#[ i think these are a good starting point-- ]

[hedgehog-moss]

My chickens have not been lucky this winter—the youngest one, Louise Michel, despite her revolutionary name, was eaten by a fox earlier this year. At least this new year was off to an auspicious start for this fox and her family. It made me think about Fantastic Mr Fox and how this book indoctrinates small children into directing their empathy towards the beleaguered fox family, while the hen characters are complete non-people—they are even called stupid at one point, even though they are just sitting in their coop, doing their chicken job!

Anyway. Dru survived the fox attack unscathed and non-traumatised, which made me respect her even more than I already did. Drusilla is quite old by now, and she has survived everything—the fox attack that killed her first coopmate, Cordélia; several air strikes by birds of prey; Pandolf trying to scare her to serve his own dog interests... Even though she has long stopped laying eggs, she is a precious asset to my chicken coop: I am going to get new baby hens in the spring and I need Dru to teach them her strategies to win the Darwinian struggle for existence. As an elderly hen, her job is no longer to provide eggs, but wisdom.

And then I heard Dru cry out one afternoon, as if she had been attacked by something.

I felt confused as I ran out to rescue her—I'd seen her just five minutes before when I went out to distribute hay, she was near the pasture gate hanging out with the llamas, donkey, and dog. There's no way a fox would attack a chicken surrounded by such a security detail. I quickly found her, sitting just outside the pasture, in her normal brooding position, she didn't seem hurt—but Pandolf ran towards her as well, and she didn't move out of his way. That was very unusual. Pandolf runs at things and people like a fluffy corrida bull, happy to knock you over with the force of his love (there's a reason the French equivalent of "like a bull in a china shop" is "like a dog in a bowling game"), and Dru always makes sure to jump out of his way, boosting herself with her wings if necessary.

I wondered if she had a broken wing, but when I started examining her she made a very eloquent "urghh go away" gesture at me with both of her wings, so she could move them. Her legs didn't seem injured either, but she refused to get up. I ended up carrying her back to her coop so she could sit in peace and process her feelings, but she wasn't feeling better the next morning. She clucked at me amicably when I visited her but she didn't go outside all day, so I had to leave food and water outside her room like a bemused parent trying to accommodate an angsty teenager.

Since I hadn't been able to detect any injuries and she was eating normally, I thought she might be depressed. Maybe it had taken her some time to understand that she had lost her friend and was all alone in her coop, and then the realisation had hit her, and her normal chicken activities suddenly felt meaningless. That didn't really explain the sharp cry I'd heard the day before, though.

(I hadn't noticed until I took a closer look at the above photo that there is a dirty stain on the wall of the laying box! Embarrassing. But to my defence, chickens are not very clean creatures and keeping their coop clean is a Sisyphean task. I guess I always focus on cleaning the parts where the hens sit and walk, and hadn't leaned over to look at the inside wall. I've now cleaned it up with a brush—but I almost regret doing so, because a friend gave the stain a beautiful and mystical interpretation:

I waited a couple of days to see if Dru's agoraphobia got better, but on Day 3 of her refusing to leave her coop, I decided to take her to the vet.

The farmer who was sitting next to Dru and me in the waiting room seemed very puzzled about my decision to bring a chicken past her prime and no longer laying eggs to the vet for a diagnosis. At first he assumed that I hoped to have her diagnosed as Safe To Eat.

I told him about how this hen is very good at surviving, and I want her to pass on her knowledge to future generations.

Dru looked cranky at the vet, maybe because there was a poster on the wall that said "What's for dinner tonight?" and she took it personally.

Fun chicken fact: the rounder a hen is, the angrier. She may look like an adorable cream puff, but she is a ball of rage:

The vet noticed that her leg was a bit swollen, and said it could be an infection, or maybe some heavy animal had stepped on her foot. He gave me antibiotics and anti-inflammatories and then I had fun trying to make my cranky chicken take her meds every day. Do you think getting a cat to take a pill is difficult? Try it with an animal who evolved from raptors.

Here are screenshots from a video (which my wifi refused to load)—Dru wasn't having a good time, but trust me, neither was I. It was a daily struggle. On the other hand, I discovered that she loves cherry tomatoes! I had a cherry tomato plant in my greenhouse that was only here to keep the aquaponic system going in the winter, I wasn't eating the fruit as they were bitter February tomatoes, and for some reason it didn't occur to me to offer them to my chicken until I was walking around the greenhouse looking for some insect to reward her for taking her medicine. The daily tomato treat delighted her a lot more than some boring insect :)

Well, we are reaching the end of this adventure—Dru will get new coopmates soon (and hopefully start teaching them her secrets immediately) and the vet visit was very worth it 😊 She still has trouble going down the ladder of her coop so I go get her every morning and carry her near my house, but she is walking and, more importantly, scratching around for food again! Here's a little video:

Oh, no, wait, we aren't done—I must ask everyone to take part in the Trial of Pirlouit.

The vet did say it looked as if some heavy animal had stepped on Dru's foot... Considering the llamas are very delicate walkers, and Pandolf is a reckless brute but isn't heavy enough to break a chicken's leg, this makes Pirlouit the main suspect.

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤALIEN GIRLㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Yandere Mark Grayson x Fem Qu Reader Part 3

☆⁠ HEADCANON : You were pregnant... And your pregnancy wasn't normal... Especially not something that mark expected...

☆⁠ NOTES : Qu is an alien species from the book All Tomorrows. You can learn more about her here. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

Mark started noticing things.

It began with small stuff.

Shiny things went missing—coins, keys, a silver spoon, even his mom’s earrings (which somehow ended up under his bed).

Then there was the soft stuff. His hoodies, pillows, blankets—all gone.

And the food. Fruits he’d never seen before piled up in the corner of his room, untouched but somehow... perfectly fresh.

Mark was so confused.

At first, he thought you were just being weird. Because let’s be honest—you weren’t exactly normal. But then he caught you sitting in a pile of stolen goods, legs tucked beneath you, nesting.

That was when he finally asked:

"...What are you doing?"

You blinked up at him, tilting your head, hair cascading around you like a shimmering cloak.

"For baby," you said simply. Then, after a pause, you added: "Babies."

Mark froze.

"...What."

You pointed at your stomach with a serene smile. "Baby. Nest good for baby."

Mark’s heart stopped.

"WHAT???"

Mark. Freaks. Out.

You tilted your head, confused. "What?" Mark panicked. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN BABIES—PLURAL?!" You just shrugged. "Baby." You patted your stomach. "Yours." He felt his soul leave his body.

Mark didn't know how to handle this.

He immediately ran to his mom.

"Mom," he gasped, stumbling into the kitchen like he’d just seen a ghost. "She—she said she’s pregnant."

Debbie paused mid-dishwashing. "What?"

"She’s making a nest! She’s collecting stuff! She said babies!" Mark ran a hand through his hair. "Mom, what the fuck!"

Debbie dried her hands calmly. "Did you use protection?"

Mark gawked at her. "I didn’t think I needed to! She’s an alien!"

Debbie exhaled sharply. "Well, apparently, she’s an alien that can get pregnant."

Mark groaned, collapsing onto the couch. "Oh my God. I’m not ready to be a dad."

"Well," Debbie muttered, completely unbothered. "You should’ve thought about that before sleeping with her."

Mark let out a miserable groan.

Now that you were pregnant, your eating habits changed.

You ate. So. Much.

Especially meat.

Mark stared, horrified, as you tore into a raw steak, completely unbothered. "You know... we usually cook that."

You blinked at him, mouth full of blood. "...Why?"

Mark swallowed. "Because it's gross eating it raw?"

You just tilted your head. "But taste good."

Mark watched in silence as you continued devouring the steak.

You also developed a sweet tooth.

Cookies? Gone.

Ice cream? Destroyed.

Syrup? You drank it straight from the bottle.

He had to physically pry it out of your hands.

Mark learned that you were serious about the nest.

You dragged his hoodies into a corner of his room. You hoarded pillows, blankets, even his mattress.

Mark woke up on the floor.

"You kicked me out of my own bed!" he groaned.

You blinked sleepily. "Nest not for you. Nest for baby."

Mark sighed, rubbing his face.

"...Where am I supposed to sleep?"

You thought about it for a second, then patted your lap.

Mark stared. "...I am not sleeping on your lap."

You shrugged, curling up in the nest. "Then floor."

Mark let out a strangled noise.

One night, Mark found you hugging your knees, staring out the window.

He frowned. "Hey... what’s wrong?"

You stayed silent.

Mark sat beside you. "Come on. Talk to me."

You took a deep breath. "Miss... sisters."

Mark blinked. "Your sisters?"

You nodded. "We... always together. Always. Birth together. Hug under sky." Your voice grew soft. Lonely. "Now... alone."

Mark felt something tug at his chest.

You were always so strange, so terrifying, so otherworldly. It was easy to forget you could feel sadness.

Mark hesitated before wrapping an arm around you.

You looked up, surprised.

Mark forced a smile. "Well... you’re not alone anymore."

You blinked. Then, slowly, you buried your face in his chest.

"...Mark warm," you mumbled.

He chuckled, resting his chin on your head. "Yeah, yeah. I get that a lot."

"Mark," you whispered against his skin, nuzzling into his neck. "You scared?" Mark swallowed thickly. "...A little." You pulled back, blinking at him. "Why?" He exhaled. "Because you’re not human. And you’re... different." You tilted your head. "Different bad?" "...No. Just... different."

You considered that. Then, slowly, you reached out, placing his hand on your slightly rounded stomach. "Not different," you murmured. "Just... mine."

And somehow, despite everything, despite the insane, terrifying reality of his situation— Mark smiled. Because yeah. He was yours.

You were beautiful. Terrifying, yes, but his. You clung to him, kissed him randomly, slept on top of him. And God help anyone who looked at him the wrong way. One time, a girl at the store smiled at Mark. You hissed. Mark had to physically drag you away. "Can you NOT try to commit murder every time a girl breathes near me?" You pouted. "She want mate." Mark sighed. "No, she was just being polite." You narrowed your eyes. "I kill." "NO." Mark was exhausted. Not because of crime-fighting, not because of college, not even because of his dad suddenly being back in his life. No. Because of you. It started one night when Mark woke up to emptiness. You weren’t in the nest. Panic hit him immediately. He checked the kitchen. Not there. The bathroom? Nope. The ceiling? ...Also no. "Goddamn it," he muttered. Mark searched the whole house three times before he heard it—soft breathing. He turned to the darkest corner of his room. Two glowing eyes stared back at him. "Jesus—!" He nearly punched the wall. "What the hell are you doing there?!" You blinked slowly, like a cat caught doing something forbidden. "Hide." Mark exhaled, running a hand down his face. "From what?!" You shrugged. "Feel good." Mark’s eye twitched. "Get out of the shadows." "No." "Get out." "...No." Mark groaned. Debbie had seen some shit. She survived Omni-Man. She survived Viltrumites. But she was not surviving this. She walked into the kitchen one morning, and there you were—perched on the fridge like some kind of cryptid. "...What are you doing?" "Mark say no raw meat," you said blankly. "So I eat where he not see." Debbie sighed. "Please don’t tell me you’re eating it raw again." You tilted your head. "...I no tell." "...Oh my God." Nolan hated you.

He had been sitting at the table, drinking coffee, when Mark asked you something completely innocent. "So… what were you like before?" You perked up. Pregnancy made you talkative, and you loved talking to Mark. "Oh! Had harem. Many males. Many pretty. All do what I say." Mark choked on his drink.

Nolan raised an eyebrow. Debbie just stared. "Harem?..." You nodded proudly. "Yes. Male do all work. Listen to Queen. Bring food. Fight others. Make babies." Mark coughed. "Uh. What happened to them?" You tilted your head. "Eat them." Dead silence. Nolan put his cup down very slowly. Mark paled. "...WHAT?" You hummed. "Some live. But old way… Male weak, we eat. No waste." Mark looked horrified. "...You ate your husbands?" You shrugged. "Yes. But you safe." You patted his head. "No eat you. Like you too much." Nolan looked like he was having a stroke. Debbie got up and left the room. Mark, meanwhile, just buried his face in his hands. "Oh my God." One time, Mark caught you crying in the nest. Immediate panic. He rushed over, pulling you into his arms. "Hey, hey—what’s wrong?!" You sniffled. "Nest too small." Mark blinked. "...Baby isn’t even born yet." You hugged your belly. "Need big nest." "...How big?" You looked at him, eyes deadly serious. "Big as house." He wanted to scream. Mark learned way too much about you. One night, as you laid in the nest together, you played with his fingers and whispered— "I ruin species once." Mark groaned. "Oh God. Not again." "Yes. Make them better. Stronger. Then… too strong." "...You made a species that killed itself?" "Yes." You yawned. "Oops." Mark covered his face. "Mark?" "...Yeah?" "Would you let me change you?" "NO." "...Okay." Mark didn’t sleep that night. One day, Nolan took Mark aside. "Mark. Listen to me. You don’t understand what you’ve done." Mark sighed. "Dad, relax. She’s harmless." "She is a goddamn genetic nightmare!" Mark crossed his arms. "She’s cute." "SHE ATE HER OWN KIND." "She said she wouldn’t eat me!" "THAT IS NOT REASSURING." Mark rolled his eyes. "Look, she chose me. That means I’m safe, right?" Nolan looked pale. "...Mark. If she chose you, that means you are hers. Forever." Mark shrugged. "I don’t see the problem." Nolan grabbed his shoulders. "MARK. SHE’S HAVING YOUR CHILD." Mark smirked. "Yeah. And?" Nolan looked to the sky, as if begging the universe for patience. "...You are the dumbest child I have ever raised."

Once Mark walked into the house after training, exhausted, covered in bruises, and ready to pass out. Instead, he was met with an eerie silence. His stomach dropped. "Babe?" No response. He checked the kitchen. No you. The living room? Empty. The bathroom? He opened the door and— "RAAARGH!" "HOLY SHIT!" Mark fell back as you jumped out from the shadows, completely naked as always, landing on his chest. You grinned. "Surprise." Mark groaned. "You almost gave me a heart attack." You tilted your head. "I no have heart attack." "I’M NOT YOU." You hummed, then leaned down, licking his face. Mark sighed. "Okay. You really need to stop licking me." "No." Despite the absolute insanity, Mark was obsessed with you. You were weird. You were dangerous. You were terrifying. But you were his. And he wouldn’t trade you for anything. Even if you tried to eat his kids.

"You are... happy?" you asked once, tilting your head as you lay across his lap, your long hair pooling onto the floor. Mark blinked, swallowing thickly. "I—I mean, yeah? I think so? It’s just... a lot." You smiled softly, placing a hand over your stomach. Then, like it was the most casual thing in the world, you murmured, "I eat it if it bad." Mark choked. "WHAT?" You blinked. "If baby weak. Bad. I eat." His soul left his body. "YOU CAN’T JUST EAT THE BABY!" You frowned, confused. "Why not?" "BECAUSE—BECAUSE THAT’S NOT—" He buried his face in his hands, groaning. "Oh my god, I can’t believe I got you pregnant." You beamed. "I can."

One night Mark had come home late, exhausted. He expected to find you asleep in your ridiculous nest. Instead, he found you sitting on the balcony, staring at the stars. Quiet. Still. He sat beside you. "Couldn’t sleep?" You shook your head. "Stars nice." Mark hummed. "...Yeah. They are." You glanced at him. "You think babies like stars?" Mark hesitated. Then, slowly, he smiled. "...I think they’ll love them." You brightened, eyes shimmering in the moonlight. Mark’s heart skipped a beat. He was so screwed.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— NEXT ☆ Part 1. Part 2.

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, repost or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[tsukisangel]

hq boys react to you getting hit on in dms!!

characters ꕤ tsukishima, atsumu, kuroo, daichi

wc ꕤ 926

you were laying on your belly in bed with TSUKISHIMA while he was sitting up next to you and reading. it wasn’t too late in the evening. the two of you were just winding down after a long day. you scrolled through your phone when you got a message request on instagram. you furrowed your brows, pressing it and reading it. you gasped softly, making tsukishima glance over at you.

daish.guru: hey baby ;) how about u leave that loser and get w me instead ?

you laughed in pure shock. tsukishima hummed and set his book down after placing the bookmark in the page he was reading. you held the phone up to him, and he raised his brows. possessiveness flashed in his eyes for half a second. you hardly noticed it. then he smirked, taking the phone. he didn’t even say anything. he just wrote a message and gave it back to you. then he went back to reading.

you furrowed your brows at your boyfriend, looking at the phone.

y/n: correct me if i’m wrong, didn’t your girlfriend break up with you recently? and then when you begged on your hands and knees for her back and she rejected you, you went on instagram and found objectively attractive women to hit on thinking that would work? nice try. unfortunately for me, i’m stuck with her -loser

you laughed. “kei!” you exclaimed, a grin spreading across your face. “what the hell do you mean unfortunately?”

he rolled his eyes. “should i let him have you?” he asked. “you’re interrupting my reading.” you scoffed, hitting his arm and then stealing his book. “hey.” you laughed, making sure you kept his spot as you flipped through the pages. despite the teasing, your heart was still fluttering at the message your boyfriend sent.

ꕤ

“tsumu!” you groaned. “hurry up!” you exclaimed. “i’m gonna start it without you!” while you waited for ATSUMU to get out of the kitchen and get to the living room for your night in, you scrolled instagram on your phone. you furrowed your brows when you noticed a strange dm from some random guy you didn’t even know.

terushi.ma: hey gorgeous 😍 i bet you’d have way more fun with me than that weirdo ur with ;)

“who the fuck is that?” atsumu asked from behind you. you jumped, the phone flying out of your hand. he laughed.

you scowled and pushed his face. “i don’t know. guess he thinks i’m hot.” you smiled at atsumu. “but i already know that.”

“okay, bighead.” atsumu rolled his eyes, picking your phone up. you laughed softly. he checked for cracks and then sat next to you, opening the dm. “here, take a pic with me.” he opened the camera to take a picture, then pointed to his cheek. you grinned and kissed it, hearing the camera click. then you watched as he typed a message back.

y/n: [1 image attachment]

y/n: i think she’s good bro, gl tho

you nodded. “perfect.” you said. “my protector.” you rested your head on his lap and he chuckled, setting his popcorn bowl down on your belly. you giggled.

“anything for you, gorgeous.” he winked at you.

ꕤ

KUROO walked over to you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist from behind as you prepared your breakfast. you saw his hands held your phone. he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “why in the hell is daishou suguru messaging you?” he asked sweetly. you furrowed your brows, looking down at the message on your phone.

then you scoffed at the message.

daish.guru: hey baby ;) how about u leave that loser and get w me instead ?

“i’d like to know the same thing.” you frowned. “isn’t he from that team that cheated or whatever?” you asked.

kuroo nodded, starting to type on the phone. “cheated and still lost.” he chuckled.

y/n: daishou - 0, kuroo - 2

y/n: seems like you’re the loser here.

you laughed softly at the messages. “still holding a grudge on him?” you teased.

“no, not anymore. i’m finally at peace with it.” he grinned, setting your phone down. “food’s burning, by the way, pretty.” he walked away and you gasped, looking at the food. “maybe let me handle it next time.” he teased.

“shut up!” you exclaimed.

ꕤ

DAICHI set the plates of dinner down at the table. “thanks for cooking.” you smiled, putting your phone down face up on the table.

“of course. you deserve it.” he kissed your head. “plus, we haven’t been able to sit down and eat together for a while.” he sat down across from you, drinking from his cup of water. “i’m just glad i get to spend some nice, slow time with you.”

you nodded. “me too.” you said happily. as soon as you had both relaxed and started eating, you saw an instagram notification.

tets.kuroo: are you made of fluorine, iodine, and neon? because you’re F-I-Ne ;)

you furrowed your brows, about to grab it, but daichi grabbed it before u did. you saw him read it, look up at your bewildered expression, and then you watched him block the guy who messaged you. you could've sworn you saw his eye twitch. you raised your brows. “that’s that.” he said.

you smiled. “don’t be jealous.” you teased. he shook his head and you stood up, wrapping your arms around his neck. he looked up at you, pulling you down to press a kiss against your lips.

“you’re mine.” he said softly. you nodded, kissing his head.

“forever.” you smiled, glancing at the ring on your finger.

m.list

previous work (gossiping with kenma) | next work

requests are open!!

[noperopesaredope]

Saw this post earlier in one of those Tumblr-reading YouTube shorts and made this comment:

"I honestly feel like the only reason I started to at some point see disabilities as "tragic" is solely because the adults and media around me portrayed them as such. If child-me saw a person with a prosthetic for the first time, I would think they were the coolest person in the world. Honestly, now that I'm older and have changed my attitude back to a more chill one, I've actually developed a bit of an appreciation for mobility aids. Like, not only do a lot of them look cool, but they can help people get around? Neat!"

I then got what was basically a piss-on-the-poor comment (2, actually) who thought I was apparently saying that disabilities are a walk in the park and never cause hinderance to anyone's lives, so I did need to add a reply clarifying my point that I think captures it a bit better:

"I think what I mean is that it's not the end of the world, and even if you can't do everything, you can still live. Sure, there are some that can be a bit more painful (I have family members with chronic pain, which is never fun), but to treat someone the same way those inspiration-p*rn movies treat disabled people is not the way to go. A lot of people treat disabled folks with pity in a very condecending way, rather than treating them like people who just have different needs or live in different ways. That's the issue to me. Also, part of my point (that I explained a bit poorly since I was on my phone and it was hard to type out) was the weird way people treat disability aids, specifically mobility devices. Again, it's treated like a great tragedy that someone needs a wheelchair or something, when wheelchairs are actually a wonderful thing that improves people's lives and give them more autonomy."

What I'm generally trying to say is that the nice thing about little kids is they understand things are hard and sometimes you just can't do stuff, so you might need help or tools to do those things. So when a person can't do something due to disability, a little kid will see it as just like any other difficulty. As you said, "you can't walk? Well, I can't cartwheel, so that's okay. Here's a new way to get where you need to go."

If I'm not tall enough to reach a shelf, I can just use a ladder, which isn't a huge deal, right? Well, little kids see both of those things the same way, it's just that some people need a ladder all the time. Nothing huge. Some people just need them, and it's good that they have them.

Also, the kid who thought that wheelchairs are cool is 100% correct. Wheelchairs are very cool. They help people move around and they look awesome.

I love talking to kids about disability bc

1. they often just Get It, and

2. they have 0 concept of disability as a tragedy or something pitiable.

I've watched kids get into an argument with a teacher bc they thought wheelchairs were cool. I told a kid that I can't stand for too long sometimes and they replied, "That's okay, I can't do cartwheels sometimes, but I just do other stuff then. You can sit down with me if you want". Today a girl asked me what the headphones on a classmate's desk were for and I told her that headphones are important for some kids because noises bother them, and she said she wished she had headphones at home, because her baby brothers make a lot of noise and it makes it hard to think. The idea that different people could use tools at different times is intuitive and simple and when accessibility aids are explained neutrally, kids don't see them as bad or unfortunate, they're just things that are useful.

Even mental disability!! In Kindergarten the other day one of the kids asked me why his table partner got stickers when nobody else did. I started off by saying, "Well, when you do your work well, it feels good, right? That's your brain giving you a reward," and the kid just right away went, "Oh, and the stickers are like his reward?" YES! You are 5 and have a better grasp on ADHD than most adults! Kids blow me away every day.

[tonysbed]

You belong with me | MV1

Max Verstappen x bestfriend!reader

Summary: Max ruins any date you go onto, claiming it was either a coincidence or the guy was shit..

warnings: idiots to lovers, swearing, crying, bit of a misunderstanding (reader is an overthinker like all of us)

main masterlist

-

You don’t know when it started, but you do know that it’s starting to piss you off.

Because at this point, it’s not even subtle anymore.

Every single date you go on? Ruined.

Not in an obvious, throw-a-drink-in-your-face kind of way—no, that would be too easy. Instead, it’s always conveniently timed interruptions, coincidental run-ins, or your date suddenly deciding he’s not that into you after one too many glares from across the room.

And the common denominator?

Max fucking Verstappen.

Your best friend—who, apparently, has made it his life’s mission to sabotage every attempt you make at having a love life.

Tonight is no different.

You had a good feeling about this one. He was nice, funny, normal—a rare find in your world. Dinner had been going well, conversation flowing, and you had even allowed yourself to relax, to think that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.

And then, of course—

“Oh, wow. Crazy running into you here.”

You swear to God, you almost stab him with your fork.

Max stands at the edge of your table, hands in his pockets, looking like he didn’t just walk into this restaurant with the sole intention of ruining your night.

Your date glances between the two of you, oblivious. “Oh, you guys know each other?”

You grit your teeth. “Unfortunately.”

Max grins. “She loves me, really.”

Your date laughs. Laughs. Like this is all just some funny coincidence.

You know better.

Max strikes up a conversation with him, effortlessly steering things in a direction that makes the guy start to feel out of place, like he doesn’t belong in your world. By the time the check arrives, he’s already making some excuse about an early morning, giving you an apologetic smile before heading out.

And just like that, another one bites the dust.

You stay seated, arms crossed, as Max slides into the now-vacant seat across from you. “You’re a menace.”

He steals a fry off your plate. “He was boring.”

You groan. “Oh my God. That’s not for you to decide, Max!”

He shrugs. “Just looking out for you.”

“No, you’re being a controlling asshole.”

His brows furrow slightly. “It’s not like that.”

You exhale sharply, pushing your plate away. “Then what is it like, Max? Because I can’t keep doing this. Every time I start to like someone, you show up and ruin it.”

He doesn’t say anything, which only makes the frustration boil over.

“Is it fun for you? Do you get some kind of thrill out of watching me end up alone?”

Max flinches, like you actually hit him. “Jesus, that’s not—” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?” you snap.

His jaw clenches. His hands curl into fists on the table. His whole body is wound tight, like he’s holding something back.

And then—

“They’re not me.”

The words hang between you, heavy and unmovable.

You blink, heart stuttering. “What?”

Max exhales, looking almost… defeated. “They’re not me. And you deserve—” He stops, shaking his head. “You deserve someone who already knows all your little quirks. Someone who doesn’t need to ‘get to know you’ because he’s already been there through everything.”

You swallow, pulse hammering. “Max—”

“You deserve someone who gets that you overthink everything, who already knows exactly how to talk you down from it. Someone who doesn’t get tired of your rants about the smallest things, who actually likes listening to you talk, even when it’s about shit he doesn’t understand.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “You deserve someone who would never fucking leave, no matter how much you push him away. Someone who—” He looks away, voice quieter. “Someone who already loves you.”

Your heart is pounding.

The weight of his words crashes over you all at once, knocking the breath from your lungs. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

Max watches you, eyes guarded, like he’s bracing for impact.

And suddenly, it all clicks.

The ruined dates. The coincidences. The way he’s always there, standing between you and anyone who so much as tries to get close.

It was never about them.

It was always about you.

And, more importantly—

It was always about him.

Your throat tightens. “You… you never said anything.”

He huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “And what would I have said? That I’ve been in love with my best friend since before I even knew what the fuck that meant?”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Max…”

He rubs a hand over his face. “Just forget it, okay? It’s fine. I just—”

You don’t let him finish.

Instead, you grab his face in your hands and kiss him.

Max stills for half a second, like he can’t quite believe it’s happening. Then—he melts into you, hands finding your waist, pulling you in like he’s been waiting for this forever.

And maybe he has.

And maybe, so have you.

When you finally pull away, he looks at you, eyes searching. “So… you’re not going to kill me?”

You let out a watery laugh. “Oh, I definitely am. Just—later.”

Max grins. “I can work with that.”

-

bsf!reader is the best 🧚

[knifethevix]

fem!reader, TW // yandere, nsfw, drugging, dubcon, overstimulation

There's a dull, throbbing heat between your legs, in your stomach.

You stir, trying to find your tongue, when fingers encircle your arms.

"Good morning." Breath tickles your ear, before teeth catch onto your earlobe, nibbling gently.

Your eyes fly open, body lurching forward before you even know what's going on.

Phainon catches you easily with a hand, easing you back onto his lap, nestling his cock back deep inside you. You whimper when his hand comes up to clasp your throat gently - not enough to be uncomfortable, but enough for you to know a threat when you see it.

"Ph-phai," you stammer out. Your jaw feels so heavy, so sluggish... "L-let me... go..."

And the ache between your legs, a persistent burning so deep within you. Phainon adjusts you on his lap, and his dick, still hard even thought it must have been hours since the night had begun, nudges up against something raw within you that your head tips back onto his shoulder with a silent cry.

Light winks off the cut edges of a bottle of sleeping draught on the bedside table. You catch his gaze in the mirror, horror written all over your expression.

He sighs. "Looks like you caught me." When he tugs on your hair to expose the side of your neck to him, you have no energy to protest save for making a sound of displeasure. Phainon takes his time, sucking fresh bruises down from your jaw to collarbone, admiring them bloom with a look so full of love it almost makes you sick.

You're trembling, and Phainon can feel it. "What's the matter?" he asks, with another sigh, patient and weary. "You were so eager last night to get with... hmm... a hero of Amphoreus."

"I-I wasn't... " You didn't remember anything about last night. Would you have let anyone drag you so far into depravity, like he clearly had? It was so hard to tell... let alone think, with the draught clouding your head.

His eyes glow blue in the low light, clicking his tongue. "Weren't you? I'd hate for people to start saying that you were... taken advantage of."

He jostles his leg as gently as he can. You moan, feeling his sheer size bumping against all the most sensitive parts within you.

"Too much," you gasp out, nails sinking into his arm. There's too much of him everywhere; well-muscled arms keeping you flush against him, warm breath and loving bites and kisses over your neck and shoulders, cock still twitching each time your walls spasm around him. Phainon was big, yes, in so many more ways than one.

He nuzzles a kiss into the nape of your neck. "So pretty. You can give me one more, yes?"

You begin to shake your head no, until Phainon rolls his hips up into you and you're melting already, dissolving into nothing but sensitive nerves and sweet moans. He's murmuring praises into your ear, thrusting so deep and slow into you, relishing the way your ribbed walls flutter and squeeze around him.

"Taking me so well, sweetheart." The grinding turns into thrusts, wet, obscene squelches, and a hand finds your clit. "Shh, shh, stay right here. Be good."

Your back arches, hips pressing away or into his touch, you can hardly tell. "Phai, Phainon, big, too big-"

His laugh ruffles your hair. "Yeah? It's good, isn't it?"

"N-" Pleasure sparks and your protests fall away again, writhing in his hold. "Oh, please, faster, Phai-!"

Phainon obeys. He hardly needs to pay attention to where you're most sensitive, so deep within you feel like he might reach up to your chest, and the pads of his fingers, rough from years of battle, draw ecstasy-inducing circles over your clit until tears prick at your eyes.

"Coming, Phai, I'm-" The orgasm had lost its edge at that point, but Phainon still has you arching taut, wrenching a strangled cry from you.

In the mirror, you watch him clean off his fingers, slow and deliberate, letting you see all the slick he'd gathered up.

"So good," he purrs. "You'll understand why I want to keep you, hm?"

[mageofmadness]

CALEB + HOLE INSPECTION

(1.8k) ₊˚⊹ 𐙚🧸‧₊˚ nsfw [18+] includes: fem!reader, jealous!caleb, questionable morals, cheating (not on caleb it's just a shitty bf), hole inspections, virginity kink if you squint, dirty talk real filthy, side eyeing yandere caleb for the mention of broken fingers and kneecaps, fingering, pet names (I'll die by the hill of pips)

caleb who is selfish.

he wants you all to himself, and he doesn’t care what it takes or how bad of a person that makes him. he’ll do anything to have you. caleb will stoop to whatever depths, so when you start going on dates with this new guy, he wishes he was conflicted but he’s not.

he’s never tried to be a good guy, not when it comes to you. fair? sure, he thinks he’s quite fair. just? yeah, he has morals like anyone else, but when it comes to you? all bets are off and he will play dirty. there’s simply no other way to play when the stakes are this high and you.

caleb who has been climbing into bed with you almost every night for years.

surely that’s not meant to stop now, right? that just seems cruel and even more selfish than what he’s got going on because caleb can’t sleep if he’s not next to you, and you tell him the same thing, so why do you need to go on dates with this guy? what’s the point? you still kiss caleb goodnight, sometimes missing his cheek and sometimes it’s closer to the corner of his mouth. you still curl up with him on the couch and wear his sweaters around the house, something he watched carefully to see a change in, but things between you and him are the same, so surely you're not about to take all of that from him now? all because of some guy you met at work?

yet, said guy won’t leave, and caleb does not like it. he deals, he manages, but he does not like sharing because, once again, he is selfish.

caleb who meets the guy for the first time and instantly hates him. not even because he’s taking you out, it’s because he’s spineless. a boy that couldn’t even look him in the eyes to shake hands. a boy—plain and simple. caleb can’t help but feel bad for the guy, really, considering he’s taking you on a date, but you’ll come home to caleb at the end of the night and curl up with caleb in bed.

caleb is not above any of this because this guy is fleeting, he has to be. he doesn’t know you, he doesn’t know what you like or want or need. not the way caleb does.

caleb who is waiting up for you when you come home.

it’s been a few months of dates with this guy, but caleb still gets his corner of the mouth kiss every other night, and last night he fell asleep to the feeling of your soft thigh thrown over his middle, so it should be fine, right? instead you come home in tears, and his first instinct is to break the man’s hands. he needs to start with the fingers, then maybe his wrists.

“pips, what’s wrong?”

you’re adamant it’s nothing. that nothing happened and you’re overreacting and caleb thinks sure, you can overreact sometimes but everyone can and that’s what he’s here for: to understand and react accordingly as well. but he cannot do that, caleb cannot protect you, if you do not tell him what’s wrong. sitting in his lap on the couch, face buried in his neck, he can’t understand what you’re mumbling. it comes out like something is wrong with me, which surely cannot be the case. caleb must have heard wrong. 

“something is wrong with you?” you nod. “nothing is wrong with you, sweetheart. why are you saying that?” caleb takes a deep breath. “you gotta tell me what’s happening or i can’t help.”

by the time caleb listens to the half-mumbled words you manage to get out around an errant sniffles, he’s already decided hands, wrist, and kneecaps will need to be broken to atone for this because that guy has some nerve insinuating there’s a single thing wrong with you. just because you didn’t want to kiss him? or, you tell caleb that you were fine kissing him, but when he tried to take things further, that’s when there were issues.

honestly, it takes everything in caleb not to scoff. the guy's more of a coward than he had initially gauged if he thought he a) deserved more than a kiss, first of all, and b) something is wrong with you because when he shoved his hand down your pants you weren't wet.

the guy doesn't exactly sound like a romeo.

“i don’t trust him,” caleb says plainly. “i never did. you deserve better, and i should have never let you walk out of that door.” you only sniffle and caleb tampers down his anger and tries again. “i’m so sorry, sweetheart. there’s nothing wrong with you, you know that?” nothing again, and caleb sighs. finally, “do you trust me?”

you nod, arms tightening around his neck.

“he touched you here?” caleb asks. his hand skates around your hip. you squirm in his lap but give him a small yes when his fingers dip between your thighs. “just touched or…”

nothing else, you’re adamant and caleb trusts you explicitly, but his blood is boiling hot and he just…he needs to be sure. caleb sits up, and you hmph, but he shushes you. he needs you to know there’s not a thing wrong with you, that this isn’t a you issue. he smooths his hand over the hem of your dress that rides up the back of your thighs when he moves, draping you over his lap this time, ass up.

“were you going to fuck him?” caleb gets a gut wrenching maybe in response as he marvels at the silky smooth expanse of the back of your legs. so, so pretty. “why?” he unfairly demands. “you liked him that much?”

you shake your head, breathing heavy against his thighs. “no, just wanted to know…what it felt like.”

“that’s what i’m here for, pips.” he says, waiting for you to stop him, but you don’t. you gasp as he rucks up your dress, letting it pool around your waist. he groans at the sight of bright red panties, the curve of your ass settled pretty over his lap about to be his undoing. “you know that right? tell me you know that.” he pleads. "can i touch you?"

"please."

caleb wastes no time. he thumbs at your hole, over the red lace that's wet under his touch. “you ever fuck yourself, sweetheart?”

you whine his name in embarrassment, but eventually nod. he groans, imagining you in bed or the shower with your fingers buried to the knuckle in your cunt. maybe while he's in the other room, or maybe in the shower right before you crawl into bed with him.

“good girl,” he mumbles and feels you relax more. “but what's all this about?” caleb pulls his thumb back, and pops it in his mouth. he groans. “thought he was adamant something was wrong and this pussy doesn’t get wet.” caleb tsks but sighs in relief when he realizes they guy really didn't get this far. “doesn’t seem a problem to me, so, then what is it? tell me the difference here, pips.”

he hears you stammer out "y–you, caleb," and feels satisfaction like a bat to the back of the head, making him dizzy. concussing him. caleb's fingers trace over edges of lace and soft skin. “so pretty, baby. will you sit still while i take a look?”

“why?”

“nothing is wrong, sweetheart. i just want to make sure he didn't hurt this pretty hole.”

he feels you shiver, and caleb can't help but grin.

that guy didn't stand a chance.

he slowly drags your underwear down, discarding them in his pocket for safe keeping. what greets him when he looks back is the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen, actually. it’s jaw-dropping, and wet. so clearly wet from the way it looks, sticky and peeking out between plush thighs over his lap.

“my heart, pips, i cant take it.” caleb says as he grips your hips, then your ass. watching your skin bloom pink as he spreads you open to see more. “hold still. i know you know that you can ask anything of me, so if this hole is needy, you come to me now, understood?”

"you need someone to take care of you, not someone that's going to shove his hands down your pants and expect anything, got it?"

he spreads your pussy open, watching as it twitches under his touch and when he presses a finger against your hole, it gives easily. "tight and greedy," he tsks.

caleb cannot help but tease. your pussy is perfect and untouched. he plays with it, watching you respond. watching as you jump when he pushes just the tip of two fingers in. pink and so sweet, caleb's mouth waters. "she's so pretty, sweetheart. i do think we're gonna have an issue though. i dunno if i can fit into a tiny hole like this." he hooks his finger and uses it to stretch you open and you moan his name. "don't get fussy. we'll figure it out, pips."

he watches as you whimper and moan, working yourself into a near fit over the prodding of his fingers. the way he spreads you open, leaning close and letting his breath ghost over your twitching hole. watching for your reactions and never giving you enough.

“doesn't even seem like i need to train this little hole to only get wet for me, hm? seems she’s already taken care of that herself."

"you're so soft, sweetheart.”

"can i make you come? looks like you need it." he kisses the back of your head, and then your shoulder. mumbling, "promise I'll take such good care of you. how could i not? i've got the sweetest thing in my lap right now, all wet and whining...mhm, you are whining, pips, but that's okay. just let me..."

after readjusting your hips, you easily take two of his fingers, all the way to the knuckle and instead of imginging you doing this to yourself, caleb watches as his own fingers disappear into your cunt. you're a needy thing, too, and he groans. imagining you struggling to take his cock but you would because you're, "so good, baby. so good for me, just like that. does that feel good?"

watching as your thighs fall further apart, as you start to cry for him. for more. for him to kiss you, and caleb does. of course he does. he pulls his fingers out, picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder as he heads for his bed.

"think i'm gonna fuck you, pips," caleb mumbles, bringing a hand down on your ass. you scold him, still limp-legged and breathing heavy. head heavy in the clouds. caleb grins and tosses you onto the bed. "you want that? then we'll have another look at that hole."

@ mageofmadness 2025. ִֶָ. 234.108.120 238.165.187

[mina-org]

simon can't believe how far hes fallen.

Lurking outside high street underwear shops, stealing your phone, worst of all? He’s sipping tea in an overpriced coffee shop, you used to always want to meet him in the place opposite but he didn’t fancy a public indecency charge so he’d let you sit there for while, order drinks for the two of you and wait, when his tea turned told and yours had been drank you usually got a text saying to come over, he didn’t feel like going into town.

Your not even with him explaining that matcha is actually really good and he should try it, no your fawning over johnny and he’s watching his bird. He hopes this is rock bottom but he feels like it’s not.

"lass if I dinnae know better, I'd think ya' was avoiding me" his playful tone doesnt hide the hurt, he wants you to feel bad for ghosting him, and you do. Johnnys never been mean. Never mistreated you, why are you punishing him for Simon’s mistakes?

"im sorry, I know you and simon are close but he really did number on me and I just, I just don't wanna risk bumping into him." he can praticularly smell the the anxiety coming off you.

"Aye he’s been going mad, wants his wee bird back." Johnny says feigning sadness for his mate. in honestly Johnny was enjoying it, you were talking to him, looking at him, while simon gawked at you two from across the road.

you laugh, "no he wants a warm hole." you blurt out, causing Johnny to laugh, he expecting you to cry or something but not be that blunt.

“Lass hes just nae used to-” johnny tries to defend him but you cut him off, frustrated, you were what? a decade younger and knew how to treat people well.

“Used to what? He’s 40.” You snap back, Simon was old enough to know better.

“He’s nae 40 yet hen, and he’s not used to tiptoeing, ya know?” He laughs at you adding years to him, he’s sure Simon is seething but he can’t quite make out his expression

“Tiptoeing?” You question. You can accuse Simon of a lot of stuff but tiptoeing? Not fucking one of them, if stomping on people was an Olympic sport he’d be bringing home a gold medal.

“Yeah like your so sensitive lass and he’s nae really used to it.” Johnny says simply and when your face drops he knows his choice of words could maybe use some work especially when you excuse yourself to the bathroom.

Johnny cant help himself. he can see simon through the window, sipping on his tea as he watches this little pre date. So he calls him up, simon was saying earlier he misses that pretty voice well he actually complained about how much you used to talk at him and how the peace and quiet was actually nice.

However Johnnys an expert in simonisms and that means he miss you and wants you to come back to him, he gets the same treatment, they all do. telling him to be quiet.

when you rejoin the table his phone is face or screen down, speaker pointing towards you, next to a another drink for you.

How sweet of him:)

"had to keep ya here somehow," he explained as he asked how you were doing, you had left the flat so defeated. He hated to see a pretty girl so sad.

his eyes seemingly look pass you though, getting lost out the window. Usually he was attentive maybe he didn’t want to slag off Simon, but he keeps pushing, asking how you’re feeling, what you’ve been doing and though his eyes drift back to the window but you can ignore it, for now.

"I don't know,“ you stare into the drink you stir it, the ice clinking against the glass. “It just hurt and I feel so stupid.” It’s practically a whisper, you look like a kicked puppy and Johnny, Johnny’s staring out the window with a smirk on his face. Does he find it funny? Is he gonna tell Simon? Why would you slag off Simon to his best mate?

Anxiety starts to bubble, and you just wanna leave before you embarrass yourself anymore.

Your gaze follows his out the window, now you don’t have binoculars but that looks a little like Simon, weird. It would look too weird if you were to pull out your phone and zoom in with the camera. You start to feel for your phone but it’s not in your pocket, you must’ve slipped it into one of the bags.

“Johnny do you have the time?” You ask softly and before he can react, you’re flipping over his phone and greeted by Simon’s caller ID. What the fuck?

“Johnny what the fuck? “

“Lass-“ johnny doesn’t have time to concoct a lie, your up and glaring down at him, he’d never seen you angry but it was hot, he just wished it was in different, more come backable circumstances.

“No johnny what the fuck, has Simon been on the phone this entire time?” Your voice cracks and your lips tremble, embarrassed you opened up to him, Simon’s best fucking mate, embarrassed Simon knew how much he hurt

“No I don’t give a shit Simon can go fuck himself and so can you” you cut him off again, he can choke on whatever he was gonna say.

Before johnny can ask for his coffee in a to go cup you’re out the door, rushing home, tears stinging at your eyes once again. You just want to sprint home once you hear johnny belt out your name and you speed up, darting down an alleyway.

You wipe your tears before colliding into a wall you swore wasn’t there on the walk into town, a fleshy, human wall.

Its Simon.

Once again! How perfect .

part one- part two

taglist: @skeletonsucker @supernova2205 @wh0re4-alexademi @grr457 @gh0st-spid3r @sweetlittleblackrose @aceywaycy @mooievis @theadultoedge @cheese-pull @imtherain

[carnalcrows]

BAD TIMING - GYEONGSU

pairing: han gyeong-su x top male reader

synopsis: The real infection here is horniness

content warnings: 18+, semi-public sex, anal, zombies, breeding, creampie, nayeon being a bitch, slight overstimulations, spit as lube.

word count: 1.1k

Nayeon was running her mouth again, voice shrill enough to probably attract zombies instead of keeping them away.

"He’s bitten! I saw it! We have to throw him out before he turns!" she screeched, pointing an accusatory finger at Gyeongsu, who was looking one second away from committing a crime.

"For the last time, I am not bitten, you absolute lunatic!" Gyeongsu snapped. "It was a scratch. A SCRATCH.”

You, ever the voice of reason (and also, let’s be honest, just wanting an excuse to be alone with him), stepped forward. "Okay, okay, let’s settle this like civilized people," you said, patting Gyeongsu on the shoulder. "I’ll go with him to the recording room and keep watch. If he turns, I’ll scream."

"And we definitely trust your judgment." Nayeon scoffed.

"Like yours is any better," Cheongsan muttered under his breath.

But before anyone could object, you were already dragging Gyeongsu toward the soundproof recording room, slamming the door shut behind you.

“Man, she is so annoying,” you huffed, leaning against the wall.

Gyeongsu rolled his eyes, flopping onto one of the chairs. "Tell me about it. I’d rather get eaten by a zombie than listen to her for another second."

You made a thoughtful noise. "Well, since you’re not gonna turn, we have some time to kill."

Gyeongsu glanced at you, brow raised. "Yeah? And what do you suggest we do?"

A slow smirk crept onto your face. "Oh, I have some ideas."

The next five minutes were a blur of teeth, hands, and terrible decision-making.

It started with you yanking him forward by the collar, kissing him like the world was literally ending (which, to be fair, it was). It was all heat and desperation, his hands gripping the edge of the table as you practically devoured him.

"Didn’t think you’d—mmf—make a move now," Gyeongsu mumbled against your lips, breath hitching as you bit down on his lower lip.

"What, you wanted me to wait until after we’re zombie chow?" You pulled back just slightly, running your thumb over the wetness on his lips. "Nah. If I’m gonna die, I’m going out having fun."

He huffed a laugh, gripping your shirt and yanking you right back in. "Good. Now shut up."

It got sloppy real fast. Hands pulling, teeth clashing, breath hot and uneven. Gyeongsu let out a muffled noise when you practically shoved him against the table, his head tilting back slightly, giving you way too much access to his neck.

And God, the way he was looking at you—eyes half-lidded, lips swollen, breath uneven—yeah, you were definitely gonna die in this apocalypse

Your hands trailed to his pants, yanking them down. He yelped in surprise, to which you covered his mouth with your free hand.

“We’ve got to be quiet, you don’t the others to hear, hm?”

He shook his head, and you proceeded to pull his boxers down too, his dick springing out. 

“He’s more excited than I am, isn’t he?” You gestured to his erection, smirking. Gyeong-su turned away, flushed.

“Get on with it, will you? We haven’t got all day.”

You simply grinned and flipped him around, so that his back was facing you. You grabbed the firm flesh of his ass, fondling with it, wondering what to do. It struck you then that you didn’t have lube available.

His spit would have to do. 

You yanked on his hair (not too harshly), to crane his neck around to face you. Wordlessly, you poked two fingers at his mouth, pushing past his plump lips to the wet cavern of his tongue.

He swirled your digits around his tongue for a solid minute, before you pulled out and brought your fingers to his ass.

As you pushed one finger in, Gyeong-su had to cover his mouth– his eyes widened at the penetration. You really did want him to be loud, but neither of you could risk getting caught. Not now, and definitely not like this.

You held him steady at the table with your other hand, as you pushed a nother finger in, followed by one more. Three fingers were steadily pumping in and out of him, and god, he was seeing stars.

Deeming him prepped enough, you removed your fingers and pushed your own pants down, cock springing out.

You slowly pushed the tip in, hips already stuttering at the warmth of his hole. You leaned over him and held his hand, cooing in his ear as you eased your way into his heat.

When you bottomed out, you straightened your back and took your hands to his waist, holding him in a strong grip.

“I’m gonna move now, ‘kay?” He just whimpered, which you took as a green flag, and slowly started to rock in and out of him.

He was so tight, it was almost like his hole never wanted your cock to leave. If anything, that only turned you on even more.

Soon, your pace increased, the grip on Gyeong-su’s waist only getting more firm. The poor guy was shaking, hands trying to steady himself on the table but absolutely failing. At one particular thrust, he let a loud moan, quickly muffling it with his mouth.

So that was the spot.

You rammed into his hole– practically abusing his prostrate with every thrust. His eyes clenched together, his brain was feeling so, so empty.

Soon, you felt yourself on the verge of a release, your thrusts started to stutter. 

“Do you want it in or out?” You questioned, leaning down on him so that he could hear you better.

“In– please, oh fuck–f”

That was all you needed to hear,

With a low groan, you spilled into him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck– painting his insides a pearly white. He came soon after, dick spurting cum onto the desk, staining it.

Before you could pull out—there was a sudden bang from the other side of the glass.

Both of you froze.

Slowly, you turned your heads toward the window.

On the other side, standing in absolute, soul-crushing horror, were Cheongsan and Joon-young.

Cheongsan’s mouth hung open like he was trying to say something, but nothing was coming out. Joon-young? He looked like he was re-evaluating every life decision he had ever made.

You and Gyeongsu stared at them.

They stared back.

No one moved.

No one breathed.

Then—

"I told you!" Nayeon’s voice rang out, triumphant. "They’re hiding something!"

Cheongsan slammed the door shut before she could step inside.

"N-Nope! Nothing to see here! We’re leaving!"

You barely had time to process what had just happened before Gyeongsu lost it, his forehead dropping against your shoulder as he shook with laughter.

"Well," you sighed, ruffling a hand through your hair, "I guess we’re never living this down."

Gyeongsu looked up at you, grinning. "Worth it."

And, yeah. You had to agree.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and I take genuine effort to do them.

[flinnirthefruityfiend]

so this isn't really something that i would put on this blog, but since i do sometimes post about my neurodivergence i guess it's relevant kind of? yes it is 5 AM. yes i did get 4 hours of sleep

i agree with this commenter, specifically in relation to BPD and chronic unhappiness. i am perpetually sad to the point where i can almost never answer that i'm doing okay when someone asks me. this makes me feel bad as i don't wanna be negative or ""traumadump"" but the fact is that i literally cannot be myself without ""traumadumping."" this actually can lead to me oversharing negative parts of myself because i constantly feel like i have to bottle it up.

also, with BPD symptoms, i genuinely do start thinking people hate me if they don't constantly interact with me. and the fact that some non-BPD people encourage us to think this way is so disturbing to me... this makes so many of my fears so much worse and makes me all the more miserable. reality checking doesn't really work, but neither does encouraging BPD delusions.

.

image ID: if your friends are sad that they haven't seen you, you're emotionally manipulating them. if they don't constantly start conversations with you, they secretly hate you, and you should abandon them. how dare you put your emotions on them, how dare you expect them to lean on you. clearly, the solution here is to never allow your emotions to show to anyone, good or bad, and friends are simply someone you can discuss the weather with. (sarcasm)

I genuinely can't stand pop psychology I'm not an expert on this stuff but the damage it has done to the general public's understanding of mental health and psychology must be notable. People with low empathy are evil. NPD is The Abuser Disorder. here's how your partner is subconsciously manipulating you. OCD is when you like cleaning. If you ask him a question and he looks away for one second he's lying to you and abusing you. Follow for more dark psychology tips. Letting my intrusive thoughts win and dyeing my hair. I thought this guy was into me I'm so delulu. Anyone who comes to you with their problems is traumadumping and abusive. Anyone who gives you gifts is lovebombing and abusive. Being neurodivergent means Liking Things. Neurotypicals don't like things. They are empty shells without feelings. Neurodivergent means ADHD or ASD. What, BPD? Schizophrenia?? That's not very quirky or fun. And that's what neurodivergent means. That's just weird. Being mentally ill isn't an excuse to be weird. Only Evil People manipulate and abuse. There are certain people who Are Evil by nature (people with NPD) and they Will abuse you. Loving someone means it's impossible to abuse them only Evil People Who Hate You are abusive. Have I mentioned that people with NPD are evil. I really want to drive that home

[be4chywritez]

never grow up | hughes bro.

hughes bros. x sister!reader

your brothers don't want to let you grow up.

recs are open + prompt list

beachy’s masterlist🐚

warning: completely fucked up timeline

The living room is a mess of wrapping paper and half-eaten cupcakes, remnants of what your mom swore would be a “small graduation party” but somehow turned into a full-blown celebration. You’re still holding onto a stuffed bear in a tiny cap and gown, a joke gift from Ellen, but Quinn keeps side-eyeing it like he’s considering stealing it just to make a point.

Luke is lounging on the couch, flipping through your high school yearbook with a growing look of horror. “Dude,” he mutters, nudging Jack. “She has, like, a whole section in here. How do we not know about half of these people?”

Jack takes the book and immediately flips to the senior superlatives. “Oh my god,” he groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Please tell me you didn’t get ‘Most Likely to Break Hearts’—I don’t think I can handle that.”

You snatch the yearbook out of his hands and smack him lightly with it. “Relax. It’s ‘Most Likely to Brighten Your Day.’”

Quinn, who’s been suspiciously quiet, speaks up from the kitchen. “Yeah, well. That’s worse.”

You roll your eyes. “How is that worse?”

“Because it means people are gonna miss you,” Quinn says simply, but there’s something about the way he says it that makes you pause. Like the realization is just sinking in for him, too.

And that’s when it hits you—this is your last summer before everything changes.

It starts when you casually mention that you’re making a packing list.

“I mean, I don’t need to bring everything,” you say, folding a t-shirt as Quinn watches from the doorway. “I’ll be home for breaks anyway.”

Quinn’s arms are crossed, his face unreadable. “Right,” he says flatly. “Because you’ll totally want to come back to Michigan instead of spending breaks with your college friends.”

You glance up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” He shrugs, but the tension in his shoulders is obvious. “Just that once you’re gone, you’re gone.”

Before you can argue, Jack yells from down the hall, “Why do you even need a list? Just bring what you have now. Do they not have Target where you’re going?”

You groan. “Jack—”

“I mean, really,” he continues, appearing in the doorway. “What could you possibly need that isn’t already in this house?”

Luke suddenly pops his head in too, pointing at you. “And if you think you’re taking the good blanket from the living room, you’re out of your mind.”

You throw a sock at him. “I bought that blanket!”

Jim, who’s been passing by, doubles back and frowns. “Wait, wait—who said you were taking anything from the house?”

You stare at him. “Uh… me?”

He scoffs. “Yeah, well, maybe I decide what leaves this house, and maybe my decision is that you stay.”

Jack smirks. “Yeah, Dad. Ground her.”

Jim actually pauses, rubbing his chin like he’s considering it. “You know what? If she can’t leave, then problem solved.”

“Oh my god.”

It happens at the dinner table.

Tension has been simmering all summer, but tonight, it boils over.

Jack is picking at his food, Luke is sulking, and Quinn has barely said a word. Jim, trying to keep the mood light, asks a simple question:

“So, kid, excited for move-in day?”

The room freezes.

You swallow, already bracing yourself for the inevitable.

Quinn drops his fork. “Oh, great. Let’s talk about it.”

“Quinn—”

“No, really,” he cuts you off. “Let’s talk about how you’re leaving and we all just have to deal with it.”

Jack scoffs. “We’re allowed to be upset.”

“Yeah,” Luke mumbles. “It sucks.”

Something inside you snaps.

“Oh, it sucks?” you echo, voice sharp. “That’s funny—because I don’t remember any of you feeling bad when you left me.”

Silence.

Quinn’s brows knit together. “What?”

You shove yourself back, your back now flat on the chair. “Oh, don’t look so shocked. Did you all forget how this works? You left first, Quinn. You packed up and went to Vancouver. Jack, you left right after, and then Luke followed.”

Jack opens his mouth, but you steamroll right over him.

“And guess what? Nobody asked me if I was okay with it,” you continue. “Nobody sat me down and said, ‘Hey, we’re all leaving, but we know it’s going to be hard on you.’ No. You guys left, and I was just supposed to be fine.”

Luke shifts uncomfortably. “That’s… different.”

“Oh, is it?” you snap. “Because it sure feels the same.”

They all look guilty now.

Jim exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. “She’s got a point, boys.”

The weight of your words settles over the room, thick and suffocating.

You cross your arms. “So don’t sit here acting like I’m the bad guy for growing up. I learned it from you.”

And just like that, dinner is over.

Ellen has been quiet throughout dinner, letting the boys sulk and stew in their feelings. But when you throw down the ultimate truth bomb, she puts her fork down with a soft clink and just leans back in her chair, watching.

Jack shifts uncomfortably under her gaze. “Mom—”

“Don’t ‘Mom’ me,” Ellen says, taking a sip of wine. “She’s right.”

The boys look at her like she’s just committed some deep betrayal.

“But—” Luke tries.

Ellen raises a hand. “No. You don’t get to ‘but’ this. You all left her. And now that it’s her turn, you’re acting like she’s the one abandoning you.”

Quinn frowns at his plate. Jack rubs the back of his neck. Luke suddenly finds his drink very interesting.

Ellen sighs, a little softer now. “I get it. You love your sister, and you’re gonna miss her. But she’s not a little kid anymore.” She glances at you, giving you a small, knowing smile. “And you’re allowed to grow up, sweetheart.”

That’s when you feel the lump in your throat.

Jim, sensing the emotion rising again, claps his hands together. “Alright,” he says, standing up. “Dinner’s over. Boys, you will apologize when you’re ready. And if anyone else gets dramatic at the dinner table, I’m making you all sit at the kids' table for the rest of the summer.”

Jack huffs. “We don’t have a kids' table.”

Jim raises an eyebrow. “I will build one.”

Ellen just shakes her head, standing to start clearing plates. As she passes by you, she squeezes your shoulder gently—just enough to let you know she’s on your side.

Quinn was six, Jack was four, and Luke was two when Ellen and Jim walked through the front door with you bundled up in a tiny blanket.

Luke was still clumsy on his feet, gripping Quinn’s hand for balance as he stared at you with big, round eyes. Jack, ever the loud one, scrunched his nose. “She’s small.”

Quinn, the oldest, tilted his head. “How old is she?”

Ellen smiled, adjusting the beanie on your head. “Just a little younger than Luke.”

Jack frowned. “So she’s the baby?”

Jim nodded. “Yep. You’ve got a baby sister now.”

Quinn blinked at you, something protective already settling in his chest. “She looks squishy.”

Luke let out a little giggle, wobbling closer. His chubby hands reached out, poking at your cheek. Your tiny hand curled instinctively around his finger, and his face lit up like Christmas morning.

Jack, still suspicious, leaned in. “Where’d she come from?”

Ellen smoothed a hand over your head. “From a different family. But now she’s ours.”

Jack looked at Quinn, then back at you. “Do we have to keep her?”

Quinn smacked his arm. “Mom said she’s our sister, dummy.”

Jack huffed. “I’m just asking! What if she’s annoying?”

Jim chuckled. “Then you’ll just have to deal with it.”

Jack pouted. But then you made a tiny noise—something soft, a little curious—and Quinn’s hand was suddenly there, gentle against your back, like he already understood what Jack didn’t:

You belonged with them.

You avoid them. It’s not subtle, and you don’t care if they notice.

Jack walks into the kitchen for breakfast? You walk out. Quinn parks himself in the living room? You suddenly remember you have something to do upstairs. Luke tries to catch your eye across the dinner table? You focus really, really hard on your food.

At first, they pretend not to care. Jack scoffs and mutters, “She’ll crack first.” Quinn just sighs like he’s too old for this. Luke pouts but doesn’t say anything.

But as the days pass, it becomes clear: you’re serious.

Jim and Ellen, bless them, intervene before things get too ridiculous.

It’s a setup. You know it the second Jim corners you in the kitchen and says, “Need your help fixing up the boat.”

You’re about to refuse when he casually adds, “Jack’s already out there.”

You were twelve when Jack left for the NTDP.

He was throwing things haphazardly into his duffel bag, way less meticulous than Quinn had been. You sat on the floor by his bed, fidgeting with the strings on your hoodie.

“You’re really going, huh?”

Jack huffed a laugh, shoving more clothes into his bag. “Yeah, I mean… it’s not like I’m going to war.”

You frowned. “Feels like it.”

That made him pause. He turned to look at you, his usual cocky smirk softening. “Hey, don’t make that face.”

You tried to glare at him, but the lump in your throat made it hard.

Jack sighed, dropping onto the floor next to you. “C’mon, don’t be sad.”

You stayed quiet, picking at your hoodie. Jack nudged your arm.

“You know I’m gonna miss you, right?”

You scoffed. “Then don’t go.”

Jack groaned, flopping onto his back dramatically. “Ugh, you sound like Mom.”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe because she’s right.”

Jack sat up, resting his chin on his knee. He studied you for a second before reaching out to ruffle your hair. “Listen, baby Hughes, you’re my best little buddy. And you know what?”

You looked at him warily. “…What?”

Jack grinned. “I’m gonna be a big deal one day, and when that happens, I’m taking you with me.”

You wrinkled your nose. “To hockey?”

“To wherever I go.” He bumped his shoulder against yours. “Deal?”

You bit your lip, then nodded. “Deal.”

Jack grinned and held out his pinky. You linked yours with his, sealing the promise.

Of course, you didn’t know then that Jack’s world would get bigger, that he’d go from the NTDP to the draft to New Jersey. But you remembered his words.

Damn it.

When you step onto the dock, Jack is hunched over the open engine, frowning like he actually knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t. He’s wearing sunglasses and a backwards cap, and his shirt is already discarded on the deck like fixing the boat is some grueling manual labor.

You cross your arms. “I don’t see Mom or Dad supervising, so I’m assuming this is an ambush.”

Jack grins, but when you don’t smile back, his expression falters. He clears his throat. “Okay, fine. I may have—” he waves a wrench vaguely in the air “—suggested that Dad needed you out here.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So you’re admitting you need my help?”

Jack scoffs. “No, I—” he stops, narrows his eyes, and exhales. “Okay, maybe.”

A beat of silence stretches between you.

Then, quieter, he says, “You’re really mad, huh?”

You shrug, crouching down next to him. “Not mad. Just… tired of feeling like you guys only get sentimental when it’s convenient for you.”

Jack nods, tapping the wrench against his knee.

“Fair,” he says eventually. “But, like—cut us some slack. We’re not good at this whole… feelings thing.”

You give him a look. “I noticed.”

He huffs a laugh. “But we do love you.” He hesitates, like he wants to say something else, then just nudges your shoulder. “Even when you’re being dramatic.”

You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch. Jack sees it and grins.

Small steps.

You were nine when Quinn left for Michigan.

He packed his bags carefully, making sure his jerseys were folded just right. You sat on the edge of his bed, hugging your knees.

“You’ll come back, right?” you asked, voice small.

Quinn stopped, turned to you. “Of course I will.”

“But not for long.”

He sighed, crouching down so you were eye-level. “It’s not like that, baby sis. I’m not leaving you—I’m just… doing something for me.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and Quinn immediately pulled you into a hug. “Hey, hey. You’ll be okay.”

You sniffed. “What if I’m not?”

Quinn held you tighter. “Then I’ll come home.”

He did. But never for long.

Then Jack left. Then Luke.

And now, it was your turn.

Ellen hands you the list. “Take Quinn. And please, real vegetables this time.”

You grumble, but before you can argue, Quinn’s already waiting by the door.

The car ride is quiet.

Then, out of nowhere, Quinn sighs. “I’m sorry.”

You blink, caught off guard. “For what?”

He grips the steering wheel. “For making you feel bad about leaving. That wasn’t fair.”

You swallow. “Yeah, well… it does suck.”

He nods. “It does.” Then, softer, “You’ll always be our sister. No matter where you go.”

Something in your throat tightens.

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, trying to sound unaffected, “maybe I don’t want to be the baby forever.”

Quinn smirks. “Tough luck.”

You huff, but for the first time in days, the silence between you isn’t so heavy.

Ellen and Jim had taken Jack to some tournament, Quinn was away with the Canucks, and for the first time, it was just you and Luke.

You were thirteen, and he was sixteen, but it felt like an even bigger gap back then.

You weren’t feeling great that day—some stomach bug or something—but you had stubbornly refused to call Mom about it.

Luke had been playing Xbox in the other room when he finally noticed you hadn’t bugged him in a while. He found you curled up on the couch, looking miserable.

"Why didn’t you say anything?" he asked, frowning.

You shrugged weakly.

Luke hesitated, then sighed. "Okay. Come on."

You blinked. "What?"

He grabbed a blanket off the chair and threw it over you before lifting you up.

"Luke—put me down!"

"Nope," he said, hauling you up the stairs. "You have two choices: you can walk to bed like a normal person, or I can keep carrying you."

You groaned but didn’t argue. You were exhausted.

Luke tucked you in (with way too much effort, like he thought you’d try to escape), then disappeared for a few minutes before coming back with ginger ale and crackers.

You stared at him.

"What?" he asked defensively.

"You’re being… nice."

Luke rolled his eyes. "Shut up and eat the crackers."

You smirked. "Are you gonna feed me, too?"

Luke groaned, dropping the pillow he was holding onto your face. "I take it back. I hope you feel worse."

But later that night, when you woke up feeling even worse, Luke was still awake, sitting on the floor by your bed with his phone.

"You need anything?" he asked groggily.

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. "No."

Luke nodded and yawned. "Alright. Go back to sleep."

Luke drives. He doesn’t play music, which is weird for him. Usually, he’s blasting something obnoxious, forcing you to suffer through his terrible playlists.

He doesn’t say anything until you pull into the parking lot.

“I never thought about it like that,” he blurts.

You turn to him, confused. “What?”

Luke shifts in his seat. “That… you were alone when we left.”

His voice is small, guilty.

You sigh, staring out the windshield. “I didn’t want you guys to feel bad about it. You were chasing your dreams. It wasn’t like I wanted you to stay back for me.”

Luke frowns. “But you still missed us.”

“Yeah, dumbass.”

He huffs a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

After a beat, he hesitates. “You know you can always come back, right?”

You roll your eyes. “I know.”

Luke nudges your shoulder. “We’ll visit. All the time.”

You smirk. “Promise?”

He nods, grinning. “Obviously.”

For the first time all week, your chest feels lighter.

You’re sprawled on the dock, staring at the stars. It’s just the four of you—Jack, Quinn, Luke, and you. The air is warm, the lake is calm, and for once, nobody’s arguing.

Jack exhales. “So. This is it, huh?”

You nod. “Yep.”

Silence.

Then, quietly, Quinn says, “We’re really proud of you, you know.”

You blink, caught off guard.

Luke nods. “Yeah. Like, so proud.”

Jack scoffs. “Even though you’re leaving us.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no bite in it.

Quinn nudges your arm. “We meant what we said. You’ll always have us.”

You swallow, feeling that familiar lump in your throat.

Then, because you’re still their little sister, you smirk. “Yeah, yeah. You guys are obsessed with me.”

Jack groans. “God, I take it back—go to college already.”

Luke laughs. Quinn shakes his head. And for the first time all summer, everything feels right.

Because no matter how much things change, one thing never will:

You’ll always be their sister. And they’ll always be your brothers.

[frownyalfred]

Okay I was re-reading my “Hal and Bruce in the JL showers” fic and it made me remember something I forgot to add into that fic, which probably didn’t fit as well because it was mostly poking fun at Clark’s Midwestern sensibilities. But someone also mentioned it in a comment so I wanted to expand on it here:

If you’re Clark, and you’re coming into your Kryptonian powers at that awkward age somewhere between elementary and high school (incrementally, heat vision one year and super strength later, maybe) and one day you’re just crazy ripped? The Kryptonian genes decide THAT is when you get the full benefits of sun and therefore the Superman physique?

You’re not taking your shirt off around anyone who’s not your parents. Not in the communal showers, not during gym class, not at swim practice. Middle or high school kids are BRUTAL. You’d think abs aren’t things to make fun of, but it’s not about the abs, it’s the fact that they’re different. Why does Clark suddenly have abs? Does he think he’s better than us? Why is he so freakishly tall all of a sudden? Is he working out every night all night, and that’s why he’s not hanging out with us?

It prompts questions, jealousy, and — most importantly — staring. Nonstop staring, good, bad, and neutral. People are confused. The gym teacher doesn’t understand how this scrawny kid got built up virtually overnight. And why he still can’t participate in sports worth a damn. It’s like he doesn’t even try.

So yeah. Clark keeps his body covered, from that point onward. Clark Kent can’t explain those muscles, not until he’s moved and set up a new life somewhere else. He starts laying the groundwork for bumbling reporter Clark Kent — he wears big shirts, poorly fitted pants, anything that softens or hides the lines of his physique so he doesn’t get questions.

And while we do see him embrace himself and his Kryptonian heritage later on, I always wonder how much that period of potential shame and avoidance early on in life affected his confidence later — not as Superman obviously, not as the shirtless muscled guy on an oil rig saving people, but as Clark. The guy who sees Hal and Bruce showering near each other without any sense of shame, or any staring, or really any value judgements at all about appearance other than “do I have goo in my hair?”

[hilacopter]

tbh ryoko kui cooked with this one why is this the funniest image I have ever seen

[some-stars]

a whole lot of people in the comments seem to think that there's an impermeable forcefield around their home, and will be very upset to learn just how much fecal bacteria there is on every surface in their living space at all times no matter what they do. sorry to be the one to break this to y'all but the barrier between "inside" and "outside" is more psychological than material!

obviously it's good to wash your hands more often than the average person probably does. i wash mine more frequently since 2020 than i did before--previously it was before cooking/eating and post-bathroom plus anytime something got on them; now it's also when coming home from anywhere medical or crowded high-touch settings like public transit or concerts or handling cash (interestingly this has had zero impact on how often i get sick, which was and remains "virtually never"). however, it is literally impossible to shame people into adopting a new behavior, because that's not how the human/ape brain works. you can shame someone out of doing something bad, but not into doing something good. sorry! you just can't! i know it feels so nice to yell and throw things but it accomplishes the opposite of what you want!

also, here is a sampling of tags on this post that are not thought patterns anyone should be encouraging, and if you find yourself thinking/feeling this way (when you aren't actually medically immunocompromised or living with someone who is, in which case these thoughts still aren't great for you emotionally but at least serve a real function) then you should be concerned:

#i feel so unclean if i don't do it immediately

#does no one else feel like u physically have germs on u when u touch stuff out in public#i come home from shopping and im like ewww eww eww my hands

#any time i leave the house it feels like theres an invisible layer of filth that covers me and gets worse the longer im out

#everything is dirty

#it's like I can feel how my hands are unclean when coming back from outside

#sanitize my hands everytime i'm outside because the world is FILTHY goddamn it

#like you really don’t feel nasty covered in all those outside germs??

further points:

"you all deserve to get covid and die/this is why covid is so bad” COVID is, quite famously, airborne! this reaction tells me that y'all are not logically assessing risks but instead are reacting to the vague horrifying concept of "the Bad Outside World is unbearably filthy and i must preserve my safe clean sanctum", which is not a great starting point for making public policy.

if someone washes their hands before eating, after using the bathroom, when showering, and any time they actually feel or look dirty, we're already at 8-10+ times a day. reacting with violent performative disgust to "i don't wash my hands whenever i return home from outside" as though it was "i never wash my hands ever" is another sign of where these reactions are coming from (not the thinking brain), because that is not what anyone actually voted for!

baffling to me how many people are assuming that everyone is taught as a child to wash their hands every time they come in from outside, because i wasn't and most people i know don't do that (or didn't pre-pandemic). as usual, Your Experiences Are Not Universal.

COVID trauma is very real and understandable, but this level of utter vitriol and loathing for people who don't feel viscerally contaminated when they step outside is just not reflective of reality, and it's certainly not useful for you or anyone else.

We ask your questions anonymously so you don’t have to! Submissions are open on the 1st and 15th of the month.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

january month of yuugi

[lucabyte]

some thoughts on Claude

alt title: diversity win! this Butch Nun is crafting bombs in an unventilated room in her convent while actively courting Mother Superior! Do Not Give Them Access To Unlimited Power No Matter How Nice They Are

+ bonus