief moment when Minghao wraps his hand around your neck again. Blinking your eyes open takes a great deal of effort (when did you even shut them?) but, it's worth it to see him like this. Minghao is always hot but, when he's all sweaty and his eyeliner is smudged on his handsome face, he looks out of this world.

The air in your lungs vanishes in an instantly when he tightens his hold on your neck. His fingers burn every bit of skin they touch and the lack of air is making it increasingly difficult to focus on anything that isn't Minghao and his cock.

“–so fucking beautiful,” is all you hear before his mouth crashes into yours and his fingers apply more pressure. Sometimes, you wish he'd push your limits a little more but, between his cock continuing to bully your sensitive walls and the light-headedness you feel, you can't complain too much. God, would it be so terrible to spend the rest of your days with his hand around your neck? You don't think so.

You quickly shove that insane thought aside. His muffled groans and breathy curses add to the growing wetness you can feel leaking out of you onto his sheets with every precise stroke of his cock. However, it's ultimately his thumb pressing against your pulse that makes you fracture around him all over again. Noone has ever made you squirt but, you think this is the first time you've come dangerously close to doing so.

Minghao does not let up this time. Continuing to fuck you through your release, kissing away the stray tears that roll down your face due to the all-encompassing overstimulation. You don't think you can cum again right now but, with the way he continues to choke you through this already intense orgasm, he seems to be putting all of energy into trying to get you to cum again soon.

“Ha-Hao,” you choke out, teary eyes meeting his wild ones while he chases his own release. “I–It's–I'm– To-Too mu–much,” you babble out between broken moans and watery whimpers.

You've always (sort of) joked that Minghao has a very obvious sadistic side. He's never agreed with you but, he's never outright denied it either. Now, when he moans out a string of curses along with your name, you don't think he has much of a leg to stand on. He still has the presence of mind to drop his hand from your neck before nuzzling into your neck. Mouthing at whatever skin he can while his body jerks with every rope of cum he shoots into the condom he hastily put on who knows how long ago.

It's the smart, safe option obviously but, sometimes, when you're by yourself, you wonder what it would be like for him to paint your walls white instead.

The rush of oxygen must be getting to your head.

“Fuck,” is the coherent first word he pants out before pulling out of you and rolling onto his back. The pleasant pain of a thorough, good session already starts to set into the apex of your thighs and, you're honestly tempted to just pull his blanket over your body and crash. However, you two don't do sleepovers. It's become an unspoken part of your arrangement. Plus, you really should actually go spend some time with Seokmin and Mingyu. They're probably worried sick by now.

“Where are you going?” He croaks out, watching you with one eye as you crawl to the edge of his bed. You choose to ignore the way your clit zips back to life at the scratchiness in his voice. You know better than to look back at him right now. You really might just wind up under him again.

“To clean up and get dressed?” You ask back, confusion colouring your voice. You still don't look at him.

“Relax, you don't have to be in such a hurry,” he responds, grabbing your wrist and tugging you back into his bed. Your heart leaps to your throat when he awards you with a throaty chuckle, your hand reflexively coming to rest on his sweaty chest as you slot yourself comfortably into his side.

Well, you're sure Mingyu and Seokmin will understand.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Kinkuary Masterlist | Seventeen Masterlist | Ko-fi.

[siddyyyyyyyy]

University Romance

Johnny 'Soap' McTavish x female!Reader

this is part two to: University Romance, part three

Wc: ~2.1 k

warnings: none, no y/n used, 'crazy' chemistry professor Soap, Johnny and Reader are about the same age, the name of the university is fictional

summary: You and Johnny are two professors at a university, and he often catches you working late in your office. Also, you're just really good friends and there's probably more to it.

a/n: a lot of cringe in here and just yapping, I'm pretty sure I will make a third part to it and see how it goes. Have fun!

Redcrest High Academy, Wednesday 9:00 AM

Okay... maybe, hopefully, they haven't heard of these ridiculous assumptions from his students. First semester, they're still pretty young, stupid, and still have to get used to being in a university. Of course they will assume something like this, their frontal lobe hasn't even developed completely yet, has it? Is it even such a big deal to be mistaken as a couple?

»Stupid boom box...« Johnny mutters under his breath, making you confused at the same time.

»Carl, boom box; he asked if we were married. And I'm pretty sure he is the one who came up with all these rumors.« He adds, clarifying your confusion and making up a theory at the same time.

»Oh, so we should just have a talk with him, and then it's done.«

»No! It's too late!«

He surprises you by taking this situation so seriously. There must be something else.

»Okay, that's a bit dramatic, don't you think?«

He sighs out dramatically once more and throws his head back, eventually taking you by your shoulders and shaking you lightly.

»You don't get it! Soon, everyone will know, and I don't-«

The door swings open and, Kyle stands there, papers in his hand while his other still holds the doorknob. You're both looking over to him, Johnny having a rather stressed expression on his face. Kyle looks between the two of you, staying still in his spot while the silence stretches out.

»Am I interrupting something?« The physics professor breaks the silence, a faint smirk on his lips. Johnny almost squeezes your shoulders in a death grip before he lets go, being still a bit out of the wind.

»No! Of course not, what's up?« He answers almost too quickly and puts his hands on his hips, focused on Kyle and trying really hard to pretend nothing happened.

Kyle takes a small step back, closing the door just a tad bit but keeps his eyes on you both.

»I can also come in later if I was a bother. No worries.« He clarifies, earning a look from you both. He waves the stack of papers in his free hand, ready to just close the door and leave from the lack of response from the two of you.

»Wait, no, Kyle— you can just give me the papers and...« Johnny steps to him and takes the papers, glancing down at them before he looks to Kyle once more.

»Do you think we're married?« He asks, having a serious look on his face while awaiting Kyles answer. Kyle smrik widens, pretending to think he meant him and Johnny, instead the two of you.

»Aren't you guys something?« He asks back and points between you both, making you look away and regret every life decision that led to this. Johnny's eyes widen, a heavy sigh leaving his lips as he dramatically puts his hand over his face.

»Thanks, Kyle.« Johnny mutters before he closes the door right on his face. He looks back to you, seeing you still feeling mostly confused about the dramatics of Johnny, and why he seems to be more exasperated than the first time he learnt about the sun exploding in about five billion years.

You sigh out softly, talking in a calmer tone.

»Why are you so upset about this? Did I miss something, or are you really just dramatic?«

He looks to you and tries to find his words, placing the stack of papers down on his desk before he leans against it.

»I just don't get why they think we are a couple... I mean, sure, I check up on your lectures sometimes and talk about you; I make sure you don't fall asleep in your office or overwork yourself, we spend our breaks together... But that doesn't mean we're married.«

You listen to him but get hung up in his words, holding your hand up for him to stop rambling.

»What did you just say?«

»We spend our breaks together?« He guesses, making you shake your head and ask again.

»No, before that.« You wait for him to repeat his words, being unsure if you heard him right.

»That I make sure you don't fall asleep here? What is it that I said?«

He makes you roll your eyes at him as he guesses again, putting both hands up and gesturing to him more impatiently.

»No, before that.«

He purses his lips, unsure if he should say it again or just somehow ignore the question, realising he said too much earlier. His lack of response makes you cross your arms and silently demand him to answer you finally. Johnny relents a moment later, sighing out sheepishly as he rubs the back of his neck.

»Okay, okay, I talk about you in class, but that has nothing to do with this.« He finally admits and leans back against his desk more while avoiding eye contact. It seems like you have got him caught in something, and this explains a lot. You don't even want to know what other stuff his students have assumed, but you are also curious about what exactly he talks about in his lectures, considering he should be teaching them chemistry.

»Just- okay... Maybe that's why your students assume that.« You sigh out, having no motivation to be upset about him. At least there's someone to blame now, and it's Johnny. »And maybe you should actually teach them about chemicals instead of... whatever you are doing.« You add to, making him rub the back of his neck. It's clear he feels embarrassed if not ashamed about it. Maybe he was this dramatic all the time, because he knew he is at fault. But then again, he doesn't make sense as he said he doesn't want anyone to know.

»Look, let's just say nothing about it. Everything is normal for now, no one suspects a thing. But if your fathere finds out...« He takes a deep breath and shakes his head faintly. »He's gonna kill me.«

He finishes off, once again with fantastic dramatics.

»Wait, what about my dad? I thought you two were good friends.«

But before he could answer you, the bell rings and signals the beginning of the next lectures. He ushers you both out of his office, guiding you back to your lecture hall, since it's next to his, waving you goodbye before stepping into his class.

He's strange.

Once Johnny enters the lecture, he is greeted by the many faces of his students and one particular student speaks up. Before he could say word though, Johnny puts his hand up to silence everyone.

»I'm not gonna answer your stupid question, but we're gonna make coloured fire!«

----

Office of your own, Wednesday 8:53 PM

It took you exactly four coffees to stay awake and distract yourself from today's events. And completing your work early on again. Your students are going to be happy to receive their assignments back early, but will probably feel concerned too. Also, you're staying late in your office again, on accident. But now that your work is done and there's nothing else to do before the next day, you decided to look through your old pictures back from your early twenties.

It felt nice just studying and living at your parents house at that time, where you weren't plagued to actually do adult stuff. But the memories are nice, seeing how much fun you had most of the time, how different your style was, the fun things you could do with your friends... how lovely Johnny stared at you? Is the caffeine catching up?

You go on that picture again, your whole friendgroup from the different classes of the university at a park, it being sunny, and making the photo look even more nostalgic. Another look at Johnny confirms his stare. Whenever he isn't occupied with something in these photos, he is most likely looking your way with a soft, almost fond, expression.

A rhythmic knock pulls you out of your train of thoughts, looking to the door that opens up. Again, Johnny walks in, most likely to force you out of this room once more.

»Wow, that's a big stack of papers. Did you do all this?« He points to all the work you've done today on the desk, approaching you at the same time.

»No, the friendly poltergeist did it.«

He smiles at the sarcastic response and huffs out amused. Once he's close enough to your desk, he leans arms against your desk, inspecting the papers. While he does that, you go on to sort through them once more, standing up while doing so.

He watches your hands work, helping out a bit at the same time. Eventually, the stack of papers are neatly sorted out, going into your bag for the next lecture.

»Damn, I look good... looked good, at least.« He speaks up, eyeing the screen of your computer while leaning over your desk a little more. It seems like you forgot to turn your computer off as he came in, quickly closing the tab with the photos now. He groans as you closed the tab, looking back to you.

»Why'd you have that open? For motivation?«

He tilts his head at you, waiting for your answer, with a subtle smirk.

»Did you know dentures used to be made out of dead soldier's teeth?«

You try to distract him, it working as he blinks and grimaces at your fun fact. He leans off your desk and you take the opppurtunity to finally turn your computer off. Johnny takes a small breath, pointing at you with his finger.

»I really wish I didn't know that.«

----

Redcrest High Academy, Friday 12:02 PM

Johnny has thought a lot about you. Since he saw these pictures on your screen, he can't help but think back to your college and university years. It was fun being in that friend group, there was always something to laugh at and the hangout's were truly something else. He lost count of how many drunk black-outs he had already, how many times he pulled all-nighters to study, and how many times he tried to ask you out. If he only had the courage... if he weren't that hesitant, he is sure you two were indeed married by now.

But he remembers that time his friends and him hung out at your place for the first time, just before your university years as students started. Your house was rather big with two floors and a back yard. At that time of the summer, you used your back yard to grill and hang out at. He can remember how surprised he was when he saw how pretty it was, not having expected much. But that positive surprise surely died down quickly when your dad came by to help with the grill.

He looked intimidating then, a few inches taller than himself and looking rather rough. But then again, that small scare flew by once your dad introduced himself and finally smiled politely.

John Price, or 'mister Price' as how he calls him, even now. He knew he'd need to make a good impression on him and didn't drink as much as usual, trying to talk to your dad a little more. Of course, it was that same evening when your friends found out about his profession, or at least just knew that he was an SAS-soldier not too long ago. A captain as well.

At that point, he knew he probably had no real chance with you. He knew, if he fucked up, there's a whole SAS-team after him. So, he settled on just being good friends with you, mostly because of your father and his own fear of rejection.

Your father, on the other hand, befriended himself quickly with Johnny, having chatted about explosives most of the time in that same evening. He was sure Johnny and your friends were nice, not having anything against those.

You invited Johnny over more frequently, having had late study sessions, talking with your father about different stuff, and also more grill parties with your friend group. You could say your father became more fund of Johnny with time, having made more jokes and teases than necessary about you two.

»When are you marrying, son?«

He really wanted to ignore that question the first time your father asked him that. But he couldn't, and really tried his best to find the correct answer to it, but also not lie.

»We aren't together, sir.«

John waves a dismissive hand at him, huffing out lightly.

»Please, I've seen how you look at her. Don't waste your time before she finds someone else... and stop with the formalities. I told you that already.«

After a small pep talk from your father, he had some more courage to be closer to you, but still not enough to ask you out.

For some reason, it was harder than it looked like.

Even now, as your both fully grown adults and working together, he can't just walk up to you and propose something as a date. But now, with everyone thinking you are engaged, it might be the perfect oppurtunity to finally ask you out.

a/n: wow, again a cliffhanger, who would have thought!1!1! I hope you enjoyed it, I'm working on two fics right now, so I can't say when the next part is coming out. Probably soon.

[cannibalsrider]

Can you write some fluff with the haikyuu boys (mainly Atsumu, Kuroo, Oikawa and Akaashi) laying on readers chest?? Just some good ol fluff🌚

yes omg ^.^ id lobe to idk if I was supposed to pick but on a Tsumu kick rn but ill def do a pt2 with the other three gonna do him based off of dif songs I can see him putting in playlists for his partner

ft: atsumu miya x mangaka!gn reader

warnings: nothing just pure fluff

a/n. this was a bit short cus i was procrastinating a bit and flipping back and fourth between this and my crochet project but I hope u like it annon^.^

wc.683

Cuddling with a six-foot setter wasn't easy, but cuddling with Atsumu Miya felt like being draped with a weighted blanket, his bleach-blonde hair tucked under my chin as we scrolled through TikTok, watching fan edits of us. "They've been picking good songs for the edits they make of you recently, Tsum," I mumbled, looking down at the half-asleep man resting on my chest. "Mhm, you're probably the one giving them all those ideas from your Spotify," he muttered back as I ran my hand through his hair. "You're the one who kept talking about it when the reporter asked you about your workout playlist," I quipped, placing a small kiss atop his head. "Now all people like to say about us is that I made you listen to all the sweet stuff," I said sarcastically as I played with the hair resting at the back of his neck.

"Because you're the one making me all sweet just for your enjoyment," he responded, his sleepy voice making me want to laugh. He sounded like he was drowning in the thought of wanting to sleep but tried his hardest to stay awake so we could have some form of time together since he had been busy all day with another game. If he had asked me who they had played, I could honestly not tell, with the fact that he had looked like a focused puppy on his way to get a win in tug of war against another dog.

"Yeah, mhm, not like you didn't tell me to add The Smiths on there, saying that it reminded you of us," I huffed with a small laugh. As we stayed quiet for a moment, it felt like nothing was moving around us, like it was our second year again and he was sneaking into my bedroom window and me holding him after an especially long day. Atsumu Miya was like a big golden retriever when it was just us, nothing to do about volleyball or a chapter I had to complete for my editor. It was just the calm silence of our bedroom with the white noise of the Tokyo streets. I sometimes wondered, would we be like this in every universe, laying here, his head tucked under my chin as we watched videos of him on my phone? It felt silly in a way, thinking that maybe we would, and that we'd always find our way to each other, even if times got hard. I'd always find him.

"Tsum?" I said, my voice soft as I spoke. "Hm," he mumbled, tracing shapes absentmindedly against my collarbone. "Do you think we would be soulmates in every universe like how we are now?" I asked, not even sure if he'd answer or not, but I felt his head lift ever so slightly to look at me as he spoke. "You're gonna be my partner in every life and universe, even when we're old and grey, and you do that little knitting thing with the yarn and have grandkids, we'll still be together torturing Samu," he responded, earning a laugh as he kissed me. It felt like it always did, like I was sixteen again, kissing him for the first time in his room because we thought it would be better to practice kissing with each other so whenever we got our own partners, we didn't look silly.

"I hope Samu knows we'll become more insufferable with time," I mumbled against his lips as I turned my phone off. His head fell right back to its original position, sprawled out all over me as if he was my personal blanket. "He'll know, I can tell," he responded with a small smile.

[fayes-fics]

Show Them All

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Err, window sex? That's all I've got tbh...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, dom/sub, exhibitionism, voyeurism, dirty talk, vaginal sex.

Word Count: 1.7k

Authors Note: While my muse was not cooperating a couple of weeks ago I used Discord kink roulette wheels and it served the following: Benedict + modern + exhibitionism. So here's what I came up with for that. This is set in the same universe as Coming Home. It's all under the cut as its filth from the first sentence. Enjoy! <3

The glass is cold against your nipples. A contrast to the hot hand buried in your hair, fingernails gently scratching the base of your scalp in a way that makes your whole body tingle. He leans forward.

“Show them,” he dusks into your ear, teething your lobe as he does so. “Show them all how much you want it.”

He leans his upper body away slightly but presses his pelvis snug to your bare bottom to underline his command, making you exhale raggedly, puffing fleeting circles of mist onto the floor-to-ceiling window pane.

The skyline of London glitters all around you. In this luxury hotel penthouse suite, there are probably hundreds of windows in the surrounding buildings. Any of them could contain someone looking at you right now—could see this debauched tableau. You completely naked, him fully clothed, standing behind you, teasing you with strokes of his solid cock straining under luxury fabric. 

So you do as told. Widen your stance and go up on tiptoes, tilting your hips and grinding backwards into him. Shamelessly, silently begging to be fucked.

“That’s it,” he urges, cadence decadent, the hand in your hair sliding heavily down your spine, mapping your contours, then spanking the side of your bare bum cheek as you writhe. “My desperate little one. What do you need?”

“You, sir,” your response is an instant reflex, hands streaking down the pristine glass as you attempt to find leverage for your movements.

“No. Be specific,” he warns with a taunting tone.

“Your cock, sir,” you amend breathily.

“That’s right, little one” 

You can almost hear his triumphant smirk. You grind harder in a circular motion, hoping to goad him into action. He harshly spanks your right cheek, making you jump. You want to squeal with victory when he stills your movements, and you feel him lowering his zip, knowing he wears no underwear. He never does; claims it’s easier, so he can just unzip and take you anytime he wants. Which, to be fair, he does with refreshing regularity. 

Just last night, he ordered you into his lap as soon as you located your seats in the practically deserted cinema. Cockwarming him under your maxi dress through a two-hour film, your pussy weeping. Every laugh he made, you felt inside and wanted to curse his name, mindless with need. But you obediently sat still, leaning back into him; a reward always comes your way. And surely enough, as the credits rolled, he made you orgasm silently, his fingers strumming your swollen clit, your fluttering muscles massaging his cock, taking him over the edge too.

Now, tonight, he wants you to put on another show. Perform for him. Potentially for others, too. And fuck if it doesn’t arouse you to a nearly painful degree to do so. You want the world to know. When you play like this, it’s the most mind-blowing sex you’ve ever had. You eagerly do things you never imagined you would.

“Do you see anyone watching?” he queries, his cock now in his hand, teasing you with his tip.

You refocus your eyes to look out, to see if you have an audience. While you are scanning, something catches your eye. In but some expensive modern flat, a young couple is looking up from their bedroom window. Their place looks as sleek as your suite, maybe more so.

“Yes,” you hiss, a ripple of excitement passing through your being at the idea you have an audience, an attractive one, too. “A young couple.”

“Give them a good show then, my girl,” he challenges, holding his cock at your puffy, weeping channel. “You know what to do,” he adds casually.

With a steadying exhale, you line up with his guidance and sink backwards onto his cock, moaning as you do. Every time, it feels like it’s too much, stretching you wide, feeling every contour as you sink. Keep pressing until his tip nudges the top of your channel; your bum now flush with his body, the tiny metallic teeth of his trouser zipper grazing your bum cheek.

“Good girl,” This time, it’s gravelly, broken.

You look down at the couple and see them fondling each other as they continue to stare up at you. Part of you wants to wave in acknowledgement; part of you doesn’t want to do anything to discourage them. 

“Move my girl,” he reminds, a hand wrapping around your hipbone, fingers flexing in a pattern to indicate how you should move.

So you do. Hands on the glass, you pull forward until just his tip is inside you, then push backwards, spearing yourself onto him, rolling your eyes as you do, your toes scrunching on the cool, shiny quartz floor. 

“Where are they?” he asks as you begin at a languid pace. 

“Over to the left, that grey building, about four storeys down,” you huff as you fuck yourself onto him.

He seems to be scanning the scene, then makes a little triumphant noise in his throat when he spies who you mean.

“Oh my girl, they are touching each other,” he preens, his breathing uneven where you push back into him, more insistent now. 

He changes his stance, a hand rounding low on your belly as he crowds into your back.

“Let’s give them a real show, hmm?” he murmurs.

You cry out as he thrusts so vigorously that you rock onto your tiptoes, hands scrabbling on the smooth glass for purchase. His arms band tight around your torso and heave you back onto him as he starts to fuck into you fiercely, setting the pace now.

“Don’t look anywhere but them,” he commands as you whimper under his frenzied movements, caged in his strong embrace. You can barely move; just hang on as he fucks deep; he feels so steely as he plunges hard, thrusting you open vehemently, skirting that line of pleasure-pain that is so intoxicating.

You tilt your head down to look at them. They are naked now and hands buried between legs, their gaze intent on you, 

“Describe what you see, my girl; I need detail,” he huffs, his punishing speed never wavering.

“They… they are naked,” you begin, each word tremulant between heaving breaths.

“And?” It’s stern; he wants more.

“Hands are between legs,” you add, panting now and rapidly losing the ability to do anything but moan and go limp.

“Like this,” he silks, and you cry out as his fingertips brush your clit.

“Yes sir, oh fuck…” your whole body jolting as if struck by lightning, “don’t stop please, please,” you plead, spiralling dizzily fast towards your peak as he flicks your swollen soaked pearl, aching to come.

As you approach that mindless moment, he stills his hand motions, and you wail instinctively.

“Earn it,” he growls, still thrusting into you so powerfully that your body rolls in his arms with each stroke. “Tell me in detail what they are doing,” he clarifies, angling his head to suck on your neck. “Then I will let you come screaming.” 

He can clearly see for himself exactly what the other couple are doing. But he wants to hear you say it. Describe it. A thrill for him to listen to you struggle to talk dirty as he fucks you roughly.

“Th-they are on the bed now, but they are still looking at us. I think they are fucking. One is on top of the other; they are moving rhythmically,” you stutter out, seeing their bodies moving in an undulating motion, 

“Yessss, my girl,” he grits triumphantly, “you did that. Begging for my cock like you did. Are you proud? You should be,”

“Yes, sir.” blooming under his praise.

“My good girl,” he moans, his breath gusting hard into your nape from the sustained effort.

“Please, sir, your fingers,” you implore, ”you promised.” You whine, unashamed how wanton you sound.

His chuckle into your hair is rich. “Okay, okay, my darling girl. I can feel how much you need it,” he acknowledges.

Then he touches your clit, and it’s like a live wire. He grunts and has to hold you down on his thrusting cock as you buck and squeal, so much pent-up arousal you are already over-sensitive. You do exactly as he said you would—coming screaming after just a few seconds. Thrown metaphorically into a tornado, your whole body shuddering and convulsing in his stronghold. He swears and bites your neck, the convulsing constriction of your cunt too much to withstand. Overwhelmed by the sheer strength of you rippling around him, he loses control and comes hard, too, jolting deep within you, snarling into your ear, hands vice-like on your body.

“Fuckkkkkk,” he exhales raggedly as you feel his warm bloom inside. “I had plans to keep fucking you until you came again, ” he gusts, winded, smushing you into the glass, his weight slumped into yours, chest heaving against your spine.

“Sorry,” you mutter, feeling genuinely contrite.

“Don’t be,” he reassures with a kiss on your cheek as his softening cock slips from inside you. “Don’t ever apologise for making me come,” he smiles, and you giggle; your play scene finished. You are just back to yourselves - just you and sweet Ben. 

“They are done too,” he observes wryly after a few moments, casually nodding to the couple below, who seem to be lying entwined and spent.

“Should we give them a thumbs up?” You jest, twisting to catch his eye, a mischievous glint there that you know is agreement.

Without another word, both of you turn with goofy grins and hold both thumbs aloft at the couple. 

“Shit,” Benedict guffaws as you watch them startle and almost fall off the bed in shock, diving under the covers. “Guess they didn’t realise we were watching them too,” he assesses bemused.

You turn around in his arms to face him and kiss lazily, a sated hum in your being. 

“Next time, tie me up,” you request; he loves it when you voice new scenes that appeal to you.

“You want me to fuck you against this window bound in rope?” He checks, a playful eyebrow rising as an enthralled smile claims his handsome features.

“Please,” you nod happily, “your binding is so beautifully intricate; it deserves an audience.”

“I love you,” he responds, his tone devout.

You tilt your forehead to his, smiling over his lips. “I love you too, Benedict.”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb

[angelinasnotebooks]

Hate that my form of hyperfixation is consuming and not creating.

I think I've been falling in love with ideas my whole life. I see colors and concepts and characters, and I want every part of the illusion to play around my body and immerse my mind and soul. I thought growing up I would be an artist. When that mentally shattered, I moved on to thinking I would become an author. Now, however, I don't know what or who I'll be. All I know is that my brain never stops coming up with ideas. 

Yet, with all these ideas comes the possibility of creation. It's what I want, isn't it? I want to create these pictures and stories and share them with the world. So, why am I motionless in my pursuit to bring my mind to life? I have a library in my head. There's a girl in there. Her favorite color is blue. She doesn't know if life is worth living. I have an art museum there too. There's a portrait of a dying renegade, and a demon alter ego desiring joy. Then there's the realm of fandoms. The endless multiverse of continuations and alternatives.  

There's a lot going on inside my brain and imagination. Chemicals I do not understand and signals I cannot control. An abundance of beauty only an individual can conjure with their subjectivity. With no outlet for these thoughts and images, I find it all to be too much at times. Wings heavy on my back and flightless under the pressure. The ability to soar is there, but the weight within is burdensome.  

Every day I come up with something new. Some ideas are fresh while others are another line on the loom, but that is all they are. Thoughts. Ideas. Invisible whisps, webs, and wishes. It's as if the only part of my frontal lobe that works is that of imagination and complex thinking. I attempt short stories, painting, studying, chores, school projects, craft projects and I never get them done. Planning, time management, logical reasoning, and decision-making have all taken a backseat. I can't get any of them done, so I turn to what has already been done. 

I rewatch a favorite show. I read another fanfic. I click on a YouTube video and another. I scroll Tumblr. I read character analysis. I try on the clothes in my closet. I add shit to my wish list. I post photos from two months ago on my Instagram. I relate to autistic ADHD tiktokers. I pretend Pinterest will help me get my life together. I think about the MCU. I watch another comfort, crime, haunted, mythical series. I visit my AO3 bookmarks. I doom scroll whatever app I can get my eyes on. I turn thirteen again and either spiral into a depressive state or become infatuated with the Hunger Games--again.

The point is, I can't force my brain to work on the original ideas. Sitting at a desk with supplies doesn't get my hands moving. I fall numb waiting for my body and mind to comply with my intentions. So, I end up here again. Hitting a heart button to let other people know that their commentary and hard work have reached me, and I liked it.  

I don’t want all my ideas and universes to end where they are. I don’t want to minimize or invalidate my existence, or the experiences of others like me, by remaining artistically stagnant. I want my mind to be a visual tangible galaxy free to be roamed and explored. I want to have my heart in my hands, and I want to give it to every single person that I can. I want these thoughts, these precious ideas out of my head and into yours, dear reader. I don't want to consume; I want to create. If I'm going to go down the rabbit hole, I want to be the rabbit. The entrance maker. Not the lost girl I am right now. 

[20cmstar]

new canvas ✐ᝰ.ᐟ

pairing: hyunjin x reader

genre: fluff, slightly suggestive (?), short fic

warnings: none ◡̈

word count: 517

Painting is sometimes described as a window into the artist's soul, a narrative of hues and emotion captured on canvas. Each picture conveys a narrative, be it one of comfort, recovery, love, passion, or grief. A picture can paint a thousand words. Through their own images and emotions, artists communicate stories and heal themselves and others. Thus, their artworks serve as societal medicine, offering fresh viewpoints and a glimmer of hope.

In a world full of artists, you thought Hwang Hyunjin was the finest of them all. You were always in awe of Hwang Hyunjin, a man so passionate and creative that he exceeded all other artists in your opinion. His ideas were limitless. His seemingly inextinguishable devotion resulted in each and every one of his magnificent pieces. It was almost as if he was navigating an endless universe composed of various motifs and muses in his mind. And he let you into that boundless cosmos. He opened a door for you into his creative and expressive world, which was full of breathtaking form and structure and a perfect balance of cool and warm tones. Many times, you considered yourself fortunate to be a part of that infinite cosmos.

The sensation of smooth bristles brushing across your skin woke you. The bristles covered your midback in a sweeping motion, creating a subtle, tingling sensation that, when combined with the damp paint on your skin, sent shivers down your spine. A gentle laugh came from behind, and soon after, a warm breath touched the back of your neck, causing you to shiver once again. "Don't worry. I'm almost finished." Hyunjin spoke, his voice sweet and appealing. It was like his voice was made of velvet. The warmth and familiarity he exuded filled even the most remote portion of you. "No, it's alright. I just fell asleep." You reassured, and a warm blush enveloped your cheeks. A wave of mild embarrassment washed over you. However, it was quickly eased by another of his endearing laughs.

A soft mouth made contact with the point where your neck and shoulder meet. His lips remained there, making your heart race with anticipation and adoration at the same time. There were times like this one when he could make you feel giddy, no matter how long you'd been dating or how many times he'd seen every aspect of you. Hyunjin gently hummed on the smooth surface of your skin, and you could feel the vibrations reverberate throughout your body and gently brush against your heart. His lips' velvety feel quickly extended from that point up your neck and stopped to caress the lobe of your ear. By now, your heart raced sporadically, and a bright scarlet tint coated your cheeks. "So, what motivated you to do this?" You ask, trying to soothe the irregular beating of your heart. Its irregular rhythm rang loudly in your ears. Hyunjin smiled softly against the lobe of your ear, then nibbled at the delicate flesh. "Nothing extravagant. I just wanted to work with a new canvas. My dear, who else could be a better fit than you?"

[lightofthemoonglow]

a world of our own

(link to the post in question)

can be said to take place in the same universe as my Strahm kinktober fics as well as this one but also not. whatever works best for you. third person reader. femme reader. poc reader. i'm very out of practice

Sometimes, there’s a sense of desperation when he fucks her.

The Jigsaw case has been consuming Strahm’s life for months now, slowly taking over almost every aspect. Even finding out the identity of the man behind it all hasn’t stopped it. John Kramer’s ideas have infected others and the spread doesn’t seem to be stopping. They may never know how many people have the idea in their heads. When he thinks about how they might never know how many people are going to decide to build a trap in pursuit of some fucked up sense of justice, he fucks her hard. His hands grip her hips rough enough for her to bruise, he bites, he grunts, and they go until neither of them can move.

But sometimes, there’s mornings like today.

The sun is shining through the barred windows of Strahm’s apartment, the light spilling out over her body. He doesn’t even register the shadows from the bars, nor does he think about how he has to have bars on every window in his place. Or how he’s so worried about her that he’s offered to do the same for her place right next door. Her body is spread out on the crisp navy sheets he put on his bed yesterday and fuck, he never wants to fucking leave her. The sun makes her look like she’s made of some sort of precious metal. Gold or bronze, he can’t fucking remember the difference between them when she’s touching him. He doesn’t even note how he looks like a ghost compared to her.

“So fucking warm, baby,” he murmurs in her ear, gently nipping the lobe as he spreads her legs a little wider. Strahm just takes in the sight of her, wet and needing him to be inside of her. He slides in slowly, not wanting it to be like how it usually is. There’s time for it to be the way she deserves, the way he wants it to be deep down.

“Peter…” she moans and he can’t help himself, he just bottoms out suddenly, his arms trembling when he’s fully hilted inside of her. No one calls him Peter much these days, it’s Agent Strahm or just Strahm. When she says his name, it’s practically music and it pushes those thoughts even further down. There’s nothing else right now, just the woman enveloping him. “You can move now, baby. I won’t break.” She strokes his face gently, kissing his brow so lightly that he’s not even sure it happened.

Even with the feeling of the heat of her around his cock, Strahm pulls out slowly and is equally careful going back in. She gasps, digging her nails into the flesh of his back, pulling him closer. He can hardly move, but he doesn’t fucking care because she’s kissing him and whimpering into his mouth, soft sweet sounds that don’t make him think of her whimpering in fear. It makes him want to drag this out all morning, keep them in this little bubble.

“Gonna marry you when this is over.” Strahm’s voice is rough, almost hoarse. He picks up the pace somewhat, his thrusts more intentional, making her move with each one but without the frantic pace they’re used to. She flutters around him, moaning his name again and he keeps babbling. “Gonna move us out of this fucking building…get us a nice house.” Something out of TV, neat and bright, where he can have an office that he can lock and keep all the dark shit he sees every day away from her.

“You mean it?” Her voice is trembling, her eyes are shining and he just thrusts fully into her again, her fingers going to her clit. He begins to move again, unable to shut up.

“When this is over, we’re gonna get married and fuck, angel, I wanna give you all the fucking babies you want.” He’s shaking almost as hard as she does when she comes, his thrusts finally no longer controlled. “Love you so much, wanna give you everything you fucking want.” He doesn’t pull out this time, he can’t, not when she’s coming on his cock, he can practically feel her gushing around him. “We’re gonna get the fuck out of this city and grow old together, baby. I promise.” And then he’s filling her up, moaning her name.

For a moment, all those dark thoughts come back but then he lays his head on her chest, her nails scratching against his scalp and then he’s not thinking very much at all.

[possiblyunhinged]

Tommy Robinson and his ilk centring ‘women’s safety’ as part of their anti-immigration rhetoric is not only idiotic but also illogical.

I understand that men are disenfranchised. Despite a lifetime of navigating the behaviour of men, both strangers and men I know, I can still empathise with the reality that working-class men in this country have been abandoned. I'm not sure when they weren't, frankly. But in a tale as old as time, they are being told it’s immigrants to blame for that. Not billionaires. Not politicians. Immigrants.

Now... where have we heard this before in history? Hmm, if only we had a reference to this slippery slope.

Every single attack on women that makes the news seems to be a platform for them to blame immigration and fuel the notion of ‘this is what’s coming; this is what we’ve voted for.’ It doesn’t matter who the offender is; it will be assumed by these individuals that they are asylum seekers.

So, white British men aren’t predators? Or are they allowed to assault us because we’re ‘theirs’? Perhaps rape isn’t objectively bad; it’s actually subjective based on the colour of someone’s skin? When the head of the MET stated that violence against women and girls is an epidemic that should be treated with the same severity as terrorism, did he include white British men in that?

I’d like to point out that the individuals who suckle Tommy Robinson's singular brain cell also believe they are the ones who follow logic and facts. It’s quite remarkable, really, that level of delusion.

I am one of the many women who have experienced sexual violence.

I grew up in a domestic violence household. I was first groped by a stranger on a train when I was a pre-teen by a man who looked like he could be somebody’s dad. The vast majority of women in my life have a story to tell, often laced with tactics to cope with the actions that were done to them against their will. We live in a country that sees itself as ‘civilized’ and an arbiter of morality while essentially decriminalizing rape.

All the men I’ve had these experiences with were white, British men. How do I know that? Because I knew them. A large portion of sexual violence cases are committed by people the victim knows, not some bogeyman lurking in dark alleyways—men that victims know.

I was assaulted by a country pumpkin, skateboarding, floppy-haired boy who everybody thought was the nicest man on earth. Again, it is a far cry from the stereotype that the likes of Tommy Robinson paint of violent misogynists. But alas, what do I expect from men who describe British women as ‘ours’?

Move over, Simone de Beauvoir. The true feminists are in town, waving little St. George’s flags and drinking tinnies.

My white British dad was a 6’5” rugby player from Stoke who was ‘one of the boys,’ and people in his life thought he was soft as butter. He was physically violent to my mum. He completely decimated my and my brother’s right to just be children.

Two of my friends from university were raped by the same boy, who also raped other girls in our halls of residence. They managed to get the case to court, but eventually, all of them dropped out because everybody, including the police, was quick to say they were ruining the life of a white British boy with the whole world at his feet. They said it would be better just to get a restraining order—well, better for him, at least.

Would Tommy Robinson, Laurence Fox, and others feel outraged at that? Or is it different, violence towards women, if it’s from our country? Our women? Or are they doing what they accuse the left of—ignoring reality because if they were to acknowledge the complexities of the issue, it wouldn’t quite make for a hit tweet for people whose frontal lobes are made of butter?

I mean, one would imagine Robinson and co would be deeply outraged that a misogynist like Donald Trump could acquire the most powerful political position in the world once more... you know, being that they are so into women's rights and that.

This scapegoating of immigrants in a country built on immigration and, frankly, exploitation is beyond the realm of idiocy—it’s illogical. If you want to talk about the cover-ups in Rochdale, then you should also talk about the police officers who are sex offenders and are still allowed to work. You should talk about the rapists in the commons. You should talk about the systemic protection of predators in industries across the UK. You should talk about the girls in schools who are experiencing a rise in misogyny, which is being flagged by teacher's unions.

It's weird... they never mention women's rights outside of their race-baiting antics...

If they truly cared about violence against women, they’d at least acknowledge the scale of the issue and realize that misogyny is as embedded in ‘British culture’ as it is in any culture around the world. Yet again, the thin veneer of civility in this country means nothing when rapists face no consequences via the law or otherwise.

If this sounds mean-spirited, it’s because it is. I am sick to my back teeth of hearing and reading about men who perceive themselves as virtuous, failing to grasp basic points, and having vast platforms afforded to them. Meanwhile, misogyny is on the rise again. Who do people credit for this? The likes of Tommy Robinson, Andrew Tate, and others who have targeted disenfranchised, vulnerable men and directed their rage towards women and minorities.

I am an idiot, and I have had farts that speak more sense than Tommy Robinson.

[five-rivers]

like giving candy to a baby

Ghosts did not have obsessions in the way human ecto-scientists meant when they used the term.  They did, however, have patterns, ticks in behavior, impulses, habits, that were nigh impossible to break.  Carryovers from their lives, or, in many cases, their deaths, impressed upon their thought patterns.  Easy paths for them to follow.  

In Daniel’s case, the pattern was curiosity.  More specifically, the indulgence of it.  

To be sure, he had made himself into a tutelary, a protective spirit, and the more he followed that narrative, the more he would fit his chosen role.  But, like any other person, living or dead, that was not all he was.  

Curiosity was what had killed him.  Such an event would, naturally, either burn the feeling out of him altogether, or render any other, lesser deterrent meaningless.  

If one were to place Daniel, unsupervised, in a room with an interesting object, he would interact with it.  Examine it.  Touch it.  Smell it.  Taste it.  See if it turned on or off.  Not indiscriminately, mind, there were various variables involved, and it was true that thinking beings, when underestimated, tended to seek out simulation, however unpleasant.  One might also argue that the environment in which Daniel was raised made him less cognizant of certain risks.  

But it was also true that if the object in question looked remotely edible, it would wind up in Daniel's mouth long before hunger could be said to have any impact on his decision making.  

As such, Clockwork was very careful when it came to the items he left Daniel alone with.  

Over the ages Clockwork had spent as the Observants' solution to everything even remotely inconvenient, he had collected a vast array of cursed objects.  It was only right that he should bring them to bear against the latest problem they'd dumped in his lap.  On the whole, he thought a series of subtle curses was a much more elegant and ethical solution than assassination.  

Letting Daniel walk himself into curses was easy to the point Clockwork almost felt guilty about it.  

Almost.  

He knew Daniel did not want to become Dan, either, after all, or blunder into any of a number of other bad futures.  Needs must.  

.

Danny floated into Long Now, Clockwork’s lair.  He’d been visiting Clockwork regularly ever since the incident.  He wasn’t sure how that had really happened, but it had, and every time Clockwork seemed pleased to see him.  

It was a little strange, but Danny didn’t want to question it too deeply.  

“Ah, Daniel,” said Clockwork, warmly, switching from old man to infant, “I am in the middle of something, but if you can sit there for just a moment…”  He nodded to the sitting area.  

“Sure!” chirped Danny.  He really was just here to hang out.  Maybe take a nap.  Didn’t need to do anything in particular.  

He floated over to the couch and let himself drop.  He laid there for a few minutes, contemplating his place in the universe.  Introspection, however, was boring, and maybe he didn't want to sleep as much as he thought he did.  He sat up and looked around instead.  

Last time he was here, he'd had a good time checking out all of the statues Clockwork had in this room.  They were pretty cool.  

But today Danny's attention was arrested by the huge decorative hourglass sitting on Clockwork's coffee table. Ruby red sand floated slowly from the top lobe to the bottom one, twisting and swirling on their path down.  He stroked the silvery metal casing with one finger, liking the texture.  

It was pretty.  A conversation piece?  Danny couldn't think of any other reason Clockwork would have it out here.  He flipped it over and watched the sand run the other way for a while.  There was a lot more sand in one bulb than the other.  With how slowly the sand was falling and how big the hourglass was, it'd take forever even to get that little bit.  

He flipped the hourglass over again, wondering if the pattern the sand moved in would change at all, then shook it, testing the way gravity behaved on sand in all areas of the glass.  He flipped it again.  He wanted to see if it would do anything special when the sand ran out, but given the speed it was moving at, even that would probably take years.  

"So, Daniel, what have you been up to?"

Danny jumped, but turned to face Clockwork with a smile.  "Oh, you know."

"I do," said Clockwork, "but I'd like to hear it from you."

.

Clockwork carefully transferred the hourglass from the table to its case using telekinesis and being very careful not to tip it over.  Having gone through the trouble of getting Daniel attuned to it, he didn’t want to carelessly break that attunement.  

A few hundred years ago, the Observants had cracked down on tools one could use to reduce one’s age or extend one’s life, but the hourglass was easily the least obvious.  Clockwork estimated it would take Daniel nearly a year to notice that he was aging backwards.  

It wasn’t a complete solution, but if Daniel didn’t grow up, he wouldn’t grow up into that.  

.

Danny spun the top edge of… it looked a bit like an ancient rubix cube.  The metal squares had symbols instead of paint, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out the internal mechanism.  Then again, he didn’t know what the internal mechanism for a regular rubix cube was, either.  He should take one apart when he gets home.  It’d be fun.  

But it’d be even more fun if he could compare it to the mechanism in this one.  

The last row of symbols clicked into place, and all the sides were made of the same symbols.  Danny spent a few seconds admiring his work.  He’d never managed to solve one of these before.  

The cube fell apart.  Danny yelped, propelling himself over the back of the couch then peaking over the top of it.  It was just cubes.  Little dice.  No internal mechanism at all.  Huh.  

“Don’t worry,” said Clockwork, “it’s supposed to do that.”

Danny nodded and put himself on the couch again.  He prodded one of the dice, half worried that it would fall apart, too.  It didn’t.  It simply rolled over to a new symbol.  

His fingers felt… tingly.  He flexed his hands.  If Clockwork said it was supposed to be like that…

“How do I put it back together?”

.

Putting a limit on Daniel’s powers was a must.  If he wasn’t strong enough to destroy the world, then he couldn’t do it.  

The Box of Spes existed to seal ‘troubles.’  Pandora had made it long ago.  In this particular case, the troubles were Daniel’s powers, neatly bound with each piece he put back into place, the potential curtailed.

Most of them were powers Daniel hadn’t even touched yet, or that he had only used once, and Daniel was notoriously forgetful about his powers.  He would do just fine without the stranger, more dangerous ones.  

But if he did ever need to reach further, all Clockwork needed to do was open the box.  

.

Danny eyed the goblet Clockwork had put down…  Was it twenty minutes ago, now?  It was a pretty metal goblet.  Silvery black.  Fruit and chain designs sculpted into it.  Filled almost to the brim with purplish-red juice.  

Danny licked his lips.  He was… curious.  He’d never seen Clockwork eating or drinking anything before, and he wanted to know what it tasted like, what it was.  It smelled tasty.  Sweet.  

He wanted it, but he knew that drinking someone else’s drink was the absolute peak of rudeness, so he was not going to do that.  

He was also wondering what Clockwork was doing that was taking so long, but he’d learned better than to go looking for Clockwork after last time.  At least, he thought he had.  He definitely still wanted to know…  Just, he didn’t want to walk in on anything like that again…  That had just been weird.  

So.  He waited.  And waited some more.  And (inside his head only) wished he’d brought a book.  Or a rubix cube.  He’d taken one apart and solving them was a lot easier now…

Waiting.  More waiting.  

He really wanted to know what it tasted like.  

A tiny sip wouldn’t hurt.  

He slid over to the goblet and picked it up.  If it was wine he’d be so mad at himself.  Cautiously, he sipped at it.  

It wasn’t wine.  It tasted a lot like cranberry juice.  A little bitter, but also sweet.  It was nice.

He carefully put it back down on the table.  Because he definitely hadn’t done that.  Nope.  

…  But then, Danny had never been successful at keeping things from Clockwork.  

Actually, Clockwork probably already knew.  

Ugh.  Danny really had to work on his impulse control.  

.

Pomegranates were a traditional medium for curses in the Ghost Zone, but the addition of the Stygian Goblet would make the natural effects of them much worse.  Protective spirits were especially vulnerable to them.  They wanted them, on some level.  Wanted that security.  

Bindings.  Tethers.  Chains.  Like the ones that brought Persephone back to the underworld every winter.

For now, the one linking Daniel to Long Now was weak.  But Clockwork could make it stronger… or shorter… as needed.  Reel him in.  Keep him close.  Keep him out of the way.  Keep him safe.

And bring him in when Clockwork needed to add another layer to the curses.  

Yes.  It really was almost too easy to curse Daniel.  

But it was the way things were meant to be.  

[theladyofrosewater]

More semi/fully Cursed FNAF AUs (These are all Game and Book AUs not movie ones so no spoilers!!)

• Instead of Mangle biting off Jeremy's frontal lobe, Jeremy just yeets it over his shoulder which somehow fixes the whole "coding error" and now guess what it's his dog now and refuses to leave him alone.

• Look this is a Robo-Charlie free household, but the idea of Charlie knowing she's a robot and doing a TERRIBLE job of hiding it. She rips doors off of their hinges all the time and just places them back awkwardly. People try to stab her multiple times and nothing ever connects. She constantly emits a humming sound and shocks people and she insists this is a very normal thing for people. Baby tries to drop the reveal on her and she's like "Yeah no shit my dad told me about it when I was like 5" before decking her because she's obviously upgraded herself over the years.

• Security Breach but Gregory is a FNAF superfan and is oddly excited about every near death experience and he records everything before posting it on youtube, it's terrible quality and everyone thinks its a very shitty fake video series until Fazbear Entertainment gets the videos wiped from the internet.

• One I actually want to visit but is very crack-ish. AU where FNAF takes place in a universe where Mary Shelly's Frankenstein was a real event and the incomplete notes of Victor Frankenstein haunt a descendant of his for each generation until someone finally re-figures it out and chaos ensues. I'll let you guys guess what family name those descendants currently have :)

• AU where Micheal starts streaming his later shifts and becomes semi-famous online and every time he fucks up his chat makes fun of him full knowing he could die. He still makes zero money from this.

• Pizza Sim AU but Henry just tempts Puppet Charlie with a Nintendo Switch with Animal Crossing, instead of his canon action of using Lefty and CONTROLLED SHOCKS WHAT THE FUCK HENRY, She just sits in Mike's office during his shifts and occasionally punches the other animatronics if they start being snarky in the vents too much but otherwise doesn't do too much.

One Fnaf movie spoiler idea under the cut

• Movie Vanessa gets dropped into the game universe and is either horrified that her family is british in this universe but hey her new siblings actually like her or her Vanny Fursona is so ugly she immediately redesigns it to not be terrible anymore.

[mikkaeus]

5.17 the social contract really gave us everything huh. the pt with the frontal lobe disinhibition who starts saying his thoughts with no filter and driving away his wife and kid, house seeing himself in him, wilson yelling at him about trying to pry into every aspect of his life — and right afterwards when the pt asks him to do the incredibly dangerous surgery to maybe fix the frontal lobe issue he goes to chase and when chase asks him why, he actually has a genuine, vulnerable moment that he leaves be instead of immediately turning around and making a joke or deflecting as he’s done in the past

When he leaves here, he's going to lose his family. He's gonna alienate the people he works with. And if he ever finds a friend who's willing to put up with his crap, he'll be lucky. Until he drives them away too.

and then just like. house actually volunteering to go to new york with wilson when he meets his brother to support him!! (though he gets caught up in a case and misses the big moment, it’s a big fucking leap nonetheless). their conversation about wilson feeling responsible for what happened to his brother (his villian niceness origin story. which is actually pretty fucking heartbreaking. So you made your one effort to live a normal, selfish life, and the universe immediately smacked you down. And because we're wired to find meaning in semi-random events, you decided never to be that careless again.) and house isn’t a facetious asshole for once. it’s his own brand of comforting, as a wilson-proclaimed ‘reality junkie’. which is capped off by the final lines of the episode:

Wilson: Do you think things will work out with my brother? House: No. But when it does go wrong, it won't be your fault. Wilson: Thanks, House. ← THIS WAS GENUINELY FUCKING HEARTFELT please kill me

and we also get this excellent articulation of why they WORK

House: Does it bother you that we have no social contract? Wilson: (laughs) My whole life is one big compromise. I tiptoe around everyone like they're made of china. I spend all my time analyzing: What will the effect be if I say this? Then there's you. You're a reality junkie. If I offered you a comforting lie, you'd smack me over the head with it. Let's not change that.

and that’s not even getting started on the secondary plotlines of 

- house being shocked and upset when wilson says he’s just been pretending to like monster trucks?? and his need to reaffirm that that was a lie in the aftermath??? like although he obviously didn’t take it at 100% face value he was definitely worried that it was true, that wilson had been putting on a front for him as he does for the rest of the world 

- house’s reaction to thinking that wilson’s got cancer ± SI. (yeah i know what’s coming unfortunately despite me avoiding spoilers like the plague. i foresee many tears in my future) (man all the fake cancer scares so far hit fucking different when you know the ending)

- house’s reaction to thinking that taub is hanging out with wilson. pls he’s so jealous. 

[harpieisthecarpie]

tbh One of the many things I don't like about beauty culture (particularly anti-aging and weight loss) is how immutable it makes our bodies out to be. It makes Beauty a linear path, and even temporary deviation from that path is warned against, because "you know you'll never look the same after, right?"

You need to develop a skincare routine early because if you get bad acne that'll leave acne scars.

(What's wrong with acne scars? My brother has acne scars.)

You need to watch your weight because even if you lose it, you'll still have the stretch marks.

(What's wrong with stretch marks? My brother has stretch marks on his back from puberty. My aunt has stretch marks from giving birth to my cousin.

I have stretch marks, and I don't mind them. I don't mind being fat, either.)

You shouldn't get weird piercings or shitty tattoos, those marks are never really gone.

(What's wrong with piercings and tattoos? My favorite teacher had a Tweety Bird tattoo on her ankle, it's one of her only features I remember. My first dormmate at university showed me all her stick n' pokes, and told me all the stories behind them.

My cousin was afraid to tell our grandpa about his tattoos, but he was excited to show them to me. Now he asks if I like the designs every time he plans a new one.

The cashier who stopped wearing gauges was nice, why do you care about their ear lobes?)

Don't get plastic surgery, it ages you and makes you look weird. And you can't undo it, ever.

(What's wrong with people who've had plastic surgery? A few of my tias had it before I was born. That's the only way they've ever looked to me. My friend got her nose restructured to help her breathe. My friend gets botox for her chronic migraines. My friend got work done, you aren't owed a reason.

You say you hate toxic beauty standards but you mock the people that buckle under them. Why don't you focus on the industry making money from pain, instead of criticizing the people its hurt?)

Don't frown, you'll get wrinkles. Don't squint, you'll get wrinkles. Don't skip any part of this 26 step skincare routine, or you'll get wrinkles.

(My grandparents have wrinkles. My parents have wrinkles. My teachers had wrinkles. My coworkers have wrinkles. Scientists and poets and athletes and truckers and artists and blue collar workers have wrinkles, too.

When I'm afraid I'll never be accepted, I remember who has wrinkles. Trans people who transitioned young. Trans people who transitioned last year. My family correcting each other on my name. A parent seeing my pronoun pin and subtly teaching their kid that I'm worthy of respect. And that they're safe to be themselves, no matter what.

"Do you wanna ask the nice librarian for their help finding a book? I'm sure they'd love to help."

What a beautiful thing to hear. What a beautiful person. What beautiful crows feet and smile lines and forehead wrinkles. I hope I live long enough to have those.)

[cw: references to self-harm and sh scars below, ends at next bold]

Worrying about the scars was never the thing that stopped me from self harming. If anything, it made my depression worse.

Before and after and during, I'd think "I'm sorry future me, if there is one. I know these will just be horrible reminders. I know they'll make us ugly. I know they'll make us unloveable. I know you'll look back and hate me for this. I know I'm being selfish, but I don't know how else to survive."

It's almost funny, how none of that is true. I usually don't even notice my scars at all. They're faded enough no one else does either, but I'm comfortable bringing them up, if I want to. They're not notable, just part of my skin.

Sometimes I run my fingers over my silvery scars to feel the healing I never thought would happen. I never thought they'd get to fade.

[cw for sh references ends]

I told my therapist that I used to hate the thought exercise of "what would you do if you met your younger self?" because I hated myself so much it extended into the past. And I didn't want my future self to be so arrogant as to like themselves.

Then my therapist asked me the question, of course. "What would you do if you met your younger self?"

And I said I'd laugh and let them get a punch or two in, because I knew they'd want to. I said I'd hug them and tell them "It's okay if you hate me, I don't mind. But I don't hate you, and you can't stop me."

So, yeah, I don't like how beauty culture makes being alive so linear, so definitive. I always heard about the marks on my body that they knew I'd regret. Like my body was a tally of my failures.

A person changes countless times throughout their life, and those changes are rarely permanent. You change your favorite song, your fashion style, your career, your beliefs, your family, your sleep schedule.

You feel better. You feel worse. You feel better again. You feel the worst you've ever felt. You feel okay. You feel happy. You feel guilty about feeling happy. You feel, constantly, for your entire life, and you can't force one feeling to stick.

Your body is no different, it will change along with you, no matter what. Don't punish yourself when it does.