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darkmulti · 3 years ago

Note

(Yandere and non con warning)

Def not the only one who wants a 18th century h.c of possessive and controlling, husband!Jungkook x forced wife!reader. Jungkook gets jealous after witnessing another man asking you out and when you come back home at night, he breeds you. Please make it rough and non con. Thank you��️‍🔥

-> you’re definitely not the only one. I can assure you that I’ve thought about this too many times😫

⚠️: NON CON, YANDERE!JUNGKOOK, Squirting/piss play, Physically, mental and emotional abuse, spit play,

-> sorry for any mistakes

Your parents owned a local bakery store

All the recipes were from your late grandmother

You spent almost all of your time there because you were in charge of everything

The store was under your parents’ name but you were the one running it

Sometimes, you even slept there because it’d be too late to walk home

Your dedication to the bakery made it successful

Although, you were the one doing all the work, you parents took all the credit and money

They weren’t paying you because you’re their child

They don’t need to pay you

“It’s a women’s place.” Your father said

You wanted to go back to school however, your parents laughed in your face

“School aren’t for girls, Y/N. Learn how to cook and clean. That’s all you need to know. Let the men handle everything else.”

You were tired of fighting with them and eventually stopped because they threatened to set you up in an arrange marriage

Now, it was just you and the bakery

You had many loyal customers and recently, one has been coming everyday, at the same time

He’d always buy a loaf of banana bread and if he was in a good mood, a blueberry muffin as well

Then, he’d sit in the corner table and eat two - three slices before getting up and leaving

He’d always leave a tip behind and you always kept it for yourself

One day, he didn’t come and you were surprised

For a year straight, he came and bought the same two things

Now, he hasn’t visited in 4 days

Tonight, you came back home for the first time in a while

Your parents had visited the bakery to collect “their” earnings and told you that you have to go somewhere with them that evening

After closing up and cleaning up, you went home and got ready

Your parents were taking you out for dinner as a treat for all your hard work

You were really excited because they were finally acknowledging your hard work

Once you arrived at the restaurant, your parents lead you to a table that already had three people seated

You immediately recognize one of them

It’s that guy who buys your banana loaf!

You sat in front of him while your parents greeted the two other strangers

“Oh, so this is your daughter? She’s gorgeous! Come here and give me a hug.”

You awkwardly chuckled and got up to hug the middle aged women

“Oh! Where are my manners? My name is Jeon F/N, this is my husband, Jeon F/N and this is our son, Jeon Jungkook. We’re your soon to be in laws!”

You heart dropped to the floor

“I-in laws?” You asked, confused

“Yeah, honey. Is this your first time hearing about this? We’ve been talking to your parents for a while now.”

You snapped your head towards you parents and they looked emotionless

“No, no they didn’t tell me anything.”

Dinner with them was hell

Your parents were talking about your wedding arrangements right in front of you

You didn’t know what to do

You wanted to rebel but then your parents would disown you

Just like that, you’d be homeless with little money to survive

In the end, you’d be paying the heavy price

You looked at Jungkook who was staring at you the whole time

You wondered if he knew about this

Maybe, that’s why he came to the bakery everyday

“Did you know anything about this?” You said loud enough for him to hear

“I did.”

“For how long?”

“Since last year.”

You eyes widen, in shock

You were right!

“Why didn’t you stop it?”

“Why would I stop it when I’m the one who wants it?”

You scrunch your eyebrows, in confusion

“What’re you talking about?”

“Since the first day I met you, I wanted to marry you. I told my parents and now, we��re getting married.”

Now, you were mad

You got up and stormed off, catching everyone’s attention

You walked to the bakery and locked yourself in

Here, you thought your parents were acknowledging you for first time, when they were actually setting you up for a marriage so they don’t have to take care of you

You cried yourself to sleep that night

The next couple of weeks, the bakery was closed due to your wedding

The wedding was spectacular

You would’ve love it if you weren’t being forced into a marriage

After the wedding, Jungkook took your precious virginity

He made sure to pleasure you until you passed out

He was so in love with you

Now, he was finally able to show you how much he loved you

And mark you as his

The next couple of months, he was attached to you

He took over his family’s business and you took over your family’s business

He’d visit you every day at work to check if you’re with another man

He was so paranoid about it, sometimes he’d come by 3 or 4 times to make sure you were not cheating

You thought he missed you and that’s why he kept stopping by (which is half true) however, you had no idea that he was possessive and controlling

You had to learn the hard way

Sometimes, you wouldn’t leave work until midnight

You had so much things to do like preparing for the next day, making a to-do list, making a grocery lists, and cleaning every area of the shop

It’s time consuming, so obviously you finish up pretty late

Jungkook absolutely hates that

Although you stay late in the shop once in a while, he can’t stand it

He wants you to be in his arms every night

Jungkook gets angry when you’re not

This was your fourth time staying out late in the shop and he’s had enough

He couldn’t help but feel paranoid about what you were actually doing in the shop

What if you lied and went on a date with another man?

What if you were running away from him?

Or even worse, what if you were having sex with another guy?

He raced to the bakery and banged on the door, which scared you

You saw that it was him and let him in

“W-what’s wrong?! You scared me!”

“Grab your stuff, we’re going home.”

“But I’m not done yet! I only have a couple more things to do and then I’ll come home. I told you already-”

“I don’t think you fucking heard me!” He yelled and grabbed your hair

“Grab your shit, we are leaving right now.”

He pushed you towards the counter and crossed his arms

You let your breath out in shock but scurry to get your stuff

You’ve never seen him like this and it terrified you

“I have my stuff.”

“Good, let’s go.”

He helped you lock the door and wrapped his arm around your waist

The walk home was silent

You were scared shitless

All you wanted to do was run back into your parents’ house

But he didn’t let you move an inch away from him

Once you got home, he started pushing you around and arguing some more

“Jungkook, I told you this afternoon when you came to visit! I said I have to stay late so I don’t have to stress myself out in the morning!”

“Don’t fucking lie to me! Who were you fucking seeing?!” He screamed, frightening you more

“No one! I swear, no one!” You whimpered

He corned you into your shared room and locked the door

“Jungkook, I swear! Nothing happened!”

He didn’t believe a single word coming out of your mouth

It was like you were talking to a wall

He pushed you onto the bed and stripped you naked

Jungkook pushed two fingers into your cunt and pretended to scoop out cum

“If nothing happened, why is your cunt full of cum?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I didn’t have sex with anyone!”

You weren’t very educated about sex, so Jungkook had an advantage

You began apologizing even though you didn’t have sex with anyone

You just wanted peace between you two

“I’m sorry! I didn’t cheat or anything, but I’m sorry if it hurt you! I really am!”

Jungkook slapped you and spat on your face

“Dirty slut. Telling me that you’re not cheating but still apologizing.”

“No! Please, I didn’t do anything!”

Jungkook pulled his cock out and shoved it in without warning

You were still new to sex so when he didn’t let you adjust, you automatically started screaming and crying

“Please, slower!” You cried, holding onto his biceps as he went faster and deeper

“Stop! Please!”

Jungkook loved the sound of his balls clapping against your ass

It honestly made him harder

All night, he was on top, fucking you hard

Your legs were spread apart, tears in your eyes and sweat dripping down your forehead

You looked like a hot mess

And he loved every second of it

“Mmh- Jungkook!”

You squirted around him and had a trembling orgasm

You couldn’t stop releasing your liquids on him and he couldn’t stop pounding you

The bed sheet was soaked by the end of it

He pushed his cock deep inside and came

After Jungkook fell asleep, you cried for while

How were you supposed to tolerate him for the rest of your life?

The next morning

You woke up in severe pain

You lower region was begging for some pain relief

But there was nothing you could do about it

Jungkook was still sleeping next to you

You decided to leave before he wakes up

After getting ready by leaning on everything, you slowly walked to town

When you arrived at the bakery, you saw a big “for sale” sign

You panicked and went inside the store, only to be greeted by your parents

“Mother, father! Why is there a “for sale” sign on the bakery?”

You parents looked at each other in disappointment

“You see, we have to explain the obvious to your daughter. Be grateful that someone willingly married your idiot daughter.” Your father said before walking out

His words did hurt but you cared about the bakery more than your father

“Why’re you selling it, mother? Can you not afford it anymore? Why-”

“Shut up, Y/N! You’re married now, you have wifely duties. You don’t have time for this bakery so the best option is to sell it.”

Your world fell apart right before your eyes

“But mother-”

“Save it. You already made your father upset. I’m warning you now, you don’t want to get on my bad side.”

You cried the whole morning

After you opened the bakery, lots of people gathered in line

All breads, cakes and muffins were going on sale

After you served the people in line, you went up to the tables and took their order

After you served them, a regular customer who was sitting alone gestured you to come over

You went over to the man and asked him if he needed anything

He told you to take a seat and accompany him

Since the crowd died down, you sat down in front of him

“You look a bit stressed and sad. What’s on your mind?”

You were touched by his words

Finally, someone cared about you

You told him you were upset about the bakery closing

He understood and even offered money to help you keep it open

You were flattered but didn’t accept the money

“Money’s not a problem, my parents just don’t want to keep this shop open.”

You talked with this guy for a couple of hours

Although this was your first time talking to him, you talked to him like he was your best friend

When closing time came around, he got up and asked you out on a date

You didn’t know what to do

You were married but you really liked this guy

You were considering saying yes when someone pulled his shoulder back and punched him across the face

“Jungkook! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“You think I didn’t see that?! I saw it all. I saw you flirting with my wife for three hours straight and then asking her out on a date!”

Jungkook beat the crap out of the guy and pushed him outside

He then came back in the store, looking at you with devil eyes

“Yesterday’s punishment clearly wasn’t enough.”

The entire way home, he was yelling at you, slapping you, spitting on you, pulling your hair, pushing you to the ground and choking you

You were crying the whole time, apologizing over and over

When you arrived home, he seriously had no mercy on you

No foreplay, no lube, no adjusting

Just a raw, thick cock being forced into you

You were begging him to let you go but tonight, nothing was going to stop him

He was moving his hips insanely fast, not giving you enough time to breathe

You were choking on your own sobs

“Jungkook, please no! I’m sorry!”

“Why did you hesitate to deny his offer? You are a married fucking women!” With each word a hard thrust followed, knocking all the air out of you

“Answer me! Is he better than me? Does he take care of you? Does he provide money for you? TELL ME!” He was yelling so loudly, it was making you cry harder

“N-no, he doesn’t. He was just the first person to care about me.” You whispered the last sentence but, Jungkook was able to make it out

“Are you saying that I don’t care about you?”

He got more aggressive and fastened his pace

“Tell me, Y/N! Do you think that I don’t care about you?!”

You couldn’t answer him because you couldn’t catch your breath

He was going too fast and you were crying so hard, you couldn’t breathe

Jungkook noticed how much you were struggling and added onto your struggle by holding your neck down

“Apologize, right now Jeon Y/N!”

You softly apologize but it wasn’t good enough for him

He lifted your legs a little, giving him better access and fucked you till you squirted

This time you sobbed your apology and begged for forgiveness

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook! It’ll never— ah! It’ll never happen again! I’m so sorry! Please for- forgive me for my dumb m-mistake. Please! I’m begging you.” You held onto the bed sheet, praying he would stop

He huskily growled and pushed his cock in deep

“For the next 9 months you’ll be swelling with my baby. Now, everyone can back off.”

He shot his hot cum right into you, filling you up to the rim

Sorry for any mistakes. It’s 3:41am 😄

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts smut #non con #bts yandere #yandere bts #yandere jungkook

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aminiatureworld · 3 years ago

Text

Disappearance III

Character: Childe, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,581

Warnings: None

Premise: In which there is an argument and the reader disappears.

Author’s Note: Childe my favorite character, how I love to torture you.

But genuinely I really like how this one came out.

Childe

Childe craned his neck to stare at the clock on the wall behind him. Sighing at the lateness of the afternoon he turned back towards the papers in his lap, trying desperately to focus, to not let his thoughts drift off to the argument that had taken place in the morning.

It had started out simple enough. Childe had informed you that he might be gone for some time, as the Tsaritsa had requested a high-level reconnaissance mission, and Childe was to be the one to lead it. He thought that you react much the way that you always had, assurances of his success, light-hearted reminders to stay safe, and a goodbye kiss as you two settled back into a normal routine before the day of departure. Instead however, your lips had slanted into a frown, and you stopped making your breakfast to turn and face your partner.

“Childe, I wish you wouldn’t always take things on yourself.”

“What do you mean darling?” Childe felt a wave of surprise wash over him. After all, what else was he supposed to do?

“I mean that you’re being entirely too reckless Childe. You know that you have too high a profile to be doing stuff like this. I… I would like you to sit this one out. Just this one.”

Childe couldn’t help but laugh, whether out of irritation or genuine amusement he wasn’t sure of. “As much as I appreciate the concern, I can’t do that. No leader worth their salt would send their underlings off alone, even if they are some of the weakest underlings in the world. No one’s been able to pull the wool over me yet darling, it’ll be perfectly alright.”

“You’re not listening to me,” your voice picked up in intensity. “Childe I really try, I try to remind myself that you’re a Harbinger and able to take care of yourself; but sometimes it’s just too much. This is too much.”

“You’re being silly,” Childe said, trying to keep his tone light. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I can’t disobey the Tsaritsa. She wishes me to do this so I will. It’s as simple as that.”

“The Tsaritsa is far away, she has hundreds, thousands under her command. She won’t bat an eye at your safety.”

“Like you said, I can take care of myself.”

“But what if one day you can’t? What if, what if one day you don’t come back. Please, just this once; just this once don’t go.”

“I know that the length of time is upsetting, but you can’t react like this every time I have to go away for a while. I promise that you’ll have me all to yourself afterwards.”

“It’s not about that Childe! Please, please listen to me. I’m worried about your safety. I’m worried one of these days you’re going to end up in a fight too big even for you. What will you do then? What will your underlings do? What will I do? Please, tell the Tsaritsa you have to stay and make sure the Bank stays out of trouble, or that nothing happens in Liyue. Please, don’t go this time.”

“You’re being irrational.” By now Childe was definitely irritated.

“No, I’m being realistic. You don’t take care of yourself enough.”

“You’re just underestimating me. Besides, I’m a better fighter than you’ll ever be. It’s not like you can protect me even if I stayed here.”

“What?”

“It’s not like staying in Liyue would be any safer, better to face things head on. For the Tsaritsa, for Snezhnaya, that is the most important thing. If you can’t see that, you’re just being stupid.”

Although Childe regretted the words almost immediately after they left his mouth he could see that saying that would’ve had no effect. So instead he watched silently as your face clouded over and you stormed out the door, not bothering to grab your food as you slung your pack around you back and walked out. A part of him wanted to call after you, but he knew that even if he did you probably wouldn’t listen. Even if you did, what could he say? After all, he had simply spoken the truth; even if you couldn’t accept it as such.

Now Childe sat on the couch, eyes glazing voer as he stared at all the paperwork that needed to be done before his mission. He had already spent a hectic, uneasy day at the bank. Though he knew that none of his underlings would be foolish enough to try to pull something while he was gone, Andrei would make sure of that and Childe would make sure of Andrei, it was still tedious, boring work. This was in no way helped by the lingering ill will from his fight with you earlier. Though Childe ultimately forgot fights relatively quickly the time right after was always an uneasy one, filled with sudden flashes of irritation replaced suddenly by the wish for it all to have never happened.

He had hoped that you might be home by the time he arrived, but your absence wasn’t truly much of a surprise. Besides the fact that you were still probably angry with him, something Childe couldn’t really fault, you had recently been involved with some project near the Chasm, and it was hardly surprising that something that big caused you late hours. Still he couldn’t deny the fact that he was somewhat disappointed, or maybe disheartened was a better way to put it. He hated fighting with you, especially fights that lasted. Even if he was irritated with you, even if he thought that you had demanded something impossible, he still regretted snapping at you. He just wanted you to come home now, that way he could apologize and explain the situation better. That way he wouldn’t leave with any ill will behind him.

The clock was excruciatingly slow, but the insult of that wasn’t registered until Childe dozed off. Waking up in the middle of the night he was surprised at your continued absence. Though he had expected that sleeping on the couch might’ve happened, your total disappearance was certainly something that threw him for a loop. Making his way to the bedroom and flopping down on the bed Childe closed his eyes, pushing away the anxiety that clustered at the edge of his thoughts.

Perhaps you’d ended up staying with Hu Tao, or maybe you’d gone back home to your family. He had been awfully mean after all, and you were never the kind of person to take his insults sitting down. Still, if that were true why hadn’t you packed more, or come back to collect your things? It didn’t make any sense. Questions and half baked reasonings floated through Childe head as he tried to delay the inevitable pull of sleep. The last conscious thought he could remember was the knowledge that at least you would be back tomorrow.

You were not, in fact, home tomorrow. The Harbinger’s time spent at the Northland Bank was almost completely useless, the meeting with the people he’d be going on his mission with even more so. Though Childe wasn’t necessarily the most attentive listener, often letting his mind wander when his fellow Fatui members fell into arguing about the most insipid things, he knew that paying attention to a plan as a whole was critical to its success. Even so he couldn’t bring his mind to focus on the maps and profiles that sat in front of him. Where were you? It seemed like such a silly question, but the longer it floated in Childe’s head the colder he felt.

Finally the meetings and the menial tasks ended and Childe could go home. Sprinting down the winding streets of Liyue, not bothering to hide the fact he was in a hurry, Childe burst into the apartment. His heart sank as he was met with the same image he’d seen when he’d left that morning.

Afterwards Childe wandered around the docks of Liyue, trying to keep the quickly fragmenting pieces of his mind together. He knew that he was probably overreacting, knew that you were simply staying away because of what he said, knew that it wouldn’t be forever – you would have definitely told him if that were the case. Still he couldn’t help but feel dread crawling over him, saturating the cracks of his brain as he wondered how he’d managed to fuck everything up so much. He had underestimate how much his words must have affected you, and that only made him feel worse. Finally exhausting his walk along the pier Childe set off towards the edges of the city and into the vast wilderness of Liyue. He needed to find something to fight.

The nightmare continued on into the next day, then into the day after that. Childe could barely remember what he did during those days, walking around as if possessed, unable to concentrate on anything for more than a few moments before his thoughts inevitably found their way back to you. Mostly Childe ended up sleeping, dozing off at his desk or on the couch, papers fluttering from his hands onto the floor. Mostly Childe dreamed of you.

They weren’t dreams of any particular note, their contents incredibly mundane. Not that it matter to Childe; within those dreams he felt nothing but happy domesticity, a calm that washed over him as he walked with you to the market or lay next to you under the stars. Always you would appear in his dreams suddenly, and always he would throw his arms around you, clinging to you as if even an embrace wasn’t enough. Always he woke up with a sense of desolation so vast it threatened to consume him.

Finally on the fifth day Childe couldn’t take it anymore. Waking up at almost the crack of dawn the Harbinger rushed to the Bank. He wouldn’t stay long, only enough to inform Andrei that he’d be out for the day. Then he’d go to the Guild and check and make sure everything was okay. Then, well he’d figure out what to do then. It seemed pathetic to chase after you, not to mention gross. He wouldn’t become a stalker, wouldn’t let himself fall into such pathetic behavior. Still, he had to make sure you were at least okay. As long as he did that, well, the rest could come later.

Striding into the Bank Childe was met with a surprising sight. Normally Ekaterina stayed firmly tucked inside her receptionist cubby, even more antisocial than the likes of the Balladeer or the Fatui that guarded Dragonspine. Now however she stood at the front of the booth, wringing her hands this way and that as she stared at a piece of paper in front of her. Feeling a sudden sense of dread Childe walked up to her.

“Ekaterina?”

“Oh!” Ekaterina whirled around, look on her face one of utter anxiety. “My lord, I was horrified to hear of the news, tell me, do you know if they’re almost free?”

“What are you talking about?” Childe narrowed his eyes.

“Why, your partner. I only heard today from Nadia; no wonder you’ve been so distant recently, if it’s not too much for me to say so. I only hope that they’ll soon be rescued, I’m sure you know about the situation better than I do though.”

“Ekaterina, what in the Tsaritsa’s name are you talking about?”

A shadow passed over Ekaterina’s face, a look of utter dread. Swallowing slightly she stared at a spot in the wall right to the side of Childe. “You partner, my lord, I’ve been informed that they have become trapped in one of the caverns of the Chasm. I thought that you knew about it, it’s been five days after a–”

Childe didn’t hear the rest of what Ekaterina had to say. Whirling around the Harbinger slammed his way out of the bank, aiming towards the nearest waypoint. Cold dread washed over him and with it desperate determination. He’d rescue you. If he had to tear apart the entire Chasm and raze all the mountains in Liyue to the ground so be it.

Approaching the Chasm Childe felt a rush of adrenaline wash over him. He was terrified. By the Seven, he was utterly terrified. Images of you flashed in his mind, images of you cowering in the dark, stuck at the bottom of an endless pit, lying on the ground with no air or food or life in you. How could he have let this happen? How could he have not known of this before? Anger burned within Childe, anger at himself. He should have never let you walk out of your apartment without apologizing first. He should have enquired after you after the first night you didn’t show up. He should’ve been the first person there for you, instead of the last person to know. He was so utterly stupid.

Approaching what must’ve been the site of the accident Childe felt his stomach drop to his feet at the sight of you. You were covered in dirt, cuts spread across your arms and legs as you slumped against a Guild member, dragging your feet in an awkward shuffle towards the stretcher that must’ve been meant to bring you to the apothecary. There were a variety of Guild members flocking around you, along with one of the doctors of Liyue, who was scribbling notes down furiously. Your expression was utterly dazed, as if you weren’t exactly sure of what was going on, something that tore Childe apart.

Stepping towards you Childe called out your name. At the sound your head jerked up, and you gave a hoarse sort of cry before turning to make your way towards him. Sprinting towards you Childe stepped backwards as you fell awkwardly into him. Steadying you for a moment before wrapping his arms around you Childe felt all his emotions crashing over him, so intense that he couldn’t control them anymore. Ignoring the tears that tracked their way down his cheeks the Harbinger let out a shudder.

“Thank the Seven, thank the Seven you’re safe. I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. You don’t have to forgive me, alright? You don’t have to forgive me, but by the gods I’m so sorry.”

“I wish you had been there,” you mumbled softly. “It was so dark, I couldn’t see anything. I thought, I thought that I might never see you again.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I said all those things to you, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. You should’ve fold so easily you know, you should be really, really angry at me.”

“I don’t want to be angry at you though, I just want you to stay.”

“Then I will,” Childe tightened his embrace around you. “I promise I will.”

“Okay.”

Having apparently said everything that had to be said you let Childe sling you onto his back, refusing to be carried to the hospital in the stretcher. As you appeared to doze off on his back Childe made a promise to himself. Even if he couldn’t disobey the Tsaritsa, even if he couldn’t change who he was, he would never leave you when you needed him to be there.

You would never find yourself needing him to be there without the chance of your need being met. That he promised you.

#genshin impact fanfiction #childe x reader #childe #genshin impact #genshin childe #requested #fanfiction #scenarios #my writing

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sugar-petals · 4 years ago

Text

SuperM: Their Orgasm Faces

a/n. i’ve written the same scenario for bts and thought this is perfect for these guys as well 💦

warnings ⚠️ multiple rounds, masturbation, loud sex, crying

➸ Taemin Constant little trembles. Puffy lips and a huge back arch. Softly moving hips that know exactly what they’re doing, reacting to your every touch. Balmy moans for the gods, they’re such a giant turn-on. His face looks so soft and relaxes into the pleasure without restraint. And my god, the hair. It’s like an old Italian painting. The voice is just as indulging — all those little “ha...” noises he makes. So lush and super breathy. Long story short: He looks perfect in the unlikely case someone forgot. What more can I tell you. He’s broadcasted it to the entire world at this point. In fact, isn’t Taemin’s entire cinematic work a silk and satin-laced compilation of o-faces? Even his haters can’t deny that. He has the perfect variety, perfect sensuality. Never out of place, never too feeble nor too much. He doesn’t just show that to you in bed, he truly owns it. Taemin’s orgasms are really drawn out, it’s the most amazing spectacle. So much to see: And you never know when the first one ends and the second one starts. He’s that erotic and completely swayed by you. If there’s one person completely in tune with his arousal and amps it up to the maximum, and takes you higher yourself with him, that’s Lee Taemin. He cums more beautifully than anyone you’ve ever seen. Fuck, it feels like you have to write him a ten-page thank you letter for being able to witness that. One word suffices: he’s fantastic.

➸ Taeyong You won’t believe it. He is so handsome, but he tries to hide his face. Or buries his hands in his hair, and twists himself to the side. Sometimes, into a pillow. Othertimes, a blanket or a sleeve. Taeyong doesn’t like his pleasure being seen. He’s not just shy; he’s reserved, delicately cautious. He’d rather have his hair fall into his face and conceal all the sweet emotions that surface. His lips are tightly shut and more often than not, he looks away. Even when he’s by himself getting off to the thought of you, he can’t keep his head up. It’s a shame, but you also figure it’s because he gifts himself to you to be very protected, not judged or consumed. Taeyong needs your guidance and strength. That’s why you hug him and let his face rest in the crook of your neck, and it becomes his favorite spot to lean into when he’s coming. Taeyong is more reassured this way. His eyebrows raise and he’s giving you the most heavenly whimpers. It overwhelms him every time. But that’s the place where he can finally moan it out. His voice is so gorgeous, and desperate, and full of gratitude towards you. When he really trusts you, he’s — god — actually grunting in his deep voice and sometimes meets your eye fleetingly. Or sucks in air and holds it before his whole body erupts. Oh my god. Those thighs are gonna go through an entire earthquake. Truth be told: NCT didn’t lie when they sang about a volcano, did they.

➸ Jongin Come on. The main dancer who has his face all up in a camera every stage, making people worldwide bust a nut by just raising a corner of the mouth. If there’s one person with the best, most intense facial expressions? It’s Kai all the way. Just throw the OSCAR right at him. Matter of fact, we all know he is the king of being absolutely stunning in bed. Jongin always looks like he wants to take you in completely, his entire upper body goes forward. His eyes are deep and glistening, but not fully mysterious. First and foremost they’re hundred percent passion just as you’d expect from him. The brows, the fucking brows! The lips, mumbling, and the jaw is in motion even if you wouldn’t pay attention to it at first. And by contrast, he looks more in love than anyone else. Can we appreciate how romantic Kai’s vibe is? How does he do it? He yearns and calls you babe, the entire face feels twitching and shaky. As if he was suffering from being so enamoured, but it feels so good to him. Every new thrust makes his expression change a bit. How he’s allowing himself to feel you literally paints a living story on his features. Toward the middle and the end of his climax, Kai looks so vulnerable and lost in the pleasure that you gave him or he gave himself. It’s almost like he is underwater. If you ever look into those dreamy eyes... Kai’s orgasm face will put an actual spell on you. Have a guess. The spell is called: Make you even hornier and throw your fucking head back from all that good stuff.

➸ Mark Yeah, uh-oh. The bomb is going off right here. It feels like Mark didn’t fuck for literal months every time even if you had sex the other day. His jaw is hanging open throughout. The eyes wide. Lips shivering, only a little. A bit of saliva is pooling just there. Then, his head falls forward. Hair in his eyes, brows clenched toward the middle. He looks like he can’t believe it, he’s helpless to the power it has over him. His orgasm darts through his body like a thunderbolt. You got it, sex with Mark is exactly that, so electric. It arrives fast and it’s over fast. And it’s massive, catches him off guard so often. A big, sweeping “Ah—h!” that carries him away like a tidal wave. Who’s the living super car in SuperM? That’s Mark Lee who goes through his climax like he’s watching a train speed by. What can he do but curse himself and moan. Something is possessing this poor man. His face looks like he has to keep up with his own damn reflexes. Can you imagine how hard his body is going to clutch if he just cums in one go? And if he tries to kiss you during that? What the fuck Mark! He just never calms down, does he. Or wait — fast forward... oh wonder: He falls asleep only minutes after. His face: now completely angelic. Mark really put all his heart and mind and cum into this one orgasm. This guy has dedication and it shows. He always delivers you one hell of a show. Rumor has it you have a couple videos of it on your phone.

➸ Baekhyun Clenches his teeth so hard. The first you’ll hear is a loud and whiny “nnh!” in the buildup. And that’s when you know he can’t go back. The entire neck seems under pressure. He stares. Gasps for air. The breathing, raw as fuck. Up and down goes that chest all the way against you. In fact, he breathes the fastest in the group. His face gets so heated. All those veins come out. This guy’s blood flow is a new level. Releasing tons of stress and energy. His eyes are squeezed shut as soon as it begins because it’s so strong and relieving, it’s borderline painful. He couldn’t speak for the first five seconds even if he tried. Only the second wave brings out a stifled chain of moans that he surrenders to. On some days, he even starts crying from relief. It takes minutes upon minutes until he cools off entirely. Baekhyun is so orgasmic, he’s all splayed out on the bed afterwards or deeply engrossed in your embrace for endless cuddles. I’m telling you. Should you ever get a second orgasm out of him, he’s gonna be reduced to a puddle. A shaking, sobbing mess that can’t stop wailing. There’s only begging for more in these eyes. It goes without saying that you need the most sound-proof room there ever was because he is at the top of his voice. Baekhyun being loud for you is a natural staple. PS: Mark my words. Should you get him to a third orgasm, he’s gonna be screaming without a pause and his fucking tongue is hanging out.

➸ Yukhei As if he can ever stop wiggling his brows at you. Did you expect he just lets loose and rolls his eye back? No, no. He keeps looking right at you until the end. Full Xuxi confidence and charisma at play. Lots of nicknames coming at you, he’s gonna say them all. That level of eye contact is gonna get you going big time. You know how large and wonderful his eyes are, like a doe’s. Lucas hardly closes them unless it comes to getting blowjobs. Where he’s gonna look at you very intensely most of the time anyway. Lucas tries to not let the sensations overcome him so he remains present with you. He never really seems like he indulges all the way like Taemin or Kai would. The whole thing is pretty suspicious because he doesn’t fully ease into your interplay of movements. Guess why... at any point, he’s invested in making you cum and keeps on pulling out his magic tricks until you’re getting there. He’s gonna use those big fucking hands (he knows you love ‘em) and goes on and on until he has you there. Yukhei’s personality is all over the place, but he has steely concentration during sex. Not to mention the technique. He’s even gonna go for pushing his hair back as a killing part. No mediocre, he’s doing the most. After all: Lucas cums the best if he just saw you losing it or you’re on the way. Synchronizing your orgasms is difficult, but he puts all his focus into achieving just that. Yukhei is an expert in how close you are after a while, and even starts letting himself fall back into the sheets below you when you release together.

➸ Ten Perfectly understated. Lids heavy, lips opened just a bit. Elegant, almost, and chesty in tone. He’s the connoisseur. My god. It’s the most gentlemanly someone could ever cum. His forehead is so sweaty as is his hair and back, because if Ten fucks he does it properly, but still. He’s so calm. He could be in your arms for more than half an hour and be fully composed. The focus and self-control is just phenomenal. Completely in the moment, not missing a heartbeat. Which is such a hard thing to do but it’s effortless with him. Ten knows the value of moderation and tension. He’s not keeping his groans in for the whole time and only moans when he comes. Not at all. It’s a different story with him. It all builds up perfectly and comes out freely whenever. He’s actually pretty close to singing, his voice accompanies his breathing in ideal sync. So melodic. Ten is all smitten by you. Nothing is kept in. He looks at you so fondly, he enjoys himself so much. So, it becomes a beautiful loving serenade. His face doesn’t make any sudden or extreme contortions either. The expression moves and changes very slowly, is very easy on the eye. Every minute with him is fulfilling. Ten is all wrapped up in the mood and the groove like it’s business. Prepare to lose your fucking mind, these are new levels of feeling good. Not one awkward moment, just making love. Oh my god are you lucky.

art: The Great Wave off Kanagawa (1829-33) — by Hokusai

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sunny6677 · 2 years ago

Text

Crumbled Papers

A (Hetalia) Japan x Male! Reader

Chapter 2

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Waves of traffic rumbled outside America's car, as blasts of music emitted from his own car too.

He loudly howled his voice to the music, some notes sounding off key, Y/N could only sit in silence as he(America) sang to himself.

Y/N's mind went back to the fire, the roaring flames of orangeish red that barked at him like a beast of unholy existence.

He could only remember his fear as he watched it consume most of everything he didn't manage to save.

America's voice felt muted as he thought back to the fire. He didn't remember the last time he was so.. horrified.

Amber fields of hellfire coated his house entirely like a waterfall, as he could only be witness to it all.

Sweat dripped down his face fastly, shivering; he felt it. Fear. Anxiety. Pain. If he listed it all, it would be like the entirety of the Constitution.

Regret consumed his face as he thought back to all the items he didn't manage to save.

A hand then waved in front of his face.

"Dude, dude!"

He snapped out of his trance, and muttered-- "Wha-- what?"

"We're here! You thinkin' about stayin' or somethin?" America said, still grinning like the stereotypical hero he was.

Y/N only felt weakened under his optimistic gaze, "A-- Ah, no, sorry.. I spaced out. How.. how'd we get here so fast?"

"Same way as we always do, baby--" He then grinned bigger, "Iggys sweet black magic!"

"Oh, well that explains a lot.." Replied Y/N. Now he'd have to get out of the car and get his things.

The exhaustion weighted heavy inside his body, he didn't know if he could even carry any of what he needed with how much agony pierced deep inside his soul.

Stepping out of the car, he slammed the door shut; America stepped out too, and went to the back of the car to get the stuff they had packed inside the trunk.

1 suitcase and a bag. Perfect for two people to carry on their own.

Grabbing the suitcase, Y/N stepped closer to the house that they had arrived at.

He admired it; an ancient looking Japanese house, that had of course, belonged to Japan himself. It looked quite nice with all the nature surrounding it.

"Japan sure does have a nice house, huh?" Commented Y/N with a smile of admiration.

"Yep! The dude sure knows how to make it look like he's from some Disney Pixar movie!" Said America, walking up from behind.

"Yeah.. wonder if this'll be a plot to a Pixar movie sometime, heheh." Y/N joked.

"Hahaha! Maybe! Now come on!" Swirling eyes of sapphire were packed with immaturity, as America then clasped his hand around Y/Ns arm and brought him forth to Japan's humble abode.

Y/N's heart beat heavily from the pace of the little run America forced them into; America then came to a halt and knocked heavily, not paying any attention to the weak, exhausted form of Y/N's body.

"Yoo! Japan, dude, we're here!" America grinned innocently, Y/N looked up at America with slight frustration.

"Yeah, we're here, and America is now the Flash apparently so be careful.." Sarcastically commented Y/N.

"Hahah! Which is why I'm the hero!" Proudly exclaimed America, with sparkling eyes of sky blue.

Y/N only groaned at his grinning expression, he was surprised America didn't take offense to the comment, as a matter of fact; it was pretty rare for him to just take it.

The door then slid open, making Y/Ns eyes dart toward the figure who had just opened the door.

A pair of Miriam Jasper eyes stared back at him from the entrance of it, causing Y/N to let out a slight noise of surprise.

It was the man himself, Japan. Anyone could recognize him if they stared long enough into those sparkle-ridden eyes of his, for they were a beautiful complexity of tigers-eye.

His hair was dark like the night, and due to it stopping at his neck, from time to time-- people would mistake him for a girl.

He would often be seen in his traditional Japanese clothing if he were not at work, but at work; he'd be wearing several layers of clothing to make him seem like a professional. His light-brown skin seemed similar to the sun's light yellow reflection.

His voice was velvety, deep; like a chorus of a thousand angels singing all at once to create a masculine harmony.

His voice and personality would often clash with those less mature than him, due to him somehow having the ability to put up with it all.

"Herro, Amerika-kun. Herro, Y/N-kun." Japan bowed respectively, letting Y/N bathe in the warm, welcoming and polite aura of his home for the first time.

"Hey dude!" America greeted happily. "Um.. hey." Y/N waved shyly.

"Oh, Y/N-kun.. it is nice to finarry be abre to tark to you properry. I hope you enjoy your time here." Japan looked to Y/Ns eyes of (insert metaphorical description here), and managed to maintain a look of blankness still.

"Oh, yeah.. its-- uh, nice to finally talk to you too. Hope we got along well." Nervously replied Y/N, scratching the back of his head.

He didn't know why, but under Japan's cold and serious gaze of simbersite, he felt a little small.

Japan replied; "I'm sure we wirr.. do you need some assistance whire you pack your things?" Asked he, looking softly eager to help his new temporary roommate.

Y/N spoke, "Uh-- you don't have to, if you don't want.."

"Dont worry, I assure you, I am eager to herp you. You are werrcome to ask for herp anytime you rike." Politely said Japan, still making no other expression, other than a blank face. It was like a void, a black empty space with no specks of stars.

It went silent for a few seconds, before America finally spoke again; "Okay, now that the awkward greetings over, back to me! So, Japan, about that McDonald's in your place--"

America's voice went faint for a few seconds. Y/N felt like a person watching a film, merely spectating from their seat at the movie theater as he spaced out.

Japan's mere reactions from.. whatever America was rambling on about changed every few seconds-- yet it was never joy whenever it shifted.

Y/N wanted to know.. even though they had only finally properly met him for a few seconds, what would it take for him to smile?

"Y/N? Y/N?~" Called out America, waving a hand in front of his face.

Y/N flinched in shock from himself being pulled out of the speciation he was in merely a few seconds ago, "O-- Oh, sorry spaced out again.."

"Dude, your spacing out a lot today, are you alright?" Asked America, concern glazing in his aquamarine eyes.

"Y-- Yeah.. I'm fine, a little tired is all." Replied Y/N, staring at the ground. He couldn't exactly think of a good excuse.

"Hmm-- well, I was saying--" America then clasped his hands over Y/Ns body, and zoomed into Japan's house; "Time to head in, biatch!"

Japan only spectated the chaos with a mildly concerned face from the entrance.

This.. was gonna be a chaotic evening til America was gone.

//////////////////

#hetalia #japan #america #aph japan #japan x reader #aph america #y/n

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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

Text

The Sweetest Sins (A Good Man)

A/N: Soo, a few people have suggested something like this, getting a look into Javi and Dulzura’s life after AGM. And I love these fools so much, I couldn’t say no. This is just some soft fluff, but I hope you’ll all enjoy! Can be read as a standalone or as part of the series. Thank you to mi vida, @bestintheparsec, for helping me brainstorm! As always, comments and feedback are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged let me know! xx

Pairing: Professor! Javi x Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: fluff of the holiday kind!

A GOOD MAN ‘VERSE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

JAVIER MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Javi?” you were halfway in the door when you heard a few gentle yips from coming from your feet. A grin stretched across your features as you shuffled the bags filled with groceries to one arm so you could lean down and give Stevie a pet. He wagged his tail excitedly as he ran around in a small circle, “hi buddy! Of course I missed you too. It’s been a whole day since our last cuddle!”

He barked quietly before darting into the kitchen as you kicked off your shoes and followed behind, wondering if Javier was in the kitchen. As soon as you made your way down the hall, you could hear him softly singing to the record player, telling you that indeed, your lover was working hard on something. As soon as he heard the soft padding of your feet, Javier looked up from the bowl he was mixing something in and offered you a gentle smile, his singular dimple on glorious display.

“Dulzura,” your nickname feel softly off his lips, reverent, as he stopped what he was doing and came over to help you with your full arms, “you’re just on time.”

“Hi Javi,” you whispered as he pressed his lips to yours, sighing contently as you tried to peek at what he was doing, “what are you doing? What am I just in time for?”

“Cookies,” he grinned as you started to unpack all the groceries for the long weekend that you would be spending with him. You raised an eyebrow at him as you tried to deduce exactly what kind he was making, before pulling out a bottle of wine and setting it down. As you walked to get glasses out of the cabinet, he gave your backside a small pat causing you to giggle at him.

“Feeling cheeky, are we Professor Peña?” you turned and kissed his cheek before uncorking the wine and pouring a glass for each of you, “what kind of cookies are you making?”

“Gingerbread,” he nodded his head towards the various spices on the counter as you took a sat at the bar and watched him close, “my abuela’s recipe. Tis the season!”

“How very appropriate,” you beamed at him, reaching over and playing a stray curl that had worked its way onto his forehead, “you’ve never made her gingerbread before. Any special occasion?”

“Not really,” he shrugged innocently but you could tell there was something underlying his words, “just felt like it would be a good time to make some.”

“I won’t argue with a man that makes me dessert or dinner,” you grinned as you sipped on your wine, but not before pulling Stevie into your lap. You scratched his ears before turning back to Javi, “now what aren’t you telling me?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Dulzura,” he looked at you with his soft brown eyes wide and innocent. You might have fallen in love with them, but you could read them just as easily. There was a little smirk on his face as he carried on, letting a comfortable silence fall over you for a few moments, “I talked to my Papá today. He asked if we wanted to spend Christmas in Laredo this year. The whole family will be there and I know it would make him happy to have us there. We don’t have to go if you don’t want to, of course.”

“I’d love to, Javier,” you eagerly agreed, more than thrilled at the idea of seeing Chucho and the rest of Javi’s family again. They had always welcomed you from the start, treating like you family and never questioning or putting on shame on your relationship or how it started, “nothing would make me happier.”

“Great,” he grinned at you, a light tinge of pink rising in his cheeks. Sometimes it still surprised you at how shy and tender he could be, despite his past as the big bad DEA Agent, “I know they’ll be happy.”

“What about you, Javier?” you asked as you reached for his hand, gently taking it in yours and bringing it to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles, “are you happy?”

Javier offered you a soft smile, before pulling the rag off of his shoulder and tossing it off the counter. He slowly stepped around the counter and came over to your side taking your face in his hands before gently pressing a kiss to your forehead and then your cheeks, stopping only when he got your lips, “I am. Very, very happy. Why do you ask?”

“You spent so much of your life helping and protecting others, helping everyone else. I want you to let me take care care of you too. Happiness, yours and mine - that’s all that matters,” you beamed at him, “as long as you’re happy, then I’m happy too.”

“Have I told ever told you how much I love you? But there is something else...” you couldn’t help but sigh contently as you pressed another gentle kiss to his lips. He pulled back slowly and leaned against the counter, attempting to act casual as you tilted your head and gave him a curious look. He seemed nervous suddenly, and for some reason a small knot formed in your stomach. You knew it wouldn’t be anything horrible, but still...what if...what if it was? What if he was breaking up with you? But then again.... “no, no, no it’s nothing bad.”

“I wasn’t worried!” you lied as your voice climbed an octave and you quickly took a long drink from your glass of wine, “no, I wasn’t...”

“That look was all over your face,” he insisted with a small laugh as you threw back your head and sighed dramatically at the ceiling as he made a small sound of aha, “I know that look!”

“I wasn’t panicking...” you tried again, giving him a sheepish little look.

“Dulzura,” he put a hand on your cheek as he gently pushed your hair out of your face, “I know that face, and don’t even argue with me. You know I’m right...”

“Fine,” you agreed, “pray tell then, what’s on your mind? You’re not breaking up with me are you?”

“Am I what?” he pulled back and gave you a curious expression. Yup, apparently you’d gotten it very, very wrong, “no? Of course I’m not breaking up with you. That never even crossed my mind. Did you really think I would do that?”

“No,” you admitted honestly, “I just...don’t ever get nervous when someone says they have something to ask you?”

“I’m too old for that shit,” he said with a soft laugh before shuffling back around the counter going back to finish working on his dough, quickly grabbing out the little gingerbread man cookie cutter. He really was going all out for this, “I...I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh, cherish the thought? Javier Peña - thinking? I’ll mark this day down on my calendar,” you snorted with laughter but for once Javier didn’t reciprocate the gesture. You stopped suddenly and pushed away the wine, leaning onto the counter and offering him your full attention, “Javi? What’s up? You can tell me anything.”

“When’s the lease on your place up?” he asked suddenly as you pulled back suddenly, wondering why he was asking. It took a moment to figure out where it was going, but when you slowly put two and two together, a little smile crossed your features. But you didn’t want to get too ahead of yourself so you decided to go along with him.

“No particular time,” you admitted as you drummed your fingers along the stem of the wine glass, “it’s month to month. I can terminate it whenever.”

“It’s just...you’re practically living here anyway,” he concentrated on rolling out the dough to the perfect thickness, “and it doesn’t make a lot of sense to have you paying for your apartment when you’re barely ever there and you have much so stuff here...i-i-it’s just a thought of course.”

The grin that stretched across your features threatened to break your face in half. You’d wondered about this, dreamed of it, if you were being honest, the moment the two of you would go from living in separate places to sharing one home. You’d been together for a few years now, and it was the logical next step in your relationship. It know it had been on his mind too was heart warming, and reassured you that this was every bit as serious as you thought it was.

“Yes,” you slid of the stool and flounced over to him, pulling his attention away from the cookies and onto you. You put your hands in his face, tracing over his features bit by bit, committing it all to memory. You loved those eyes, the softest brown you had seen, so full of life and expression. The little crinkles around his eyes that seemed to be all consuming when he laughed. The mustache that you had once dubbed silly, but you adored so much, especially when it tickled your soft skin. The dimple that came out when he smiled and laughed, the warm golden skin that told stories from many different lives.

You were so in love with him.

“Yeah?” he asked quietly as you nodded. He seemed to visually relax when he realized that you weren’t immediately repulsed or loathe to the idea. His strong hands found your waist as he pulled you close ad kissed you. It was such a small thing, so gentle and intimate, and you buried your face into his chest, “it’s just...yeah. I can’t wait for you to be here all the time. It’ll be a real home.”

“Home is wherever you are, Javier,” you promised, “if that’s here or someplace else in the future, You’re home.”

“I love you,” he pressed a kiss to the side of your head as you attempted to say something, but were quickly cut off by Stevie barking at the two of you and wagging his tail, “and you too, Stevie.”

“How are you going to get used to putting up with me all the time?” you teased as you nudged him to the side to start cutting out some of the cookies to bake, “although getting to wake up next to you every morning is something I very much welcome.”

“That sounds pretty good to me,” he stood behind you, caging you in his arms as he moved the cookies you cut out onto the baking sheet. You turned your head and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “we make a great team.”

“I agree,” he hummed in content as he went to turn on the oven, “want to decorate for Christmas this weekend?”

“Ooh, can we go pick a tree and everything?” you turned around with nothing but excitement on your face. Christmas was your favorite time of year and you loved doing anything that was associated with it, and now that you had your lover to spend it with it was even more magical. It was like things has slowly come together to finally bring you all of this happiness. Sometimes it didn’t even feel real, but when you laid in bed at night in his arms, or with him in your arms, you realized it was all very real. He grounded you like no other.

“Of course,” he agreed as he took the tray from your hands and put it in the oven, “we’ll go all out this year.”

“Bigger than last year?”

“Even bigger,” he promised, “but there’s one more thing...”

“Well, I already found out that you’re not breaking up with me, quite the opposite in fact,” you crossed your arms over your chest and gave him a playful expression, “what else could you possibly have up your sleeve?”

“When we go to Papá’s house, just know...they’re probably going ask about marriage. Our marriage, more specifically.”

“Our marriage?” you repeated as your raised your eyebrows and he let out a low groan, “Javier, we’re not married, they’re aware of that, right?”

“Oh yes, they know that,” he admitted, “but they’ve been asking when I’m going to ask you. Papá’s been particularly interested.”

“I’d expect nothing less from Chucho,” you laughed, putting him at ease, “don’t worry. I’ll come up with some sort of good comebacks.”

“Good,” he let out a long breath, “good. It’ll happen soon anyways.”

He carried on without skipping a beat as you watched him with an incredulous smile on your face. He hummed as he walked over to the fridge and pulled out a few things from the fridge to start preparing for dinner.

"Javier?" you think he items out of his hand as you hastily set them on the counter, "w-what did you say?"

"A lot of things?" he shrugged, confusion marring his features, "want to get a little more specific?"

"Marriage. W-what about it?" you asked softly, "you said it would happen..."

"Of course," he grinned softly before moving past you to keep working on dinner, "I'm going to propose, don't you worry about that."

"Hmmm," you didn't even bother to try and hide the grin on your face, "kind of takes away the element of surprise, doesn't it?"

"That's where you're wrong," he insisted with a show off flourish of his knife, "it will still be a complete surprise. You don't know when I'm going to do it or where or how...so many things that will still be a big surprise."

"I suppose you're right," you agreed quietly moving to help him, "I look forward to your surprise then. One day, whenever it will be. I just have one request."

"Name it," he said softly, "whatever you want."

"I don't want a holiday proposal," you said with a soft shrug, "I think they're so overrated and cheesy. I want something...normal."

"Holiday proposals are normal," he said with a small snort, "and common. What's wrong with them?"

"I dunno," you said noncommittally, "I just want it to be special and not...forced or anything."

"So it's not the holiday thing, its the lack of sincerity?"

"Exactly," you agreed, "I know whatever you do will be perfect. I love you, Javier."

"I love you too, Dulzura," he kissed your temple as he grabbed a pot and set it on the stove. Your little request might have thrown a momentary wrench in his plan, but he was going to make it work regardless. He enjoyed a challenge just as much as he loved you and this would be the greatest yet.

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Mija! What are you doing in here?" Chucho sighed dramatically as he caught you in the kitchen attempting to round up some more food for the party that was going on. You shrugged simply and offered him a sheepish grin, "you are a guest go back out there and have fun. Let me get this!"

"Papá,” you grabbed the tray you had refilled and pushed past him to head back out, "I've got this. You're putting up with me and Javi, trust me, we should be doing this for you!"

"Ahhh, you're calling me that now," Chucho's dark eyes glittering with excitement as he abandoned what he was doing and followed after you. He took the tray out of your hands before you could protest and leaned in so only you could hear, "did my foolish son finally ask you to marry him? I've been telling him for at least the last year!"

A small laugh bubbled up in your throat as you looked across the room and caught Javi's eye. He froze for a moment before lifting his beer in the air and offering you a small smile before turning back to his own conversation, "not yet. But he did ask me to move in."

"Dios mio!" he exclaimed excitedly as a few people turned to look. He waved them off before setting the tray down as people already started clambering for more food, "its about time. I don't know what he's waited so long for! He's been crazy about you from the start...I've never seen him like that with anyone before."

"He just wants to get to take things slow," you said softly, the sheer thought of your early days with Javi bringing a smile back to your face. Back when he was just Professor Peña and you were his student...it seemed like a life time ago, "and I don't mind. I'm not going anywhere...and besides, he did promise he'd propose. Who knows when, but its worth the wait. Javier is worth the wait."

"A heart of gold and the patience of a saint," he gave your arm a squeeze as Javi made his way to the two of you, his arm immediately snaking around your waist as he pulled you into his side. A small sound of content escaped your lips as he kissed the crown of your head. Chucho shook his head before turning his attention to his son, “your lovely girlfriend here tells me you finally got the balls to ask her to move in. What took you so long!?”

“Papá,” he groaned as the older man just laughed, “it’s all working on its own time.”

“Time is ticking,” he pointed at his watch as you giggled and Javier just sighed heavily, “you better make an honest woman out of her and then you can give me a grandchild. I’d like one before I’m in the grave, Javier!”

“Okay,” his face slowly turned as red as the plaid of the shirt he was wearing as he put his arm around your shoulder and started to pull you away, “that’s enough of that for now. Papá, you will be the death of me!”

“Make the right decision, Javier. You know she’s the one!” you couldn’t help but laugh as Javier sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. You wrapped your arms around his waist and and pulled him tightly against you.

"Make the right decision, Javi," you teased before kissing him, "make me an honest woman."

"I told you I will in time," he promised, "you'll just have to wait and see."

"Hmm," you hummed into his chest, "until then I will enjoy living in sin with you."

"Oh yes," he snorted, "two teachers that spend their weekends with their dog or married friends doing wild things like baking and camping. Extremely sinful."

"Maybe not," you laughed before pulling him against you, "but I'd say the sex is pretty sinful."

"I can't argue with that," he agreed, "I like our lives. You're happy, right?"

"Yes," you promised, "very happy, Javier."

»»————-　♡　————-««

Javier glanced up, looking up at you from over his glasses as you walked into the bedroom, now dressed in pajamas and ready to wind down from your long day. He offered you a cheeky little smile before closing the book he was reading and setting it on the nightstand.

Christmas with the Peñas was always something else; loud, boisterous, and filled with nothing but laughter and love. You wouldn't have it any other way - but you still couldn't deny the appeal of getting into the warm, soft bed next to your lover.

"Hi," he said softly as he held open his arms for you, gently beckoning for to come to him, "you look beautiful."

"Javier," you chided playfully before flouncing over, moving to straddle his lap, "I'm pretty sure I haven't slept much in days my hair isn't done, no make up and I'm wearing my old ratty pajamas. Hardly beautiful."

"That's where you're wrong," he insisted as you rested your forehead against his, "you are always beautiful. Like this and every other way. I'm a lucky old fool."

"And what about me?" you asked as you reached up and rested your hand on his cheek, "how very lucky I am."

"Dulzura-"

"For once in your life, Javier Peña, please shut up," you shifted your hand and put it over his mouth, grinning like the Cheshire cat when you felt him smile. You could see that little glint in his eyes as you knew exactly what he was going to do. Ever the former agent, he beat you to the punch and licked across your palm as you pulled your hand away, the two of you giggling like children, "Javier!"

"I thought I was supposed to be quiet," he was so smug and proud of himself as he learned against the headboard, his arms crossed over his broad chest. You rolled your eyes dramatically before reaching up and taking off his glasses and setting them on top of his abandoned book.

"You are a dirty cheater," you insisted putting your hands on his chest and studying him, "now shut up for a moment."

"Yes ma'am."

"I love you, Javier," you leaned forehead so your nose was lightly nuzzled against his, your lips ghosting over his, "no matter how many times you think you're the lucky one, I want to know how much you mean to me as well. I love you more than anything, every bit."

"Dulzura..."

"Javier," you raised an eyebrow before carding a hand through his hair, tugging at his dark locks, "I love this head of hair, that mustache that would look silly on any other man, those eyes that tell me everything, the lips that are lush and lovely, that smile that makes my heart melt especially when you get really excited your dimple comes out and your eyes get all crinkly. That's my favorite...and your soft skin, always so warm and golden. You are everything, Javi. Please don't ever doubt that, even for a moment."

He was silent for a few long moments, his eyes locked on yours as he tried to figure out how to possibly respond. He brought a hand to the back of your neck, slowly bringing your closer to him before you took over and closed the gap, pressing your lips to his. It was a soft, gentle thing, neither of you in a rush as you took quiet solace in each other. There was something so intimate about this, when there was no rush and no endgame, just the two of you being.

"Javi," you whispered softly as you moved to lie down on top of him, "can I ask you something?"

"Obviously," he hummed as he pulled the blanket over you, his hand moving to rub gentle shapes on your back, "what's on your mind?"

"Chucho mentioned...about wanting a grandchild and it got me thinking..." you admitted. Children were something that had been mentioned in passing, but never really discussed. A lot of your friends were starting their families, as well as Javier's that either already had a family or were expanding their own. You'd never really given too much thought to it, always thinking that it never happened it happen or vice versa, but now, looking down at Javier's gentle face, you were rethinking your prior thoughts, "we've never really...do you think you'd ever want a kid?"

"I won't lie and say it hasn't crossed my mind," he admitted as he brought a hand on your waist, resting it gently on your warm skin, "honestly, if you would have asked me ten years ago, I would have told you no. Hell, even five years ago."

"What about three years ago?"

"A no, but a little more open minded."

"Two years ago?"

"A maybe."

"A year go?"

"A probably."

"Now?"

"Yes," he answered softly as he smiled at you, his expression gentle in the light glow from the bedside lamp. You gnawed on your bottom lip as you nodded, your touch gentle on his face, "it would be a yes. But only, of course, if the potential mother was fully on board."

"Hmm...what's her name? I can call her up and ask," you playfully suggested, pointing at the phone before you both laughed. You kissed him, slowly - tenderly, before lying down against his chest and wrapping your arms around him, "I think...I think I want too. I've seen you with kids Javier, and you’re great with them, despite what you think. And they love you too, and a lot of time, honestly, I can’t help but imagine what a little one of our one would look like.”

“I...” he wrapped his own arms around you and held you tightly to his body as he let out a long exhale, “love you. I just don’t know...what if...”

“Javier,” his name was firm, resolute, from your lips as you looked at him, “you are a good man. You have always been one, and you’ve done so much to prove that to yourself, me, and everyone else, we all know it’s true. I know things are never easy, but this you have to trust me, okay? What children we have will be so lucky to have you as their father. I will entertain no arguments to the contrary, yes?”

His expression softened, almost like you had chased away any of the lingering fears and worries he had as he nodded slowly, that dimpled smile spreading across his features, “and you will be an amazing mother. We’re a pretty good team. huh?”

“I like to think so,” you agreed, “and that’s thing, Javier, you’re not alone in anything. I’m with you all the way, every time.”

“Yeah,” he whispered against your lips, “I knew that a long time ago. When you stayed, when you heard about all the things i did but you still stayed, and helped.”

“Because I love you, old man!”

“Do you know why I waited so long to ask you to move in?” his voice dropped so you could barely hear it and you tilted you heard, waiting for him to go on, “I was afraid when I finally asked you that would be the final straw, and you’d realize you didn’t want to be with me or...something.”

“After all this time?” you sighed lightly at him before touching his cheek, “you silly man. I wouldn’t have left if you asked a year ago or two, or four years from now. You’re not getting rid of me! Besides, you always find me the best tea, and honestly I’ve got a little used to that...and I’m pretty sure I was promised an engagement, and I kind of...am not letting that one go either.”

“God, I love you,” he laughed as you kissed him and his large hands slowly found their way under the hem of your sweater. It was a way to ground himself, you’d realized a long time, but a still a sweet. intimate gesture, “do you...why does this feel so silly to get nervous about? If we were going to try for a baby, theoretically of course, have you given thought to when?”

“Yes and no,” you admitted, “part of me says we should just let it happen, and part of me says now, and part of me says never because of becoming a parent is fucking terrifying. What do you think?”

“I just...I feel like I’m getting older-”

“Javier, you’re only forty-four.”

“Facts are facts, Dulzura,” he laughed lightly, but this time it wasn’t bitter or self annoyed, “I don’t know, it’s really...if we do this, you’re the one who will be carrying the baby and giving birth, I really think a large part of is up to you.”

“Oh god, see that’s the part I’m trying not to think about.” you laughed lightly, “but the rest of it I’m totally on board with it. How about...how about we just let it happen? Like we don’t try, but we don’t not try. I think we’re both at a good place in our lives, and you know you have me forever and always.”

“What if we happened before we got married?” he asked as you shrugged lightly, “imagine what the old ladies in the neighborhood would think!”

“Ahh, fuck them,” you both laughed as he nodded, “they already know we’re living in sin. I mean we’ll be living together unmarried, have had plenty of premarital sex, not that I’m complaining at all, I hardly think having a baby would make things worse. After the new year...I can talk to my doctor and stop taking my birth control and we can go from there. Besides, I don’t care what order we do things in. I know we’re not going anywhere.”

“That’s where you’re right,” he promised as he slowly say up, gently moving you out of his lap as you made a small sound of surprise, “can you close your eyes, Dulzura?”

“Javier,” you obliged him and tightly closed your eyes but just playing along further, you used your hands to cover them as well. Feeling cheeky, you teased, “is this some new form of foreplay?”

You listened to him shuffle around for a moment before he sighed heavily, although you could tell it was not at you. After a few moments of silence, you could feel him in front of you again, his natural warmth radiating onto you. He cleared his throat before almost whispering, “open your eyes.”

“Javier-” but your words were quickly suppressed and caught in your throat as you looked between the gorgeous ring he was holding and the nervous expression on his face. You opened and closed your mouth a few times as tears welled up and you realized exactly what was going on, “Javier.”

“Will you marry me?” he asked gently, looking so nervous as all you could do was nod and offer him the biggest smile you had ever given anyone. He reached for your hand before gently sliding the ring onto your finger, holding onto it delicately before wiping away the tears that had rolled down your cheeks, “I love you so much, Dulzura, more than you will ever know. You have made me so happy, have made life so much better than I thought it could ever be, from the moment I first saw you. I never thought I would ask someone to marry me again, I never thought I deserved this, but have thrown my life upside in the best ways possible. There is no one else I would rather spend the rest of my life.”

You reached up and pulled him to your lips, giving him a gentle, salty kiss, “I love you more than anything else. I cannot wait to be your wife. I would have been content to never be married, as long as spent our lives together, but this is pretty good too. I like this, I like us, and I’m kind of looking forward to being Mrs. Pena.”

“It suits you,” he agreed with a nervous huff of laughter. He couldn’t believe he had actually managed to summon up the courage and do this, “I can’t wait either....I know you said you didn’t want a holiday proposal but this...just...I didn’t want to wait.”

“This was perfect, Javi,” you admitted, “see, I told you, it was all about the sincerity factor, and this was...I know this is just for us, and that’s what made it perfect. I know it came all from your heart. Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“How long have you the ring?”

“A while,” he confessed nervously, “I...ummm, I bought it a few months after we started dating. I just...I just wanted the timing to be perfect.”

“Javier,” you heart melted all over again as you looked at shy little smile. He had known - he had known it was you from the beginning, just like you had, “you’ve been carrying the ring around for almost three years?”

“See when you say it like that it makes it seem so silly,” he confirmed your question as you practically jumped off the bed and barreled into his lap, wrapping him in your arms. You were safety, security, warmth, light, and love. You were home, “I just needed the perfect moment, and this was perfect.”

“I am so in love with you,” you whispered in his ear as you held. You just held him as he held you, silent but your breathing was in synch as you soaked in this moment. He was rocking you as he rubbed your back, “you know how I said you were a good man?”

“Yes...”

“I was wrong,” you pressed a kissed to his shoulder before working up his neck and jaw, stopping at his lips, “you are the best man.”

“Now you’re just flattering me,” he chased your lips with his own as you played with the curls at the nape of his neck.

“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” you said with an air of finality, “now everyone can leave us alone and stop asking if we’re getting married.”

“You want to tell everyone, here and now, with the entire family here for Christmas?”

“Shit,” you both laughed, “let’s wait a while...at until after Christmas, otherwise we’ll never get out of here alive. Besides...I kind of want to enjoy this and keep it just for ourselves...as long as you’re okay with that.”

“That sounds perfect,” he agreed, “our little secret for now.”

“I love you, Javier....you are everything.”

“I love you, Dulzura. Thank you for everything, you have made me the happiest man.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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moon-light-jukebox · 4 years ago

Text

“If you want me to, I will.” [Hotch x Reader]

masterlist

Summary: Reader has worked for Aaron Hotchner for the past 6 months as the babysitter to his son, Jack.

Pairing: Hotch x (Female) Reader

Word Count: 7.4k – she thicc

Category: Smut/Fluff…and some angst because of who I am as a person.

Content Warning:

A/n: We all know that Hotch’s favorite album is the Beatles "White Album." And I have odd choices for songs that I use as lullabies. This idea came into my head and never left. This video of Billie Eillish singing part of the song is the closest to the structure of how I imagined it. Okay, okay, look, I know Roy wasn’t diagnosed until season 10. But I am taking creative liberties because I needed Jack to be younger.

Meaning this would be set around season 7. Hotch would be about 41, Jack is around 7; so, I made Reader around 26, giving them a 15-year age gap. Please don’t check my math. 😌

y/n = your name. y/l/n = your last name. italicized texts are Reader’s thoughts.

-- If you want me to, I will. --

I was disoriented when I woke up. This isn’t my bed, I thought groggily. Wait…this isn’t even my house.

“Y/n,” a deep voice rumbled beside me.

I jackknifed up into a sitting position, eyes wide and my face flushed with embarrassment. “Mr. Hotchner!” I quickly brought my hand up to my cheek to make sure I hadn’t drooled in my sleep. Because that would really be the cherry on top of my embarrassment. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to fall asleep. This is so embarrassing.”

Mr. Hotchner had been crouched down, putting himself level with his living room couch; the same couch he came home and found me sleeping on. In all the months I’d worked for the Hotchner/Brooks family, I’d never seen Mr. Hotchner smile anytime he wasn’t talking to his son, Jack. He always looked incredibly serious and sometimes incredibly sad; but the normal scowl was missing from his face as he looked at me, I noticed, watching him rise to a standing position.

“It’s fine, y/n. It’s after 1 o’clock in the morning.” He shifted, turning to go open the gun safe he kept in the part of the living room where his desk sat. Mr. Hotchner, or Hotch, as he kept telling me to call him, was the Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit with the FBI. Which was just a very fancy way of saying he was a profiler that was in charge of all the other profilers. Some people just look like the jobs they have; Mr. Hotchner was one of those people. “Thank you for staying late, I didn’t think things were going to run this long. I didn’t even know you were here until I called Jessica a few hours ago.”

“Oh, right,” I mumbled as I began to gather my things from the coffee table and put them into my bag. “She called me a little after 4; something happened with her dad, I think.” I zipped my bag shut, standing up quickly. “I didn’t mind helping out, Mr. Hotchner.”

He made a sound that was almost a chuckle. “You don’t have to call me Mr. Hotchner, y/n. I know I’m a lot older than you, but that makes me feel ancient.”

“You’re not that much older than me,” I protested.

He looked incredulous. “Y/n, you’re still in college.”

Well, that stings a bit. “I’m in graduate school,” I said, my voice dampening a little bit. “I’m almost 27.”

Mr. Hotchner blinked at me. “Really? I thought you were younger than that…”

“My age didn’t come up in the numerous background checks you did on me?” I scoffed, immediately wincing as the words flew out of my mouth. “Oh my god, I just keep making this worse.” I slung my bag over my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hotchner. For falling asleep on your couch…and for every moment after that. I’ll just go now.”

"Y/n," he called. "hang on, it's really late, and…I still need to pay you."

Jesus. “It is late, Mr. Hotchner, that’s why I need to head home.” I forced an awkward laugh. “I have class at 9 am.”

He pushed his hands into his pockets, regarding me in a way that made me squirm. I wasn’t used to a person paying attention to me the way Mr. Hotchner did. It didn’t make me uneasy; I just felt like I couldn’t hide anything from him…which made me uneasy. “What classes are you taking this semester?”

I don’t know why it stung so much that he knew virtually nothing about me. I’d worked for him for 6 months; he wasn’t obligated to know anything about me other than how I took care of his son. “I’m actually done with my course work this semester,” I mumbled. “I’m a TA…in a class that starts at 9 am.” It doesn’t matter, you’re just tired. “You-you can just pay me for tonight the next time I’m over. It’s not like you’re gonna stiff me.” I walked over to the door and threw a very quick “goodnight, Mr. Hotchner” over my shoulder before I scurried out.

I missed the quiet “Aaron. You can call me Aaron.”

The entire drive home, my thoughts were on Aaron Hotchner. None of this was what I expected when I took this job. I had been in graduate school for 2 years now. I had already gotten my master’s degree and had been accepted into the Ph.D. program. There are many branches of psychology, but I had always been fascinated with cognitive psychology; it seemed only natural that that is what I would pursue in graduate school. Once it became time to focus my interest in preparation for my dissertation, I decided to study the cognitive decay in Alzheimer's patients. We knew that they lost memories, but I wanted to explore how their basic cognitive functions were affected in certain settings.

As part of my program, I was a TA in an intro psych class, and I conducted my research at the hospital connected to the university. That’s where I first met Jessica Brooks. Despite getting a stipend for my teaching assistant work, I had been taking odd jobs to help make ends meet; D.C. wasn't cheap. When I mentioned that I had experience with kids, Jessica had immediately told me that she was needing help caring for her nephew in the wake of her father, Roy's diagnosis. She wanted to keep him at home, which was both admirable and time-consuming.

I wasn’t prepared for the gigantic background check that I was subjected to. I very quickly learned that my potential employer had some power at the FBI. Jessica had raved to him about me, so he agreed to meet with me. When Jessica told me he worked for the FBI, I was expecting a bureaucrat, kind of short, receding hairline, soft from sitting behind a desk all day.

Aaron Hotchner was none of those things. He was a total cliché; he was tall, dark, and handsome. His eyes were such a deep brown they were almost black, his hair was black, and he towered over me. His hand was firm when he shook mine. I initially thought he didn’t like me because of the scowl he wore on his face; now I knew that was just his default expression. I’m pretty sure he invented Resting Bitch Face. I think it was my meeting with Jack that sealed the deal. We had clicked right away. The 7-year-old was impressed by my knowledge of both DC and Marvel comics. I could still remember our first meeting so clearly; when in a move that I now know is so much like his father, he had asked me an interview question of his own.

“What is Spiderman’s middle name?” the boy had asked with a suspicious squint of his eyes.

This kid is poser checking me, I had thought with amusement. “That would depend on which Spiderman you’re referring to. Assuming it’s Peter Parker, his middle name is Benjamin.”

We were best friends after that.

I loved Jack; I really did. And I was paid well enough that he was the only child I babysat for, the rest of my time spent working on my research and plotting my dissertation. It was clear that Aaron Hotchner loved his son, and he felt guilty for not being around more. He was fierce and intimidating any other time, but once he was with his son, his entire face would transform. His smiles came easier, his eyes twinkled, and he didn’t seem so scary anymore.

None of that is why he made me nervous, though. What made me so nervous is the fear that one day I was going to spend enough time with him for him to see the feelings I had so stupidly developed for him.

The very next night, I was hiding in the kitchen floor in Aaron Hotchner’s apartment.

“Ready or not, here I come!” the little voice called out before his feet started stomping loudly across the floor.

From my position behind the kitchen counter, I tried very hard to remain silent, despite my amusement. Jack Hotchner was many wonderful, wonderful things. Sneaky was not one of them. Which is why I wasn’t surprised when I heard his little feet hurry towards me, and I didn’t lose my balance when he turned the corner and launched himself at me. “Oomph!” was the only reasonable sound to make when a tiny human slammed into you.

Jack was delighted. “I FOUND YOU!”

My response was cut off by the sound of the front door opening. Jack was off me in a flash, barreling towards the living room. “Daddy!”

Mr. Hotchner made a similar “oomph” noise when Jack jumped on him, confirming my theory. I rose to my feet quickly, smoothing down my clothes.

“We were playing hide and seek, Daddy!” Jack informed his father. “I found y/n every time! She never found me once!” His chest puffed out with pride, making my face break into a smile.

“You’re just an excellent hider, Jack-attack.”

Mr. Hotchner’s eyes settled on my face then, for just a moment I saw something so sad in those eyes that the breath seized in my lungs.

He cleared his throat, seeming to shake off whatever he was thinking before smiling at his son. “I’m glad you had a good time with, y/n, buddy.”

Jack nodded vigorously. “I helped make dinner!”

“You did?” He questioned in fake astonishment. “When did you make dinner?”

“Tonight!”

Mr. Hotchner looked at me quizzically. “Oh, um, I wasn’t actually supposed to watch Jack tonight…but Jessica called and asked if I could. It was really last minute, and she’d already bought some stuff to make dinner…” I trailed off. “I hope that’s okay. Jesus Christ, y/n. You’re a 26-year-old woman, get it together.

His attention moved from me to his son. "Jack, go get changed into your pj's. It's almost bedtime." When Jack's mouth opened to protest this great injustice, his father went on. "You can tell y/n bye when you're done."

So much for a speedy escape, I thought. Instead, I just smiled at him. "Yep, I'll be right here, little man." Satisfied with this, Jack jumped out of his father's arms and ran towards his room.

“Why did Jessica need you to come over? Did something happen with Roy?” He looked genuinely worried, walking into the kitchen to stand near me.

I reached out and put a hand on his arm without thinking. "Oh, oh god no, nothing like that." Realizing I was touching him, I snatched my hand back like he'd burned me. "Sorry. She…she-um had a date."

His eyebrows rose so high they almost hit his hairline. “A date?” he asked, disbelief dripping from his words.

I chuckled. “That’s what she told me.”

He walked back into the living room then, leaning back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest as he focused his dark gaze on me. “What about you?”

“…What about me what?”

“Does Jessica ever have to cover for you when you have dates?”

If Aaron Hotchner hadn’t made me so nervous, I might have picked up on how he phrased that question. As it happens, all I could do was fidget under his gaze. “Oh,” I chuckled nervously. “Ah, no. She doesn’t have to do that. I don’t really date.”

That had one of his eyebrows rising, his arms crossing across his chest. "Why?"

Because I want you to crack my back like a glowstick. “Um…you know, it’s hard to find the time.”

Thankfully Jack chose that moment to come barreling out of his room, charging full force at me. “You’re still here!” he exclaimed.

I smiled down at him when his arms wrapped around my hips. I put one hand on the back of his head, the other on his back, giving him a squeeze. “Of course I am! I couldn’t leave without telling you goodbye.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” he mumbled.

My throat worked as a sudden wave of emotion hit me. "Oh, Jack," my voice was thicker than usual when I spoke. "I don't like leaving you either, but you'll see me before you know it. I promise."

Once we had finally pried Jack off me, Mr. Hotchner went to take him to bed. He turned to me when he scooped Jack up in his arms. “Thank you for today.”

“It’s no problem, Mr. Hotchner.”

“You know you don’t have to call me that,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine. “Most people call me Hotch. Or you could call me Aaron.”

I didn't know what to say to that; all I could do was give him an awkward smile. I was gone before he came back into the living room. I didn't want to leave, I never did, but I couldn't risk being alone with…Aaron.

The following Thursday night, my phone started ringing just after 11:30. Glancing at it, I saw it was Jessica. “Hey,” I said in greeting.

“Hey, y/n,” she said, sounding frazzled. “I have a huge favor to ask. Dad’s home health nurse had to leave early tonight.” “Is something wrong with Melinda?” I hope not. She’s the sweetest.

“No, I don’t think so. But she needs to go home and there’s no one to sit with Jack. But Aaron isn’t home yet…”

“I’ll be there in 20.”

Which is why I was now in Aaron Hotchner’s apartment after midnight in a pair of shorts that were so short I only ever wore them at home and a t-shirt that I had had for forever. Jessica had sounded so upset when she called, I hadn't even thought to change. She had promised to be back as quick as she could; she said that Mr. Hotchner was flying back from a case, and she didn’t expect him until 5 a.m. at the earliest.

When I first arrived, I had tried to watch TV, my mind too wired to sleep, even though I had class at 9 am in the morning. Sighing, I glanced over at the clock to see it was just after 1:45 in the morning.

“Fuuuuuuck,” I whined out loud. I have to go to sleep; even if it’s just a little nap. I remembered Jessica had left some chamomile tea here for the nights she stayed over to watch Jack. Finding the kettle and the tea itself was no problem; the problem presented itself when I had to get a mug to put the tea in.

I had never considered myself a particularly short person; sure, I had to stretch to get things from time to time, but everybody did that. Looking up into the upper cabinets in the Hotchner house had me reconsidering that. The mugs were on the very top shelf and try as I might, I just couldn’t seem to reach them; my fingers kept grazing over the ceramic.

“Goddamnit,” I mumbled in a huff. What is the point to put mugs way the fuck up there? Some of us are a perfectly normal height…but noooo I have to work for giants. I braced my hands on the countertop as I heaved myself up on to said countertop. Once my knees were in place, I got the offending cup without further problems.

I blame how focused I was on my task for my not hearing the front door open, or the footsteps that followed. Which is why I had a mild heart attack when I heard a voice that sounded highly amused say from behind me, “What are you doing?”

Several things happened all at once, and very quickly. I let out the most embarrassing squeak in all of history, I lost my balance on the counter and the cup fell from my hand. The cup crashed to the floor and shattered. My fate might have been the same but two large hands caught me, gripping my hips from behind. I looked down to see his long fingers wrapping around my waist, gripping me tightly; my difficulty breathing then had nothing to do with how scared I was.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron said softly, still not releasing me. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, I get it,” I said lightly, attempting to act like I wasn’t going into cardiac arrest because he was touching me. “You’re a very stealthy FBI agent. It was bound to happen.”

He chuckled before his hands pushed my hips so I was twisting around, my legs shifting until I was sitting on the countertop, staring into the same dark eyes I thought about far too often. They weren’t as harsh as they usually were; tonight, they were soft and warm, and they made my pulse race a bit faster.

I moved to get off the counter when the hands that were still on my hips stopped me. “Hang on, let me clean this up first. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Fantastic, I thought, hiding my face in my hands. It seems I was incapable of not making a fool out of myself in front of this man.

He worked quickly while I debated changing my name and fleeing the country; in the next moment, he was standing in front of me again. "What's wrong?"

“Oh, nothing,” I said, not moving my hands. “Just dying of embarrassment.”

Aaron actually laughed at that, moving closer to stand between my thighs, his hands coming to rest on the countertop on either side of my hips. “Why are you embarrassed?”

I dropped my hands then. “Because this is becoming a pattern! First, I fell asleep on your couch, then I almost fell off your counter and cracked my head like an egg.” I bit my lip, shifting under his gaze. “I’m sorry and thank you for catching me.”

“I didn’t mind,” he said softly.

He still had that soft look on his face, but he was smiling too like he was enjoying my embarrassment. He probably is. I had never been this close to him before. I didn’t know his eyes weren’t just one flat color of brown, but that lighter shades of brown whirled throughout. I had never felt the heat of his body before, but now I was so close I could smell him. Why does he have to smell good? I whined internally. If he just stunk, I could get over this.

This was exactly why I tried very hard to stay as far away from him as possible because I lost the ability to think clearly whenever I was with him. I couldn't stop my eyes from moving down to his lips. I was eye level with him from my position on the counter; all I had to do to brush my lips across his was lean forward, so that’s exactly what I did. His body stiffened slightly at the first touch of my lips to his. I pulled back, ready to apologize when his hand wrapped around the back of my head and pulled me back to him. There was nothing soft about this kiss. His free hand gripped my thigh, my hands held on to his shirt, trying to pull him closer. My tongue brushed against his mouth before he sucked on the tip of it, causing me to shudder. He took a step forward as his tongue twirled around mine. I could feel him when he settled against me; he was hard, and I found myself shifting my hips to rub against him.

The shrill ringing of his phone broke us apart suddenly. He was panting, his cheeks were slightly flushed. I thought I heard him let out a “fuck” under his breath as he reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone.

“Hey Jessica,” he answered.

Now that our moment was broken, I felt very self-conscious. What the fuck did I just do?! He is my boss. He is Jack’s dad. Aaron took a step back and I slid off the counter. This turned out to be a very bad idea on my part; my body brushed down the front of his, causing me to bite my lip to silence the moan that threatened to escape.

“Yeah, I landed a little while ago,” he said as I left the kitchen.

WhatthefuckWhatthefuck. I heard him end the call with Jessica before he quickly walked into the living room. A look of relief washed over his face when he saw me. “I thought you’d try to slip away.”

“I thought about it,” I told him honestly.

“Listen, y/n, about that in the kitchen,” he began.

I held up my hands. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Hotchner. I don’t know why I did that; I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” I was giving him an out because I couldn’t handle hearing the rejection I knew was coming. “I just…I guess we got caught up in the moment? And you’re really tired, I’m sure. I’m so sorry.” I was rambling now. “If you don’t want me to watch Jack anymore-“

“Y/n, no,” he interrupted. “No, this…you’re right, it was just a heat of the moment thing. It happens. I’m sorry I lost myself for a moment.” He cleared his throat, his face still set in softness. “Jack loves you. He doesn’t need to suffer for any more of my mistakes.”

Mistakes. The word hollowed me out and left me cold. I just nodded. “Right,” I said in what I hoped was an even tone. “Just a mistake. I should get going. It’s really late.”

Which is how I found myself driving home at almost 3 in the morning with tears running down my cheeks. A mistake.

Things went back to normal after that night. I continued to avoid Aaron Hotchner at all costs and he…did whatever he did. I tried to hide the hurt whenever I did happen to see him, but it was so hard when I could still feel the tingle from his lips on mine.

A few days after the “mistake,” I was babysitting Jack again. He’d went to bed at his normal 8:30 and all was quiet. I decided to do some TA work while I waited for Mr. Hotchner to come home. I was halfway through grading an essay when I heard the first noise come from Jack’s room. Lifting my fingers from the keys of my computer, I waited to see if I heard another sound. I didn’t have to wait long; not even a minute passed before I heard a strained cry. Jumping up, I hurried down the hall to Jack’s bedroom.

Cracking the door open I called, “Jack-attack? Are you okay, little man?” I didn’t see him right away; he had hidden under his covers and curled up into a little ball. “Hey, Jack. It’s just y/n.” I sat down on the edge of his bed. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

I saw the lump under the blankets start to move hesitantly before I saw his brown hair peak out of the blanket near his pillow. His eyes were wide and with the light shining in from the hall, I could see tears gleam in them. “Oh, buddy,” I cooed. “Did you have a bad dream?”

The boy nodded. “Yeah…there was a bad man…and my daddy didn’t come save me.”

I felt my breath seize in my chest. Jessica had told me a brief version of what happened to Jack's mother a few years ago. "Jack, you know your dad would always do whatever he had to do to come to save you." I shifted my position on the bed until I was sitting beside him. "He'd never let anything bad happen to you." Jack started inching closer to me. I held out my arms and smiled when he lunged for me; I wrapped him in a tight hug, rubbing circles on his back.

“My dad just isn’t home a lot anymore. He has a lot of work to do,” he mumbled into my shirt.

“Your dad would be home if he could, Jack.” I couldn’t quite keep the sadness out of my voice. It wasn’t fair to either Jack or his dad that he had to be away so much.

“I know,” the little boy whispered. “I just miss him sometimes.”

“Do you want to call him?” I offered. “I don’t think he’d mind.”

Jack just shook his head. “No, it’s okay.” He turned his face up to look at me. “Will you stay with me?”

I moved so he lay beside me with my left arm still squeezed around him. “Of course, bud.” I scooted down the bed so I was reclining instead of sitting straight up, pulling the cover-up over him again. "Do you want me to read you another story?"

He just shuffled under his covers, looking at me with the bashful innocence of childhood. “Can you sing to me until I fall asleep?”

I wasn’t the biggest fan of singing in front of people, but how could I turn this little face down? I just nodded. “Do you have any requests?”

“Nope,” he answered with a little grin on his face.

Unfortunately, at that moment every single lullaby I had ever know left my head. I couldn’t think of a single traditional lullaby. So, I decided to improvise. I started singing slower songs I knew, some of them might not have been appropriate for a 7-year-old’s lullaby, but I don’t think Jack cared that much.

He was almost out, drifting on the edge between deep sleep and awake. My arm was still around his shoulder, he was still snuggled to my side. I decided one more song would be enough, which meant I pulled out my second Beatles song of the night.

“Who knows how long I’ve loved you?

You know I love you still.

Will I wait a lonely lifetime?

If you want me to, I will.

For if I ever saw-“

I glanced up, immediately sensing there was someone else in the room. To my horror, Jack’s father was standing in the doorway, staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face. I swallowed nervously, then I turned to press a kiss against Jack’s soft forehead before I gently detangled myself from him. I straightened my clothes that to my further embarrassment had shifted around because I was laying with a wiggly child, then, attempting to keep my face impassive, I walked to the door, moving around his father as I exited.

Mr. Hotchner walked into the room and checked on his son, while I moved into the living room to gather my things. I wonder if he just left the money by the door, I mused. If he did, I could just make a dash for the door. I mean, if he didn’t, he could always just pay me next time. Sadly, my plans were escape were foiled yet again by the man in question entering the room.

"Sorry," I muttered. "I know he was up past his bedtime. I put him down at 8, but he had a nightmare." I was babbling, not meeting his eyes, my gaze very intently focused on my bag. "He asked me to stay with him until he fell asleep…" I finally looked up, shrugged, and said, "He's very hard to say no to."

“You don’t have to apologize for being nice to my son, y/n,” he said softly. “That’s one of my favorite songs on the White Album, you know.”

I hadn’t known that. “Mr. Hotch-“

He took a step towards me before I finished speaking. “Y/n, please, I can barely handle this as it is. Please call me Aaron.”

I just blinked up at him. “So, ‘Hotch’ is off the table now?”

That had a soft smile curving his lips upward. "That was a limited-time deal. You should have been quicker." I saw his hand rise up slowly, so slowly that I would have had time to move away…but I just couldn’t. He brushed my hair back from my face, his eyes were two pools of black in the dim light, they were swirling with something that made my stomach flutter.

“Aaron,” I breathed, having no idea what I was going to say.

He let out a soft sigh, turning his eyes upwards. When he brought them back down to mine, his hand slid from its place near my ear to cradle the back of my head. His eyes searched mine for a moment before his shoulders dropped slightly. “Fuck it,” he muttered before he leaned down and sealed his lips over mine.

I might have thought this kiss would be questioning or unsure, but there was nothing unsure about it. Aaron kissed me like he was starving for me. His teeth caught my bottom lip and tugged as he pulled away. “It wasn’t a mistake,” he breathed before bringing his lips more firmly against mine.

My hands began to move over his body; one of my hands grabbed his tie and used it to pull him closer to me, the other reached up to brush against the short, soft hair on the back of his neck. “It wasn’t?” I questioned when we broke away for air.

Aaron’s lips moved across my cheek, leaving soft kisses until he reached my ear. “No, sweet girl, it wasn’t.” His mouth moved down to my neck; his kisses turning into bites that were sure to become brushes. I didn’t care, I needed him. My hands moved to his shirt, quickly trying to undo all the buttons.

His hands moved down to the waist of my jeans, deftly flicking the button open before sliding the zipper down. “Is this what you want?” he asked as his hand touched my lower stomach, his fingers brushing over the elastic band of my panties.

“Yes,” I said, still working to free him from his shirt. “I want this so much.”

The fingers of his free hand rose up to tap my chin, forcing my eyes up until I met his gaze. "I want to hear you say my name again." His other hand lifted from my stomach to slide over the flair of my hip until he was gripping my ass. "Whenever I laid in bed that night after I had you pressed against me in my kitchen when I stroked my cock, I thought about you moaning my name.” The hand that was on my chin pulled away, skimming down my body until he was grabbing the other side of my ass. “So, say it. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you, Aaron.” So, so much.

His hands moved to the backs of my thighs, then he lifted me up his body, startling me. Jesus Christ, how strong is this guy? I threw my arms around his neck as he started walking us down towards his bedroom. A giggle escaped my lips. “I could have walked, you know.”

We had already entered his room; he tossed me gently on the bed before he turned to close and lock the door. He walked to stand at the side of his bed, his eyes devouring me. “I couldn’t give you a chance to sneak away again, sweet girl.” Aaron pulled off his tie before he finished unbuttoning his shirt, shedding it on the floor.

Fuck. Fuck, he’s hot. I pulled my own shirt over my head, and his body was on top of me before it even left my hands. Aaron's mouth moved down to my collarbones, his hand slipped behind my back to unhook my bra. Once the straps were down my arms, Aaron lifted himself up on his arms to toss it away, his eyes running over my body. "You're so beautiful," he said softly like it wasn't the sweetest compliment I'd ever been paid. He leaned over again, his lips skimming down to my chest before he wrapped his lips around one of my nipples.

“Fuck, Aaron,” I moaned.

He gave my nipple a flick with his tongue before he lifted his head. “Ssh, sweet girl. You have to be quiet. Can you do that?” He kissed his way over to my other breast. “I can’t do this if you won’t be quiet.”

“I can be quiet,” I whispered right before I bit my lip to smother my moan at the feeling of his mouth on me. “Maybe.”

His breath puffed against my skin when he laughed at me. My hands threaded through his hair when he brought his face back up to mine. My mouth opened eagerly for him, my tongue slicking over his while I tried to grind my body against him. Aaron was smiling when he broke the kiss, shifting up onto his knees. “Well, I appreciate you trying to be quiet at any rate,” he teased.

My response died in my throat when his fingers yanked my jeans off my legs, bringing my panties with them. I was totally bare in front of him. His eyes raked down my body in a way that would make me self-conscious with anyone else. How could I ever be self-conscious with a man who looked at me like I was the most beautiful thing in the world?

But when he started to kiss further down my body, I grabbed his arm, attempting to pull him back up to kiss me. “Aaron,” I whispered.

He pressed a soft kiss to my collarbone. “What’s wrong, beautiful?”

“You don’t…you don’t have to do…that,” I mumbled, feeling my face heat up.

Aaron braced himself on his arms and stared down at me. Enlightenment dawned on his face a second later. He leaned down to kiss me softly. “Do you not want me to?”

I bit my lip, feeling more flustered. “It’s just…I’ve never…and I know that guys don’t really like-.“ My words were cut off when he placed another kiss to my lips, still incredibly soft, but with more force than before.

"If it makes you uncomfortable, I won't," he said quietly. "But I can assure you, I can't think of anything more I'd rather do than lick your pussy until you cum all over my face." He skimmed his lips over my cheek to my ear. "And once you've come down, I want to slide my cock inside you and feel how soft and wet you are." His kisses moved down to my neck, his mouth sucking on my pulse point. "Then I want to fuck you until you're whimpering against my lips to make you cum again.”

I felt my core throb at his words. No one had ever said anything like that to me before. He lifted his gaze when he got back to my breast, flicking my nipple with his tongue. “Is that what you want too, sweet girl?”

I have never wanted anything more, I thought; but I was so far gone that all I could do was nod.

He gave me a soft smile, moving down the bed further to settle between my thighs, pulling them further apart. I felt a kiss pressed to one thigh, then the other. His hot breath washed over the part of me that was already so wet for him. “You’re beautiful here too,” he murmured before he pressed a kiss to my clit. I lifted my hips at the sensation, causing him to chuckle and move his hands to wrap around my thighs, his arms anchoring me in place. A second later I understood why he braced my hips. The second he flattened his tongue and licked the length of my pussy, my hips started moving involuntarily and my fingers tangled in his hair.

I felt a puff of air against me when he laughed again, and it made me smile. I didn’t expect Aaron Hotchner to be fun…or dirty in bed. All thought immediately left my head when he parted me with his tongue, dipping into my entrance before spearing his tongue into me. I felt the vibration when he moaned against me. "You taste so fucking good, y/n," he said, his voice still hushed. Giving my entrance one last lick, he moved up to my clit.

He spent time moving his tongue around me, learning what made me squirm. When he started fluttering his tongue quickly over my clit my hands started tugging on his hair and my thighs tried to snap together.

“Aaron,” I whined, attempting to rock my hips against his mouth.

I think he understood what I needed better than I did. His left hand released my thigh and moved down to my heat, just below his mouth. I felt his fingers brush over me before he pushed on inside me, causing my back to arch off the bed. “Aaron, Aaron, fuck.” He added a second finger, pumping them in a rhythm that complimented the movements of his mouth.

I wasn't prepared for when his lips closed around my clit, sucking lightly, while his fingers started to curl inside of me. “Oh my God," I moaned out, louder than I should have. "Aaron, I'm going to cum." I started pulling on his hair so hard it must have hurt, but he just moaned against me, never slowing his pace. "Aaron, fuck, please. I think…I-I-“

My words broke off as the band inside of me snapped, my pussy clamping down on his fingers and my back arching off of the bed, my mouth hanging open in a silent scream.

Aaron slowed his motions, slowly bringing me through the orgasm and back down to Earth. With one final kiss to my thigh, he rose and moved up my body until his face was hovering over mine. His lips were shiny with my arousal, they also looked a little swollen, but more importantly, they were smirking at me.

I’ll give him that one. Reaching up I cradled his jaw in my hands, bringing his mouth down to mine. I tasted myself on his lips and tongue when he licked into my mouth. Despite the powerful orgasm he had just given me, I was still desperate for him. I broke away from his mouth. “Aaron, I need you.”

He pressed another kiss to my lips before he lifted up and stood at the side of the bed, undoing the buckle of his belt. My eyes were fixed on his movements, watching as he unbuttoned his slacks and slid them down his legs. His cock was a thick pipe outlined in his underwear. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband before he spoke again. "I'll give you everything you need, greedy girl." Aaron pushed his underwear down, his cock springing free before he climbed back on the bed.

He was so much thicker than I expected he would be. I moved my hand down to wrap my fingers around him, pumping his length. He let out a groan and lowered his forehead to mine. “Baby,” he muttered. “I…fuck. I have to get a condom.”

“Aaron,” I whined. “I want to feel you inside me. I’m on birth control. Please?” The thought of anything separating me from this man was abhorrent to me in that moment.

I saw his willpower crumble. “Are you sure?”

So sure. “Please,” I begged lifting my head to kiss him. “I want you to fuck me.”

With a groan that I will remember for the rest of my life, he shifted his hips forwarded, allowing my hands to guide him to my entrance. Aaron kissed me then, slowly and deeply has he started to push inside me. My hand flew away from his cock, both my arms wrapping around his body to pull him closer to me. I felt my nails digging into his back.

Aaron broke our kiss with another soft moan that sounded like my name. “I knew you’d feel like this,” he whispered, pressing deeper inside me. “I knew your pussy would be this fucking tight, this fucking hot, and so fucking soft." He started moving in and out of my pussy, going in a little further each time. “You still have to be quiet, sweet girl.”

“I’m trying,” I moaned, my pussy already starting to flutter around him when he finally pushed all the way inside of me. “Aaron, fucking Christ.” I felt him everywhere, and I somehow still craved more.

He grabbed my thigh, pulling if further up his side, allowing himself to sink deeper inside of me. “I know, sweet girl. I know.” He started a slow pace, pulling almost all the way out of me before slamming back inside me.

My head was thrashing against the pillows, my teeth digging into my bottom lip. “Aaron, I need you to fuck me harder. Please.”

He groaned at my words, placing a sloppy kiss to my mouth before pulling back. He pulled one of my legs up until it was over his shoulder, the other still wrapped around his waist, and then he started to move faster inside of me.

I braced one hand against the headboard as he pounded into me. “Oh my god, Aaron,” my voice was a low whimper as I looked down to see his cock sliding in and out of me. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Baby, I want you to reach down and rub your clit for me while I fuck your tight little pussy.” His pace started to speed up as he spoke. “Can you do that for me?” He groaned when I complied, the stimulation to my clit causing my pussy to flutter around him. “Good girl.”

My fingers began to work frantically. “Don’t stop, Aaron. Don’t stop,” I begged. “I’m so close.”

“I know, sweet girl, I can feel you. Your pussy feels so good squeezing around my cock. You’re going to make me cum.” His thrusts were starting to get choppier, one of his hands braced on the top of the headboard while the other held my leg on his shoulder. “Do you want me to cum inside your pretty pussy, sweet girl?” He groaned loudly when my walls clenched around him. “It feels like you like the idea of that, don’t you baby?”

My fingers continued their pace, my head thrashing, my body trembling. “Yes. Fuck, Aaron. Please cum inside of me. Please.”

Aaron felt it first and acted quickly; his hand moved from my leg to cover my mouth. “That’s it, cum for me, baby.”

I thought my orgasm earlier tonight was powerful. It was nothing compared to how I felt when I came around his cock, only to feel him find his own release a moment after.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, y/n,” he breathed, giving a last few jerks inside of my body, pushing against the fluttering aftershocks of my orgasm. He rolled off me, careful not to drop all of his weight on top of me. To my relief, he quickly gathered me in his arm, pulling me against his body, pressing a soft kiss to my sweaty forehead.

My ear was pressed against his chest, allowing me to hear his heartbeat slowdown from its frantic pace and his breathing even out. I turned my head and pressed a kiss to his chest while his hand continued to stroke my back.

“That…that was amazing,” I said, looking up at him. “If I knew you had that in you, I wouldn’t have run out of the room every time I was alone with you.”

He laughed softly, his eyes sparkling. “Well, at least you’ll know for next time.”

My thoughts sobered at his words. Next time

“Hey,” he said, his hand cupping the side of my face. “No, don’t go away. I just got you.” He kissed my forehead again, then the tip of my nose, then both of my eyelids, before he tilted my face up further so he could press a kiss to my lips. “We’ll figure this out. We have to. I care too much about you to let you go.”

“I care about you too,” I replied, snuggling against his chest, my eyes suddenly feeling heavy.

I was almost asleep when I heard his voice rumble again. “Will you sing Beatles songs to me when I can’t sleep too?” His voice was sleepy and teasing.

I smiled into the darkness, not bothering to open my eyes. “If you want me to, I will.”

Permanent Taglist: @rachelxwayne @pinkdiamond1016 @sickeninglyshoujo @justagirllookingforherplace @nanocoool

#Aaron Hotchner #Aaron Hotchner x reader #Aaron Hotchner imagine #Aaron Hotchner x you #Aaron Hotchner x y/n #hotch x you #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #Aaron Hotchner smut #SSA Aaron Hotchner

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minisoysquares · 3 years ago

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As fun as the events and ideas you posted about 19days would be, wouldn’t it also just bring in more negative stuff - like fandom in general has become a field of land mines and I fear that something that’s supposed to fun will turn into some sort of battle. Like how some people get extremely heated over any other ships outside of their fave ship and they cannot possibly have other ships except theirs, etc. The last thing anyone wants is for content creators to be targeted simply for making something they thought would be fun

(This ask and answer is about this post.)

First of all thank you so much for addressing such a big and valid concern. I agree that that has indeed happened in certain fandoms - I can say I've been in the thick of it and witnessed quite the warfare - but in others it has also brought fans and readers and content creators together even closer and tighter in a wonderful thriving community.

I have the feeling this'll get quite long so please proceed under the cut with that in mind.

I believe all things are potential harbingers of both discord and harmony. There will always be people who feel entitled and who want - even demand! the audacity! - authors and artists to create for their ships and their ships alone. And there will also always be people who can appreciate the writing and the art without judgemental treatment regarding the pairings/characters depicted, no matter their preferences.

All of that happens and will continue to happen, whether we go forward with these events or not. And yet authors will still write what they want to write, artists will still draw what they want to draw, graphic designers will still make the edits they want to make as well. What we could do, in this small and close knit fandom, is take in our hands this powerful rich opportunity and try our best to make a model of positivity out of it.

In these events, there would be no bashing or shaming allowed. The content created would be to be enjoyed by those who are attracted to it, and those who do not have a taste for that fanwork in particular would be asked to remain respectful. (As it should always be.) There would be no ship wars in these spaces. Discourse, hate-speech or anti-behaviour would not be tolerated by the moderators of the event.

Creators who indulged in it would be immediately disqualified. Any unnecessary commentary or complaints from the audience would be deleted and reported as spam. Anyone instigating conflict would be only painting a target on their back, really. Because most of us - I dare say - are only here to appreciate the brilliant artwork and fanfiction woven and crafted by the talented people who share it with us.

If it came to it and it escalated, this hellsite has several tools that can be put to use to that regard. Accounts could be blocked and/or even reported. They wouldn't be able to interact with the blogs created to run these events from then on. We would be able to create a black list and post it publicly so everyone else who wished to could simply block those unruly pesky accounts and remain at peace and free to enjoy themselves to their utmost.

Let us not forget that this is all fiction and it's all for fun. Everyone's allowed to have their own opinion, likes and dislikes. There simply is no need to step on anyone else and their interests to elevate them.

Let's exemplify, for the sake of clarity:

Do I personally ship A with B? Imagine I do not. I do not search for it. If I come across it? I scroll past it. Once or twice, I may even like - and even reblog - if it happens to catch my attention and it's well written/drawn! (I have tags along the lines of 'I don't ship it but' and 'look at this beautiful art' or 'drown in the power of these words.')

It's so easy to interact amongst ourselves without coming with pitchforks at one another. Know what actually needs effort? Being a meanie and a party popper! Who in their right mind wastes their time on things they don't care for? Dum dums, that's who! Of course, we're all dummies at times... and that's okay! Let's just not harass people or crash their fun while we're at it!

If nothing else: you wouldn't like if others did this or that to you, therefore don't do it to others. It's a simple concept to grasp.

Very important: in these events, every single piece would be explicitly and properly tagged and warned for right at the very top of each post, so there would be absolutely no excuses for anyone being nasty.

We would just have to be open to the experience. Enjoy our ships and let other enjoy theirs. We do not have to all like the same thing. That would be just boring. But we can cohabitate devoid of trouble in fandom. Each one of us just has to be respectful. No need to even be nice. No one has to compliment something they don't like. They also don't have to step on what others do.

Don't like a ship/character/theme? Don't read stories focused on it. Don't put down authors who write it or readers who enjoy it. Same for art. No need to shout about how awful it is just for the simple reason that it does not fit into your personal shipping preferences. It can still be still be a tasty and wonderfully baked cake, it's just that you're not fond of vanilla or strawberries. It's okay. There are all kinds of cake for everyone's tastes!

Further examples: If a ship happens to be a NOTP for me or I don't care for the character(s)? I filter the tags. All of them. Any and every tag I can think of. It's very easy to protect ourselves on Tumblr from content we do not wish to see. (My own list is huge and just as effective.) Filtering is incredibly important.

So go ahead and filter out the ships you can do without! Filter out porte-manteaux like Tianshan, Zhanyi, Qiucheng, Tianxi, Tianyi, Lishan, Litian, Liyi, Shantou, Polydays, (...) Filter out any ship tag that doesn't strike your fancy like Q x MGS, HC x JY's mom, (...) Filter out characters that aren't your cuppa tea like HT, HT's dad, SL, JY's mom, XH, (...)

Make it safe for yourself and for others. That way you won't rage at the sight of your NOTP, won't feel the compulsive need to trash the people who ship it, no one is hurt and everyone is happy!

There are many steps we could follow to prevent rotten eggs in our coop. And many more actions we could take to throw them out if need be. I firmly believe, however, that if we're all of the same mind everything would go well and with very few bumps along the way.

If we only ever feared the possible negative consequences of our actions, never taking the risk for the possible positive ones, we'd never get anything done. I say let's not let our beloved fandom stagnate or dry out. Let's incentivate and motivate and inspire! Let's share! Let's have fun!

Think of it in these terms: it wouldn't be a competition at all but rather a charity event. Performers and spectators coming together for a common good, raising content and spreading joy! There would be no winners or losers or prizes. What would matter would be good old-fashioned participation, both by providing content and/or consuming it.

It could also a good way to get people to express themselves more. Many content consumers tend to lurk or keep to themselves even if they like the content posts. (I used to be one myself and only a couple months ago started to come out of my shell.) I myself advocate for reblogging instead of liking - if you have to choose one or the other, I mean, why not do both? - and leaving a word on every single post I like and/or reblog. Sometimes I go nuts commenting, sometimes I leave a small note in the tags.

It doesn't matter how. Even if you're shy or introverted (*raises hand*) or don't know what to say I guarantee a single emoticon or a string of disordered letters symbolising incoherence will make the creator's day all the same. Getting feedback is so important and motivational for creators and also a great way for fandom members to keep in touch and support each other.

Additionally, if a person would like more of a certain type of content here are some healthy actions they could take: a) commission a creator and pay for it if they can; b) politely make a suggestion to a creator with an open ask box; c) post a prompt publicly for possible interested creators to use; d) do it yourself and share it with others!

This turned out into more of a "behavioural guidelines" thing than I'd have liked. I am not in any way whatsoever telling anyone what to do. This is what I do, and it works wonders for me. I stay completely out of toxic arguments and in on all the goodies. I'm able to fully enjoy my fandoms. And isn't that what we all want?

Thank you again for sharing your thoughts with me. And I apologise for the long rant!

Of course, this is only my personal stance on the issue. I did go for a survey first exactly for this end, to get their opinions on the subject and see if it would be worth a shot. I shall hope many other people will think as I do, but I will wholly respect those who don't.

#answered asks #19 tian #19天 #19 days #old先 #old xian #zhanyi #qiucheng #tianshan #jian yi #zhan zheng xi #he cheng #qiu #brother qiu #he tian #mo guan shan #she li #cun tou #xiao hui

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sebstanseabass · 3 years ago

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Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 5

Previous chapter links:

Afterglow chapters Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader CHAPTER FIVE

Sometimes, the universe works in different dumb ways. You're one of the few lucky people if you get what you want, and one of those who aren't; the ones who run out of luck every damn time. There's nothing more miserable than finding what you're not looking for, meeting the right person at the wrong time (or vice versa), getting the wrong take out food, or riding the wrong cab.

Unlike your first cab ride, this one was different. There was no loud music, no speeding, no overtaking, and no yelling -- definitely not what you needed right now. See how the universe works in different dumb ways?

If Bucky wasn't hungover right now, you would've ran all the way from White Wolf to the bar. God, how much did he drink last night? After thirty minutes, the cab finally stopped in front of the bar. Bucky paid a generous amount. "Keep the change." He said casually before stepping out of the cab.

Without second thoughts, you walked the steps down that lead to the door of the bar. In front of it were sealed boxes and cases of different kinds of liquor -- beer, champagne, wine, whiskey, vodka; you name it. Luckily, you always had the bar keys in your pockets in case of emergencies. Lucky for Steve, one of his employees just lived right above the bar and had the freedom to come down any time she wanted. Steve lived all the way in Brooklyn. Why he chose to work in the Upper West Side, you might never know. He was a pretty secretive person. No one from the bar staff knew anything about his personal life -- except that his family was from Rhode Island (perhaps).

"That's a lot of boxes." Bucky caught up with you. "Good thing I'm here."

"Please." You scoffed. "You're still hungover." I bet he couldn't even carry one small box, and even if he could, he'd just spill them all over the floor. But you didn't really know Bucky. You just knew him from Peter's stories. So, when he carried two big boxes at the same time right before you opened the door, the shock came over you. You wondered, spending all his time partying and drinking, where he stores all the alcohol he consumes.

"Where do you want me to put this?" Bucky asked.

"Just right behind the counter." You replied. "If you need some help, let me know."

"I got it all, doll, don't you worry." He chuckled, placing the boxes on top of the counter then jumping over it to reach the other side. You rolled your eyes and got more of the boxes that were sitting lonely outside. You put a stopper right between the small gap between the floor and the door. "Nice place you got here!" You heard Bucky yell amidst the city noises. "Different kind of bar."

"You mean not like the kind of bar you go to?"

You heard him chuckle. "Yeah, that. This one's kind of vintage."

"Yeah." You replied, sticking your head out by the door frame. "Like you!"

He gave you a small chuckle. The bar did give off some vintage mood -- that was why it was a bar for everyone. The kids were now discovering and loving all kinds of vintage stuff, people in their fifties come here 'cause it reminded them of their time, and some are just curious.

On the inside of the bar, everyone was completely shut out from the outside. There were no windows, only color-stained glasses on the wooden walls near the ceiling. You can never tell day from night inside unless you look at the wall clock.

You pushed some of the boxes on the floor. You didn't have enough upper body strength to carry them all the way to the counter. By the time you reached Bucky, you carried the boxes one by one and placed them on the counter, then he carried them over to the other side.

"So vintage." He commented once again. "You even got a jukebox. Does that even work?" He motioned towards the jukebox.

You sensed he wanted to try it for himself so you told him he could give it a little push. He smiled and jumped over the counter once more. "You don't always have to jump, Bucky." You showed him the wooden counter pass-through he could easily open but his focus was set on the jukebox. He found the plug and waited for it to light up.

"Cool. Just like they do in the movies."

"Of course. What did you expect when you plugged that in?" You carried one box to the counter and stopped near the jukebox, leaning over it. "Besides, didn't you guys have this during your time?"

"You make it sound like I came from the fifties."

You raised your eyebrows, crossing your arms. "So, what did you guys have?"

"Cassettes." He mumbled.

"We had iPods. But at some point I think we did have cassettes, then the CD, then the iPods. Still doesn't change the fact that you're basically a dinosaur." Then you made a roaring sound which you thought was the sound of dinosaurs.

"That's not how a dinosaur sounds like, Aria."

"Of course, you'd know." You teased before going back to get some more boxes.

Bucky started to push some buttons until a mellow song played. "It's been a long, long time." He mumbled.

"What?" You asked and stopped pushing the boxes.

"The song. It's named 'It's been a long, long time.' A buddy of mine's favorite song. He and his girlfriend used to dance to it. Haven't heard this song for a long time. Quite nice."

"It is nice." You commented. "But it's too dramatic. Put some Beatles on!"

He chuckled and pushed more buttons until a song from The Beatles played.

You resumed moving all the things inside. As the boxes got heavier, assuming they were mostly the new plates and glasses, Bucky removed his polo shirt and dropped it somewhere. He was still wearing the tank top he had yesterday. "Remind me to buy Peter some new clothes."

"You're really gonna buy him new clothes?" You grunted, carrying a heavy box on the counter, passing it to Bucky.

"Yeah." He made a face, clearly struggling with the box. "I kinda destroyed what was half in his closet."

"I heard, yeah." You replied while walking to the front door to get the cases.

"You got some more back there?" Bucky yelled.

"It's the last one. I got it."

For the next hour, you and Bucky spent unpacking and placing everything where they were supposed to be. You had a few phone calls from Peter, most were just him checking up on Bucky. You promised to tell him you'd tell the whole fiasco at the White Wolf when he gets here in the bar.

"I'll be there as fast as I can." Peter replied before hanging up. You told Bucky about the phone call and he mumbled something under his breath you couldn't quite decipher. You decided to leave him be as he unloaded the last box.

Before you could even ask about the mean drink he was supposed to make, he emerged from behind the counter, holding up two bottles in his hand. "You up for some drinks?"

"As long as you pay for it."

On his hands were two expensive unopened bottles. As long as they were still half full and paid by Bucky, you wouldn't get in any kind of trouble with Steve.

"I got you, doll. Don't worry." He popped both of them open and grabbed two cups and a shaker as you sat down one of the stools, shaking off the nickname he'd been giving you ever since you arrived here at the bar.

You barely paid attention to the song still playing on the jukebox as you watched Bucky make his supposedly mean drink. He started to tell a story about how he learned to make his own drinks. Unlike Peter, he didn't bother to beat around the bush. He kept everything short and precise: A bartender friend of his taught him how to make drinks then experimented on his own in his penthouse where he had a mini bar just for himself, which was inside his own office. Odd, you thought. Most people would have them on the corner of the living room, with wine glasses dangling on hanging wine holders and shelves full of liquor. Bucky's mind worked in a different way.

Bucky's very short story made you wonder of all the other classic Bucky stories you've been told -- the long ones Peter would tell you. You wondered if they were only adventurous and wild in Peter's words. Would they have been different if you'd heard them from Bucky?

"I'm gonna name this drink after you." Bucky snapped you out of your train of thought.

"What?"

"This one." He carefully handed me the drink. "I made it based on your personality."

"Bucky." You chuckled, gazing at the drink before me. Then returned it to him. "You don't even know me."

"And to think we were just engaged a while ago." He pursed his lips and leaned on the bar counter, then licked his lower lip. You tried your hardest not to give a quick glance at it but you obviously failed, so you stared at the drink in front of you once again.

"This drink is basically your judgement about me." You replied.

"It's a good judgement." He retorted. "Trust me."

"You're gonna pay, right?"

"Yeah, yeah." He playfully rolled his eyes. "Go on, try it."

Before you could even take a small sip, someone came in the door and your instinct was to say: "Sorry, we're closed right now" but it turned out to be Steve wearing denim on denim and a cap.

"Steve!" Quickly, you gave Bucky the drink he made you, then he hid it behind the counter where Steve could not take even a small peak. "Hey, I thought you were with your family."

Steve managed to catch his breath, leaning against the wall while keeping his eyes on you. "I have been calling you for the past few minutes. I thought you didn't make it here."

Your eyes widened, taking a quick glance at your phone which was on top of the bar counter. On the bright screen were a bunch of missed calls from Steve. You gave him an apologetic look and he just sighed as he walked towards the counter. Then, he caught a glimpse of Bucky who was right behind you.

"Right, right." You shook my head. "Bucky, this is Steve. He's my boss. And Steve, this is Bucky. He's Peter's stepbrother. He's just helping me out with the boxes."

There was an odd exchange between the two for a second or three. A knowing look. But you shrugged it off when Steve shook Bucky's hand over the counter. "Bucky. Nice to meet you."

Steve nodded. "Aren't you the owner of White Wolf?"

"That's me." Bucky chuckled, withdrawing his hand back after the friendly handshake.

Steve focused his attention back to you. "You could've called me y'know."

"It's okay. Bucky came to help. Besides," you gave Bucky a side glance, "he owes me."

"Zip it, doll."

You laughed, looking at Steve. "Aren't you supposed to be at your family gathering?" you asked, practically shooing Steve away, not wanting him to see Bucky making drinks behind the counter.

"Yeah, well I thought -- "

"Go, Steve. We're basically finished." You stood up and walked Steve out the door. Bucky yelled a simple goodbye as we walked.

"So," Steve whispered once we were at the door, "are you two..."

You gave him a look of disbelief. "What? No, no, no, no, no. We're not. We just met."

"That's what they all say."

"Rogers." You grunted as you opened the door. "Go."

"Wow, so eager to get me out of here. Are you gonna have sex on the floor?"

"Steve!"

"Please, don't have sex on the floor."

"No, we won't. Now go."

Steve laughed as he walked up the steps and hailed for a cab. "You say that now, Aria. Just remember to clean up afterwards."

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes au #bucky au #bucky barnes story #au #fan fic #fan fiction #romance #bucky barnes fan fiction

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spaceorphan18 · 3 years ago

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Do you ever feel odd being a woman and having your main ship be gay men? Not asking in a critical way, just more seeing how you relate to them and wondering if you have any wlw ships that resonate with you

Not particularly, no? I mean, there's a rich history of women being the ones to enjoy m/m ships, so I've never felt weird about it?

I'm not going to talk about how and why other people ship what they ship, because that is a long and varied list, but I can talk about why I ship what I ship. I don't usually ship things because I find the two people hot and want to watch them make out. I usually find one or both of the characters or something with in the romance story to resonate with me in some way.

I also think that sometimes you can't help with what you resonate with. It's weird to me that sometimes it's insinuated (and I'm not pointing my fingers at you, Nonny) that only certain people can enjoy/understand/etc specific stories. I think one of the cool things about media - is that we have a way of connecting with those who differ from us. I think the more we find similarities with those who are different, than the less tribalism comes into play. (But I digress - that's another, much bigger topic.)

My main ship on /Glee/ is gay men. But they're not the only couple that resonates with me in other media. I still deeply love Jim and Pam from The Office. And my heart will always belong to Rogue and Gambit. The characters and/or the story have mean something personal to me, which is why I've spent so much time with them. I may have a blog focused on Kurt and Blaine - but that is the reason most of you are here. If I started writing about Rogue and Gambit - I don't think many of you would pay much attention.

(And for what it's worth - I do reblog a lot of different fandoms, just as not as in high of volume ;))

I know this is also kind of hard to believe - but I'm also not a huge shipper in general? There are couples in other medias that I really enjoy -- like Leslie and Ben from Parks and Rec or Penny and Desmond in Lost. Or even David and Patrick from Schitt's Creek. But I've never been invested in them in a way that makes me want to fandom or meta or fic about them. Doesn't mean I like them less, necessarily, but my attachment is different, you know?

So about the w/w. I was thinking about this at work, actually, and I had trouble coming up with one -- not because no one resonates with me, but because most of the things I consume there really aren't w/w couples. And frankly, that's just terrible! Because I'm all for a w/w romance!

I did come up with the lesbian couple in Sense8. I found them very sweet, and I loved watching their story unfold. I wouldn't necessarily say they resonated with me -- in that I fell in love with them in the same way I fell in love with Klaine or Jam or whatnot. But I enjoyed their story, and would watch more if Netflix ever let things go past three seasons.

I do have kind of a type when it comes to romance stories -- with old school romance, and friends to lovers, and just kind of awkward and earnest and sweet. And I would love to fall in love with a w/w story -- especially since there aren't many that I've stumbled upon. If you guys have any recommendations - feel free to let me know!

(Interestingly, in both my bigger Original Fiction projects - there are w/w love stories going on! Ah, if only I could ever get back to my original fiction.)

Meanwhile -- with Glee. I'll be honest, I like exploring Santana (in fic) with out Brittany. Sorry :( I'm not here to trash Brittana, and one of the reasons I don't talk about it much is because I'm not attached to either Santana or Brittany as characters, and want to respect that a lot of my followers do enjoy them as a couple, so I have no intention of make this an unsafe place for them. But, in my fic - if it's not canon set, recently, it's been kinda fun to see what kinda stuff Santana can get into. *shrugs*

So... um, yeah, lol.

#hopefully this answers your question nonny?#it was interesting to think about #thanks for asking!

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3416 · 3 years ago

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Hi there, I think I saw a while ago that you are a film student? I am too! I've been having a really difficult time lately staying creative and staying motivated to keep studying this (as much as I love film and would love to work in it one day). I was wondering (if you are willing) if you had any advice on how to stay motivated and creative during the duration of studying/making short films, etc? I have a double major so I haven't taken a film production class in a while (bc I was focusing on getting the other majors classes outta the way) and I feel so burned out that I can't even think of ideas anymore (this seems to persist no matter how much I remove myself from the situation) and that I can't even do it anymore. Thank you!

hi there, anon!!

first of all, i'm honored you'd even think to ask me this, lol. i am a film student but pretty new to it all still. i'm kinda split between theoretical and production stuff right now, but i totally relate to this struggle!! being creative on demand for these classes can be... very complicated, and i have a pretty high intensity production class this semester that's forced me to be coming up with projects one right after another with various limitations. i can't speak to the quality of my own stuff or how successful i've been bc i kinda feel like a fraud for a film student but fklsjdfkl, i follow a lot of production ppl from various things i've been obsessed with throughout the years, so i've seen some advice and tried it. i'm gonna put it below a cut bc it's kind of long but ❣️❣️

in terms of generating ideas.. some of the best advice i've seen is to consume other media but like... intentionally. a lot of the times, we can turn on a show and just be passively and mindlessly watching or use it to relax, but the second you start paying attention to the actual craft of it and studying it, the production design and the camerawork and the editing and the sound etc, you can start to pick up on your own tastes and preferences. and that's kind of working backwards but sometimes a particular shot can be inspiring enough that it's something you want to recreate and you can build ideas backwards that way. read reviews, watch director's cuts with commentary. read books and plays and poems and song lyrics. think of just iconography or symbolism or aesthetics you enjoy and build from that. brainstorming sessions in general are just really important too (sober or...... not), like getting into the headspace where you can just think without distractions. this almost always involves handwriting stuff for me. it gives me time to process and literally no idea is too dumb at that point, write down everything. also people watching?? or just intently listening to the stories of people around you or picking someone that's kind of a Character™ personality wise and building a story around a fictionalized version of them. for years, i've been keeping a note in my phone about just genuinely funny or surprising stories/situations i've heard in case i ever want to use them in the future.

also, for one of my classes, we watched this really interesting lars von trier documentary called "the five obstructions" which was essentially about forcing another filmmaker to deconstruct his own short film and remake it 5 different ways, with a different set of limitations every time. it was inspiring in terms of learning to see how to work with what is at your disposal. also, i know this is class and rubric dependent, but try not to limit yourself to like one kind of idea. like ... don't get stuck trying to make something just narrative or just documentary or just experimental or WHATEVER it is. i've been lucky enough to be in a class where we have kind of free rein this semester, but there is art in documentation and in just playing around sometimes. inspiration comes from literally anywhere, but i find that for me, a lot of my ideas work themselves backwards and i start out inspired by something visually pleasing or a line i love or a person i know.

i know this might not be the best advice, i'm still just a student myself and it's not like i'm overcome with the best ideas you've ever seen, lol, but i think it's important to set side time that's JUST for the brainstorming process. like studying and keeping up with everything else is stressful, but there needs to be built in time to really think through ideas and i struggle with that sometimes myself!! i wanna be go-go-go but it's just not doable. try to be kind to yourself and if you're not feeling it anymore, you're just not!! i'm wishing you lots of luck and inspiration, and i hope things go smoothly for you for the rest of your schooling ❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️

#easks #idek if this is what u wanted but #ive found myself in a similar spell sometimes tbh #dont rlly want to make the time to brainstorm but its so necessary #also getting someone to bounce ideas off of is important too??? i still lack that irl sometimes but like #creativity needs to flow like that and sometimes someone else has a better idea to follow up tbh #also forgot to mention but learning theory at the same time as production has really helped...#like learning abt all these concepts film theorists have had over time is inspiring

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originaldanganronpascenarios · 3 years ago

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Hey, there! I was wondering if I could get three match-ups? One for each of the main games?

Sorry if that’s a lot of work!

I’m usually nervous and a bit awkward when when meeting people for the first time, but I try not to let that stop me! One of my biggest issues is that I run out of motivation quickly, but I want to work on that. I have a some health issues so I want to get more fit and healthy, but it kinda goes back into the whole motivation thing unfortunately, haha. In my spare time I like to draw, watch movies, play games. Pretty average stuff honestly! One of my main passions is playing table-top games like D&D, Call of Cthulhu and the like!

I’m about 5’8, male, with brown hair and eyes. My skin is pale and most times I look absolutely sleep deprived, haha

Thanks in advance, and I hope you’re having a fantastic day and/or night!

To be honest I recently am trying to change my lifestyle to be at least a bit more healthy, so I really hope you can find a way to motivate yourself! Sending all the love, annon!

Also you didn't include your sexuality (or I'm too blind to see it) so if any of my matches are invalid because of that lmk and I'll change it.

Your THH match is...

Kiyotaka Ishimaru

He'd love for you to introduce him to your hobbies. Even though they are a bit time consuming it doesn't matter because he gets to spend more time with you!

Of course that'll be only if you will allow him to, since he doesn't want to take away all possible alone time- considering how important it is.

He is really inspired by your will to change so believe me when I say that he will make it happen.

It's Ishimaru magic! He is determined to make his lover healthy and happy. Otherwise he'd be failing his job as a boyfriend.

Of course he'd start with your sleep schedule- you need to have energy to change things up!

So he tracks your progress, makes sure you stay consistent and make constant little changes at a good pace. He might go a bit too far but he does it becouse that's how much he cares.

Your SDR2 match is...

Chiaki Nanami

She loves talking about games with you so much. Not as much as actually playing but it's still a great experience.

She is actually great DM... As well as a player so if you want to do a single player session she is fine with filling both roles.

During DND she's like someone else entirely, be it her just role-playing or describing the situation in general.

She isn't the best at motivating but she does have her charm and well... Helps you when necessary.

Chiaki is extremely supportive and she tries her best to get you on the right track. So no matter what you're struggling with she will try any methods necessary to help.

Your V3 match is...

Kaito Momota

He's generally easy to talk to even with consideration of the fact that sometimes he can be overwhelming.

This guy will be your personal motivator. Whatever you do he'll cheer for you and he won't let you give up... Unless you'd be actively hurting yourself if you won't.

As long as you're willing to try he's sure that you'll succeed. It might take a while but small steps now will make them huge ones later.

If you ever decide to invite him for any table-top adventure you bet he'll accept... But you're also going to have to explain the rules.

He's a fast learner actually. And he gets along quickly with any players that may join you. But he'd pay most of his attention to two things: the game and more importantly you.

~Mod Angie

#kiyotaka danganronpa #kiyotaka x reader #Kiyotaka Ishimaru #chiaki danganronpa #Chiaki x reader #chiaki nanami #kaito danganronpa #Kaito x reader #Kaito Momota #Matchups #Matchup #Matches

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writefinch · 4 years ago

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Family-Owned Small Business

(CN: incest, sex work, mentions of sexual assault & suicidal ideation)

The worst part of my job is administration. Last-minute rescheduling when a client flakes on us. Chasing up payments. Booking accommodation at short notice. Answering messages! Jesus, every time in the last year when I've slumped, sighed, and thought to myself "fuck working, I need a break from all this" it's been when I've opened my messages and seen thirty different texts that need a reply. Some people are fine with it I guess, but for me it's boring, time consuming, and stressful.

Big deal though, right, I mean nobody loves doing admin, why even bring it up? Well, if I tell someone that for work last night I ate a client's cum out of my mom's pussy, I'd expect that they'd get fixated on the sex work and the incest. I'd expect them to freak out and not pay attention to the specifics of what I'm saying. So, first, I'd like that person to know that the thing I hate about my job is probably the same thing that *they* hate about *their* job. I would rather lick my mom's asshole for five minutes than answer emails for five minutes, and I answer a lot of emails.

Do we have to worry about violence, danger, cops, and legal trouble? Yeah, we do. Am I scared of these things? Yeah, sometimes, but I had to worry about all of those things before I started doing sex work. At least now we've got the money to buy our way out of the worst of it.

I'm not saying that what I do with mom is an objectively healthy relationship, let alone a perfect one. If you took me back in time and told me I could pick a completely different life for me and my mom, I'm sure there's a bunch of choices I'd pick over this one. But I never had that choice. I got hurt a lot growing up. I feel like I've finally escaped the things that hurt me, but I know that I've barely started to recover from them.

That's why I'm writing this. We've saved enough money to afford some therapy and my first session is next week. I want help with the fear, the nightmares, the mood swings and insomnia, I want to stop the rush of rage and terror that flows through me every time I see the word 'dad,' I want help untangling the stuff that came out of being told I was a pansy when I was growing up, then figuring out I'm gay, then figuring out I'm a girl, then figuring out I'm all three of those things while I was living in a place that kept trying to kill me for it. What I don't want is for the psych to pin it all on the two least harmful and least fucked-up things about my life, and worse, I don't want them to make me believe it. This journal is a prophylactic, an assessment of my job, my relationships and my life that I can refer back to if and when someone sticks their fingers in my brain and swirls them around.

I'll start with a problem statement: my dad. The memories that hurt the most are the ones where he almost appeared human, the flickers of joy, curiosity and humor that stood out from the bland cruelty that made up the rest of his personality. I'll remember him buying me ice cream or talking about a book or a movie with me, I'll doubt myself and wonder if I just went crazy and cut him out of my life for no reason, and then my brain will hook onto a random act of sadism he inflicted on me.

The physical abuse was bad all on its own, real psycho shit like driving me out into the woods and making me pick through the brush for a switch he could hit me with and a whole lot more I won't go into, but the emotional abuse was worse. When I was eleven, I forgot to feed my cat one day. He gave her away to my uncle, but told me that she'd developed malnutrition and had to be put down. I didn't find out the truth for another two years, when he just let it slip at Easter. He bragged about it, even, like he'd invented a really smart child-rearing technique. I don't want to write too much down here because I don't need to, if anything I want therapy to *stop* everything he did from running through my head. He's a punishment-obsessed sadist, a Baptist, and he works as a judge. Did he ever sexually abuse me? No. Parent of the year, right? He kicked me out for being a fag the day I turned eighteen, so it's ironic that my biggest fear is that he comes looking for me. He doesn't even know I'm a girl.

On the other hand, my mom has had an interesting life. She's kind of a fuck up. When I was one year old, mom and dad split and dad got full custody--being a judge helped with that--while mom left the state. She spent a decade trying to kick a heroin habit and a year and a half in prison for related stuff, got banned from even entering the state I lived in on account of her parole--again, dad being a judge helped with that--illegally emigrated to Canada for a while, and went to Oregon by mistake, doing a mixture of bartending, delivery driving, MDMA dealing and whoring to stay afloat.

The only reason we met again is that I was in the same city staying with friends, also whoring. I don't remember the first time I saw her, but the first time we talked was in a mutual friend's tiny studio apartment with a few other hooker friends. We ended up comparing our Pest Lists, shared a few drinks, and swapped numbers. A week later we fucked, and a month after *that* we realized that we'd Oedipus'd ourselves. It seems funnier now than it did at the time.

That was an emotional time. We cried with joy that we'd found each other, we started tip-toeing around the ideas of rebuilding our lives together, and we agreed to pretend that the sex had never happened. Of course, we got drunk together a week later and fucked again. She's hot! I have a thing for older women, I have a thing for breaking taboos, and I have a thing for being mommied in bed. Blame dad for raising me like this, I dunno.

We started doing sex work as a team after she got a dental abscess. The bill for the hospital stay and the tooth removal was insane, and the dentist straight-up told her that she'd end up with another in a different tooth within a year if she didn't get two root canals. Even when she was recovering, we could only afford fish antibiotics off of Amazon. We crunched some numbers and made some inquiries, and figured out that we could pull in two week's worth of our combined income with one night of mother-daughter stuff.

Our first joint session was with a real estate pervert I'll call Stan, a chubby balding powerlifter in his fifties who we'd both had as a client before. Mom took me over her knees and switched between spanking me and fingering me while he watched. I sucked him off while mom made out with him, made out with my mom with his cock between our lips, licked his balls as mom licked my ass, then let him fuck my ass while mom sat on my face. That was the first half hour. He came six more times before we passed out in the early hours of the morning, and I drifted off nursing his finally-limp cock in my mouth. He paid us the price of a used Volkswagen for our trouble, and I blew him one last time before we left as a thank-you.

Six months later, mom's teeth were fixed, I was on spiro, and we had just under a dozen clients for our "doubles sessions." Only a few of our appointments are ones with me and mom together, three or four a month, we mostly work alone. That's not out of a deliberate choice, it's just that we've got a strict criteria for who we'll double up on.

Trust is one thing: depending on the lawyers we can afford, what we're doing is either kinda illegal or extremely illegal. Since my dad is presumably still a judge, I don't want him to ever find out about this. He'd put us in a prison or a mental institution. We won't do a double session with a client unless we've both had individual sessions with them.

Money is the other thing. Getting your dick sucked by a hot mom while her daughter sucks your balls costs a week's wages for the average person. Hiring us for the night is more like a month's wages. Even in a city like this, there's only a few thousand people that can drop that kind of money on hookers. Then, they've got to *want* to fuck a trans girl and her mom together. Don't get me wrong, more people are into mother-daughter incest than you'd expect, but it's not a universal thing.

Clients are, on average, annoying. It's a fact of life. The thing that all clients have in common is a ton of disposable income and a fondness for fucking hookers. They're not necessarily bad people, but there’s a heavy ‘What can a banana cost, ten dollars?’ vibe to them. It’s not that they’re adrenochrome-drinkers who don’t see regular people as human, it’s more that they don’t have an intuitive awareness that other people don’t have savings accounts, health insurance, an investment property, and four figures of walking-around money at any given time. I guess I'd feel differently if I was like, a concierge or a PA, but there's a lot more pillow talk in my job.

I've had bad and dangerous clients before, there's been at least two occasions where I was pretty sure I was going to die--one where the hospital afterwards stay wiped out four months of income, not counting the month where I couldn’t work--but they were all before I met mom, when I couldn't be so careful about screening prospective clients and dropping them if they threw up red flags. I'm sure we'll get bad clients in the future, but we're in a better place to deal with them safely.

I also wanna write down what a "normal day" is like. Friday was a good example. I woke up early at 9am and cooked breakfast for mom. She was up already doing the laundry. We entertain some clients in our apartment, so we go through a lot of clothes and a lot of sheets. You can't fuck a guy on top of another guy's cum stains, that's rude. Some of the job is Housework But More. We don't really use the main bedroom or the sitting room because we treat them like bed and breakfast guest rooms. It's annoying but every time we have a session without getting an actual hotel or motel room we save like $50 minimum.

After breakfast I epilated, showered, and went for a run. Personal grooming isn't that big a deal in terms of time, I'm not saying I don't spend a lot of time on it, I do, but I'd be spending that time even if I worked in a bar or an office or something. Look: I'm hot. I might have been a weird-looking spotty nerd when I thought I was a boy, but as a girl I'm a fucking dime. I could get like, 25% uglier before it had any impact on my earnings. The only part of personal grooming that's necessary for sex work and I wouldn't do all the time anyway is power-washing my guts an hour before every session.

After lunch, mom went to see some friends and I played Magic for a few hours. At two pm, the actual work started. I picked up the work phone for the first time that day and began answering texts. An hour later I'd cancelled the 6pm appointment, blocked out all of Sunday evening, checked in with a few regulars, and provisionally moved three guys to the 'Time Wasters' list.

I spent a while sexting with a good prospect. He was a good prospect because he paid up-front for the sexting instead of treating it like a free samples platter at Costco. We scheduled a tentative appointment for next Tuesday, when his wife would be out of town on a business trip. Most of the guys I fuck have kinks, and I swear that 'cheating on your wife with a sex worker' is the most common one there is. Do I feel bad about it? At my hourly rate, absolutely not.

Mom got back at half four, so I took a break. We made tacos for lunch together and ate while watching Billions. She nudged me and told me that I need to do my injection, and, well, we have a little ritual for that. I'm scatterbrained and I'm not great with needles, but mom has been incredibly supportive with my HRT, and when I told her I was having problems taking them on time, she came up with a way to make me as comfortable as possible. As soon as the needle is ready, I laid down in her lap and she cradled my head in her arms, pressing her bare chest against my face. I took a nipple into my mouth and nursed it softly while she stroked my hair. She called me a good girl, telling me how proud she is of her daughter, how much she loves me, and asked if I was going to take my medicine like a big girl. On good days I inject myself while she pets me and coos over me, and on bad days she takes the needle and does it for me. As soon as I dropped the needle in the sharps container, mom pressed a Hitachi against my cock and took one of my nipples into her mouth, called me her big brave girl, and asked if I was gonna cum for mommy.

As usual, the answer was yes.

Late afternoon and early evening is when the messages start flowing in, especially on Fridays, when the kinds of people with hooker money have either left work early and thinking about getting laid, or are still held up at work and are desperately thinking about getting laid. This kind of messaging gets trickier, because it comes down to what I'm providing. Like, setting up a session is the kind of normal administrative stuff that's baked into the price of a session. It's also partly a sales job, so I'm naturally flirty and solicitous, and because I do sex work I talk openly about sex.

However, *sexting* is not normal administrative stuff. If I'm sending you messages for jerking-off purposes, I can charge by the hour or by the text but I will insist on charging for it. Also, it's not just sex that me and mom provide. There's a reason that 'companionship' is an old euphemism for whoring, it's because whores are good company. I'm a good listener and I don't judge, which means I'm like the fun parts of a therapist but without all the homework and self-improvement. I'm (unsurprisingly) friendly with all of my clients, and I have more than a few clients and former clients who I'd consider good friends and vice versa. I talk to a bunch of them outside of a business context, especially the ones I met outside of my job, and that's a normal part of maintaining a pool of clients for any sales job, but on the other hand... it's a demand on my time and it's a part of my services. I can and have bluntly told guys that they're wasting my time when it comes to uncompensated sexting, but the platonic stuff requires a lighter touch.

One of my regulars, Fintech Pete, sent me a message. Two messages later, he sent me $100, and we're off. Describing in gratuitous detail exactly how I'm going to suck his cock, begging him to fuck me until my clit is drooling all over the sheets, sending him feet pics, things of that nature. Pete is great for sexting because he barely jerks off while he's doing it, he saves all the messages and pictures and jerks off to them later, because he's got some biohacking routine where he only cums once a week. He said once that part of the reason he hires sex workers is that he takes each nut a lot more seriously if he's paying three digits minimum for the privilege. He does this teleconferencing report with the board of directors at his company four times a year, and every time he hires me to kneel under the desk in his home office and suck him off while he makes his presentation.

Anyway, while we were going back and forth like that, he mentioned that I'd made a joke one time about doing a joint session with my mom. I told him it wasn't a joke, and to cut a long story short, half an hour later I was asking mom if she was up for an overnight session starting at 9pm. She agreed, Pete confirmed, so we both got ready--think getting dolled up for a night out but with a more thorough enema--and drove to his place. He lived outside of town in a two-bedroom suburban home, alone with his two dogs.

As soon as we were parked in his garage I did the safety call in front of him: I rang a friend of mine, told her we were visiting a friend, told her it was at the address I sent her earlier, and told her we'd call her again tomorrow morning. Was it really necessary to do that with someone like Fintech Pete? No, but practice makes permanent. If you let these things slip when there's no danger, eventually they'll slip when there is danger.

Now, I don't want to imply that I'm in a lot of danger! There's a reason that most of the faces you'll see on the Trans Day of Remembrance are of poor black and brown women, because real danger comes when you can't turn skeevy jobs, when you can't afford to take precautions, when you have to make the choice over and over between maybe starving and maybe getting murdered. I'm white, I've got a good support network, and I've been relatively lucky in that I can do all these things to minimize my risks. I've still got to do them, though! Things like safety calls are a good habit to get into and it helps all sex workers if there's an expectation that they've all got someone looking out for them.

...I get that there is some bravado creeping into this journal. I start off saying that admin is the worst part of the job and a page later I flippantly mention that the job has put me in the hospital. On a day to day basis yeah, the admin is the bit that sucks the most, but if you offered me a deal where the admin is twice as bad but I never took that session, I’d take it in a heartbeat. This job has left me with some scars. Any time something cold touches my wrist I get a vivid flash of the first time I had my hands zip-tied behind my back in a cop car. I've had nightmares all my life, and more than a few of my nightmares are about stuff that's happened since I got into sex work.

If it seems like I’m downplaying it, it’s because the harrowing stuff is where the job has gone wrong, it’s not baked into the everyday stuff, and most importantly it has nothing to do with my mom. The work I've done with her is some of the least stressful and dangerous I've had since I started this job, and whatever wounds I have, she's not the one who caused them.

On a more positive note, a cool thing about doing sessions with my mom is that we can dress pretty conservatively and still have it come off as insanely lewd. Mom wore a black cocktail dress with an imitation pearl necklace and her hair up in a bun, I was in a white blouse under a lambswool sweater, a pleated short skirt, cheap dark tights--Pete has a thing for tearing them--and patent leather shoes. When you're going to suck a guy's world entirely off alongside your mom, the more modestly you're dressed, the more perverted it looks. Out in the suburbs it also means you get to avoid the microskirts and fishnets look which screams to the neighbors 'I've just hired a pair of hookers' or the mid-range raincoat over microskirts and fishnets look which screams 'I've just hired a pair of pricey hookers."

Pete's living room looks like the back room of a Radio Shack, computer guts everywhere, every surface turned into a makeshift workbench. It's not a suitable place for lovemaking; I don't want to have to pull shards of a soundcard out of my perineum. His bedroom is a lot neater, with a king-sized bed to sit on, a ton of pillows to lounge up against, and a TV mounted on the wall. Mom poured out some wine, a mid-range red zinfandel that we'd picked up on the way, Pete brought out some imported dark chocolate that costs like $40/kg, and I swung my legs over his lap and turned on the Food Network. I took a bite of chocolate, mom took a sip of wine, and before either of us swallowed she pulled me into a deep kiss, mixing the wine and the chocolate. It's a good combination, and Pete enjoyed the show.

The night started off with chatting. None of us were in any rush, not with an overnight session, and since Pete has been a client for each of us for a while it was a pretty relaxed atmosphere. Pete's fingers danced over my thighs, absent-mindedly plucking ladders into the fabric as we talked baseball, business, sex work, the difference between the gentrified fag bar downtown and the really gentrified fag bar downtown, programming and other nerd shit, local politics, the contestants on Cutthroat Kitchen, just normal stuff. Mom and Pete started talking about fancy cooking stuff so I started annoying them both by claiming that sardines are just fully-grown anchovies, that DOP labels are all fake, and that instant grits are better than the regular ones until mom jabbed me with a finger and told me that my mouth should be put to better use elsewhere.

You know how some people say "Cilantro tastes like soap, that's why it's good?" Same thing for how weird it feels to go down on my mom. The first time I ever jerked off, watching a 144p clip of Rocco Sifreddi fucking a girl in the ass while flushing her head down a toilet bowl, knowing that this meant I was going to go to Hell unless I begged God for forgiveness and never did it again, I came so hard I passed out. It feels good, it feels wrong that it feels so good, and it feels even better because it feels so wrong.

She was already wet when I got between her legs. I kissed her clit and started licking, her bush tickling my nose and her thighs squeezing my ears. Fabric rasped over my head as she hiked her dress up to run her hand through my hair. Everything was muffled but I could hear kissing and clinking, and I knew that mom was undoing Pete's belt and jeans to give him a Catholic-quality handjob.

I got mom worked up, bucking her hips and getting all breathy, until she asked me to get up here and give her some help. I crawled up to his groin and winked up at him. He blushed and grinned back. Pete's not a bad-looking guy. I mean, I don't care about looks in general, I guess I can look at someone and say that objectively they're ugly, and if someone is beautiful it adds something to the experience, but like... it doesn't really figure into it. Obviously most johns don't look like supermodels but they're not uniformly ugly, as I said before the thing that johns have in common is being horny guys with a lot of disposable income. Still, Pete is towards the better-looking side of that scale.

...Okay there is one thing about him that's weirdly common for my clients, I call it 'John Balding:' where a guy is losing his hair but in a slow, uneven, and kinda weird pattern, so that even when they cross into being more bald than not, they never bite the bullet and shave it all off. Pete is only like 30% of the way through that process so it doesn't look terrible yet, but he's on that track.

Anyway, back to the sex. A fun thing about double blowjobs is that you can take them a whole lot slower than solo blowjobs. Me and mom have had a lot of practice so we go at about 1/4th speed and it feels twice as good. She started off by wrapping her hand around the shaft, slowly stroking it while she softly kissed the tip, and I licked his balls, gently lapping at one, then the other, cleaning away the day's sweat and musk, carefully taking both of them into my mouth at once. Mom swallowed half his length, and I started kissing my way up his shaft as she pulled back up, my lips touching the head as hers reached the very tip. She grabbed me by my hair and pulled me into a deep French kiss with his cock in the middle, precum mixing with spit, moaning as we felt him twitch and grunt, mom's hand on his balls and my hand on his shaft. We broke the kiss and repeated it in reverse, taking his cock in my throat as mom kissed her way down to his balls. He came after five minutes of gentle little schoolgirl kisses on each side of his cock from the pair of us. The first rope caught mom on her cheek, the second hit her hair, but I wrapped my lips tight around the head and sucked him dry before he could spill another drop.

You can't give a client a mother-daughter blowjob and not snowball the cum back and forth in front of him. We've done it enough times to get the timing down: wait until he sits up straight, because if you don't he'll be too dazed from nutting in your mouth to really appreciate it. Make sure he's looking at you, move your hair out of the way so it doesn't obstruct his view, open your lips so that a trickle of jizz almost sloshes out, move in close to your mom so that your noses are touching and it's clear that you're about to kiss, sink a palm into her tits as she grabs your ass, and then you gotta really go for it: wide-mouthed, feral, energetic, like you're trying to reach each other's sinuses. If a little bit of cum spills out because you're being so sloppy, that's a sign that you're doing it right. You're going to lick it up afterwards anyway.

We broke the kiss, I licked mom's face clean, and we took a break. We drank some more wine, he offered us cigarettes--the coolest clients are the ones that let you smoke indoors--and we cuddled and relaxed for a while with Guy's Grocery Games playing on the TV. Pete went to get some water, and returned with three bottles and a strip of Cialis. He downed two pills, we both stripped off--it was sweltering by that point--and got ready for the next round.

Mom played with his nipples and I got between his legs again, this time going lower than his balls to eat his ass out. Rimming is a trusted client privilege like the mom-daughter stuff is, except it's less about trusting them in the legal sense and more about trusting that it won't be grainy down there. I like it when a client is clean enough to rim, because I'm extremely good at it. Mom says she's better, she claims she once made a guy no-touch cum with a rimjob, but I don't fucking believe her.

He got hard after a minute of digging my tongue into his ass, but his cock was still super-sensitive so we figured we'd tease him for a while longer. We swapped places, mom ate his ass while he made out with me, squeezing my tits and playing with my cock. I like it when guys touch my tits, my cock is... fine, I guess? I don't viscerally dislike people touching it but it doesn't do much for me. After a minute of that he reaches around and works a finger into my asshole, which is much more my speed.

By the time he was two knuckles deep I looked down and saw his cock twitching, leaking precum onto his stomach. He seemed pretty worked up. I kissed his neck, nipped at his ear, and whispered, "Do you wanna breed me, Mister?"

He sure did.

I use condoms unless I've got an extremely compelling reason not to, and mom has a cool trick for getting them on. She grasped Pete's cock around the base, placed her lips around the tip, deepthroated the entire thing in a single stroke, and as she slowly lifted her head back up, his cock was neatly fitted with a condom.

As soon as I lubed up he put me on my back, pushed my ankles up to my ears, pressed his cock against my hole and sunk into me inch by inch. He muffled my moans with a kiss and rutted me into the bed. I gotta give it to him, all that biohacking and cardio is doing something right because he railed me at a fast, steady pace until my dick was leaking all over my tummy and I couldn't form sentences in my head any more. Mom made out with him as he finished, and at that point I was just babbling nonsense. He was gentle and cautious as he pulled out of me, stroking my hair as I reached down to take off his condom. I poured the contents out over my tits, slumping back against the headboard as mom licked them clean.

It wasn't yet midnight by then, and we went on like that through the night. Licking his feet, mom-daughter 69, him sucking my cock while mom rode his dick like a Sorority cowgirl champion, more wine, more double-blowjobs, tacking an extra $200 onto the fee for the privilege of pissing in my mouth instead of having to get up to go to the bathroom, a whole buffet of fun whore stuff.

We woke up at around ten in the morning, stayed for breakfast, then said our goodbyes. Me and mom thanked him for his custom, and he thanked us for a good time. By midday we were at home, we both showered, checked our calendars, messaged our evening clients to confirm that they were still on, and then... well, the rest of the day kinda evaporated. I played Demons' Souls until I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer, passed out in bed, and woke up when my alarm went off in the evening.

That's one of the things I don't like about overnight sessions: you're technically only spending like, ten to twelve hours with a client, and for some of that time you're either not fucking or actively asleep, but it kinda feels like it destroys two days. By the time it's scheduled, everything in the rest of the day is either preparing for it or doing it, and when you get back it takes the rest of the day just to recover. I don't like that part of my job, and if I sit down I can probably go through a whole bunch of things I don't like about my job. I still know that my job isn't a *bad* job, because the last time I had a bad job it was at a chicken processing plant. Know how I know that the chicken job was bad? Because I excused myself for a bathroom break four hours into the shift, walked off site, and never came back.

You know what, there's another reason I know that this isn't a bad job and that mom isn't a bad mom, and I guess it's part of the reason I've written all this down in the first place. I was seven years old when I first wanted to die. By the time I got to high school, suicidal thoughts were just the radio static in my brain. I can't remember any point after like, grade school where I didn't daydream about suicide every single day.

Now? I sometimes go for weeks without thinking about killing myself. It hasn't gone away completely, it still pops up when I'm upset or stressed out or tired or really hungry, but what I do is I talk to mom about it, and she talks me out of it. I feel guilty sometimes about putting that pressure on her, and taking that pressure off is part of the reason I'm going to therapy I guess.

I hope it works out.

I really think it will.

#story #stories

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tomhardysteeth · 4 years ago

Note

u wanna say anything for spn ending? Today's their last day of filming

Yeah sure! I love how you worded this ask, it makes me want to give a very serious answer. I’ve been rewatching random episodes the past few days and thinking about how much of my life was shaped by this random lil tv show, both positively and negatively, so here we go.

I started watching Supernatural during my junior year of college, when I was grappling with being gay and religious, and had a pseudo-girlfriend who was emotionally abusive. I remember I started watching the show because I had been on tumblr for a while and thought, well this is a popular show on tumblr and looks like something I’d enjoy, so I might as well try it. I remember barely paying attention to the first season and thinking it was kind of silly, and I distinctly remember making fun of it right up until the season 1 finale when that truck slammed into the Impala and I said oh.

I remember sitting in the dining hall between classes, hiding in a corner with my pink headphones and my laptop, watching one episode after the other, completely consumed by it. My personal life was a mess at the time and I was angry and sad and frustrated, but I could forget about everything for a little while when I watched spn. I remember falling in love with Dean Winchester, season 3, when Sam gave him the amulet.

Because I had already spent a lot of time on tumblr, I knew about Castiel. I couldn’t wait to get to season 4, the anticipation killed me. I didn’t really have a choice in shipping destiel, I literally shipped it before I even watched a single episode of the show lol. My first time watching seasons 4 and 5, I remember how mad I would feel every time the opening credits scrolled at the bottom of the screen and Misha Collins wasn’t listed. I cared about almost nothing but Dean and Cas interacting with each other. I was totally enamored by them, by their potential. At some point I got over that and watched the show because I liked the show, but boy did my heart and brain break for destiel.

I broke up with my abusive girlfriend. I started coming out to more people, including people involved in the Christian campus ministry I was heavily involved in, and it was very very hard. It was 2013. The first episode of Supernatural I watched live was the episode where Dean turns into a fucking dog.

I don’t remember when I started reading fanfic, and I had no idea how to read fanfic. A friend invited me to ao3, what is ao3? I didn’t know. I used my email address as my username. I read Twist and Shout and Pie Without Plot and other very popular fics that I knew about because everybody knew about them. I vividly remember the first fics I read because I was 21 years old and had never had an orgasm in my life and believed sex was sinful and so when the sex scenes in fics turned me on, I felt guilty about it.

I quickly got over that and started writing explicit destiel fanfic.

I still had no idea what I was doing. I know the very first fic I ever wrote was a mess, I’ve completely erased all traces of it, but other than that I began posting with abandon. Pretty much everything I’ve ever written for spn is still on tumblr and/or ao3. I was running a Hannibal blog at the time and started posting more Supernatural content than Hannibal content, so I created a sideblog, @deancasheadcanons, and things very quickly got out of hand after that.

I was depressed, I was confused, I was spending my last couple years of college trying to figure out my sexuality, trying to hold onto a religion that was rejecting who I was becoming, trying to find my identity while picking a career path and being sad and being pulled in a hundred different directions. Sometimes I was working three jobs at once, on top of 17-credit-hour semesters. I was getting a degree in a field I did not care about, and I spent every class reading and writing fanfic, scrolling through tumblr, making internet friends, letting my life be consumed by Supernatural. I projected myself completely onto Dean Winchester and partially onto Castiel and did not even realize it.

I started dressing like Dean, and my sister and brother-in-law noticed and assumed I was gay. They were extremely unsubtle in their attempts at getting me to come out by pointing out the flannel and army jackets, and I did not have it in me to admit to them that I was dressing like a fictional character, but I DID tell them I was bisexual.

I went to therapy every week during my senior year of college, and I was embarrassed about how often I talked about my “internet life,” as I called it. I remember having the arbitrary goal of getting 1,000 kudos on a fanfic, and I remember the day it happened for the first time and I remember going to therapy that week and saying that I didn’t feel any different, that I thought getting attention for my writing would make me feel better, somehow, but I still felt the same, and my therapist asked me if I would still be writing if I was the only one who got anything out of it and I said yes. But I was still obsessed with writing things that were meaningful, and despite the fact that I would receive 10 negative/mean anons per day, I never turned anon off because I desperately wanted people to tell me that my writing meant something to them, that it mattered to them. I was fighting with myself every day over my sexuality and my identity and my purpose, and I put all of that on the shoulders of Dean and Cas.

There was also chubby!dean. I had lived my entire life with this inexplicable thing, this shame that I knew I could not share, that I knew I would just have to suffer with for my whole life, and then I joined the spn fandom and found that there were others like me, others that had a fetish and had similar experiences as I did and were drawn to Dean Winchester because there’s no other character that could make eating and gaining weight be as enticing as he makes it (in fanfic). For the first time in my life I had a community of people that I could relate to about a thing that I never thought I would ever be able to talk about with anyone in my life. I don’t remember if I consciously chose to start posting publicly about it, but at some point I did, and I started writing kink fic, but I was still so uncomfortable with myself and so scared of the things I felt, and I tried so hard to temper myself and not offend anyone and not go “too far” and not be too weird and I was so sexually repressed and pent up and full of guilt and shame, and so now when I go back and reread some of the stuff I wrote it feels like reopening an old wound and letting myself bleed out.

I was constantly comparing myself to others and wondering why I wasn’t getting as much attention as so-and-so, and I always made excuses about how maybe my writing was too weird and I was too much and maybe I just wasn’t good enough and I hated myself and wanted to delete everything I ever wrote, but also I’m awesome and receive a lot of attention and get a lot of good feedback but maybe that means I’m just a narcissist! I acted like an asshole online and justified it by saying it wasn’t really me, that I could be someone totally different on tumblr than the person I was in “real life,” but in hindsight, now when I think back on my early 20s, I cannot separate what I was doing in “real life” from what I was doing in the spn fandom. I shared so much of myself with the spn fandom without even recognizing that that’s what I was doing.

And I made mistakes, god I made mistakes, and I tried to be so careful about everything I said but I was also presenting a certain version of myself to the spn fandom so that people would like me (for instance: running a destiel blog and trying my best to hide the fact that I also ship wincest) and still I got in trouble constantly, and I grew bitter and mean because you can only receive the “when are you posting the next chapter?” comment so many times before you want to bang your head into a wall. I became defensive and unkind, afraid to check my inbox because it was a nightmare, and yet unable to turn off anon because, like I said, I desperately needed that feedback, I needed people to tell me that they felt what I felt, that they understood what I was writing and why I was writing it.

I expected Supernatural to give me everything I needed. I fantasized about Dean Winchester being canonically bisexual because I thought it would confirm something in me, that it would somehow make my life a little bit easier. I didn’t want to watch other shows that could maybe help me, I wanted Supernatural to do things for me that it had never promised and would never deliver, and it’s because I was defined by it for so many years. Now that I’m back on tumblr, I’ve been going back through some of my old posts on deancasheadcanons and it’s like reading a stranger’s words. Even so, I find myself telling people “I was deancasheadcanons” instead of “I ran a sideblog called deancasheadcanons” because it really was such a huge part of my identity. What’s wild is that every time I’ve tried to explain it to someone in real life, they just look at me like I’m not making any sense.

It was easy to stop watching Supernatural. I didn’t have cable, and I had been driving to my dad and stepmom’s house each week and watching it on their tv after they had gone to bed. I was in a new relationship with a woman I nearly married, I was back in school for a new career, I was working full time and absolutely did not have time to continue writing fanfic as prolifically as I had done for so many years. I finally reached a breaking point in 2017 and haven’t watched any new episodes since then (I don’t remember the last episode I saw). But now, as I rewatch some old episodes, it is easy to feel the way I felt the first time I watched the show. It’s easy to see why this campy little heartfelt show was a lifeline during my formative adult years.

So it turns out I have never reckoned with any of this, have never written it down, hence the 2k jumble of words you see here. And it’s like, I know that a lot of this may seem silly, trivial, especially for a show that in itself is not very serious, but as it comes to an end I have to reflect on it as a person who put so much of my heart, my creativity, my pain and my floundering identity into it. I am somewhat embarrassed and wish I could respond to this ask with a joke instead, but we’re in a pandemic and I live alone and have had way too much time to think and reflect and become a lot more self-aware, and part of that reflection has definitely been about my time in the spn fandom. I remember thinking the show was never going to end, yet here we are at the end and I felt compelled to type all this out with a desire to, I don’t know, get some closure? Convince myself that I was a whole person, that I wasn’t just a faceless URL posting destiel fics into the void, that my real life was not at all disparate from the time I spent online? In any case, I’ll always think fondly of the time I devoted to Supernatural, and I’ll take the good and the bad and everything in between. Thanks for the nice ask, anon, apparently I needed to get some things off my chest.

#madd replies #long post #spn for ts #this is 2k words i am sorry lmao #wouldn't it be cool if i had any semblance of chill

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chickenfreeblog · 3 years ago

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Sometimes I wonder if Dan and Phil are actually doing themselves a favour by Not Saying It. Like you said, Dan seems to be against openly labelling his relationship in case it all goes downhill, and I wonder if it would actually make a difference. Anyone who pays the slightest bit of attention knows they’re together, and if they ever did break up, it would be pretty obvious, so not saying it isn’t really gonna matter if one of them suddenly moves out and they never address it, right? If anything it would just make people even more nosy and cause a bunch of debates about who did what and why they broke up and who’s fault it is and people would speculate if they were even together in the first place. Whereas if they just confirmed being together, then if they broke up they could just say “we broke up don’t ask” and people might be more likely to respect that and not fight about stuff and be invasive?

Idk, many thoughts

yeah i can see what you mean! i think it could totally make things complicated?

at the same time..... i mean, you're right that people who pay a little bit of attention figure out that they're together, and i think if they ever did split up, they could say something that sounds vague on the surface but still communicates, you know? i feel like they're more open to just letting people see that they're living together and make their own conclusions, and the reverse would be true too.

i also think that like.. they're okay with a certain level of ambiguity in a lot of areas & that sometimes the "oh no what if people are confused" stuff is more about our comfort than theirs? like i don't think they're 100% disengaged from the discourse, but i think that they've gotten pretty good at protecting themselves a little bit and just kind of going "okay, your problem :)" if it's not something they want to address.

the last thing is just that i think they're trying to protect the relationship they have now, you know what i mean? like i think the fact that they've set those boundaries around what they say is a big reason that they've survived this long. one of the things with youtube couples is like.... you kind of have to put on a good face and make it look positive and aspirational, so it's hard to get any breathing room to solve any actual issues? it's been a million years since i watched a lot of those channels, but i feel like a lot of them talked about the fact that super personal life decisions kind of got turned into like, What Will Look Good On Camera and that the pressure got to a lot of those people. i think the "we don't want people watching in case we break up" thing might totally be a factor for dnp, but i think it's also just like.... day-to-day, having some boundaries gives them a lot more space to fuck up and deal with whatever's going on without the expectation of also cramming it into a narrative and packaging it neatly for other people to consume.

#ask #anon

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thickenmyblood · 4 years ago

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I love how you really put a lot of thought into how you regard and read fanfic as well as how you respond to questions about how you feel aout it. Can I ask what are some parts/ideas in fics that really made you go wow, this is well planned or like I never would have thought about this or I forgot that this plot point and device were even a thing! I hope this makes sense

I love you, kind stranger. Thank you for reading my delirious posts and giving me the chance to scream about fics, which is always a pleasure.

Note: If your fic is in this post and you don’t want it to be, let me know and I’ll take it down.

Zeitnot by thereshaegoes

I love the idea of time travel, so when I read this fic’s summary I bookmarked it instantly. At first, I thought it was going to be eight chapters of Laurent waking up the day of the battle of Marlas, but the author really surprised me.

I loved that someone died at the end of each chapter (at first, at least) but what really made me go ‘oh’ is when Lauret realizes the Damen from “this new reality” is, in fact, his Damen!

Damen not being with Jokaste was weird to me, but I shrugged it off as a personal choice the author had made. Then, when Damen was talking about abolishing slavery, I was still in denial. ‘Oh, well, some people don’t like to write Damen as a slave owner, which is cool’. And then, when the big reveal finally came, I was just… amazed. I literally put my phone down and went, ‘okay, this person really knows what they’re doing when it comes to writing’.

I love the little plot twists. In my head, a plot twist most basic example is ‘oh, X is a traitor’ but… this? This is so much better.

Between the Shadow and the Soul by Anonymous

This work was… insanely refreshing, innovative, transgressive, and outrageously good. It does feature a lot of sex scenes, but at the same time, it felt like sex was the least important part of the story. I don’t know how to explain myself when it comes to this fic (and God knows I’ve tried) but… The sex scenes aren’t there just for the smut of it all, if that makes any sense.

Auguste as a narrator is so unusual, and yet it made the fic so painful and enjoyable! I loved the way it left you wondering just how accurate his POV was. I loved the sex scenes with actual characterization. This author never, not even for one second, stopped focusing on the dynamic between Laurent, Auguste, and Damen. It could be argued that the Laurent/Auguste bit weighted more than the overall OT3 bit, but still… I had literally forgotten what sex scenes were for until I read this fic.

Sex scenes, especially in this particular work, are not parentheses in the story. They’re not there for the reader to take a break from the “actual plot” or “narration”. They are what holds the story together, and they’re opportunities for the reader to learn more about the characters

Cherry Wine by SteeleStingray

Yes, I’m back on my bullshit. Yes, I’m talking about CW again. But I’ll make it short because there is no way you don’t know how I feel about this work. If you don’t, check out this comment (which, by the way, is not even a fraction of what I wanted to say to the author when I read the fic).

What I found innovative and made me go “is this allowed?” about CW is not the idea of an OT3, but rather this particular take on a relationship that consists of three people. I’ve read a few published books that feature similar couples (all of them suck, and when I say they suck I mean it) so I was very hesitant to read this because of that reason.

Usually, when people write OT3 they pepper in a lot of stuff I don’t like to read about: extreme jealousy, misunderstandings, cheating, weird dynamics that feel stilted, awkward sex scenes where one of the three just sits in a chair and watches the other two like some voyeur from Juan José Saer’s stories. Guess what doesn’t happen in CW?

Another thing I liked about this work is that it reminded me that themes in fiction aren’t limited to one specific work. This author really likes nicknames. At the time, when I had only read CW, I thought it was just a one-time thing. Turns out, it’s not. An emerald-coloured nightmare also features nicknames. I like this idea that you can tell who wrote something based on little details and narrative choices. It’s like the author is winking at you, going ‘ha, did you get it?’

Ink on Paper by deripmaver

I don’t usually like fics with non-linear narrative because I’m a lazy bitch who can’t keep up. I’d never really seen the point in using flashbacks, scenes from the past, or anything like that because my writing style (oh, fuck off, my writing style, who the fuck do I think I am) is more about references. And then I read this fic. And I was like, ‘okay, I’ve seen the light of not writing everything linearly like an idiot’.

The Mannequin Gallery by marrieddorks

Yes, I realize I’m talking about all my favorite fics. I feel no shame.

This fic is a Modern AU. Everyone who has ever written a Modern AU knows that one of the trickiest parts is finding characters professions that make sense with who they are/what they like/what they’re good at. This story features Damen as an influencer. That’s it, that’s my whole tweet.

It reminded me that even when you’re writing a Modern AU (or any sort of AU, really) it’s important to know what the essence of the characters you’re writing is. The way even Jord’s job makes sense… And how it feels like the author didn’t just steal the characters’ names and use them to create a random story (which is valid, too)... and… Okay, this has nothing to do with a plot twist or a narrative device but have you read this Nicaise? Have you? You haven’t read Nicaise until you’ve read this fic.

(and that's why) you're so beautiful now by iwasgonegonegone

This fic is 612 words. It has no plot. One of the tags reads, “listen they're in love and they're cute and that's all i have to say” and I… yes. This fic inspired me to write plot-less stories again. Not only that, it made me enjoy writing them.

Lately, I’ve been talking to a friend of mine about a new pairing we both like a lot. We go back and forth for hours sometimes just talking about what they’d do, details about the worldbuilding, a billion ‘what-ifs’... and I love it. If one of us sat down to write a story based on all our conversations, it would be a character study fic. It would have, maybe, some plot to it, but… Plot would feel like an excuse to talk about their relationship. And I love that. I fucking hate plot, I hate it, and this… Yes. This fic is like a little slice of life. The author has mentioned before that they enjoy writing poetry (more than longer pieces of fiction) and this story reads like a poem. You know when you read a poem and you get this weird tingly feeling? Read this and feel that, you’re welcome.

The Life We Live by homewithyou

I’ve said before that I don’t go looking for mpreg. Sometimes, mpreg has come looking for me, and I’ve closed my door on its face. I read this fic mainly because I never pay attention to the tags on AO3 (healthy, I know) and I was too busy making myself toast to read the summary.

I was five paragraphs in and this bit hit me like a fucking electric hammer to the head: “...which had been going haywire more often than not since the pregnancy began five months ago.” I was like, ‘wait, did I—am I reading—why am I—’ and then I just shut my mouth and continued reading. I’m glad I did. I’m glad I didn’t let my narrowmindedness stop me from giving this fic a try. I’m glad people out there are writing stories that they enjoy, about topics a few others would deem controversial.

This also applies to the Lamen/Auguste fic I mentioned above. What’s the point of writing if you’re not going to take risks and be honest about what you like to write about? It takes honesty and commitment to write anything that strays from the norm. And so I’m glad this person posted this story, because it changed me in a small way (‘what if I shut the fuck up and read more mpreg instead of instantly clicking out?’).

This is another perfect example of how plot is poison and you don’t need it in your life (unless you enjoy poison. In that case consume the plot, write the plot, sniff the plot. And die). A morning in bed, just nuzzling and talking… living life… Again, this made me realize that you can say a lot about two characters just from a morning in bed. It made me want to write 25 pages of dialogue in bed (this and Manuel Puig’s book titled Kiss of the spider woman, which I recommend fervently).

Plot? In this house? We don’t know her. You’re a strong, independent writer. You don’t need no plot.

For a more general response, I’d say that Steele’s worldbuilding is impeccable and made me look at the setting of stories differently.

Foreshadowing is always amazing, but I haven’t read a lot of fics where it’s a prominent element (which is not to say authors aren’t good at it, I just don’t read enough fics to give you a good example of this).

I really like oxymorons and when writers use funny adverbs. GallaPlacidia’s adverbs are to die for, so definitely check out her stories if you’re interested in that.

I also love the way xlydiadeetz writes archs. She does this thing where she divides the story into different… timelines? archs? I… don’t even know. Amazing.

I hope this answer made sense.

#anon #thereshaegoes #steelestingray #deripmaver #marrieddorks #iwasgonegonegone #homewithyou #this is my trying to tag #i... suck at it as you can tell

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