#// I have said literally nothing about it but everything I say has three layers to it minimum that no one but myself is going to understand

[m0e-ru]

the more I answer certain questions about my au and inevitably vomiting about it it still isn't enough. like there's so much there's just a lot and it's crazy like I'm taking you to a storage unit and pulling up the shutters and flashing a light around for a few seconds and that's it and we walk outside and I own the whole building and another one in a different city because it's that crazy like. the only properly published content I can offer is non chronological one shots and I'll rewrite the introduction twenty seven times in a week and give up and say nothing about it entirely yknow

[i-heart-hxh]

So, a few days ago I found this post on Reddit from 2 years ago (that sadly barely got any attention at the time) that sheds a ton of light on the separation scene between Gon and Killua, and my mind is blown! I've known for years that there was some sort of Togashi "coding" in the dialogue and it was always like I could get halfway to understanding, but this post gives the rest of the puzzle pieces that I was missing, and ties into other scenes that I was uncertain about the meaning of as well. It's heartbreaking, but also hopeful for their future! I had to share it with you all. Please read it!

The original Reddit post has been deleted, but here is a link to the author's Reddit profile. (I received permission from the original author to post this here.)

In-Depth analysis on the Hidden Reasons behind Gon & Killua's separation scene (ep 147) Why Gon is 'Number 2'

The translations across the separation scene in both manga (chp 338) and the anime (ep 147, 2011) have some shortfalls. These dialogues are vital for understanding even the first layer of reasons behind this separation.

REASONS FOR KILLUA'S DELICATELY PLANNED SEPARATION 

1. WHEN -

There are very important reasons why Killua picked a specific timing to tell Gon about Alluka. It was Killua's plan all along, to only tell Gon at a moment's notice, to make sure Gon won’t get time to ask any DETAILS. He is deliberately downplaying the seriousness of everything he’s been through to heal Gon, so it will have less impact on Gon, and at the same time, avoid Gon asking details. Prior to healing Gon, Killua specifically asked Morel and Leorio to promise not to tell Gon that he saved him. After Gon was healed, there was a scene in the anime (ep 148) which showed the three spent a night together before reaching the World Tree. During that time, Killua still haven't said anything. It wasn't until the moment when they were literally saying the last goodbye, Killua casually brought up:

“Oh, by the way, this guy healed you."

I want to emphasis the word Killua used to address Alluka was “こいつ”. This is a very light and overly casual word used to address someone you know, and usually a playful guy friend (e.g. “This guy used to be my neighbour.” type of feeling). The manga and anime translation, “She’s the one that healed you,” did not clearly depict the intentional casualness.

2. WHAT was SAID -

If Killua just doesn’t want to burden Gon with guilt and responsibility, then why not just keep his mouth shut and say nothing? That’s because Killua found a better option than not telling Gon anything. Killua shifted the “priority of reasons” a bit, so the VERSION OF EVENTS he told Gon, was PRIORITIZED on Alluka’s rescue rather than healing Gon. This way, they will also get to THANK Gon, and put an emphasis on thanking Gon because Killua make it SEEMED like it was more important to rescue Alluka, that the INITIAL REASON for Killua to go home, was to rescue Alluka. Only AFTER Alluka was freed, they came to the hospital to heal Gon, out of convenience, since only Alluka has the ability to do so, and since she’s now outside. The MAIN motive for these past events has been delicately swapped around by Killua, so the focus switched to the rescue of Alluka, rather than healing Gon. Hence Alluka is “No. 1”, Gon is “No. 2”. Downplaying it so healing Gon was just a bonus convenience (ep 147, 19:12 to 19:51).

Killua then goes on another level to make this version of events seem even more realistic, by saying “….You owe me a lot now,” in a teasing and playful tone of voice. This is to again, downplay the seriousness of everything he’s been through, to comfort Gon that "Yes you owe me one now, but don’t you worry! I will make sure you pay it back okay?! Hehe!”

3. WHY -

The fight with Pitou allowed Killua to witness Gon's ultimately immature mind set when it comes to “repaying someone, and redeeming himself.” Kite lost an arm and his life to protect him. So Gon gave his life and was even more happy when Pitou took his arm too. Gon will always want to “match” what was sacrificed by another, by throwing away AT LEAST the same. Not “sacrificing”, but THROWING AWAY. It’s so immature, so dangerous, no one will be able to keep up with him. Killua was very confident with how much he could take, but even Killua himself is at limit. This ultimate baka!! (ep 136, 17:50 - 20:17)

If this is how far Gon will go for Kite, he can only imagine what Gon would go recklessly into if he knew the DETAILS. This is when Killua decided on a way to part with Gon the way they did, and to PROVIDE him a particular REASON.

“I’m prepared to spent the rest of my life protecting her.” 

This is the reason Killua wants Gon to know, but NOT what he actually wants to do with his life. Although it’s true he feels responsible and genuinely wish to protect Alluka and Nanika, but it’s not what he ultimately WANTS to do. He NEEDS to protect Alluka, but he WANTS to spent his entire life by the side of a certain baka…

After the previous events, Killua was traumatized, especially when he saw Gon's twisted decaying arm. That was a breaking point for him, after that, the only thing that matters THE MOST for him is for Gon to be safe. He also realized that in order to protect this baka... it’s better if he keeps a distance for now, until he finds a solution to keep Alluka safe from Illumi and his family.

4. THE PARTING -

By planning this parting with Gon, Killua hopes Gon will become detached from him. And that time and distance will slowly render him less important to Gon. So if he was to die... (because Illumi is hunting them down) he did for Alluka, he did it for the vow to protect Alluka, not Gon. We knew Killua always plans ahead, and here, he plants this reason for Gon in the future so he won’t need to feel responsible if he was to die protecting Alluka (or die with Alluka while Illumi is hunting them). This is what’s going through Killua’s head:

“If I die, you’re not responsible for anything. You don’t owe me anything, so NEVER throw your life away again. My only one wish, is for you to be safe. So here I am. I’m parting ways with you... Because I SAID you are only ... No. 2 ... I SAID you are not the most important to me.. So don’t think of me as the most important to you too….”

This, is Killua’s eternal Devotion. 

5. THE RESULT -

As a result of this deliberate planning by Killua,

Gon was made to believe:

While I was recovering in hospital Killua had to go home and rescue his sister 

Alluka is such a cute sister and she can grant Killua any wish?!!! Wow…that’s one cool sister…

Well… no wonder Killua thinks his cool sister is more important than me, it’s only natural. 

Looks like Killua finally found what he wants to do. He will enjoy traveling the world with such a cool sister, it will be so much fun. I should be happy for him, I can’t hold him here... I have to let him go…

VS

The DETAILS omitted:

Gon was not recovering at all in the hospital. Killua RESORTED to USE Alluka in order to heal Gon. 

Alluka’s blood stained dark past and the risks and uncertainty that still involves.

Baka Gon is always No. 1 !

Killua and Alluka are desperately trying to find a way to out of Illumi’s grasp. Illumi is hunting them down and trying to make Killua his puppet again. And this time it's not going to be just a needle in the head... Killua can feel it. And if things doesn’t work out, he will just kill Alluka.

These Reasons are the core of the separation. We have a song named “Reason”… aren’t the lyrics shedding a new layer of light now?

6. IMPORTANT WORDS ALLUKA USED TO FACILITATE A BETTER RELATIONSHIP AFTER REUNION -

Killua promised to “always be together” with Alluka.

But to this promise, Alluka’s response was always silent (episode 145, 3:32 to 4:19). She looked at Killua with deep thought. Because even in such a short amount of time, she realized Killua is doing all this to ALSO or MORE SO protect Gon. It was never just for her, it will never be just for her, and there will never be anyone more important than Gon for Killua. She’s moved by Killua’s devotion and resolve, and she can also feel his sadness…   

If, the situation was different, if Gon was never there to begin with, and Killua just happened to solely come to Alluka’s rescue, and then make a promise to stay together with her forever, Alluka’s natural reaction will be melting with happiness, she’d be crying tears of joy, and hugging Killua. But in this instance, she was composed, she sensed her brother’s deep seriousness and sadness. That’s why later on, she reassured the two at parting, that they will see each other again, without disclosing Killua’s true REASONS. 

The Exacted words Alluka used (Manga chpt 338, 2011 anime epi 147)

a. Manga translation: “I’m going to HUG my brother for a while and then I will LET HIM GO.”  

b. Better translation: “I’m going to have my brother all to myself for a while and then I will let him free.”                            

c. The exacted phrase: “I’m going to Monopolise my brother Exclusively for a period of time, then I will Release him.”

独り占 (Monopolise Exclusively) 

Very strong characters with Explicit meaning. Have it all to oneself. Same characters and meaning used in Chinese as well. （独占）

解放 (Release) 

This is much more formal and serious than “let go”. It implies the subject was initially bound/locked/restricted. Also the same characters and meaning used in Chinese.

Alluka employed these words to imply a forceful lead in this “deal” of owning Killua exclusively. These words have an underlying tone of enslavement. 

Why? Because Alluka knows, the harder she IMPOSES herself on Killua during their time together, the more effective it would be on the easing of Killua’s own guilt. 

Killua felt immensely guilty.

No one will enjoy a relationship bound by guilt. 

Alluka knows clearly that part of her brother’s promise, was formed with guilt, from using her and Nanika, that he was having fun with Gon while Alluka was literally forgotten. Although it's true that this was largely due to Illumi's manipulation, but the fact that he did just left her in the basement all this time was both unacceptable and unforgivable to Killua himself (episode 138, 13:28).

Therefore apart from protecting Gon, this was the other important reason for this separation. Almost as if Killua has accepted this as a befitting price to pay in order to redeem himself as a brother.

Alluka and Nanika have no condition nor demand in return for Killua’s requests. But Killua imposed a price on himself for having Gon healed. Out of guilt. Alluka knows, Nanika knows. That’s why Alluka used the word 解放 (release), because it will make Killua feel better, that he has complied with her ‘enslavement’, so when the time comes, Killua will be able to release HIMSELF from guilt, and go back to Gon, properly. Alluka loves her brother, and she’s prepared to help him towards a better relationship with Gon in the future, by helping him to eliminating this chain of guilt.

lol Alluka totally ships Gon and Killua ! XD

Thank you for reading.

[kaeso4ka]

You're just on a research expedition on another planet, but something goes wrong

Pairing: yandere! planet! Primus x human! reader

You're sent on an expedition, and you don't understand why you're the one. There are far more deserving people on Earth. Still, you're going to get paid decently, so so be it

The planet, named Metal Titan by Earth scientists, is a boring place. Almost. A large metallic rock, several times the size of Earth, with a strange feature: suspiciously flat ravines going… Where to? Miles down? Or straight to the planet's core?

The planet is completely uninhabitable for human life. No oxygen, no food, no water. Nothing but unidentifiable metal

And yet you love the planet's sky. Dark purple, dark blue. And two moons that take up a lot of space in the sky.

But something's not right. You swear you've seen the trees on this planet several times with your own eyes. Soil. Fruit? But the minute you call in the other scientists, it all disappears. You seem to go mad in the wilds of space.

People fly away, leaving you alone; you're almost ready to beg to take yourself with them. You're alone on the planet - the only living thing… And that's not scary. What is scary is that you somehow know: you're not alone here

You're being watched. While you're sitting in your spaceship, when you get out of it… Someone's looking right at you, you feel a burning stare in your back. But there's no one behind you

One day you leave on a research mission deep into the planet, and when you get back to your camp, you notice there's nothing. No camp, no ship. Just the yawn of a dark, metallic ravine that has opened up right underneath everything that kept you alive. You're terrified

You count the amount of oxygen in your tank. An hour. You have an hour to live. Even better, you won't have to suffer a three-day death from dehydration.

… but when it's time to die, you decide to take off your spacesuit. Maybe a sip of poisoned atmosphere will kill you faster.

It didn't. You breathed like you would on Earth. Oxygen. There's oxygen on this planet? Impossible! The studies said otherwise

The wonders never cease. You see - you see it with your own eyes! - as the planet literally evolves before your eyes. Rivers appearing, trees, nature. Food growing on them. Exotic, but food. I think you even saw organic animals. But it's still a metal planet. You can still feel the metal beneath your feet

A crazy thought comes to you out of the blue. You think about the fact that it's not the planet that's intelligent…. It's the planet itself that's intelligent. The planet that didn't want to let you go, but still made it possible for you to live. You find nothing better to do than to ask in the silence of the whole world.

The planet is silent.

You almost exhale, and then you go to sleep. Only to wake up not on the surface of the planet, but somewhere very far beneath the layer of metal, where the dark ravines lead.

You get hysterical. You're running around in a weird-light cave, bashing metal walls, wiping your hands bloody. You don't want to die like this. You don't want to die at all

When it gets easier, you explore the caves. You don't explore for long. Soon enough, you find your ship and your camp. Safe and sound. However, on the suspiciously plain wall opposite the camp, in calligraphic handwriting in English, is written clearly: “Hello. I am Primus.”

You lose consciousness, and come to your senses in the camp on your soft (though not like a bed on Earth) bunk. There are strange metal tentacles looming next to you. Ribbed. Cold. You're ready to pass out one more time

This is insane. You're communicating with an intelligent planet. A planet. A huge cosmic body. The planet - no, Primus - says it studied, uh. Studied humans, and then stole your ship and camp from you so it could use the information and finally learn to communicate like a human. Couldn't, of course. The planet couldn't speak, but it could write on its own metal flesh with the ubiquitous plugs

Primus writes that he wishes no harm to humans or to you. But he was strangely lonely, and he's glad you decided to stay with him. You don't correct him, because it wasn't you who stayed voluntarily, but you were forced to stay. You think about how to correctly ask the planet to return your camp and your ship to the surface

Primus turns out to be very talkative. He talks, he asks, he wants to know everything about you. You want to know a little more about the intelligent planet, too, because you feel a Nobel Prize coming on. And a lot of money

As it turns out, Primus is indeed an intelligent planet, formed millions of years ago. But the term “planet” isn't quite right. It's not a planet, it's a giant robot, a computer. A mechanical life form. A planet is just a form. A form that at any moment can create another life form… and transform itself

When the information becomes enough and you start to get tired of living in the bowels of a living organism, you ask to let yourself out to the surface. It's time to go to Earth

Primus ignores that request

For the thousandth time.

You kick the nearest metal wall. Then Primus writes that he will never let you go.

You're hysterical again. You don't understand the planet's motivation, and the planet is slow to explain.

At some point, Primus opens a passage for you, but it doesn't lead up, it leads down. So you go, because you have no choice. And you come to-- To the core of the planet

The core of Primus is not like Earth's core. The core of Primus, he claims, is his soul, his spark. You're comparing that core to some super-computer powered by a spherical sphere.

Primus first asks you to come to the core, and then, when you refuse, he drags you to it by force, through the tight grip of the plugs. You can't resist the superior force of an entire planet.

When you're almost thrown into the arms of white light, everything disappears. When you open what you think are your eyes, you find yourself in a bizarre world of ones and zeros.

Is that what an intelligent planet thinks? You don't know. You don't know anything anymore because you don't even have a body. You're absorbed into the planet's interior, into the core. And there's no way of getting out

All signs of the organic life that Primus created for you are disappearing from the planet's surface. It no longer makes sense: his little organic man is now forever with him, in him, dissolved in the fields of his Spark.

Perhaps in billions of years another planet will crash into the planet, hitting the core. And perhaps one smaller organic moon will form next to Primus, instead of two moons, which will be his companion forever.

[skyfallscotland]

Hello Amy! I love your writing and it’s actually inspiring me to start writing as well, I have these ideas floating around in my head but I am also scared to start cuz maybe it will reveal I suck at writing … how did you feel when you first started writing and do you have any advice?

Hi! Thank you so much, I love that for you! 💗 I've been writing stories all my life but I published my first fanfic online in my very early teens. Someone commented that it was quite literally the worst fanfic they'd ever read in their life and you know what, maybe it was.

Here's an excerpt I pulled from something I wrote in 2007, three fics after that (because everything earlier has been scrubbed from existence):

Okay, maybe I should start from the beginning. I'm fifteen years old and have an older brother named Remus, Remus John Lupin. Oh you've heard of him have you? Not surprising, he is a marauder after all. Anyway back to me. I have black hair as I've already said, with layers and purple extensions underneath. I've got pale white skin and my nose and ears pierced. I have green-grey eyes. They're kind of bright, but don't get me wrong, they're 100 percent normal. Nothing special about little ole' me...well besides the fact that I'm a witch that is. But you already knew that didn't you?

Ah, the golden years of emocore, what a time to be alive. Ok, now let's all promptly pretend that never happened. Ok? Cool.

Look, here's the thing, I always thought writing came naturally to me, but upon reflection, I've realised it doesn't. I don't think the process of writing itself comes naturally to anyone, it comes with practice. What is a gift is the imagination—being able to visualise a story, interactions, scenes in your head. If you have ideas floating around in your head you're already halfway there.

I write because the ideas in my head won't leave me alone until they're out there, on the page. I write because no one else has written the exact story I want to read. I write because I like the feeling of community and understanding it brings when you post something and other people say they feel it. My best advice is entirely cliché and that's to write from the heart and write for yourself and not anyone else—everything else will fall into place.

I get this question more than I ever expected to, so I've actually spent some time writing up a masterpost with some helpful tips, tricks & links to add to my FAQ. So hopefully you'll find that useful! I'll link it here: part one—advice and part two—resources.

[denaphoenix]

Hazbin Hotel - the first two episodes, but only how it made me feel about the characters without spoiling any plot.

Angel - I’m still in love with Angel. He’s a living, breathing closed door, layers upon layers of not himself while also seemingly having no filter - and the subtlety of letting little tiny glimpses of what’s underneath show is awesome. 

Vaggie - Vaggie is amazing. She’s got so much heart and cynicism, and it’s more well-balanced than I’ve ever seen it in fanfiction. Especially digging her vibes with Angel because she’s not really antagonising him, and I’ve got a feeling that underneath it all, she’s digging him just because he says the things she’s sometimes thinking, and then she doesn’t have to say it, and can instead tease Angel for having said it, because all in all she knows that whatever’s being said will fall on deaf ears anyways. (all of that mostly being conveyed in vibes) Also, who wouldn’t revel in annoying Angel Dust? He’s annoying after all!

Charlie - Still Charlie. I don’t think she’s entirely getting it. Any of the it. Another super layered performance that gives off major toxic positivity mixed in with the non-toxic normal positivity. I feel like she might be getting there, but not before something blows up in her face worse than it’s already blowing up in her face. I just really want to take her aside and slap her - in a good way. She’s just darling.

Alastor - literally screaming. He’s delicious. He’s just - a presence. Personified chaos, and just barely scraping that uncanny every second he’s there. Love how he just ignores everything he’s not interested in addressing, and seems to genuinely be standing above everything. Unphased, and easily agreeing when presented with arguments, while also never seeming like he’s losing in any exchange. Nothing’s personal for him, I feel like, and I dig that. He’s always either “ok fair”, “ok, fair, but” or “sorry to disappoint” - those are the three modes and I just want to be half as classy as him. Or at least half as unhinged.

Husk - he’s… there. The first two episodes gave me just enough of him to kinda get me settled with the new voice, and other than that, all he’s offering are Husk vibes - which are no-nonsense, and uninterested to the max. He’s doing things, sure, but it always has the vibe of him only doing them because walking away would have just been too much effort. Can’t wait for his no-nonsense to actually contribute to things.

Nifty - I am obsessed with Niffty. Loved her before, and now that we’re getting more actual character development, boy am I here for it. She’s got a character, and the character is single-minded, trope-based, obsession. And I’m here for it. 

Sir Pentious - amazing voice acting, and Pent just continues to be so FUN. I’m pretty sure he’s got about one brain cell, and the results of that give me life. 

Adam - ok, I feel like I need to be spoiling this, because he himself said it best. He’s quite literally “the original dick”, and I don’t mean it in the way he seems to see it. There, I said it. He’s making my skin crawl, and while I’m still on the fence with how he’s being voiced, the longer I think about it, the more I think that that was actually a smart move to balance out the ick with some ridiculousness so they can have him make his statements before everyone with a vagina switches off. So yeah, barely bearable, and I don’t know if I want him to be even that bearable, because he could otherwise be powerfully unbearable.

Lute - highly dislikeable girl, and in the best way possible. Heartless and uncaring, and deep in the rationalisation tunnel. I wanna hug her just to get the experience of getting pushed away.

Velvette - will take some serious getting used to, that one. Don’t know what I expected but it wasn’t this. I think what might have put me off was her voice being more… idk… cockney than expected? Or… deep? Or… assertive? Or…sane? Uhm, I don’t know what it is, really, if I’m being honest. Pretty sure I will get around to digging her eventually though. Because the potential is SO there. So yeah, kind of looking forward to getting that to click.

Valentino - currently unlocking a new tier of hating Valentino - the “I do not understand his vibes” tier, which is very much interlinked with the realisation that I do not see whatever the casting team must have seen in Valentino’s voice actor. Whatever they were going for, I don’t think they got there. I don’t even like to hate him… he’s just - taking me out of the story with his line delivery and fucking with my mind in a non-good way.

Vox - Vox is the complete opposite to Val in terms of my feelings - I love, love LOVE Vox. He’s absolutely awesome, and I just want MORE of him. The voice acting’s got so much depth. He’s bringing the sleazy, and the despicable, but also the deeply HUMAN underneath it all - which just makes his scenes with Val all the more jarring. 

Katie Killjoy - yeah, she’s just Bryce Tankthrust in hell. A tad underwhelming, but the meta’s funny, so I’ll certainly be able to deal.

All in all, it was a solid two episodes, and the music was banging, so I'm still aboard the hype train.

[dreamlandforever]

@writersmonth Prompt: Day 22 - Sunscreen

Fandom: Teen Wolf | Sterek WC: 800

AO3

XXII. Sunscreen | 

“Derek, why does our son look like he has the same skin condition as Lord Voldemort?” Stiles asks carefully, holding Eli by the shoulders so Derek can see him.

“I have no clue what you are talking about.” Derek says simply, getting a few cold drinks out of the cooler to hand to Boyd and Jackson, sitting next to him on the beach chairs. The two take the drinks gratefully, but completely ignore whatever is going on.

“Derek.” Stiles says again, too calmly to be anything good. “Look at our son.” 

Derek turned to the two of them, first at his son, and then at Stiles, as if to prove there was nothing wrong. 

Stiles sighed, but turned around. “Lydia! Can you come here for a moment, please?”

Derek raised an eyebrow at him, but Stiles stared back at him. “I would’ve called Isaac, but he’s afraid of you now, congratulations.” Derek smiled at that. It was about damn time his betas were more afraid of him than they were of his husband. He knew it was momentarily, because Isaac had accidentally thrown the volleyball too hard at Stiles and he now had a black eye, and Derek hadn’t exactly reacted in the calmest of ways. No physical violence, because Derek had actually worked on becoming a good Alpha and he wasn’t about to throw everything away, but he might have actually yelled at Isaac. He caught himself before it became a tirade, but still. Maybe he shouldn’t be proud after all. 

“Your kid looks ridiculous.” Lydia said as soon as she was within hearing distance, without Stiles actually having to prod. 

“He’s protected.” Derek countered. 

“Derek. My love. My sun. There’s so much sunscreen on Eli that I can’t even grab him without him slipping out of my hold.” Stiles explained. As if to demonstrate, he tried to grab Eli’s wrist, but the boy’s hand simply slipped off. 

“We don’t know if he’s a werewolf yet, Stiles, we need to protect him from the sun.” Derek countered.

Stiles opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it again without saying a thing.

“Okay, I’ll be in sunscreen duty.” Lydia said, using her towel to hold onto Eli’s hand, who so far had only stayed where his Dad had told him to. He wasn’t sure how to move when he had so much cream all around him. “Come on, buddy, we’re going to get all the excess off and then you can get in the water. Uncle Isaac and Aunt Erica are playing shark, and I’m sure you can beat them both.”

Eli nodded at his aunt, but still didn���t move. Lydia sighed loudly, shooting a glare at Derek, before kneeling by Eli to wipe the excess off right there, before applying a normal, thin layer all over the kid. It seemed to break the spell, and Eli was walking towards the water again, Lydia following close behind and pointing him towards the rest of the Pack. 

“Babe. He’s a child. You broke him. You literally broke him. He came to find me standing like a starfish and just looked at me. Malia laughed so hard I’m pretty sure she peed, and Eli just stared at me.” 

“Fine, maybe I overdid it.” Derek relented. 

“He was white. Not pale like me. White. Actually white.” Derek just nodded. 

“I’ll hold back.”

“Thank you, babe. I will make sure he gets a retouch at least every three hours, okay? He’ll be fine.” Stiles assured him, and Derek nodded, grabbing Stiles’ hand to pull him against his chest.

“Are you wearing sunscreen?” Derek asked kindly, pressing a kiss against his husband’s forehead.

“A perfectly normal amount, Der. I will retouch every time Eli does.” He promised, placing a kiss of his own on Derek’s nose. “Now, if you excuse me, I have to go make sure our two year-old doesn’t drown anyone of this Pack.” Stiles said, walking towards the water as well, before stopping mid-step. “Actually, anyone in general. He’s not allowed to drown anyone at all.” He said, seemingly to himself, before he resumed walking.

“Thank you, love.” Derek called after him, and Stiles waved at him in acknowledgement. 

“Pay up.” Boyd said, extending his hand at Jackson. 

“I don’t have my wallet in my swimsuit, man. But, yeah, whatever, I’ll Venmo you.” Jackson said, grabbing his phone to do just that.

Before Derek could even ask, Boyd explained, “Jackson here thought Stiles would be overprotective of Eli. I have seen Stiles when Isaac or Scott get injured. So I bet on you.” 

Derek rolled his eyes and sat down on his chair. “Stiles’ very protective of the kid.” 

“He’s reasonably protective. You made us drink out of paper cups for months just in case Eli found a real glass or cup.” Jackson countered. “Actually, I don’t know why I bet on Stiles.” 

“I told you” Boyd said happily, drinking the cold beer Derek had handed him. 

“I hate you all.” Derek said simply, laying down under their big umbrella. His son was safe, and so was his husband. He could enjoy a few hours of rest. 

[sixthwater]

Thoughts on Modern Vedic

I’m finally able to put it into words. It’s not so much the practice as it is the way it’s produced currently, in a way. I have a few people that I follow as I’ve said before that I enjoy their way of going about this system and it’s actually very interesting and they’re very intelligent as well as impressive, but the system just isn’t for me.

Unfortunately, the vast majority turns me off of that system and it’s similar to how astrologers in general can turn people off of astrology. Something that I’ve really liked with this system is the way it utilizes themes or stories? Blanking on the word- To go along with nakshatras, but it bleeds into other aspects and it treats people more like caricatures and not People. Which can circle right back into stereotyping.

Bharani people are inherently sexual so they will end up being promiscuous. I took it at face value before realizing that people started to see others through that lens and flatten them to two dimensional characteristics. Regardless of how you feel about her, let’s look at Selena Gomez because it’s the perfect example of this problem:

When in reality:

Even if the second photo is only slightly better while still repeating the same mistake, you can’t ignore the rampant bias going on in modern Vedic. And that’s what turns me off from it. It’s supposed to be more accurate but people look at a person’s three actions and go “I just KNOW they’re Jyeshta” while forgetting they have a whole chart to break down because, what? They were inquiring about how other people view them consistently enough?

I can’t help but get frustrated that so many layers of it are being forgotten and it’s the very very intricate layers of it. There are cons to it, as well as objective issues (saying a native is born to have unsuccessful marriages or a terrible life and there’s nothing they can do about it is…something), but there’s beauty to everything.

Let’s look back at Bharani cause, I’m a Bharani Moon. As you know, I’m Asexual. That’s cuts half of this nakshatra in half. But it really doesn’t lol. I believe that sensuality is forgotten in a world that media has put sexuality on a pedestal — not in a holier than thou way but it’s made people lose touch within themselves and within intimacy between their partners. So Sensuality is important to me in a way, I love seeing that in media. I also Love media that involves themes of death/rebirth/the afterlife. Seeing transformation and metaphors for it are wonderful even if no one really dies because literal death isn’t necessary. Not a special attribute but I will be insanely protective of women even if I just met them, you have to get through me first if you wanna fuck with them. However all of those other Bharani qualities I rarely see because it hides behind whatever you can sexualize within its nakshatra which is very boring to be honest. I know that’s the point but if that’s the case…okay.

So I believe that’s my issue here. Modern explanations or configurations are so full of bias that it makes it difficult for it’s pure form to come through and it waters down so much of what it has to offer, so that by the time anyone might find a good astrologer, that have to seriously be convinced it has something more to it than anything judgmental

[savagebisand]

I saw it be said a few times that Boeing is mature and whilst that man is a lot of things that have me questioning if I'm like... Mentally okay to have such a carnal desire for them. Mature is not one of the traits I'd assign. This is a man who is literally playing games with not just one now but two of his exes. He's spent what months? years maybe? being Tops go to call when he doesn't want a lonely night, the second he feels threatened of his security in Tops fucked up life, he makes a move on the so called threat aka Mew. He's master manipulating. Everything he says is double edged and eery and unsettling. Just how much does he pull strings on Top? You see it in how he talks to him, how he touches him.

Boeing doesn't care for Tops boundaries, he may have even been the start of Tops issues with fighting for his own boundaries being respected. Boeing does this thing where he keeps Top coming back to him for more, and he lords it over him. How long has it been, are you still sticking to the three month rule? He knows exactly the power he has and by god does he wield it. Sabotaging Tops other relationships so he can keep number one spot. Deceiving Mew so easily into believing it's a revenge that won't bite him in the ass, that he's a friend and not a wolf in sheep's clothing.

And as if that's not enough, he then next episode targets Sand again, purely because he hears about how Sand has moved on. Kinda like how he doubles down on his position in Tops life because he thinks Top can finally move on with Mew. Like he's terrified of someone replacing his legacy as The Best Option. Boeing likes pulling puppet strings, he likes keeping people stagnant in a place he can leave them and come back to peck at what's left later like a vulture. And the worst part is he does it because he needs attention.

There he is simpering to Mew and Sand about how he thinks he can be a better boyfriend than their current partners. Using Mews history against him, spinning this tale where Top is selfish and Boeing is "The Good Guy", then using his own history with Sand to delude Sand into this vision where he's blameless and just wants him back bad enough he's willing to be "The Bad Guy".

Funny how Boeing only starts caring if he still stands a chance when he thinks his position is threatened as Sands most important ex. He's still got his little revenge plot with Mew in the works but he wants Sand on his belt too. Also, all this man does is talk about his exes. He tells stories of the past where he and Sand played quiz nights at the bar, where Top took him wakeboarding and made him a pro. Constantly trying to undermine what his exes newest partners may see as special time for them because oh hey btw I did that first. The sheer audacity to bring up dates Sand and him used to do whilst at the same time he was prioritising Top over Sand? As if they're like fond memories?

Boeing presents himself as this true friends stab you in the front archetype but he's just a lost, lonely man desperate for even a shred of someone's attention and value. And that's kind of sad actually. Like babes move the fuck on? Get a life outside of these men's business and stop bothering them?

We love Boeing because he steps on the scene and emits this mean girl Regina George energy where you're like oh this vindictive little bitch is truly a supreme conniving pussy slaying cow. But when you peel back his layers it's like you are the most pathetic man to ever breathe sir. How hard is it to just move forward in life?

Boeing is that smart and that pretty and that good at pulling strings to get to high places and he wastes his time circling the flakey little meal that is this group of men. He literally invented gaslight, gatekeep and girlboss specifically for his exes and even Boston would shake in his leather studded cunt serving boots at the sight of Boeing. And yet, he's insignificant. He means nothing to anyone. He's indisposable at any time and he Knows it. He knows one day Top will say he no longer needs Boeing to play ghost of his past still haunting. That Sand will eventually see why Boeing was never the right one. So he claws for control by removing options. Because he'd never be a first choice all on his own.

I'm obsessed with him, I crave him carnally and viciously. I'd do truly wicked things to that maleficent poisonous man. But he better leave Sand tf alone. It's about time someone tells Boeing they want someone whose actually willing to change for them, to see past what is so say "not enough" within them to make Boeing truly loyal or commited, to choose someone who genuinely tries rather than someone who clings to falsified memories of a past with a significance that didn't and doesn't exist.

And yes I do want Sand to be the one to say it because my biggest fear is that Ray will go in all guns blazing when he overhears Boeing making a move on his man, take over the situation and then Sand will lose his chance to get closure and put autonomy back on Boeing for his part in the downfall of their relationship. If ray interferes, it's a loss of a chance for sand to make a point that he chooses ray no matter what in a way Ray can witness and feel the significance of. Because Ray knows but he's still learning that Sand will choose him over everything and he needs to hear Sand of his own volition, let go of such an important part of his past because Ray is the future he picks.

Top got the chance to clearly tell Boeing he picks Mew and now I need to see Sand do the same for Ray without Ray "forcing his hand" to use Rays expression from the ep when it came to making Sand make a big choice the first time around.

[gadgetrevive]

 The Cybertruck’s Ultimate Water Challenge: A Journey Through the Depths Mark, also known as TechRax, was known for pushing the limits of technology. Today, he stood next to his latest conquest: the Tesla Cybertruck. Its futuristic design gleamed under the cloudy sky, and Mark was about to test its mettle against nature's watery obstacles. "What is up, guys? TechRax here! In this video, we have a Cybertruck, and we are going to be testing it out against a big puddle of water," he announced, his voice brimming with excitement.Mark pointed to the large puddle in front of them. "You guys probably didn't see, but there's a car that tried to cross it and started reversing. It went back maybe a foot. I don't think it's that deep, to be honest, but we are going to find out," he said, setting the stage for the experiment.He circled the Cybertruck, showing off its impressive height. "I'll show you guys the side view. That thing looks crazy high when it's at the most elevated level, so I think it should be no problem. It says that in Wade mode, you can actually drive up to here, like up to this level right here. That’s crazy!"Mark climbed into the driver’s seat, eager to put the Cybertruck through its paces. "If you go to Dynamics and then to off-road, confirm, it's actually elevating right now," he explained. "There are three settings: high, medium, and low, and then there's very high. To enable very high, you have to go to Wade mode right here. It raises the ride height and pressurizes the battery when driving through shallow water. It may take up to 10 minutes to activate and has a time limit of 30 minutes."He tapped the screen to activate Wade mode. "Let's activate it. Alright, guys, off-road Wade mode has been enabled for 10 minutes. Let's give it a shot and see what happens." With a deep breath, Mark put the Cybertruck into drive. "This is it, guys. Let's see what happens."The Cybertruck rolled forward, its tires slicing through the water. "Oh snap! Oh my goodness, bro, I can't even see what is going on," Mark exclaimed, struggling to navigate. "Bro, where am I going? Bro, I can't see! Oh snap! Oh my goodness, bro, I was literally going way too fast."Despite the initial chaos, the Cybertruck handled the water with ease. "Wow, that is taking it with ease, though. Driving maybe 10 mph, wow, it's built like a tank. This is nothing, guys, literally nothing," Mark marveled.He drove through the puddle, the Cybertruck's powerful build showing no signs of strain. "Look at that! Wow!" he exclaimed, as the truck emerged unscathed from the first puddle. "Puddle number two now. This one is much deeper. And of course, as soon as I start recording, it starts raining again."The rain added an extra layer of challenge, but Mark pressed on. "Okay, still really nothing. Literally going through like a tank. Wow, that is crazy. Sheesh! Easy money," he commented, impressed by the Cybertruck's performance.The next obstacle loomed ahead, deeper and more daunting than the last. "Puddle number three, guys. This part is super deep. Barely made it here, so we got Wade mode enabled. Everything is ready to go. Let's get it going," Mark said, a hint of nerves in his voice.He accelerated, determined to push the Cybertruck to its limits. "We are starting to accelerate. We're going to go a bit faster this time. Oh my goodness, guys. That is crazy! Oh my goodness, bro, that is insane. Bro, that is way too deep. That is way too deep. You got to get out of there, bro!" Mark's voice was a mix of excitement and concern as the Cybertruck powered through the deep water."Wow, look at that thing. It's a beast. Oh my goodness. Going through the ocean, made it, literally made it. That's crazy. Wow, what a beast!" he exclaimed, as the Cybertruck emerged victorious once again.After the intense test, Mark inspected the Cybertruck for any damage. "Okay, guys, the front was making a little bit of a rattling sound. You could see the little fender piece was in the way, but we popped it back in.

Shouldn't be a biggie. Obviously, this was like an extreme flood test. Besides that and the little piece here in the back, that seems like the only issue so far."He pointed to a small plastic piece that had snapped out. "Right here, there's this little plastic piece that just kind of snapped out, but I think we're good to go. The Cybertruck survived."A few hours later, Mark discovered a minor issue. "Now, one quick thing I wanted to show you guys. It's been a few hours since that water test. When I press these buttons, they don't seem to want to work. None of the three buttons. There's a button for the tailgate to open, one for the cover to open, and one for it to close. Now, if I go through the phone, it does work, so that's good news."He demonstrated using his phone to control the Cybertruck. "If I use the phone to open up the tailgate, that opens up. And if I press the close, yeah, even the close button, it actually was working earlier. The close button, none of the buttons work, so that's a little bit of a bummer."Overall, Mark was pleased with the Cybertruck's performance. "Overall, guys, everything seems to be fairly normal. I do hear some water swishing around there. I'm guessing it'll kind of, you know, get out of there wherever it's at. But overall, the frunk was pretty dry. The trunk was pretty dry."Mark signed off, satisfied with the day's experiment. "Hope you guys enjoyed that video. Thanks for watching. I'll catch you guys in the next one. Peace out."For more innovative tech reviews and extreme tests, visit [Gadget Kings](https://gadgetkingsprs.com.au/).

[alyjojo]

Past Life 🪡 Karmic Spread January 2024 - Leo

Character Card: The Witch (past), The Pathless (present)

Gender I’m Picking Up On (in the past life): Female - both

Who You Were: 5 Swords

What You Did: 2 Wands

How It Ended: The Fool

What Karma Was Brought With You: 6 Pentacles rev

Who You Brought With You: Queen of Pentacles

Additional energy: The World

Past Life Oracle: Mother & Biblical (past), Native American & Orphan (present)

Dreaming Way: Anchor (past), Sun (present)

Charm:

Moulin Rouge 💋 on The Fool

Balloons 🎈 on Native American

Fractal Moon rev 🌙 on The Magician rev & The Devil

T.W. rape, child harm

Yours is by far the oldest of the bunch, I can’t even guess a time period. With Biblical I’m getting Middle East…ish. A land of desert, but not sand, the ground is red, but it used to be green. When you were alive, it was all green. Something specific drying up, a river? Google says that’s possibly B.C. time periods, and what little research I did shows this as speculation. Your character card shows you as Witch, I’m getting more of an herbalist, at least your part in it, I keep seeing garlic 🧄 specifically, twisting garlic in long braids, but what you did with it I’m not sure. Sold it? Maybe garlic was just really important, this is a whole different world I’m seeing. It’s possible there’s “priestess” energy here, if so I’m getting it’s your mother - and you continuing this way of believing/practice. By force. Pressure. Not by belief. In the preshuffle, The Magician rev kept falling out over and over again, and I kept hearing “I didn’t know!” like you were upset, you’d been tricked. It came out like three times, and after laying everything out, it’s at the bottom of the deck again, with The Devil. Because it’s at the bottom, it’s something that’s carried over, so this is still affecting you now. You could be easily manipulated, or a sucker for a salesperson, a strong personality, a sleazy snake charmer that sounds confident enough. Fractal Moon shows many layers to these Devil experiences of trickery, manipulation, God knows what 🙏 It can’t be easy, still. In this life, it’s reversed, you’re going to see everything you didn’t see before, in the last life and this one up until these points of clarity.

Mother is combined with Biblical, clarified by 8 & 10 Swords. I keep hearing “rape”, I’ve heard “prostitution” and “sacrifice”, and it is intertwined with these beliefs of hers, whatever they were. Essentially, you were sacrificed. I don’t get that was the intent, maybe, but you were given to some male, like a toy to play with, and there was nothing you could do to stop it, because it was your mother that made the decision, it was her will. She was the boss. You were 5 Swords, you hated this, we’re very resentful, felt you could do it better than she could and not do these hurtful things, you didn’t believe what she did…and you may still have some deep seated traumas in relation to sex & intimacy, maybe it doesn’t make sense to you why it bothers you, or others, and now you know 💯 You were traumatized, more than once, many times. I’m also seeing you as a child, maybe not to others at the time of course, but by my and the law’s standards nowadays, you were a child. If you need a break here, take a break, you can’t see me but I have to leave my table for a few minutes, get a drink, breathe, and clear this part of the energy out of my head, it’s making me ill 😞 It’s everything one would fear it would be, it’s fkd up.

————-

Ok. I haven’t even gotten to the current life yet, but I see The Pathless here, and I’m just gonna say you’re probably being too hard on yourself by current societal standards, you’re literally here to heal a deep-seated trauma, not to give a fk about what anyone else has going on to compare yourself to. Or what they think. Ok? Be kind to you. Treat yourself now like you would this child. Nurture you, love you, speak life into you. With that being said, this isn’t your only life, you’ve probably had several, and probably have several different lessons going on simultaneously, but this is the main one showing up with karma to resolve, it’s the one you’ve either taken on or have been given to clear up (Moon rev). I can see why it took so long. You were ready now 💯

In the past, your personality was this Anchor, you were practical, logical, but raised in a cult basically, you didn’t believe any of this crap, and 5 Swords shows you with a mentality of “knowing better” in a condescending way. You hated everything about this lifestyle or what your mother did, or you were jealous of her position vs yours, understandably. She’s mentioned several times, she’s why your life ended. Your dream was stability, marrying a wealthy man, maybe even starting a business for yourself, you had dreams and ambitions that didn’t involve this life at all, but you were young, impressionable, female, and submissive by force. You didn’t have a choice, you just thought/hoped you did, you were right and you knew it. Your mother gave you to people, I’m getting several, they would come and go. One in particular took things too far, too rough, you were badly hurt and died from your injuries. It was brutal.

*breathe* Again… I love these readings until I get one that makes me ill in every sense. I’m sorry 😞 No one wants this life or story, this karma or trauma. This life has also been extremely difficult for you, that’s why it’s “The Pathless” which describes someone going in circles, having trusted shitty people to lead them, they now feel lost and directionless. Is that your purpose, no I don’t think that’s anyone’s purpose. It’s just where you are after the bs you’ve survived. But, you’ve survived 🩷 6 Pentacles rev is giving more than you ever receive, trickery, manipulation, deceit, cheating, it’s all at the bottom. You’re here, Queen of Wands, and the King is at the bottom as the one doing this to you, I’m guessing you’ve probably had a shitty partner. They don’t reciprocate the love or effort you give, they could be selfish, attention seeking, and a player. Or at least they have been before, because you do show up as a match, no one is reversed, this may be mentioning some history that’s been overcome - I’m not sure. It may not be romantic either, but someone you give and give and give to, endlessly, and you feel manipulated and trapped in chains to just continue giving for whatever reason. They were in this past life, but it’s not giving me a “who”, not the worst ones. If you were hoping for a specific person not just a dream person in the past, and this is romantic now, then it’s them. If it’s platonic, then it’s more of an acquaintance that wanted you in some way.

The other person you’ve brought is a Queen of Pentacles, could be an earth sign, there is a ton of that energy here, five cards just in this area. This person is your mother from the past, but not your mother now. Having the Orphan card, if you do have parents they’re distant, and in that case this may be one by blood, and you just have nothing to do with them. They show up with 7 Swords, Queen of Pentacles rev, Queen of Cups rev and 5 Wands, this person is trouble. Manipulative af, they’re a liar, a thief, a sneak, deceptive, controlling, and there’s some fkd up relationship with money being highlighted, they use people for money? Or they try to anyway, with sob stories and guilt trips, I’ll just stop. Fractal moon shows many layers to all of this, I couldn’t even cover it all I’m sure. You don’t deserve it, but you’re going to see it, and the point is to see it

The World is your purpose, seeing the truth about the snakes around you, maybe they’ve always been around you. You can only know what you know, until you know better, and then you can do better. That’s all you can do. You’re to put an end to painful situations and relationships that don’t reciprocate, don’t see your value, don’t honor your boundaries or show you respect. There is heartbreak to heal from, family related, love related, could be work related too with 10 Pentacles. It’s a feeling of lack, feeling unworthy, like you don’t deserve things you absolutely deserve, but Spirit needs you to see things clearly. You can build what you don’t have, once you know what’s not good for you and what you want, need, demand, expect, and deserve.

Native American with 3 Cups, clarified by 6 Swords. This may be a memory or something, somewhere you’ve traveled, obsess over, a deeper interest, it’s something that’s celebrated and feels personal to you. Or maybe was as a child. I don’t get that you’re actually Native American, could be, but I’m getting like a birthday party or some kind of event, it’s a confirmation message for whoever it is, and it’s positive from what I can see. The Sun ☀️ is your own energy, it radiates light, health, clarity, helps you see through this Moon bs for your highest good, it also promotes a long life ahead of you, and good health. Clarifying this Pathless, where are you supposed to be headed, because this ain’t it. 6 Pentacles upright, hallelujah, giving to those that give to you, period 💯 People, situations, jobs, setting the standard for yourself and only accepting that which gives you what you fkn deserve, I love this for you 🩷 Leos are meant to shine, this Pathless crap is not your destiny, it’s just your…very difficult challenge. Better things are meant for you when you decide you’re done with these kinds of people and this ick, you’re free to realize you’re a bad bitch and switch tracks whenever you feel like doing so.

[awkwarddystopianwarlord]

My Closet is Full But My Brain Doesn't See That

You know that stereotype of girls being like “I don’t have anything to wear!” whilst their room is drowning in articles of clothing? Even though I’m not always a girl, I’m very much like that. As are my friends. It’s a funny little battle every Friday night where we individually fight with our closets regarding what to wear on our sacred Saturday Gathering Day. 

I have about three small closets worth of clothing. Because of how my apartment is layed out, I have two closets that form a corner and I also have an IKEA four cube by four cube shelf situation. All of that space is occupied by clothing. One closet has all my jackets and coats, the other has all my dresses, flannels, sweaters, and socks. My cubes hold all my shirts, skirts, sweatshirts, shorts, trousers, and cardigans. But come the end of the week, I don’t bloody know what to wear to participate in weekend shenanigans! I own nothing and everything all at once. This is made worse by the fact that I only really have one day to get decked out with clothes, shoes, and makeup so it’s a stressful time. How do I present myself this Saturday? What is worthy of the planned activities? What items of clothing have I neglected of late and what do I repeat more often? I should just keep an extensive inventory, a Dewey Decimal System but for closet items. 

It’s embarrassing to act as though I don’t have anything good or decent or fun to wear when practically all that dwells in my closets are pieces that I enjoy and use. The nerve of me to strut about my room-house muttering how there’s nothing able to become an outfit. Meanwhile I just ordered a few clothes last week and they’re arriving tomorrow. I’ve ordered many a clothes before, because I like them, and now they sit in my closet and I am blind to their existence the moment I try to curate an appearance. 

Wintertime is the best time for me to dress as I please since I can layer and accessorize far more than I can in the warmer months, though it leaves more room for decision making and therefore brain blanking. I try to wear everything I own once before repeating anything. Like parents with multiple children, I’m assuming as I don’t personally have any, I don’t want to neglect any closet dweller. I want to show them all equal love and appreciation and incorporate them into something. That said, not everything is flexible and not everything fits into the current mood of the day I’m dressing for. Some clothes aren’t forgiving in stormy weather, others aren’t forgiving when my uterus is releasing its monthly contents. Some aren’t forgiving of a hearty meal, others aren’t forgiving of much walking, or much sitting. I may have an outfit idea but the morning of can easily snatch those plans away moments after I rise. 

Saying “I don’t have anything to wear” has more than just the literal translation. When we say it, we mean it to say something more like “I don’t have anything to wear because of the weather” or “I don’t have anything to wear because I’m bloated and feel gross and need something that’s easy to take off so I can deal with my menstrual cup with little chance of disaster”. My current dilemma is “I don't have anything to wear that I feel matches the mood of the punk market I’m going to tomorrow”. Granted, that is likely to change once I stare at each closet for several minutes, ponder, stare at everything again, take some items out, try them on, decide against them, mix and match other things with some decided staples, wander around grumbling, ponder again, stare, fold the discarded options, find inspiration, try on the inspiration, fiddle around with other things that work better together, create a look, eat dinner feeling victorious. I simply need to go through the process first. Then, come tomorrow, I will curate a makeup look that will likely not match at all with what I’m wearing and I will be complete.

[moonlight-prose]

Oh my goodness idk what this is but it just came to me (?)

The world almost ends….but then thanks to Peter and Doctor Strange…it doesn’t. He heads back to the Sanctum Sanctorum, on edge coz he needs to make sure you’re alright….sees you in his room and desperately makes you his. He’s already lost Christine, he needs to make sure you’re okay and still there with him

Do with this what you will…..

UNTIL THERE'S NOTHING LEFT

a/n: this is literally the first ever fic for this man and i have no idea if i got his character right. also the first smut fic of the year!! i don't think this is my best writing, but enjoy whatever chaos this is. i changed it up a bit if you don't mind such as making him losing his memory of the event altogether.

summary: unable to figure out why he feels this way, he turns to you for solace.

word count: 2.6k+

pairing: stephen strange x fem!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS SHOO, p in v sex, fingering, cream pie because why not, biting, angst, little bit of fluff, and cussing as always.

He couldn’t remember why he was this anxious. Fractured memories played on a loop in his mind and yet the longer he stood at the top of the stairs, watching the front doors, the longer he felt like he was losing it. Maybe he finally was. The parts of his brain that used to function with ease felt like they were being torn apart.

Frayed thoughts ran through his mind, bringing him back to the surface – keeping him from drowning in the depths of his mind. Yet still the anxiety pumped through his veins, forcing his heart rate to speed up exponentially. He helped someone with something…helped to save something. Nothing made sense tonight, not at a time where he felt like he had blacked out for hours on end.

“Stephen?” Your voice. Your…voice – you.

He turned, focusing on the single thing that seemed to drag his consciousness back to the world around him. “Hi,” he said even if he did sound distant physically as well as mentally.

“Everything okay?”

The frayed nerves still set him on edge, body putting out adrenaline in order to combat whatever he had been fighting. What had he been fighting? None of that mattered. Not now. You were there, watching him warily – as if he was someone entirely different – who knows he very well might be someone else. Has someone stolen his name, his body? Was that why he felt off putting – unlike himself?

“I – I don’t know.”

Such a pathetic, measly response, but there was nothing else he could say. The unknown used to be a small area of darkness to him and yet now…he felt like he was drowning in it. Gasping for air as the memories he should have never showed up. What if he completely lost himself in this cavern? What if he never found his way back to you? He couldn’t allow that to happen, because you were here and you…were perfect.

He didn’t recall stumbling his way towards you, nor did he hold any memory of how you ended up against a wall, but there you were. Staring up at him and holding his face so reverently that he felt the tears well up in his eyes. You were his anchor. The one dragging him forcefully out of his own endless pit that seemed content in swallowing him whole.

“Tell me,” you breathed, pressing your forehead to his. “What’s pulling you away from me?”

He wanted to tell you, desperately. He ached to know himself.

“I don’t know.” The same three words that were on repeat in his mind became all he could say to you. An explanation was nonexistent so he allowed himself to forget about the trauma that stuck to his skin like a permanent tattoo.

You’d save him. You’d protect him.

He was sure of it.

“What can I do?” You didn’t like the haunted look in his eyes. Nor did you appreciate how his hands shook again.

“Kiss me.”

The request felt like the easiest thing in the world for you to do – almost not enough – but for him…it was bliss. Your lips pressed against his and he felt the layers of armor he wore for a reason, begin to melt away. Whatever happened caused him severe distress, that much was obvious, but most of all he needed to know you were real. That he hadn’t imagined you standing before him – safe.

You were safe. You were here with him and finally he felt like he could breathe.

The tenderness shifted; his hands now dug into your hips, his lips now demanding against your own. He wanted you – needed you and who were you to pull away from his touch. You'd do anything he asked of you, bending to his will just as everything else did. His teeth sunk into your bottom lip, tugging sharply and tearing a whimper from your throat.

He could devour you every way he knew how and you’d beg for more. If this is what he needed to feel whole again, you were more than willing to oblige.

“This-” he breathed raggedly against the skin of your neck. “You. I need you.”

“Yours,” you replied, feeling him begin to lead you backwards and you did your best not to stumble. “I’m yours.”

It was ridiculous to even consider you belonging to anyone else. From the first moment he looked at you, there was a hold placed over your heart, emotions, body, everything he could lay claim to, he did. Everything he could love he would without question. He’d already lost so much in life; pushed away so many people, but not you. Never you.

His mind reeled with what happened, why it happened, and still he came up blank. Things were hazy still. Eventually they would return to him, but for now all he could do was accept what was right in front of him. He still felt the adrenaline coarse through his body and without another word he began to tug at your clothes. Desperate to sink into the warmth of you; to lose himself in someone who remained a constant in his life.

No matter how many times he retreated into himself, how much he had tried to keep you separate from his life, it never worked. You wouldn’t let him destroy himself.

A gasp of his name left your lips, forcing his head to snap up and drink in the sight of you. If his heart wasn’t beating before, it was now. You – spread out on his mattress, face twisted in pleasure as he brushed his lips against the bare skin of your chest. There wasn’t a sight he’d rather have, no other picture he would wish to keep in his mind.

His lips wrapped around your nipple, tugging at it with his teeth gently to elicit the exact response he would never tire of seeing. A cry left you, the shiver wracking your body beneath him, causing his lips to quirk up with glee. He would have spent as long as possible simply paying close attention to every spot on your body that drove you to the very edge. Except tonight his mind kept straying away from the present.

“Stephen,” you gasped, hands digging into his hair to drag his lips back to your own. “Come back to me.”

“I’m here.” He wished it were true. His mind still wanted to drag him away from you, but he fought against it.

Instead, he focused on you; your response to his actions. The small hitches in your breath as he did something you liked. He caught onto it all, now hyper aware of your presence, because it was what he needed to remain above water. Your hands trailed down his arms, nails scratching at his skin, as he pulled at the button on your pants.

“I’m here,” he repeated, more to himself than to you.

Yanking at his clothes you managed to rid him of quite a few things, fully content in stroking his bare skin – relishing in the warmth he gave off. You were conscious of what he was going through. How he did his best to stay present, but then his hand dug into your pants before he could even yank them down. Within seconds you were gone.

Lost to the sensations he pulled out of you. A moan was ripped from your throat when his fingers brushed lightly at your clit, the jolt of electricity it caused now tearing through your body. If he needed you to stay afloat, then you needed him to drown you in everything he wrought upon your being. His words – his chant – were pressed into your now feverish skin as he sucked along your waist; fingers rubbing slowly against you.

“I want to hear you,” he breathed hotly against you, eyes drawing upwards to see your reactions to his movements.

He knew what he did to you. That much was obvious, but seeing it play out before him; he would never get enough of it. Sliding two fingers into you, he watched intensely as your eyes nearly rolled back, your hand shooting down to grip his wrist. You could barely utter a single syllable let alone a full word.

Slowly, he felt himself return to himself. Pieces of the man you loved, began to spill back into his body – his mind – until he felt like the person you knew. He always found himself around you.

“Oh – fuck!” you sobbed, trying to catch your breath as his fingers sped up. Setting a relentless pace that had you quickly rushing towards the edge of a debilitating release.

One glance at him and you knew whatever bothered him before seemed to be what he was channeling into you. The unhinged glint in his eyes, teeth baring in a grin that left you breathless, it all morphed him into something else. Clenching around his fingers you thrusted against his hand, practically aching for the build up to shatter. You knew once it did you’d be in pure bliss, reveling in feelings that left you floating on cloud nine.

“Please.” The word was whimpered against his cheek and right as he brushed against the heavenly spot along your walls, he pulled away. “No. No please, please. Stephen.”

Panting, you tried to convince him to let you fall off the very edge of a cliff he had set you on. Except this man – the Stephen you loved – he was lost in his own capability of giving you what you needed and more. His fingers were good, but he didn’t want to watch you come that way. He followed your lead, helping you undo his pants and barely undressing. Just enough to pull himself free.

“I’m here,” he said again, enough to remind himself of the most important thing. He was here – with you – and he was okay.

“You’re here,” you whispered, biting your lip to stifle the moan that came from him rutting against you gently. “You’re with me.”

Drawing his lips towards yours, you kissed him gently as he began to slowly sink into you. Inch by inch he was forcing you to gasp for air while he continued to kiss you like he would never get the chance again. If there’s one thing you wanted to do forever it was kiss him like this. Fervently and yet with enough reverence that it made your toes curl.

He groaned into your mouth as he stilled, waiting for you to adjust and he swore you grew wetter just by kissing him. The power he held over you was magnificent as it was dangerous. You dug your hand into his hair, pressing your tongue into his mouth, relishing in the taste of him as your other hand clutched at his back. Desperate for more just as he was. You were two broken people, two lost souls that had somehow managed to hold onto each other for this long and each time he held you like this it felt new.

“You can move,” you breathed, a choked sound leaving you as he pulled out only to thrust back in just as quickly.

Any other time he’d take his time; give you as much pleasure as he could, but now – he was ravenous. A hunger had swept over his body to feel you fully and there was no sating it with softness. Hitching your leg up higher on his hip, he pressed his forehead against yours, the steady thrust of his hips, slowly driving you back up to the edge.

It was the sudden unexpected growl of a cuss under his breath and the shift in angle that you didn’t expect. Shoving your hips up he focused relentlessly on the spot that had you crying out each time he hit it. Your nails dug sharply into his skin, causing him to hiss in pain, but it only drove his hips harder into you. Grasping onto your wrists he shoved them upwards until they were pressed into the mattress above your head. That’s where he held them as he thrusted into you, an almost predatory look in his eyes.

“Yes!” you shouted, head falling back as he shifted his angle even more until he was so deep inside of you that you swore you’d feel him for days after this.

Still you begged for more.

Words you would have kept to yourself in moments like this so as not to show your feelings were suddenly spilling free. “Fuck – Stephen. I’m yours. Forever. You own me baby.”

Even you weren’t sure of what you were saying, but there they were. The words you had kept secret for quite some time were now revealed to him and…he liked it. He muttered some form of words you couldn’t hear, because your own heartbeat was in your ears. Your walls began to clench around him to an almost painful degree the closer you got to your orgasm.

Leaning down he sunk his teeth into the side of your breast and that did it. The sharp slice of pain mixed with pleasure threw you off the cliff. A scream echoed off the walls of his room, but you could barely hear it over your own heartbeat. White flashed behind your eyes as you screwed them shut, your back arching off the bed and pressing into him.

He dug his face into the side of your neck, biting down on your shoulder to stifle his cry as he fell over with you. The tightness of your walls around his cock was enough to cause his release to slam into him quicker than he expected.

For a few minutes you were left gasping raggedly for air as he did his best to focus on the world around him again. The last time you came this hard was the second time you’d slept with him and even then, your vision hadn’t completely gone white. Even he looked disoriented. A level of fucked out that you wanted to see on him again.

“Are you okay?” he asked, letting go of your wrists.

Words…forming them…you couldn’t even put a single syllable together. Even though he just finished, he felt himself twitch at the sight of you cockdrunk and hazy.

“I’m good,” you replied hoarsely, a smile spreading across your lips.

He ducked his head down to press a kiss over your heart; a place you found he favored. “Do you want a bath?”

You nodded, unable to say yes still.

Hissing through his teeth, he pulled out of you gently. Only to see him cum drip from you. It took him forcing himself to get up in order to stop from devouring you until you really couldn’t speak. If he felt fatigued, you must have been exhausted.

“Stephen,” you mumbled, eyes opening to meet his. “You know I’ll always be here right?”

That caused him to pause. “Yes I do.”

“Good,” you whispered, holding his hand and bringing it to your lips. “‘M never leaving you. Never ever.”

Huffing out a laugh, he helped you up. “That’s perfectly okay with me.” He’d never tell you how much your words calmed his still erratically beating heart. You’d never know how he stayed up at night fearing you would never want him again, because of what he had done.

Even now, as he helped you sink into the warm bath with him, he felt the fear from earlier still eat away at his soul. But you would never know.

No, that fear would be kept to himself for as long as possible.

[1kook]

new parent syndrome

— kim namjoon x (f) reader

SUMMARY You love Namjoon, honest. But you love your daughter Hyejoo even more— it’s not a controversial sentiment when you know he’s the same way! —and going back to a regular adult life sans kids absolutely sucks. (Or so you thought.) WARNINGS dilf!joon, dreamy husband joon, loving parents au, jimin is also a dad, bathtub sexy times, exhibitionism 😳 kinda sorta, tiny praise kink, joon calls her wifey TT, fingering, cunninglingus, doggy style, it’s kinda cheesy n romantic /.\, unprotected sex, …. impreg kink RATINGS m (18+) WC 9.5k 

NOTES writing parent fics is harder than i thought :/ i had this idea last week n was like yes, lets write this fic that absolutely no one asked for... except me! <3 so here we are, fantasizing about dreamy dad joon.... as always i have to thank rumu ( @kigurumu​ ) who is kind enough to edit these n b like that don't make no sense -_- anyway lemme know what u think !! enjoy !!

No matter how hard you try, the letter f refuses to fit itself into Hyejoo’s phonemic understanding. She’s a growing toddler so it’s only normal that there are sounds she still can’t pronounce, words she doesn’t quite get. But her inability to say food or family or friends, which are undoubtedly the three most important things in her three year-old world right now, is definitely a setback you didn’t see coming. 

Your worrywart husband has taken matters into his own hands, using the power of Google and about twelve parenting books to create an extensive, one-hour-a-day, mini lesson to try and increase her pronunciation skills. Of course, Hyejoo already attends daycare in the mornings while you and Namjoon are off at work, and gets sufficient learning done there. So she can’t exactly sit through Joon’s lectures, no matter how pretty he tries to decorate her flashcards. She’s still tiny— she’s still your baby, and you want her to enjoy the last of her daycare years before you’re forced to submit her to the worst twelve years of her life (also known as compulsory education). 

But as you’ve mentioned before, Namjoon doesn’t quite feel the same way. 

“She can’t sound out the letter,” he mopes in bed that night. He’s laying down beside you, face smushed against your thigh. The lamp on your side of the bed is the only thing on, casting a faint golden hue on his cheeks.

This conversation has occurred a variety of times these past few weeks, and you’ve just about ran out of every comforting reassurance possible. You settle on stroking a hand through his hair. There are emails to respond to and clients to check in with, but there’s also a huffy husband in bed beside you who quite pitifully crawls up into your arms. 

It’s with his face between your boobs that he speaks again. “What if she’s getting made fun of at school? Or her teachers think she’s dumb?” You roll your eyes. “My baby is not dumb, __,” he says, as if you don’t know. “Her IQ came back above average when I took her to the development specialist that one time, remember?” You have half the mind to tell him an IQ test on a three year old isn’t exactly valid, but there’s already enough stacked on his plate. Finding out he wasted a hundred bucks for an invalid test would just be the cherry on top of all his worries. 

Water clings to the very tips of his hair, remnants of his bath with Hyejoo. Namjoon is getting older now, nothing like the dashing grad student you had met what feels like a lifetime ago. There’s bags under his eyes, bags that surpass any all-nighter-pulling college student’s, induced by none other than the sheer power of becoming a parent. And still, he retains his beauty, looks like a doll with his skin so dewy from his skincare routine, lips puffy and red and kissable. 

He looks up, and you take the opportunity to place a kiss on his lips, his familiar scent making you melt into his arms. When he pulls away, there’s still a subtle furrow between his brows. 

“Hyejoo is fine,” you reassure him, carding his brown hair out of his face. He leans into the touch, eyes falling shut. “Our girl is the smartest three year-old out there,” you huff, feeling the slightest bit annoyed that he could even insinuate otherwise. “And if she was having problems at school, you know I would be the first one in there, fighting all the other moms.” 

Namjoon relents, face falling back into its haven between your tits. “Okay,” he mumbles, muffled from the way his plush lips drag against the soft skin over your sternum. 

The subject of Namjoon’s worries is in the other room sound asleep, not the least bit concerned with measly letters and sounds. It’s really only Namjoon who is, his stack of letter flashcards glaring at you from on top of the dresser. “Your mother hen is showing,” you tease as he slips beneath the covers, leaning over you to flick off your lamp. Just like everything else in your house, his t-shirt smells like him. It’s a natural, woodsy scent that floods your nostrils and makes your toes curl when he comes so close. 

Namjoon snorts as he settles beside you, beefy arm pillowing your head as he pulls you close. “I’m not a mother hen,” he says, hand on your waist, the tantalizing expanse of his neck before your eyes. “I’m the rooster— the cock,” he snickers, and you reward his terrible attempt at a joke with a pinch to his side that has him retreating to the other end of the bed. 

Hyejoo’s best friend in the entire world— or, as she says, her best pren in the entire world —is none other than Park Yerin from daycare. As the universe would have it, Park Yerin is also the one and only daughter of your college philosophy seat neighbor, Park Jimin. 

Crossing paths with him later down the road was not something you could ever anticipate, especially when you and Jimin were never that close in college to begin with. It was the only class you had with him in all four years, one where you had quietly acknowledged his charisma and occasionally shared homework answers, before never speaking to him again. You could have greeted him on campus, as you often crossed paths. But Park Jimin was a walking friendship magnet who seemed to bring with him a parade of followers everywhere he went, and approaching him required three layers of strategic planning if you wanted to catch him alone. 

So bumping into him at the entrance of Hyejoo’s daycare six years later comes as a bit of a shock. You had never pegged him as the type to settle down so quickly— you don’t mean to label him, but there were certain college stereotypes that he fit like a glove —but there he was, carrying the tiny love of his life who’s currently dressed in a bright pink Minnie Mouse dress. 

Unsurprisingly, just like her father, Park Yerin has the same enthralling personality that makes everyone in the three to four year-old daycare class want to be her friend, and your sweet little Hyejoo is not exempt. 

Long story short, out of all the kids at Sunny Side Daycare, Yerin is Hyejoo’s favorite, and Hyejoo is Yerin’s favorite. 

So now it’s been a little over a year since the two girls have established their friendship, which means it’s been a little over a year of acquainting yourself with Jimin again. He’s a house husband, something you never expected, and he loves his daughter like no other. Some afternoons after daycare are spent with Jimin and Yerin at the nearest coffee shop, watching the girls haphazardly scribble over every piece of paper they can get their hands on while the two of you catch up. 

Overall, you’re happy Hyejoo can have a friend like Yerin, and secretly, you're also happy you can finally befriend a fellow parent as nice and put together as Jimin. On top of that, Namjoon’s liked him on the few occasions he’s met him; the two have even gone out for drinks. 

However, befriending Jimin and Yerin comes at a cost, and that cost is seeing your little girl grow up.  

It’s your turn to mope. 

“Yerin asked her to sleepover,” you groan, sadly patting in your skincare routine the next night. Namjoon is somewhere behind you, his naked back glaring at you through the reflection of your vanity mirror. He’s so broad and big, sleep shorts clinging to his waist as he lotions up his body post-shower. There’s a thin gold chain around his neck that glints everytime he moves around, biceps flexing and bulging in plain view until he finally slips his shirt on. There was a time in your life where his back could not go more than two days unscathed, your rabid (read: horny) claw marks painting rosy trails down his spine. These days, you can barely remember the last time he’s held your hand. 

“Who?” he asks once he’s settled beneath the covers with whatever book he’s reading now and his thick-rimmed reading glasses. 

“Who else,” you say, tugging your night robe closer to your chest as if it’ll prevent your heart from breaking anymore than it already was. “Hyejoo’s first sleepover,” you sigh. 

You take it harder than you imagined. In the back of your mind, you’ve always known your little girl was growing up— hello, you were literally watching her grow more and more inches every single day —but you had convinced yourself she would stay your baby for a little while longer. As much as you wanted her to see and learn about the world, you selfishly wanted to keep her home too. She was your baby, your only one at that.

At least Namjoon feels the same way. “Absolutely not,” he squawks, abruptly slamming his book shut. He’s usually really meticulous about lining up his fancy bookmark right on the line he left off on, so his sudden carelessness tells you all you need to know about how he feels. 

You sit down beside him, hand over his. “It’s Yerin’s birthday,” you inform him in what you hope is a comforting tone; unbeknownst to him, you’re trying to reassure yourself as well. “And Jimin said he and his wife are gonna be there the whole night.” You trust Jimin, you really do. If there’s anyone who’s more in love with their kid than you and Namjoon, it’s Jimin. He would never let anything happen to his Yerin, and by extension, he would never let anything happen to your Hyejoo. He’s a good dad. 

Namjoon rubs at his eyes. In the span of two minutes, he’s aged about five years. “No,” he sighs softly, squeezing your hand tightly. “Once she starts going to sleepovers she’ll start wearing makeup and getting into relationships and having her heart broken—“ 

A kiss is enough to silence him when he gets like this, his warm breath fanning across your bottom lip when you pull away. “She just wants to wear tutus and sing Baby Shark right now,” you murmur, hand creeping up over his chest. His heart is beating fast as hell beneath his t-shirt, feels like it’ll burst straight out of his chest if you don’t calm him down. 

He’s the bigger worrier out of the two of you, has a classic case of paranoid parent syndrome. 

It’s no secret that Namjoon has a big brain; he’s an educated man with a respectable job. For every problem he encounters, he can procure a variety of solutions with different approaches. He’s always prepared and part of you thinks he’s a huge reason you managed to survive those first few weeks as a mom. Unlike you, who had attended a whopping two mommy classes in preparation for your upcoming child, Namjoon had studied up on parenting. A lot. He had read books and reviewed scientific studies, had learned about development on the chemistry level and the social level, did all he could until he was confident in his own dad abilities. 

But, for every solution Namjoon can find, there are always twenty-eight other factors to worry about. 

“What if she has an allergic reaction and Jimin doesn’t know what to do,” he pales, death grip on your hand. His matching wedding band digs into your skin and you have to wrestle his hand away before he accidentally breaks your finger. He nearly broke your neck once when you were in college, had almost sent you to the ER mid-thrust because he had underestimated his own strength while trying to choke you.

“Hyejoo doesn’t have any allergies,” you remind him, giving up on your awkward half-seated position as you clamber over him. His thighs are full beneath you, tense up as you move over him and he manhandles you into his chest. 

He’s not done. “What if she asks Jimin for a fizzy drink and he can’t understand her?” His eyes are owlish beneath his glasses, covered in what you can only describe as a visible sheen of absolute terror. “What if he thinks she’s saying ‘pissy’ not ‘fizzy,’ __— what then?” It’s amazing, really, how a man who graduated cum laude can hypothesize this many disasters pertaining to a four year-old’s sleepover. 

In the other room, Hyejoo calls for you, so you gladly take the opportunity to remove yourself from Namjoon and his spiraling thoughts. “Look,” you say, tightening the sash of your robe as you get back up. “I’m gonna go tell her that she can go to Yerin’s sleepover tomorrow,” you tell him, giving him exactly three seconds to groan dramatically, before continuing, “and you figure out how to turn that big brain off by the time I come back.” 

Luckily, the cause of Hyejoo’s sudden wake up is a tiny bug bite she got from playing outside that just won’t stop itching. “Mommy, it hurts,” she whines, digging her nails into the tiny red mark by her knee. 

“Uh huh, lemme see,” you order, turning on her bedside lamp to illuminate the space. Her room is the prettiest shade of yellow, fitting for a ball of sunshine such as herself. “Were you playing by the flowerbeds?” You ask, running a finger over the mark a little too weird looking to simply be another mosquito bite. 

She knows she’s not supposed to play near the flowers— the bugs like her a little too much. It’s with a hesitant little nod that she confesses to it. You give her a pointed look. “You’re not supposed to play too close to the flowers,” you remind her, a tiny scolding for now. 

With a sniffle she responds, “not by the plowers.” 

A little bit of anti-itch cream has her settling, and by the time you return to your bedroom, Namjoon is out cold. 

“How old is Yerin turning?” Namjoon asks her at the door, heartbreak clearly painting his features as you help Hyejoo into her shoes. 

“Pour,” she beams, her tiny hand held up to show four stubby fingers. She has Namjoon’s pretty smile, an honest look in her eyes that makes you want to put her in your pocket and never let her go. Alas, Yerin’s sleepover party starts at five and Hyejoo has been trying to leave since noon. 

“Pour,” Namjoon repeats, shooting you a pointed look as if to say see. He had fought the decision up until the end, had even tried to tactically convince your daughter to stay home by getting a head start on preparing her favorite food. And well. She said no. So now the two of you are stuck having dinosaur chicken nuggets for dinner without her. 

She’s got her little travel bag on now, tiny feet stuffed into her ladybug rain boots because it had rained last night and she’s awfully addicted to jumping in muddy puddles. She’s absolutely adorable, your little girl, and you think Namjoon might’ve let out a tiny sob earlier. (Or maybe it was you.)

Namjoon joins you at the front door. “Be good,” he warns her. His eyes are suspiciously wet, but you don’t say anything because yours are too. You’re both crouched in front of her, her big eyes glancing back and forth between the two of you without a care in the world. Mixing your self-assured personality with Namjoon’s (mostly) composed attitude was quite possibly the worst genetic crossover to ever happen; Hyejoo doesn’t even seem remotely bothered by the fact she’s spending her first night away from home. Meanwhile, you and Namjoon are on the verge of a joint breakdown. 

Anyway, Namjoon gives in first. “Love you forever, princess,” he tells her, their ritual expression, and kisses her forehead. 

She accepts it and then, in an unexpected turn of events, surges forward to hug him around the neck. “Love you pporever, daddy,” she repeats, and your heart feels so painfully full at the sight, like you just unlocked a new life achievement from seeing your daughter and her father be so cute together. You don’t get to coo at them for long, because then she’s giving you a warm hug as well, the same phrase muttered in your ear. 

It’s the hardest thing about parenting. 

Seeing your kid slowly broaden their horizons, meeting new people and learning new things. Leaving home. (Granted, she’ll be back by tomorrow afternoon but even that feels like an eternity away to the dramatic parents you and Namjoon have become.) The second goodbye on Jimin’s doorstep isn’t any easier, especially when Hyejoo tugs on your arm and asks you to “say night to daddy please” for her, and your heart breaks just a little more. Jimin flashes you an understanding smile but all you want to do is punch him in the nose for ever telling Yerin what a sleepover is. 

You get home and Namjoon is in a calmer state by now, some old sitcom he hates playing on the TV. Usually, this time of day is reserved for his daily phonemic lessons with Hyejoo, drilling the f sound into her tiny brain, so you guess this is his preferred method of coping in its place: torturing himself with some boring television show. 

“Hey,” he says, and you crawl into his lap with a sad sniffle. “Shh,” he soothes, hand on the back of your head as he guides you into his chest. You’re actually crying now, which is super embarrassing in itself considering you scolded Namjoon for this exact behavior last night. He doesn’t mention it as he pats your back, stupid sitcom paused in favor of soothing you with the deep vibrations of his voice. “Hye’s gonna be back tomorrow, baby.”

“I want her back now,” you huff, vaguely aware of how childish and silly you sound. The tables have turned, and you find yourself wishing you had the same emotional fortitude as Namjoon now. All those parenting books have clearly amounted for something. Somehow, you will the feeling back into your body and pull away from his chest. You must look a mess because he doesn’t even try to hide the amusement on his face. “This is the worst day of my life.” 

Namjoon laughs, deep and hearty, with his eyes squeezing shut from the force. “Come on, wifey, those chicken nuggets aren’t gonna eat themselves.”

It’s quite possibly the most boring evening you’ve had in years. 

(The internet calls it new parent syndrome, where you’re so undeniably in love with your first child and the parenting experience that the rest of the world is put on pause.)

You love Namjoon, honest. But you love your daughter Hyejoo even more— it’s not a controversial sentiment when you know he’s the same way! —and going back to a regular adult life sans kids absolutely sucks. (Or so you thought.)

Kids are prone to asking weirdly philosophical questions, a fact that had greatly delighted you when Hyejoo first started speaking. Who am I? What’s money? Why not? It could get annoying sometimes, trying to answer all of Hyejoo’s curiosities. But as you begin on your second batch of dinosaur chicken nuggets, all you can think about is how Jimin gets to answer them tonight. 

Anyway, seven rolls around and you and Namjoon are bored. You can only watch so many episodes of Seinfield before you get tired of feigning interest, so you retire from the living room for the night. “I’m gonna take a bath,” you tell him, but he’s as brain dead as you by now. 

A second later, “lemme join.” 

It’s been a while since the two of you have squeezed into the bathtub together, usually assigning each other days to individually join Hyejoo. So it’s really not either of your faults when you realize a second too late how small the space is. One on each end, feet bumping into each other with every movement, it’s like trying to squeeze two feet into one shoe. You try to readjust yourself, but the bath flooring is slippery and you nearly take away Namjoon’s procreative abilities with a mighty kick. 

To make a long story short, you end up pressed against his chest, Namjoon’s thick thighs framing you as you relax into the steaming water. Instinctively, he reaches for Hyejoo’s bottle of baby shampoo that sits on the tub’s ledge and only catches himself just as the first droplet is meeting his palm. “Oh, fuck,” he sighs, quickly closing the lid before he can waste any more precious product. “Shit, I’m so sad.”

You snort, sinking farther back into his chest. He’s warm and soft in all the right ways, the hot water making him slippery. “What did we even do before Hyejoo?” you ask, reaching into the deepest crevices of your mind for answers. Namjoon’s hand comes around, fingers sprawled out over your knee, the one you have propped up and breaking the water’s surface 

He makes a rather vague sound, something like I don’t know, as he lolls forward, forehead on your shoulder. “Go on dates,” he responds eventually. “Fuck like crazy.” 

You roll your eyes. “Besides that,” you chide, pinching the back of his palm. “Don’t we have any hobbies? Any interests?” He doesn’t answer, which is all the answer you need. Why didn’t you get into puzzle solving back when it was a trend? “Is this what our life has become? Crying in a bathtub at seven pm because our emotional support child isn’t here?”

“Our only child,” he corrects. Namjoon tries to placate your looming existential crisis with a kiss to your shoulder, lips against wet skin, that he trails up to your neck. “And what’s wrong with going on dates and fucking?” he murmurs, hands around your stomach. “That’s how we got here,” he teases, and you’re not sure if it’s the warm water or the way his voice is like melted chocolate dripping down your body, but you become all too aware of his presence at that moment. Particularly, of the plush lips mindlessly kissing your shoulder, the wet smack of their motions. 

Another kiss, this time right below your ear. It has your head rolling to the side, exposing more skin for him to kiss up on. There’s still that overwhelming cloud of worry in the back of your mind, but it’s gradually nudged away by Namjoon’s warm hands on your skin. Sensing your weakening resolve, Namjoon strikes again. A hand slips down over your stomach, brushes over your belly button and finds itself between your thighs. “You used to love date nights, baby,” he says, the pad of his pointer finger grazing your clit. 

It’s been so long since you and Namjoon have been alone like this, months since you’ve been able to touch him beyond a simple make out session, a halfhearted grope beneath the sheets. Your daughter, as much as you loved her, made intimacy impossible for the two of you. She was always around, always looking for one or the both of you, so there was never time to even think about getting frisky. 

Only now, with his finger circling your clit, do you realize the blessing in disguise that was your daughter’s first slumber party away from home. 

His finger nudges your clit, flicks it teasingly. “Why don’t you let me take care of you, hm?” he hums, the hand that had been soothingly stroking the inside of your thigh coming up to rub at your breasts. 

“Yes, please,” you whine. Resting your head on his shoulder leaves Namjoon with a clear view down your front, lips kissing and sucking along your neck. His huge hand palms your breast, massaging the sensitive skin. You hadn’t realized how sore you’d been until now, his nimble fingers pressing deliciously into the skin. If your nipples weren’t already hard before, they certainly were now. 

He traps one pearled nipple between two fingers, the sudden pinch making you hiss. “Easy, now,” he chuckles, his low tenor paired with his wandering hands making your eyes roll back. 

Namjoon liked to use a higher tone around the house. He read somewhere that children prefer lighter, sweeter tones, so the last few years have been spent listening to him lighten the tone of his voice for the sake of your daughter. The deeper, growlier voice that had first made you fall in love with him became a rarity in your household, reserved for quiet nights in the living room or long drives where Hyejoo was asleep in the backseat. Only then does he unleash the gravelly qualities of his voice. 

Then, and apparently, now. 

His doll-like lips press against your jaw, suck lightly enough to make your body tingle. “Do you remember how it was the first time?” he says suddenly, his hot breath against your neck. 

Namjoon’s got your clit trapped between two wandering fingers, has your pussy twitching with the vibrations of his voice alone. And for some reason, he’s trying to reminisce about your first time sleeping together. 

“N- Not really,” you confess, subtly reaching down. You cover his palm with yours, hoping your touch will encourage him to carry on with his actions. It doesn’t. It just leaves both your hands hovering over your pussy, your thighs instinctively closing in on them to keep him there. Namjoon responds to that, releasing the breast he had been gently massaging in order to pry your legs apart. He does it so easily, despite the way your legs feel tight as hell, and the fact makes you whimper. 

Once he’s got his hands back between your thighs— this time, he uses one hand to carefully part your quivering lips, the other one gingerly pressing down against your clit to draw the most heavenly sensations out of you —Namjoon feels the need to dive into a recap of your first fuck. “You were so cute,” he laughs, and you don’t know if you should take offense. Well, considering you're married and have a kid now, it’s probably too late to say anything anyway. His hand suddenly switches gears, three fingers joining together to begin caressing them over your throbbing clit. “Kept talking to me so politely, even when you were creaming my cock.”

You scoff, but it gets cancelled out by the moan he draws out of you. “D- Didn’t know you that well,” you remind him, your thighs twitching. You desperately want to buck forward into his giving hands, want to feel the true power of those long, pretty fingers on your cunt. 

Behind you, Namjoon’s cock grows thick, his breathing a slow and steady pace by your ear. You can already imagine how heavy he is, the vein that runs along the underside and throbs with each new bit of stimulus he receives. Normally you would reach back and try to offer him the same helping hand he gives you, but your thighs feel wobbly already. Your libido has been dormant for so long that even just the barest flick of his thumb has you dissolving into his arms like this is your first time. 

It’s as if Namjoon’s sensing your inner battle, a muffled laugh against the side of your neck. “This is about you,” he reminds you. As much as you want to protest, a sudden hard rub against your quivering lips has you gasping for breath. “Give me a kiss,” he commands softly, nudging his nose against the side of your face. It takes a second for you to ground yourself, draw yourself away from your building pleasure, to turn toward his waiting lips. 

Namjoon kisses you slowly, like he’s taking his time with you. For the first time in a long time, he truly can. He doesn’t have to worry about a certain someone waking up in the middle of the night or walking in or anything along those lines, lips molding against yours. Plush as always, the faint taste of dinosaur chicken nuggets clinging to his lips. It makes you laugh a little, drawing away with an airy giggle. Namjoon smiles at your reaction, murmuring a soft, “what is it?”

You shake your head, eyes fluttering shut as he continues his circular motions against your clit. “Nothing,” you pant, finally getting in your first thrust against his fingers. “I just really need you,” you say instead, pushing his hand harder down against you. 

You’re feeling a little antsy, having been deprived of this sensation for so long. Namjoon knows this, which is why he very purposely slows down. “There’s no rush,” he smirks, placing a kiss against your chin. “How do you want it, baby?”

The inside of your brain is a scrambled mess, filled with fantasies and ideas that have been plaguing you for months. There’s so much you want to do, want to try, but it’s like your brain completely blanks out when he asks. It’s just as you’re beginning to formulate a thought that you’re interrupted by the sound of your ringtone in the other room. Your husband’s arms tighten around you. “Don’t go,” he says quietly, the tip of his nose running along your neck. It’s so tempting to stay here, to let yourself go in his arms and chase the pleasure you’ve been craving for so long. 

But the endless possibilities of who exactly could be calling wins over. Was it work? Was it your parents? Jimin?

It is with a heavy sigh that you reach for Namjoon’s hand, slowly pushing him away from your cunt. “I’m sorry, honey,” you frown, standing up out of the tub. Your legs really do feel like jelly, and you nearly slip and crack your skull on the porcelain edge. Luckily, Namjoon is there to steady you with two secure hands on your waist. “I’ll make it quick,” you reassure him, dropping a kiss on his pouty lips as you fasten a towel around your body. 

The phone is just starting up its final ring when you reach it. It’s Jimin, and you’re torn between being thankful that you’re getting word on Hyejoo and full blown panic from the fact Jimin is calling you while Hyejoo is in his care. The unease has you accepting the call without a second more to waste. “Hello?” you say, hand tightening on the front of your towel. Stray water droplets trace ticklish trails down the backs of your thighs.

“__?” comes Jimin’s sweet voice. It’s normally soothing, but right now it has every hair on your body standing on end. Before you can even respond, Jimin is jumping headfirst into a whirlwind of a conversation. “Sorry for calling so late, but I just wanted to check in on you, babe. I know you were really panicked about Hye’s first night away from home, but don’t worry! Me and the missus are doing everything we can to make sure she’s fine.”

His confidence reassures you, lessens the weight that had been sitting on your chest all afternoon. But at the same time, you find yourself wanting to throttle him. 

Your gorgeous, sexy hunk of a husband is sitting in the other room, cock at full mast and ready to pleasure you to the moon and back, and here you are listening to Jimin brag about how good of a caretaker he is. You were definitely going to make Jimin pay for this. 

Deep breaths, you tell yourself, toying with a stray thread on your towel. “Really,” you drawl, and you can practically see Jimin’s ego swell over the line. 

“Yup,” Jimin agrees, and by the sounds of it, doesn’t seem like he’s hoping to end this call anytime soon. You want to shoulder part of the blame; you had been extra sad and mopey when you dropped your daughter off. On top of being a good dad, Jimin was also a good friend. It was only naturally he wanted to reassure you when he could. 

Still, the memory of Namjoon’s wet chest was calling out to you. 

“The girls are playing princess in the living room with the missus right now,” Jimin chats on. “New dresses and everything— the Yerin Birthday Special —and they asked me to be their handsome prince!” You sincerely cannot wait for the day you get to introduce Jimin to your right fist. 

“That’s great,” you offer, not that he’s really listening. He’s too busy talking about Yerin (and making sure to include Hyejoo in for your sake) and how amazing it is to watch your kids grow up before your very eyes. And while you agree with the sentiment, you really wish he had called you and told you this earlier, when you were at the peak of your motherly meltdown. Not now with Namjoon waiting for you in the bathtub. Was the water even warm anymore? 

The mind blowing orgasm practically slips from your fingertips the longer Jimin talks. “Anyway! Enough about them. I’m thinking of trying out that blueberry bread recipe that aired on TV last night. You know, the one they had that actress make.”

You’ve just about resigned yourself to listening to Jimin talk about his love for pastries for the next thirty minutes when something brushes up behind you. “What the fu—“

He’s so tall and broad, practically covers your entire frame when he stands so close. And his smile is so pretty when he aims it your way. “Sh,” Namjoon murmurs, gesturing towards your phone.  

“__?” Jimin calls. “Everything alright?” 

Namjoon nods eagerly, the hands on your waist properly positioning you in front of him. It’s with a shudder running down your spine that you respond. “I’m fine,” you tell Jimin, letting go of the front of your towel when Namjoon abruptly pushes you over. The white comforter infused with both of your scents comes all too close, your elbow barely managing to reach out in time to catch you.  

Wide eyed, you turn to throw Namjoon a scandalized look over your shoulder. He meets you with a close-mouthed smile, the dimples in his cheeks making themselves known. His chest is drier now, the smooth planes covered in a thin dewy glow and a spattering of droplets he missed. There’s a towel around his waist that’s barely doing its job, especially when you catch sight of the erection tenting beneath it. 

“As I was saying,” Jimin rambles on. Namjoon nods towards the device, refusing to move again until you finally turn back around to finish your conversation with Jimin. “That actress fucked it up so bad. They really give anyone with a pretty face screen time these days, huh? At least I know how to properly preheat an oven.”

You nod. “You do make the best cookies in town,” you respond, a ball of anticipation building in your throat from the mere fact Namjoon is standing behind you. 

It’s completely warranted once you feel two cold fingers trail up the back of your thigh, your towel gradually pushed up to drape around your waist. The air in your room is a little chilly, and the goosebumps that raise on your skin are partly due to that, as well as the ghostlike touch of Namjoon’s fingers. “Pretty,” he murmurs, so deep and gravelly it has you shuddering.  

Two fingers dance along your skin, and you subconsciously jolt away when they meet the tender skin around your pussy. By your ear, Jimin says, “if I completely fuck it up, we’ll just pretend this conversation never happened. Deal?”

Using your own body against you, Namjoon lets one finger dip just the smallest bit into your quivering hole. You clench up, thighs trembling when he eventually pulls it back out and traces your own wetness over your folds. “Perfect,” you bite out, clutching at the sheets beneath you as Namjoon reaches for your forgotten clit. It’s still so sensitive from your little fun in the bath, and it takes every ounce of strength in you to hold back the whiny gasp in your throat. 

Behind you, Namjoon suddenly presses in close. One hand on your hip, he gently encourages you onto the bed. Your knees sink into the mattress, one less strain on your legs. “Good girl,” he praises quietly, rewarding your behavior with a finger sinking into your cunt. 

“Joo—“ you almost slip, burying your face into the sheets just in time. 

A devastatingly slow pace, his finger just barely moving in and out of you. The bulk of your pleasure is coming from that bundle of nerves towards your front, but the teasing gesture isn’t appreciated anyway. When he leans over you, breath against your neck, you feel the length of his cock against your thigh. “He’s asking you a question,” Namjoon whispers, “answer him, baby.”

You nod, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he presses himself closer. Jimin hasn’t even noticed your lack of participation, mindlessly humming a song. The sounds of a running sink highlight his vocals. “Oh, absolutely,” you babble. “I wouldn’t tell a soul.” 

“Ha!” Jimin scoffs. “I knew I could always count on you, Miss __,” he snarks playfully. 

The hand toying with your clit comes around your waist, fingers stroking against your folds from this new angle. A silent moan has you writhing forward, unconsciously away from him as Jimin babbles on the other end of the line. He’s none the wiser to the lewd acts happening on the line, listening to the sound of his own voice. Namjoon lands a mean little bite against your shoulder, plunging his finger deeper inside of your clenching hole. 

Paired with his teasing fingers, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your moans, biting your lip until it stings. “Fuck, fuck,” you whimper against the sheets, holding your phone as far away as possible from your mouth as a litany of curse words spill from your lips. Namjoon chuckles at your dramatics, not like he has his fingers deep inside of you right now or anything. 

“So cute,” he hums, removing his hand from your clit to snatch your towel away. It gives way too easily, messily thrown over the edge of the bed. With your back completely exposed now, Namjoon wastes no time trailing a line of kisses up your spine, finishing off with an especially wet and hard one behind your ear. “Hang up now.”

His permission sets your body on edge, drawing your phone close again. Jimin is talking about dinner or something, you don’t even know. Not an ounce of remorse fills you when you clear your throat and hurriedly announce, “I have to—“ Namjoon’s cock, finally uncovered by his towel, presses against your folds and you nearly lose it. “—I have to go now, Jimin,” you say, leveling your breathing as best as you can. 

“Wait, what the fuck?” Jimin says, thrown off by your sudden departure. 

The mushroom tip of his cock kisses your clit. “Fuck— I really have to go.” And you hang up, chucking the phone off to the side hastily. With your hands both freed, you scramble onto your back, meeting the amused gaze of your husband behind you. “Fuck me, now.”

Namjoon laughs, reaching for the towel barely clinging onto his waist. One suave swoop later and it joins yours on the floor. “You did good,” he praises, lowering himself between your spread thighs. You roll your eyes, grabby hands reaching for his hips until he’s sitting snugly against you, cock resting over your throbbing cunt. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you snap, the tight feeling in your tummy growing with every second that passes. Namjoon isn’t as unaffected as he pretends to be, a pearly bead of cum appearing at the tip of his engorged cock. “Just fuck me now.”

He raises a brow. “Missionary?” As if it’s the first time. 

“Is there something wrong with it?” you ask anyway, self-consciously reaching an arm over yourself to cover your naked breasts. They’ve pebbled over just from his stare alone. 

Namjoon hesitates, the hand on your hip drawing slow circles with his thumb. Eventually, he responds with a halfhearted shrug. “It’s not the best.” This is news to you, and you find yourself sitting up at the sudden bomb he’s dropped. 

He’s still hard as rock between you, his dick laying almost artfully against your slit. You really just want to throw aside all reservations and begin grinding against him, penetration be damned, but now Namjoon’s got that thoughtful quirk to his lips. The one that usually accompanies any big brained idea, so you settle down, nudging him with your thigh until he’s looking at you again. “Penny for your thoughts?” What you really want to say is please fuck me like I’m just another cum rag of yours and make it hurt, but alas. 

Namjoon sits back on his haunches. “I read somewhere that on your hands and knees is the best way to get pregnant.” You choke on your own tongue, face ablaze from his forward statement. Meanwhile, Namjoon is looking as relaxed as ever. 

You hadn’t really discussed children after Hyejoo. The wordless agreement had been that sure, you were both down for another kid sometime in the future. But the exact date had sort of been murky. Hyejoo is three now, and you heard from another mom that it’s difficult for children with wide age gaps to get along. You don’t want her growing up being far removed from another sibling. 

But also, now?

It’s like Namjoon knows your thoughts before you even do. “Alright, wifey, say no more,” he says, leaning down to place a kiss against your lips. “I’ll get the condom, alright?”

And then he’s stepping off the bed, every muscle of his toned body flexing as he swaggers over towards the dresser. He’s a walking dream, the physical embodiment of all your crazy sex fantasies, and he wants to fuck a baby into you. Your pussy says yes, but your rationality is still on the fence. 

You roll onto your side, head propped into your open palm. “You want another baby?” you ask tentatively. Namjoon shrugs, carefully opening the new box of condoms you had bought half a year ago. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to have another kid,” he answers, procuring a tiny foil packet from the box and returning to his spot between your legs. It’s like staring at a marble statue from this angle, the defined planes of his chest and abdomen, the gorgeous slope of his nose, the sharp angles of his face. You really lucked out. 

Your decision comes just as he’s easing the rubber over the tip of his cock, the swollen head just barely enveloped. You place a hand against his wrist, earning his attention. “Take it off,” you mumble, and you swear on your entire life he swells another inch. 

“Oh, baby,” he groans, hastily throwing the condom somewhere across the room. He rolls over you, bulging arms sweeping you up into his embrace, lips capturing yours in a sloppy kiss. You whimper, letting his tongue push itself past your lips. When he pulls away, it’s with a wet pop and glistening lips. They’re so puffy now, flushed a nice rosy color, that makes him look even more handsome when he smiles down at you. “Gonna look so pretty all pregnant,” he beams, placing a chaste kiss against you one last time before he’s hurriedly rolling you onto your stomach. 

You hide your bashful expression against the sheets, suddenly feeling very shy before him. But then Namjoon’s cock is running along your lips and you’re left a shivering mess. “Please just fuck me,” you beg hoarsely, and Namjoon obeys. 

“Whatever you want, wifey,” he teases, and before you can call him out for his cheesiness, he’s pressing his thumb into your aching hole once more. “Is this okay?” he asks, somberly for the first time in what seems like forever. 

“I’m okay,” you confess, a little shyly now that you know his true motives.  

Namjoon chuckles, quickly removing his finger from inside of you to give your ass one soothing pat. “Going in,” he warns you, and finally, you’re rewarded for all your struggles. It’s only as his mushroom head squeezes in that you realize you could have done with a bit more stretching, but that thought fades away the more and more he pushes in. “Fuck,” he groans, the low intonation of his voice making your toes curl.

If it’s not his voice, it’s the sheer length of his cock inside of you. The girth makes your spine tingle, has you muffling a pitiful whimper into the comforter beneath you. “Relax for me,” he directs, and then suddenly he’s placing a palm against your back, pushing you further down. “Hips up.” 

You groan. The normally soft fabric of the blanket feels like hell on your sensitive breasts. “I’m trying,” you whine, pushing back onto him in an effort to familiarize yourself with his cock again. It’s been so long since he’s been inside of you like this, since he’s filled you so well, that your body acts a little stupid now. He hasn’t even begun thrusting and you already feel like you’ll cum just from this.  

The angle is different than your usual style, has him moving along every inch of you as he sinks in. Two big hands grab at your waist, manhandling you closer to him until you’re just like he wants you to be. “There we go,” he sighs, and with him motionless, you finally relax. It’s about a two second pause before he begins to draw himself back out. “How do you want it?” he grunts, but it’s lost beneath the moan that escapes you. It’s the same question he asked you in the tub, right before Jimin called, except this time you have an answer. 

“Fast,” you gasp, the pain from the stretch finally, finally, melting away as your body grows accustomed to his presence inside of you. “Do it fast, please.”

Namjoon does as he’s told, waiting until he’s pulled out until the tip to satisfy your requests. And then he’s off. 

Your body isn’t as young as it once was, left a little worn from the entire child-bearing process. Sometimes you wonder how exactly you and Namjoon would fuck until sunrise before, how your sex drive was so high that it allowed such a thing to happen. Admittedly, there’s currently a stiffness inside of you that has been there for a while now, and you barely remember how you got rid of it before. Apparently, this is how.

Namjoon’s hard cock rams into you once, makes you release the most embarrassingly loud moan at the sudden intrusion, and it’s like all those months of tension that built up in your body are melted away. His cock pushes past your folds, creating a lewd squelching sound that would otherwise leave you mortified to learn it came from your body. You shudder, desperately pushing your ass back against him in a feeble attempt to feel it again. 

“Still so fucking tight for me,” he growls, snapping his hips forwards. His skin slaps against yours, leaves you feeling tender from the brutal movements of his body. But at the same time, it feels absolutely terrific. 

Your lips are still coated in your own wetness, have him noisily moving in and out. “J- Joon,” you whimper softly, but you doubt he hears it over the sound of his own labored breathing. “More.”

He responds with a sudden piston inside of you that has the tip of his cock nearly kissing your cervix. “More?” he huffs, the hand on your back pressing down until you fear you’ll become one with the mattress. “You want more?” You nod hurriedly, somehow managing to stretch a hand down between you to toy with your clit. The brush of your own fingers has you bucking back onto him in surprise.

Wordlessly, he speeds up his pace, thrusting his hips into your velvety walls at a faster speed than before. It’s a weird sensation, a sort of ticklish feeling m that makes you tremble with each roll forward. You can’t say the two of you have done it in this position a lot, always preferring the more romantic missionary position to anything else, but this experience was quickly making you an avid believer of its validity as a top tier sex position. 

You swirl your pointer finger around your clit, trying to sync up your shaky touch with his steady thrusts. It’s useless, because every time you feel like you’ve gotten into the same groove, Namjoon one ups you by hauling you back against him. “Oh, f- fuck,” you sob, clawing at the sheets beneath you. 

Namjoon groans, momentarily pausing his rapid thrusts to roll his buried cock against you. “Come on, baby,” he husks, the hilt of his cock kissing your folds. 

There’s a lot of built up sexual tension inside of you, months on top of months of nothingness. Not to mention that little scene in the bathtub just now. So you’re not really surprised that your orgasm rears its head so early, curling up tightly in your stomach the longer Namjoon fucks you. He’s back to thrusting now, shallow little movements that make you see stars every time his cock glides inside of you. “Joon, I'm gonna...” you rasp out pitifully, grinding back against him. 

“Whenever you want,” he murmurs, leaning forward to press a kiss against your shoulder. It’s sweet, but on top of that, it has him pushing in further than before, finally pressed against that sensitive spot inside of you that makes your entire body lock up. You sob, thighs quivering when he reaches an arm around you. It’s almost romantic how your hands meet, his fingers covering yours as he guides them over your clit slowly. “Give it to me, baby,” he croons, lips pressed securely against your neck. He leaves soft kisses there, smooches really, that make you melt. 

Another shallow buck of his hips forward and you’re cumming, breaths picking up until they accumulate into a choked wail against the sheets. “Fuck— oh, fuck,” you cry, your thighs spasming from the force of your first satisfying orgasm in months. Namjoon holds you through it, slowly thrusting inside of you until he’s drawn out your entire orgasm.

The new added pleasure makes his movements sound even wetter, dirtier even. “That’s it,” he purrs, pushing himself back up to his full height behind you. You feel absolutely boneless beneath him, laying limply against the mattress as Namjoon repositions your hips for himself. “Can I finish like this, sweetheart?” he asks anyway, thumbs drawing a soothing pattern along your hip. 

You can barely catch your breath, so you settle on a halfhearted nod that has him huffing out a laugh. 

For some reason, Namjoon fucks you harder once he knows you’ve had your fill. Like he’s trying to draw another orgasm out of you, but is also the least bit concerned with you. Honestly, it works. He moves fast and hard, like he has no regard for your pleasure, and for some reason that turns you on more than it should. It’s this weird fantasy of yours, to be mistreated by a man as respectful as Namjoon, and you find yourself weirdly fulfilling it now as he fucks his cock into you. 

His fingers dig into your skin, wildly bucking into you as he chases his own high, and it’s embarrassing how quickly a second one builds up for you. You moan at one particular thrust, body sensitive all over. “Oh,” you whimper, “Namjoon.”

He grunts, your cries fueling him on as he continues his mad race to the end. “Gonna cum with me again?” he pants, his quick pace rocking you forward. You nod, using your killer grip on the sheets to ground yourself as you weakly attempt to meet his thrusts. “Aren’t you the sweetest,” he hums, and doesn’t let you respond as he continues to jackhammer his way into your pussy at a bruising pace. 

It takes a few more thrusts, and one whiny cry of his name— “come on, Joonie,” you whimper, turning to throw him a teary-eyed gaze over your shoulder; he shudders at the sight —until Namjoon is finally tipped over the edge, shooting his pleasure deep into you on the next thrust. It’s warm, paints your walls and threatens to spill out when he finally pulls out. 

But Namjoon has read up, using those big strong arms of his to keep you from collapsing onto your tummy as he scrambles around for something to keep your hips up. “It sticks better this way,” he says, a sheen of sweat against his temples when he flops down beside you. 

“What sticks better,” you groan, the achy feeling of just having your world rocked quickly settling into your bones. 

Namjoon leans forward and places a kiss against your lips, as if saying here, for all your hard work. “You know... it,” he shrugs, hands behind his head as he prepares himself to supervise your post-sex nap, just to make sure you don’t accidentally move around and let his cum leak out. “You did good, wifey,” he praises with another smooch. “Maybe we should let Hyejoo sleep over at Jimin’s more.”

Hyejoo’s return is the highlight of the year. 

You pick her up around noon, and your heart nearly grows ten sizes when you see her come running down Jimin’s front steps and into your arms. “Hi, mommy,” she beams, the same smile as Namjoon. And just like Namjoon, you can’t stop yourself from covering her face in tiny kisses. She says they tickle and squirms and squeals in your embrace. 

Jimin’s at the door with this weirdly blank look on his face. “Hey, Jimin,” you call out, helping Hyejoo load her bag into the backseat.

“Hey…” he greets, just as Hyejoo frantically begins calling for you to buckle her in. “Um, __,” Jimin says, but you’re a little busy securing the tiny love of your life into her booster seat, so you just throw him a quick glance to let him know you’re listening. Kinda. “There’s something I have to tell you—“

“I wanna see daddy!” Hyejoo babbles from the backseat, wildly waving her hands around as you finally close the door on her. With it shut, her loud voice is drowned out and you’re left raising a brow at Jimin as you round the front of the car. 

“What’s up?” you ask. 

Jimin comes down the steps, awkwardly hovering by the front of your car. “Um, when we were on the phone—“ Hyejoo knocks her tiny hands against the window, gesturing for you to hurry up. You flash Jimin an apologetic frown at the interruption. “Well, you see. She kinda heard us— well, me—” 

Another flurry of knocks, and you can’t wait to relay to Namjoon how excited your daughter had been to see him again. It’ll boost his ego, not that he really needs it to be any bigger. “That’s fine,” you tell Jimin, swinging your door open. Immediately, Hyejoo’s high-pitched voice fills the space between you and Jimin. “You know I don’t mind talking to the missus,” you joke, nudging his side. “She’s my friend too, ya know.”

“Gotta show daddy something!” Hyejoo shouts from the backseat, has this big smile on her face that makes you smile as well. 

Beside you, Jimin is quickly falling apart. “No, well—” you drop down into your seat “it wasn’t her who heard—“ You shut the door, lowering the window to thank Jimin one more time. Hyejoo beats you to it.

“Bye, Mr. Jimin!” she says, tiny legs kicking around all wildly in her excitement. You shake your head with a grin, waving goodbye to Jimin one last time as you pull out of his driveway. 

“Daddy!” Hyejoo shrieks upon entering your home. Her tiny overnight bag is tossed down at the entryway, ladybug rain boots haphazardly kicked towards the general direction of the shoe closet. Namjoon had been upstairs in his study when you left, but he now comes bounding down the steps at the sound of your daughter’s voice. He cries out a dopey, “princess”, as he scoops her up in his big arms. He does a twirl and everything, so dramatic. But it makes Hyejoo giggle like crazy. 

She allows one big fat kiss against her chubby cheeks before she’s shushing him with the news of her announcement. “Daddy, look,” she beams, holding his face between her tiny hands. “I can say the f sound now!”

Namjoon has been avidly working towards this ability for months now. Namjoon, who has spent nights reading every page of every child development book possible, who has spent hours decorating pretty flashcards for her, who has sectioned off time from his busy schedule everyday just to go over lessons with her. Well, Namjoon looks over the goddamn moon at the news. 

“Let’s hear it, honey,” you urge, stepping in when his happiness renders him incapable of speech. So he just nods along, looks like a bobblehead doll beside you. 

And with both of her proud, sometimes overprotective, parents standing before her, Hyejoo puts on a big grin and says, “fuck.”

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[thekingofthenameless]

Merlin is such an interesting character, with so much angst potential, and hardly anyone realizes that.

He isn’t the typical Merlin. When I, at least, think of other versions of Merlin, the Sword in the Stone Merlin is one of the first to come to my mind. The Sword in the Stone Merlin is sweet, a little bit forgetful, and a little weird. His magic can only be used for educational purposes, according to him. ToA Merlin is a jaded, guarded person. He’s a warrior who’s been through a lot, to say the least, and he remembers everything. Maybe that’s why most of the ToA fandom still doesn’t try to analyze him at all. They don’t look at the layers of his character, they only look at the surface, and go, “Merlin’s a bad person!” That’s barely covering the whole Merlin hate train after Season Three came out, ugh.

Anyway, here’s the hell that he’s been through: He’s been fighting evil for thousands of years. In his words, “I was battling evil when the world was still young.” Because of that, he’s seen millennia of terrible failures, death, and pain. He fought the Arcane Order and their Titans for a thousand years straight, and it’s implied that he was the one who sealed them away. He only got a hundred years of peace before he went to sleep. Well, not even that. Guinevere died, and Arthur’s massacre began, which affected everyone. He became emotionally distant from Douxie. He tried to lessen the effects of Arthur’s massacre by taking creatures under his protection. I doubt Arthur could kill him, but he could have been imprisoned, or banished, for treason. His former apprentice, Morgana turned against them, then she died in front of him.

She came back to life, and he was still trying to process the fact that she had died in the first place. Then Killahead happened. He literally got impaled with her magic, then he learned that Arthur died. He was confused. Before he had the chance to try to process another death of one of his few friends, Morgana tried to kill him. She wanted him dead, irrationally blaming him for her brother’s death. He had to go to sleep for nine hundred years because of that, and the only reason he was asleep for that long is because Morgana was stealing his magic for nine hundred years. Even though he prepared for everything, he was hoping that it wouldn’t happen, and he didn’t know that Morgana had taken his magic until the Eternal Night.

He’s a great judge of character. In a few seconds of meeting Angor Rot, he told Morgana, “Leave them alone, Morgana!” He was talking about both AAARRRGGHH!!! and Angor Rot. She beat him up, wanting to kill him again. He realized that Morgana stole his magic for nine hundred years, which is what kept him asleep. Then after she beat him up some more, she told him that she murdered his Trollhunters. Before that, he had to learn that she was keeping a slave when he met Angor Rot.

Wizards rolls around. A mysterious Knight attacks, stabbing his current Trollhunter in the heart with this shard of that he knows nothing about, forcing him to put him into stasis in hopes of stalling the shard’s progress. He still has trauma from Morgana. After he takes Douxie and co. to Camelot to explain what happened, he says, “The Green Knight said but one name, which chilled me to the bone.” Morgana. The Arcane Order is back, and they attack while he’s explaining. He’s horrified. The Order found them, and the Green Knight is with them. Then Galahad, one of his oldest friends sacrifices himself in the ensuing battle to buy them some time. He’s clearly devastated.

He only has a few seconds to process it, before he has to shove his grief aside and focus on the battle. Then he finds out that the Order resurrected Arthur, and he’s evil. He probably had a big sense of déjà vu when Arthur revealed himself. And he probably hasn’t had time to process Morgana either. He went to sleep pretty much right after their battle happened. He woke up nine hundred years later and had to fight her again. After that, he had to go to New Jersey to find a new heartstone. Then Jim, Galahad, and Arthur happened, and he has to deal with all that. Unfortunately, his feelings are never really shown, probably because of time constraints. (Time constraints my beloathed.)

Also, here’s some meta about him from @aaronwaltke.

[ceruleanchillin]

When You're At The Function F***in It UP And Your Man Walks In (Mayans)

Warnings: Implied sexual content, language, fighting

Characters: Angel, Coco, & EZ

A:

You’re on thin ice as it is sis. The little forest-green dress with the the deep plunge front and slit sides, the one that ended up purchased after your friends hyped you into it. That’s supposed to be in the trash according to one Angel Reyes. That, or reserved for private nights in.

Currently, it was wrapped around your form, helping you grab envious/admiring glances from around the room.

Your hips twisted to the layered bass, using the random behind you for stability. Your friend next to you cheered you on, her inner hype man on full display. There’s a breakdown in the song, and you lose yourself in the rhythm. Suddenly, you hear a familiar voice telling you “Superstar mama, say hi for the gram!”.

Your eyes zone in on Gilly, eyes wide. Everyone knew the Mayans rolled deep when they went anywhere. Where there was one, there was the rest. Especially when it came to the three musketeers and their wrangler, EZ.

Like you were busted sneaking back into your room as a teen, you froze. You narrowed your eyes at your friend who shrugged and mouthed sorry before disappearing.

“Gilly fuck off!” You hissed, moving away from the random. Your eyes scanning the crowded den.

Gilly laughed, tucking his phone into his kutte. “Ayy, don’t get mad at me,” he fluttered his eyelashes and fake coughed into his hand. “I don’t feel so good baby, I’m just gonna stay in tonight.”

You narrowed your eyes at his high-pitched mimicry of your last conversation with Angel.

He wasn’t even supposed to be there. Your friend swore she nixed all Mayan related invites, just for that night, on your behalf. All you wanted was to be able to turn up like you did pre-relationship. Normally you could at clubhouse parties since Angel trusted everyone there with his life. Any party outside of that was a gamble, and Angel could referee like he got a check for it.

Your eyes finally met said man’s across the party and a chill and went down your spine. Angel was propped against the wall across the way, eyes on you.

The rest of party fell away as you made your way over to him, schooling your features into your ‘what did I do daddy?’ pout.

“Nah, don’t come over with that lip poking now.” He shook his head, speaking when you were in range of him.

“And what are you doing wearing this fucking pillowcase out here? What did we talk about?” He pinched the thin strings of your dress.

“Nooo, don’t be mad. I was walking through my closet and it fell on me. Besides, you liked it when I modeled it for you.”

Angel scoffed, refusing to even entertain your comments. Coco chuckled from his spot next to his friend as he lit a cigarette.

“I thought you had club shit, I didn’t even know you’d be here.” You cringed as soon as the words left your lips, the shots you’d taken earlier still putting in work.

“I didn’t know you’d be here either. I thought you were sick. There’s some soup in the car that thought it was getting dropped off. Apparently wrong thoughts is the theme of the night.”

Petty by Angel Reyes.

“Soup? Baby, that’s so sweet.” You tried to pet his cheeks, but he was keeping you at bay.

“You aren’t even sick! Imma give that shit to Gilly.”

“Nooo.” You whined again, still trying to get him to let you touch him in some way.

“Get that bitch you were dancing with to buy you soup.” It was his turn to pout, but there was fire in his eyes as he tracked the guy you’d been dancing with. “It’s all he’s gonna be able to fucking eat in a minute anyways.”

“Sorry I blew up your spot ma, I just wanted to see my plug and get out.” Coco opened the palm of his hand not holding the cigarette and revealed a small bag of weed.

Angel snapped his head towards him, expression incredulous. “Don’t apologize to her, she lied to her man! She gave some puto hope! Get on code!”

“I love you hermano, but this is your guard dog-ass fault.” He pointedly ignored his friend’s heated glare as a girl in the doorway caught his interest, slipping away when she positively returned his gaze.

Angel’s attention was claimed by you once again when you pulled his head down towards you. You smothered his cheeks in kisses, to which he was physically unresponsive.

“I don’t know if I want you kissing on me querida.”

You rolled your eyes. Petty or not, everyone knew Angel’s life force depleted the longer he went without touching you. Even in your tipsy state you could see his fingers literally twitched with the need to take their rightful place on your hips.

“I just wanted to dance like I used to, and you don’t dance. Then you beat down guys who want to. You left me no choice, so let me have kisses.” You locked your arms around his waist, successfully avoiding his half-hearted attempts to push you away.

He scrunched up his face. “How the fuck am I catching strays in this situation? I’m the victim!”

“I’ll make it up to you later if you stop being a hatin’ wallflower and let me grind on you.” Your hips found the rhythm of the slow wind song thumping through the room.

His hands encircled your throat, drawing you closer to his person. Your pupils blew at his darkened expression, your lower half squirming with interest. He pressed his lips to yours, and the party faded to nothing again. His fingers flexed around your throat before closing just enough for him to draw the subtlest gasp from you. He felt it more than heard it over the noise, but it was enough.

He pulled away, licking his lips as you tried to remember where you were and if sin always tasted so good.

“You’ll make it up to me right now in the traitor’s car.” he held up keys you recognized to be Coco’s.

You started to protest on principle, but your body was going through withdrawals from a lite touch (for Angel). He could see the wheels turning, but you were letting him lead you out of the room, palm openly covering your ass.

“Who are you texting?” You asked, more annoyed with how his hands were no longer possessively roaming your body than a real answer.

He quickly pocketed his phone and returned his hands to you. “No one baby.” definitely not telling his boys via group chat to handle the random for him. “Stop worrying about anything other than how you’re gonna get around at work tomorrow.”

--------

C:

It was bad enough you couldn’t make it to New Orleans due to work, and Old Lady “responsibilities”, but this petty fight you were in with Coco was the kicker. You couldn’t even remember how it started, but it escalated back and forth until you weren’t speaking and were back staying at your apartment.

Poor Letty had been reduced to messenger girl, especially now that she had a car. A tug of war with your point being “she was my girl first, that’s how we met” and his point being “she’s my kid, blood first ma” had broken out. You didn’t know what was going to wear through its welcome first, your lack of Coco, or Letty’s patience, but they were competing. It wasn’t like Coco was doing any better if your daily updates from Letty were any indication. He was impatient, tense, chain smoking, and was getting closer and closer to going through with the apology call he was openly fighting.

It wouldn’t be long before you were back to getting your back arched out of shape if that was anything to go by. Not a moment too soon if your own miserable habits were anything to go by. You wanted to use the party to distract yourself, hoping Coco would break first the following day. If not, it was sure to be you.

You spent the whole day throwing your frustrations into decorating your best friend’s backyard. It looked like the French Quarter threw up its best years, but it was the perfect backdrop to lose yourself to some bounce music.

Normally, you could goad Coco into being your twerking post, and that resistance (plus his turned on bi-lingual hypeman compliments in your ear) was everything missing at the moment.

You pouted and weaved your way out of the crowd to your friend who was busy playing good hostess.

“Ah ah, no whining. If you wanna really make it Mardi Gras, shake your ass on a dude.”

You narrowed your eyes, annoyed she shut down and solved your problem before you could whine about it. “Coco hates that shit! Plus he’s spoiled me, it won’t even be the same.”

“Coco isn’t here, and it doesn’t have to be the same, it just has to do.” She turned away from where she’d filled two shot glasses for the two of you. “Besides, we both know your ass is gonna be all in his neck crying about how you miss him tomorrow. Do your thing before you go out sad.”

She clinked shot glasses with you, pleased at her accurate assessment and your sourpuss face.

“Fuck you.” You laughed, voice rough from the burn of the shot.

“Save that for Coco.” She smacked your ass, draped one of the many beaded necklaces hanging off her shoulder around your neck, and sent you on your way back to the crowd of writhing bodies.

It was nothing to find dudes to grind on, and you fell into the synergy. You couldn’t count how many fast paced songs you’d thrown it back to, or how many guys you’d danced with. The stack of beads you’d acquired gave some idea though.

Meanwhile, Coco’s skin was alive with the kind of anger he felt. He’d been seriously contemplating coming to your place and forcing out admissions of how his life wasn’t right without you in it. He couldn’t remember who or what started it, but it didn’t even matter when your scent was starting to fade from his pillow, and his touch starvation was acting up.

All of that went careening out the window when he stumbled upon a pouty Letty, huffing and sucking her teeth at her phone. Turns out you, and “everyone in the goddamn world but me” according to Letty, were at your friend’s blowout Mardi Gras party. Coco knew it was your favorite holiday, but it was news to him that you had any plans since you couldn’t officially go this year. News he didn’t welcome at all, since all of the videos he saw you in you were throwing (his) your ass on multiple dudes. Did you think he wouldn’t fight everyone???

He was already on his bike before he’d even registered leaving the house. He sent a quick summoning call in his boy’s group chat, your friend’s address the destination.

The party was louder and wilder than the videos let on. He’d already spotted his boys by their kuttes, mingling in their respective ways, but didn’t seek them out. They’d find him if he needed them to. Coco on the other hand, needed to find you.

His eagle eyes picked apart the crowd until he spotted you twisting yourself to the rhythm. Coco didn’t know whether to shoot the asshole behind you, or take you away to deal with the feelings you were bringing out of him.

You knew he loved when you brought the South to the West Coast with your hips and ass.

He charged into your space, his hands immediately going for the guy’s arm and snatching him towards him.

“Make a choice cabrón. Get the fuck out, or be an expensive bill and sad memory for your moms by morning.” He pressed his kutte to his person, emphasizing that he was strapped.

The guy raised his palms and quickly exited the scene. Unwilling to test what clearly was a warning that Coco would happily make good on.

You tugged on him, trying to get him to move away from the crowd. Scanning those around you to see who saw or heard, you noticed more than you would’ve liked. They wouldn’t make a fuss, noting his kutte, but still.

“Stop it. What are you even doing here?” You hissed, tugging his arm harshly for his attention.

He turned his gaze, wild with adrenaline and arrogance at his victory, on you. “You should’ve stopped yourself before throwing it back on random fuckers for the internet. This is on you.”

“No, this is on you. If you hadn’t done what you did or said what you said…”. You trailed off remembering that you couldn’t recall what had happened, just the frustration.

“What did I say or do (y/n)?” He noted your visible annoyance that he’d chosen to use your real name instead of a pet name, and with a smirk, he walked you backwards until your back gently hit the fence.

Between not recalling what started the fight, and your man looking amazing, you settled on a pathetic. “You remember.”

“No I don’t, and neither do you.” that familiar prickle of intensity sparked between the two of you.

Everything between you and Coco felt like a live wire dancing back and forth. High energy moments usually ended in either great sex, or separation (sometimes by the force of your friends) to let things cool down.

“I know you’re gonna catch a case if you keep moving like that Johnny. Is that what you want?”

“Nah mujer, that ain’t what I want. I want you home where you belong, but you’re out here playing me instead.” Slender fingers tugged sharply at a few of the beaded necklaces in your stack.

You sucked your teeth and turned your head, ignoring the warm cheeks and butterflies in your stomach at his on-brand admission of missing you.

He placed a hand on the fence next to your head, grasping your chin to turn your attention back to him.

“You’re being a drama queen. I thought I was talking to Angel for a second.”

He threw his head back as laughed, and you got an almost overwhelming urge to kiss him. Or at least bury your fingers in his soft curls, they were begging for it at this po-

“Fuck that, he’s still got me beat. Wait til you see the tantrum he’s saving for you for not getting invited tonight.”

“He was, I just told her to can it because of you. He should be mad at you.” You pouted, but your tone was teasing.

“I could put in a good word for you…you know, if you’re done being petty.” He leaned in, running his lips over the shell of your ear.

“Or I could just offer to throw it back on him to make him forget.”

It was your turn to laugh when Coco tensed, and pulled back from where he’d been teasing you with light touches. You didn’t love him no longer touching you, but faltering him made it almost worth it.

“Or you could take me home and we could both forget…” you clutched at his kutte, leaning into him.

He pulled your hands away by your wrists, his thumbs rubbing over your pulse points.

“Nah, if dancing is this fucking important to you, come on then.” He pulled you after him.

“Cocooo,” you whined, more interested in getting him to touch you again. “Take me home already.”

“My lady wants to dance.” He sat on the outdoor wicker couch and patted his lap. “So dance.”

You stood there in confusion for a second, before what he meant became clear. “I’m not doing that here!”

“You didn’t have an issue earlier, move those hips ma.” He looked between you and his lap again.

Could’ve been the way he was biting his lip, or the laid back way he rested against the couch, but that coupled with lack of access to him, had affirmative words running through your mind.

You playfully rolled your eyes, faking like his request was that expensive. “Only because I want to get you home, and I know you’ll never quit whining if I don’t.”

You slipped onto his lap, the action already drawing attention from partygoers just for the potential of what was to come.

He grasped your hips to still you before you started to move, his palm pressing you back to him by your throat. “And don’t half-ass it yeah…or I might do the same when I get you home.”

--------

E:

It wasn’t until Creeper hit his shoulder and informed him of how hard he was smiling that EZ realized his cheeks ached. He couldn’t help it, he loved watching you dance more than anything.

As soon as you heard a melody you liked, you came alive to it, and stole everyone’s attention. You could find the beat on anything.

That wasn’t his sole reason for cheesing so hard though. Tonight had been the first night you brought your closest friends around the club, and he knew it took great trust in him, his brothers, and your relationship to do that. Your family was on the East Coast, so your friends filled that role for you. Coupled with EZ, they were your world and he thanked you everyday for letting him in.

“Gonna stop calling you boy scout if you keep enjoying the show this much.” Creeper took the seat across from him, half blocking his view.

“Oh you didn’t know how EZ gets down?” Angel’s lips formed that mischievous grin, his eyes taking on the same glint. “You should’ve seen him begging me for tales from Angel’s crib.”

“She and her girls look good out there. Might be too much for you junior.”

EZ rolled his eyes at the ribbing from his brothers, his grin still intact. “At some point I’m gonna be patched, I’m happy to make a cage date for that day. Pretty sure I can take both of you.

Creeper and Angel exchanged exaggerated incredulous expressions.

“See what happens when you go easy on the help?” Angel scoffed. “You sound like you’re hurtin’ for work prospect.”

“Could use some more water.” Creeper shook his water bottle at him, just barely missing splashing him.

EZ rose from his seat, empty beer bottle in hand. “Just remember that day is coming.”

Angel and Creeper laughed raucously at that.

“Don’t get your ass beat in front of your woman lil bro!”

EZ shook his head, choosing to ignore his dumbass older brother. and tossed his bottle in the trash. Slipping through the moving bodies until he was near you, he gently patted your friend who nodded and stepped from behind you.

You jumped, surprised at his sudden appearance, but settled back against him.

“Hey baby.” You gently encouraged him to follow the sway of your hips as he placed his head on your shoulder.

“Hey. I’m back on the slave clock, you want anything?”

You turned to him, his arms instinctively encircling your waist. “Hard tea please.”

“I gotta go to the trailer for that, and get the variety hour table over there a drink. I’ll try to be quick.”

“Don’t rush, but remember, you owe me a dance.” You cupped his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He grinned goofily, his attention solely yours until he felt your girls draping themselves over him.

“Can you get us some too Zeke? Thanks.” “Preciate it Z.”

You giggled pushing them off him, but you knew he didn’t mind. You guys were a package deal and he’d take whatever you came with. At least their requests came with pleasantries.

“Sure ladies, not a problem. Don’t let anyone take her while I’m gone.”

They laughed, giving affirmative replies while you rolled your eyes pushed him towards the side door.

Once he began his drink fulfillment quest, it was like every brother wanted something from him. It was a full house that night and he should’ve known once he was no longer under Angel’s break protection, he was back to errand boy status.

Every task he completed was met with teasing about how his rushed pace clearly pointed to him wanting to get back to you. He didn’t argue the fact, just moved faster every time you were mentioned.

Finally, he was able to to focus on your request when he stopped being flagged down.

He was heading to the trailer when one of your friends stopped him.

“One of the other charter’s guys is annoying our girl. She doesn’t wanna make a fuss cause’..you know.” She gestured to his vest to signify his prospect status. “But I know she’s not feeling it.”

He could feel the the muscles in his jaw flex in anger, feet carrying him across the crowded yard. People moved before he could plow through them, which was just as well, because he wasn’t fully in control at that point, and didn’t think he could slow down enough to sidestep them.

The clubhouse had filled considerably since his absence. He scanned the room for you, finding you in a crowd of moving bodies. Your friend was right, you had a good poker face, but your man knew you.

He didn’t waste time physically separating you from the Yuma patch member. He gently put you behind his person, feeling your small hands press against his back through his vest.

“I’m good baby. He agreed this was the last dance.” Your voice belied your annoyance despite your words.

“I’m guessing he said that more than once.”

“I don’t mind, I know clu-“

Yuma interrupted you. “See, she doesn’t mind. Go find something to do with yourself prospect.”

“I’ve got a project in mind.” EZ pushed you back a little more to give himself room to work with.

“Be smart bare vest.” Yuma smirked, his eyes saying how much he’d love for EZ to make the mistake he was thinking about.

In the span of the next few seconds, Yuma’s vest and shirt was covered in beer and Coco had appeared at the same time. If the obvious way he was holding the bottle didn’t give away he did it on purpose, his dry “my bad” and shrug did.

Yuma swung on Coco who anticipated it and dodged it, before firing back with a successful punch of his own. A sea of Mayans of mixed charter filled the space and EZ quickly pushed you behind the bar before he lost you in the shuffle.

Understanding what Coco had done, he got in the middle to give the Yuma patch what he’d been asking for while he was covered by the chaos.

It didn’t last long before the presidents stepped in, but it didn’t have to. He was happy to take the few licks he’d received, because he was pretty sure he’d broken Yuma patch’s nose, and would get away with it.

His brother’s words against theirs, and the presidents didn’t feel the need to make it a drawn out issue. He pretended to have played bouncer instead of active participant, and it all ended with a basic chewing out.

His only thoughts were of you once his rage had subsided, and he could think clearly again. Had he scared off you and your friends? Embarrassed you?

He was happy to find that hadn’t. Your friends couldn’t help but fawn over him and how “perfect for you” he was. He especially enjoyed reveling in the jealousy of Coco, Angel, Gilly, and Creeper. Coco slightly less salty when he got praise for his efforts.

He got his admiration from you later when you patched him up in the trailer, soft voice telling him how sexy he looked to you, and how you appreciated him thinking of you in his position. You held his face and gently went over everything you could find, while he said on his makeshift bed content to let you.

He couldn’t stop grinning, the one that always got him mercilessly mocked because it was now associated with him thinking of you.

“Seriously EZ,” you dabbed at the final cut you hadn’t attended to. “Thank you.”

“I want you to feel safe with me, it’s only fair if you can accept all this shit.”

You grinned down at him, hair framing your face, and he had to remind himself to breathe at the sight. “I do, all the time.”

He cupped the side of your face, unwilling to fight the urge to kiss you any longer.

You laughed speaking between kisses. “I’m not done.”

“It’s ok, I’m good.” He chased your lips, unashamed to want you so badly.

“Ok,” you returned his kisses, your fingers dancing down the nape of his neck. “But I’d like to cash in that dance you owe me…you know, before we get too busy.”

He rose to full height, hands finding both of yours. “I can do that.”

AN:

I don’t speak Spanish, so if I made a mistake feel free to hop in my messages and let me know and how to fix it please. You’re more than welcome to.

1.) I remember seeing a meme vid about this years ago, and finding it hilarious. I could see this happening with these dudes and their personalities. That, and I just really wanted a lil southern culture in a Mayans drabble. 🤷🏾‍♀️

2.) I did a rewatch of the whole series (including the original), and I’m back on the obsession train. Just tryna to be happy before S4 kicks my shit in.

3.) I kept telling myself I wouldn’t end up writing for these fools and here I am in my Ringling Bros. best🤡.

[monstersinthecosmos]

VAMPTEMBER DAY 1: DEVIL'S IN THE DETAILS

One of my favorite things to do, like one of my small pleasures in life, is to pair music with books so that like, I can listen to an album (or song or playlist or whatever works) while I read a book because I know that my brain will form vivid memories and then every time I hear those songs for the rest of my life I can have like this fun moment of remembering a story or a character or a scene or whatever. And it’s become this ritualistic thing I do to try on different albums with a book to find the best fit, and then I’m making an intentional commitment to that album for the rest of my life.

Since today’s prompt is “Devil’s in the Details” it reminded me of how I listened to the album Battle for the Sun by Placebo on loop last time I reread The Tale of the Body Thief so I want to share how some of the songs connect with the book because it’s left a lasting impression on me!!! I recall making a playlist of like the gloomier half of the album that felt more thematically appropriate. =P

Just as a CW I wanna mention that there's a lot of suicide on this album just like there is in the book, please proceed with caution!

Battle for the Sun

Like obviously “battle for the SUN” herp derp feels like a vampire reference LOL but I think it also sets the scene for this book in particular which is about Lestat trying to see the sun again. But the album in general has a lot of messaging about suicide and survival. A lot of the songs (including this one) also talk about being alienated or facing adversity, as well, like not just the idea of survival but having to do it alone. 

So it just feels like, even LITERALLY this song feels like it’s about Lestat’s suicide attempt and setting the scene for him to do this ridiculous stunt that NO ONE is supporting him on lol. 

I will battle for the sun And I won't stop until I'm done You are getting in the way And I have nothing left to say I  will brush off all the dirt And I will pretend it didn't hurt  You are a black and heavy weight And I will not participate Dream brother, my killer, my lover

(also as a bonus, calling someone brother/killer/lover is SO Ricey lol and I love it bc it shows up on other Placebo albums as the concept of someone being EVERYTHING to you!)

For What It’s Worth

This one is so funny because it’s like perfect for Lestat in that it’s kinda bitchy/cynical and also so catchy and fun? LOL But it’s about someone just at the end of their rope, burnt out from helping everyone else when on one wants to help THEM. 

It’s funny in that Lestat context because like, I think he’s a character that struggles with his own self worth. Like he sits down at book writing time and he’s able to hype himself up and everything but we also see him go through these dark times and depressive episodes as well. TOBT is a great example because he starts the book with a suicide attempt and then he’s on this high to like DO A COOL ADVENTURE and literally NO ONE is supporting him. 

And like the extra layer is I think, despite struggling with his self worth, it’s like he has this split thinking where he has to contend with his own ego. He is sensitive to rejection and at the same time has an inflated sense of self. The concept of helping everyone else or the idea that being part of their lives makes them happier is such a funny idea because he exists like on his own island where no one else agrees with him or sees it the way he does. But it means he can mistreat people all he wants, without realizing it, and doesn’t take accountability for it until he realizes no one has his back anymore. 

The end of the century I said my goodbyes For what it's worth, I always aim to please But I nearly died For what it's worth Come on, lay with me 'Cause I'm on fire For what it's worth, I'd tear the sun in three To light up your eyes

And also this part of the song is so funny to me like I FEEL BRIAN MOLKO IS PERHAPS MORE SINCERE AND I’M NOT LAUGHING AT HIM but in vampire land it feels fitting to pair these extremely dramatic words with the song POPPING. 

No one cares when you're out on the street Picking up the pieces to make ends meet No one cares when you're down in the gutter Got no friends, got no lover

Devil in the Details

I love this song so much AND IT’S THE PROMPT TODAY and it’s just so beautiful and really hits that PLACEBO THING, you know the thing I mean like you can enjoy Placebo all day and then certain songs they just really hit their stride and it’s so good. 

All of my wrongs No more wicked ways Come back to haunt me, come what may He wrote the songs That I hoped to write someday Looks like the devil's here to stay Let me take you for a ride With the devil in the details We'll kiss and tremble with the light Everything is fine With the devil in the details We're gonna dance with him tonight

Just off the repetition of “looks like the devil’s here to stay” makes me so emotional LOL. 

ANYWAY so this concept really resonates with me for this book because Lestat’s entire story here is that we open with Lestat trying to kill himself, then has this chance to be human again, then realizes he’s still a monster even when he’s human. And the thing is like, he gets his body back, wins the game, it’s back to normal, and instead of changing his ways he doubles down and decides to continues to be evil. THE DEVIL’S HERE TO STAY, GUYS. 

I love this in line with like the entire reason I find villains to be compelling; we create a super hyperbolic situation to play with the idea of love and forgiveness and identity– in this situation it’s also an act of SELF LOVE for Lestat. Like the idea of him embracing himself as a flawed, sometimes evil, person is an act of unconditional self acceptance and I love that!!!!

The Never‐Ending Why

Sdhjgkffffffff the entire concept of this song is the contradiction that time heals and yet there’s not ENOUGH time to answer all the questions we have about the unknowable. 

I bring this up a lot when I talk about VC because I think about how we have to reframe the vampires’ psychology as immortals and what it means for things like forgiveness. Like some of these characters have done truly atrocious things to each other and IRL if someone did something like this it’s just OKAY, BANISHED IMMEDIATELY GOODBYE because we do not have the TIME to get through such a serious emotional wound. Vampires have nothing BUT time.

But I love it in regards to the suicide theme on the album of like, the acceptance that you don’t have enough time anyway, being okay with that. It’s something the vampires all struggle with. Being immortal seems to make them even more afraid of death. 

Julien

This is one of my fav songs on the album, I lose my mind every time I hear it. ALSO REMEMBER WHEN LESTAT MET JULIEN MAYFAIR AND YOU’D THINK THEY’D BE SO COMPATIBLE WITH EACH OTHER BUT THEY WERE JUST CATTY BITCHES THE WHOLE TIME LOL

Placebo had said this song is named after Julian from Less Than Zero (lol) and the song is about slowly killing yourself with drugs; references to “Julien” I think you could swap out for “cocaine” or whatever you want. 

Anyway since I’m still talking about Lestat it really can fit so much of his bullshit haha like he’s a person who never has enough and often behaves selfishly because of it. Like in this book he winds up isolating himself from everyone bc they go LESTAT NO and he’s like LESTAT YES! And it’s not just them like denying him having this beautiful experience, like there’s a very real danger to having his POWERFUL BODY on the loose.  

Fallen angels in the night And everyone is barred from Heaven Just one more hit to make it right But every one turns into seven Now that it's snowing in your brain Another ten will not placate you This ain't no killer for the pain This avalanche will suffocate you

You can run but you can't hide Because no one here gets out alive Find a friend in whom you can rely Julien, you're being taken for a ride You can run but you can't hide Because no one here gets out alive Find a friend in whom you can confide Julien, you're a slow motion suicide

I like the image of “slow motion suicide” too again in reference to a vampire’s relationship with time. It feels like it loses meaning for them, or can feel relative. And it’s sad because like whatever context you hear in a song like this it’s still about all the small ways we hurt ourselves and how it adds up. Like Lestat is a person who desperately needs companionship and wants to be loved and he constantly makes it harder for people to love him lol.

Breathe Underwater

This! Song! Is! So! Good!

It brings us back to a theme of survival after all the other stuff we just went through on this album haha. 

It's hard to reconcile What I've become With the wounded child Hiding deep inside

(This part always makes me think of Armand bc lol but anyway)

So back to that thing about how Lestat becomes human only to learn he’s still a monster lol. I FEEL LIKE, AND DON’T LET ME GO DOWN A RABBIT HOLE NOW, but like there’s a therapy thing about reparenting or protecting the wounded inner child, and learning to reframe your instincts as an adult who is not a wounded child. And it’s that old saying hurt people hurt people; sometimes we become a version of ourselves that we really dislike because we’re reacting to our trauma way past the threat of danger. 

And there’s a conflicting message in this song about like, breathing underwater (maybe the method to kill yourself) but then also saying “I’m coming up for air, I want to see another dawn.”  It’s like he’s finally sick of it and got the survival instinct at the last moment. 

Take my ego for a ride 'Cause there's nobody by my side It's getting hard to justify And it won't be long till I collide My weakness is laid bare As people stop and stare But it's the last time I swear

But to bring it back up one more time; the whole arc of this book is how he becomes human selfishly, risks his relationships for it, puts people in danger, and the whole time he's nearly dying and trying to reconcile with the idea of what he did to Claudia, only to come to the conclusion he'd do it again. It reads like the song; I can't take this anymore, I must drown myself, but I want to live. Lestat gets to the bottom in this book and really faces his mortality, comes up for air, and does it again.

Whew.

SO ANYWAY I DONT HAVE A GRACEFUL EXIT FOR ALL OF THIS just wanna repeat that I really love these songs and they remind me of Lestat LOL and the back and forth of despair to optimism/survival sounds so much like him! HE’S SO MOODY OKAY?