#(( and they will not be able to get out of this without squaring with that single ever-important fact

[do-what-the-knight-tells-you]

Yes absolutely to most things on this post, but also in case anyone who wasn't already very familiar with s'mores before this post reads my response, I feel it is also crucial to point out that this practice of making s'mores is ubiquitous enough that in the lead up to especially the summertime, many stores will essentially adopt outdoor/camping as the "seasonal" section, and you will not be able to get away from skewers for roasting marshmallows that are like purpose-made for that-

(example photos from walmart.com)

Many families especially who would have access to camping or campfire-like situations will have a stash of these somewhere.

You of course can use one marshmallow at a time if you want, but they are two pronged like this to enable you to do things like offset your two marshmallows so that they each have complete surface area coverage, but one maybe a little more toasted than the other... Or stick as many marshmallows on there as you can fit. 👍

And some families may have those, but also an extremely traditional method of making a s'more especially when in a moderately forested area, and the version that you're going to see in cartoons and stuff, is to stick the bastards directly on a stick that you have scraped hopefully a majority of bark and dirt off of

And this can be taken to extremes. With that intentional skewer, you can you know pretty easily get two to four marshmallows on the end if you want, so sometimes one member of the party will be on marshmallow duty, and will pass goo-ified marshmallows off to whoever is next making a s'more, especially this might happen if you have some people who are really keen on roasting marshmallows, but maybe don't like eating them so well, or sometimes this will happen if like you're making them for kids who actually maybe too young and uncoordinated to be trusted sticking something into a fire...

But also you can do the same thing with the sticks, leading sometimes to very elaborate setups with multiple marshmallows sticking off at different points, and the tricky experiment of trying to roast them all appropriately without setting your stick on fire.

And the one point I would like to quibble with is that while we now have those jumbo marshmallows pictured above, and we even have like square marshmallows that some companies are making that are designed to fit more neatly on a half a gram cracker... In my day neither of those products existed, and the standard was just the large marshmallow, which is the size that every marshmallow on my section of this post has been so far. For comparison, here's a child playing with the sizes of marshmallow:

That's the tiny, like you would find in a hot cocoa packet perhaps, mini, which is the size you would use if you were going to build structures out of toothpicks and marshmallows, or make a little marshmallow trebuchet or launcher, also probably the size you would get if you were going to make Rice krispie treats, flat, which is the kind that have semi recently been designed specifically to fit nicely on a graham cracker half, standard, which is the size that anyone who's at least 20 or 25 probably grew up mostly seeing, and a jumbo, which is just... So much marshmallow...

(and on a personal note, while I always loved setting them on fire, probably the most fun for kids, my personal favorite way to eat them is not on the smore at all, but rather to toast them layer by layer, caramelizing the outside, and then slipping that skin off, here violating the precept that you must make it gooey (which, gooey is crucially important if you're going to squish it between two not very sturdy graham crackers with some stiff chocolate) but rather for me it's important not to make the middle gooey, so only so much of the inside comes with the skin and then you can stick the whole thing back in the fire and toast yourself another skin, and then repeat until you are out of marshmallow. This is extremely effective on a jumbo marshmallow, but then I have to drink a lot of water and lie down because that is so much sugar. XD)

Also also, part of the reason that Hershey's chocolate is usually the chocolate choice is that it is a very milk chocolate that melts quite easily and is fairly thin and brakes off into nice even squares or sets of squares. But also for anyone who has not had Hershey's, its quite a distinctive chocolate, and while others will do in a pinch, it is a distinctive enough chocolate that a s'more is not going to taste quite classic without specifically Hershey's.

(I'm not saying Hershey's is necessarily a good chocolate- if you are prone to thinking that some chocolates taste kind of like vomit? Hershey's will probably not be for you, cuz whatever chemical makes it taste that way is quite prominent in Hershey's milk chocolate. But it is a classic, cuz it was for the longest time the best shaped and cheapest and most available version of itself for this purpose)

GBBO: “A s’more is basically just an Italian merengue sandwiched between two ganache-covered digestives”

Americans:

[bubuslutty]

Day 8: emails

pairing: demon/angel!fem reader x tf141

word count: 1.2k

tags: not beta read

warnings: +18. mdni

a/n: she's baccckkkk!! It's been a WHILE since I last updated, but now I think I'm back on the boat again. Not totally sure, but I'm feeling much better and will be slowly writing again for this fic, and other fics for other fandoms on ao3 and other accounts on tumblr. thank you for your patience and enjoy <3

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63142366/chapters/161705329

*WA = Wish Assignment

*Malak = Angel in Arabic

Angel purposely didn't allow Johnny to fuck her that evening. She wanted to get her hands on him, give him a taste and send him dazed and loopy back to his house and lieutenant. She wanted Johnny to have a taste and crave more, she wanted him trusting and a little pathetically wanting. And Angel managed to do just that when she let him get his thick fingers inside her pussy with one arm wrapped around her back, keeping her arched against him, tits pressing at his hairy tan chest. When Johnny almost pulled her over the edge, he decided he had to get a taste and flipped her around, shamelessly manhandling her on her stomach, pulling her hips up and smashing his face between her legs like he was starving, and maybe he was, Johnny does have a big appetite after all.

When she finally managed to pull Johnny's face away from her wet puffy lips by his Mohawk, she kissed him square on the mouth and sent him home. She didn't even let him change, sent him back home with his stuff in a plastic bag, still wearing that damn skirt in the middle of the street. Hopefully nobody saw him and that big tent between his legs.

Johnny didn't even get to knock before the door was swung open and Simon was there, drinking him in.

Johnny was flushed, smelled like sex and sweet feminine perfume, with glitter smeared across his neck and right cheekbone. Simon dragged him inside the house with a hand wrapped around the back of his neck and Johnny let him. He isn't sure how he ended up in his bed, on his stomach, but he felt exhausted and drunk with beer and pussy, so Johnny closed his eyes and let sleep pull him away from the waking world under the watchful eyes of his Lieutenant, Ghost.

"How was the slumber party?" Gaz asked with a raised brow, nursing a mug of coffee.

Johnny slowly walked down the stairs looking like he was experiencing a nasty hangover, but weirdly enough, his head didn't hurt, he didn't feel sick and really, all he was feeling was tired and content, but especially tired.

This time he changed and was wearing a loose pair of shorts and a hoodie, making his way straight to the coffee machine while the rest of the guys watched him.

"How are you?" Simon asked him, standing by the glass door in their kitchen, that lead to the garden, a mug in hand. He looked extra large that morning, as tall and wide as that door.

Johnny finally looked up, "I'm fine, just tired, Christ…"

He felt as if they fucked like crazy yesterday, or as if he was fucked, which was extremely strange, so Johnny grabbed his hot mug and tilted his head to the side, "It's weird how tired I feel even if we didnae fuck or anything," He gently blew over his coffee and took a small sip, "Next time, you're coming with, Lt," Johnny meant it as some sort of support, maybe if Simon joined them next time, he'll be able to come out of Angel's house feeling like this time, she didn't somehow suck the energy out of his body like a damn vampire.

Or maybe he shouldn't be thinking of a next time, maybe his body was warning him that she was a red flag.

"What makes you think there would be a next time?" Simon asked. He wasn't being mean, and Johnny knew it, Simon just tends to sound dry and mean without meaning to. "You're acquainted with this mouth, Simon, you tell me," Johnny said, smirking a little as Gaz watched the two in silence with wide curious eyes.

"I don't know, Johnny, maybe she's not like that," Ghost shrugged and placed his now empty mug in the sink.

"Nothing a little convincing won't solve," Johnny easily said, stretching his arms above his head and Gaz raised a brow, "Sounds predatory and manipulative,"

"You n' your fancy words, Garrick," Johnny rolled his eyes. If Angel liked him and invited him in her house, she'll like his mates as well, especially since he tends to be a little crazier than the rest. If he was enough of a good boy that she trusted him, the rest of them will be just fine.

"You in?" Simon turned to Gaz. Johnny and Ghost both stared at him in silence, and he sighed, "Yeah," He may as well be in whatever the hell this is, just to watch out for her, like a good Samaritan, or that's what he's telling himself.

"Good," Simon nodded, and that was when their front door opened and Price came back from his run, sweaty and pink in the cheeks.

WA #141202325 - Progress Report

from: Malak - 4294 malak4294@wishagency.5852.com

to: Mr M mrm@managers.wishagency.5852.com

date: Feb 17, 2025, 9:36 AM [London - Earth Central Time]

Hey Mr M!

I hope you're doing okay and have gone out or something, you need to relax a little.

Anyway, I'm doing okay, I have finally made sexual contact with one of the WA subjects, Johnny McTavish, I think I successfully left a mark and he'll reel in the rest of the humans to me in time.

Kuromi says hi and pls leave that shitty stuffy office for a breather.

Take care <3

Angel XOXO

RE: WA #141202325 - Progress Report

from: Mr M mrm@managers.wishagency.5852.com

to: Malak - 4294 malak4294@wishagency.5852.com

date: Feb 17, 2025, 9:38 AM [London - Earth Central Time]

Dear Angel,

Thank you for the update, keep up the good work.

Kind regards,

Mr M

PS. Mind your own damn business.

Email Etiquette

from: 666 666@managers.wishagency.5852.com

to: Malak - 4294 malak4294@wishagency.5852.com

date: Feb 17, 2025, 9:45 AM [London - Earth Central Time]

4294,

Please use correct email etiquette when communicating with other members of staff. This is to ensure that professionalism is held and to make sure everyone has a pleasant time at the Wish Agency.

Thank You,

666

RE: Email Etiquette

from: Malak - 4294 malak4294@wishagency.5852.com

to: 666 666@managers.wishagency.5852.com

cc: Mr M mrm@managers.wishagency.5852.com

date: Feb 17, 2025, 9:50 AM [London - Earth Central Time]

666,

no <3

Angel

XOXO

RE: Email Etiquette

from: 666 666@managers.wishagency.5852.com

to: Malak - 4294 malak4294@wishagency.5852.com

cc: Mr M mrm@managers.wishagency.5852.com

date: Feb 17, 2025, 10:02 AM [London - Earth Central Time]

Dear Angel 4294,

We sincerely apologise for the automatic email, it was accidentally sent to you. We apologise for any caused inconvenience.

Kind regards,

666

Angel scoffed at her laptop screen and closed it, this always happen every 10 years or so, trying to police her written communications etiquette because apparently they should have no personality and be absolutely robotic in realising human wishes. If you work with humans, you're bound to develop what is called, a personality.

Worst of all, Angel's division specialises in darker/more explicit wishes. Some humans may refer to them as sins, she murdered for her assignments, lied, committed extra marital sex, and so many other messy things, so it's especially annoying when they try to police her into acting professional when everybody knows you'll bend over if she asked, and that is without even using a lick of her powers.

Mr M must've dealt with them for her. That's good. At least he knows how to listen to her sometimes.

tags <3

@loveyhoneydovey @cutiecusp @pinkwigonmytv @mandythemint @itsberrydreemurstuff @tapioca-marzipan @fruitymoonbeams-blog @poohkie90 @chaoticevilbakugo @anubis-reed @thefairybird @skytacvia @marytvirgin @cynicalmnm @maechanexe @t0jis-worm @1800imgay @4ndjelij4 @multitargaryen @lilpothoscuttings @mysticalpandabear @silviafantin15 @marvel-ness @bobastayhigh @originalsimp @ghostiebabyyy @gxldyjess @msdrpreist @whore4dilfs  @alexwashere82 @clown-spoon @Ray-rook @urbimom @warenai @darlinglittledevil @jinxxangel13 @sae1kie @0alk0msan @dollymaneater @lilbiguy @mixplara @cipher-nine

[umathurwin]

speak to me in tongues, oh mi amor

rafe cameron x kiara carrera; sarah cameron x kiara carrera; nsfw 18+

Summary: An extended sleepover at the Cameron house devolves into a salacious game of tug-of-war as neither sibling is able to keep their hands off of Kiara.

tags, warnings, and more on ao3!

“This is so exciting,” Sarah said, lifting her sunglasses to the top of her head and checking her blindspot. “It’s gonna be like a sleepover that never ends!”

Kiara shifted in the passenger seat, kicking around the duffel bag tucked away by her feet. “It’ll end when my parents get back from the Poconos. In eleven days.”

“You sound so excited,” Sarah deadpanned.

Her shoulders bunched up and she let her head thunk against the window. “Sorry, don’t mean to be sulky. I’m just a little pissed my parents refused to take me. Plus, your house intimidates me.”

She scoffed. “You stay over all the time!”

“Never more than a night!” Kiara defended. “I know my house is old, but Tannyhill is like a museum.”

“Yeah, Rafe isn’t allowed in museums since—”

“Sarah.”

“Look, Rose and my dad offered for you to stay,” Sarah shrugged, turning onto her street without a blinker. “They want you there, and they like you! We’re gonna have a great time and you’ll be begging to move in by the end!”

“You can’t seriously think that’s true,” Kiara laughed, grabbing her bag from the floorboards and checking her reflection in the visor mirror.

Her friend eyed her, down her chest and to her legs, nearly bare with her jean shorts. She didn’t notice Sarah’s gaze. “We’ll see.”

*

“I’m sorry, I totally must have misheard you. It almost sounded like you’re throwing a party while Ward and Rose are out.”

Sarah didn’t respond, instead continuing to apply mascara in the manufactured glow of her vanity. 

“I got here yesterday, dude,” Kie went on, pacing on the rug. “I can’t make myself comfortable before you’re inviting half the island to burn through a thousand beer cans?”

“Oh my God, Greta Thunberg much?” Sarah giggled, blinking her drying eyes. “We get kegs.” She set the mascara on the tabletop and looked Kiara up and down. “You’re not gonna wear that, are you?”

Kiara looked down at her flowy pants and t-shirt, then folded her arms. “You didn’t exactly warn me to pack for this.”

Sarah beamed at her and stood up. She dug through her dresser and pulled a tank top and jean shorts, then tossed them to her friend. “Problem solved.”

There was less than a square foot of fabric in her hands. “I…thanks, I’ll—”

“I wanna see if they’ll fit. We’re about the same size, but denim is fucking evil. Go ahead and change.”

Kiara froze, looking down at the outfit in her hands. “Um, could I have a bit of pri—?”

“Jeez, fine, I won’t look,” Sarah interrupted again with a little smirk. She sat back down at the vanity and grabbed her blush.

With a mirror the size of a street sign, there was no part of the bedroom Kie could stand that wasn’t in Sarah’s line of sight. She took a quick breath and changed as fast as she could without stumbling over her own limbs. Kiara could absolutely feel eyes on her body, especially when her t-shirt was briefly stuck over her head, but she said nothing.

It was a little revealing, but cute nonetheless. “It’s perfect!” Sarah announced, getting close to adjust Kiara’s tank. She tugged at the bottom to lower the neckline even more and grabbed her bra straps to lift her tits, forcing a little oh! from Kiara. “There we go. Even better. Let’s start pregaming!”

*

The span between Sarah’s bedroom and Kiara snapping back to in the downstairs powder room… well, it was a bit of a blur. 

The atmosphere reminded her of the kind of ragers they’d thrown when they were younger. Kie hadn’t had the chance to let loose and tear through a bunch of vodka and coconut rum in ages, and a few rounds of cup pong had her making intense eye contact with the mirror. She’d broken the seal ages ago, already washed up and ready to step out, but the room spun and spun around no particular axis.

Once her head was clear, she rolled her shoulders back and—stumbled out of the room, sloshing a little bit of her beverage onto the tile floor.

“Taking your drink into the bathroom is just wild,” Rafe said, and she turned to see him just around the corner. 

She rolled her eyes. “Mm, whatever. S’not like I peed in the cup.”

Rafe looked down at the top she had on— not her tits, but the actual shirt. “Are you wearing my sister’s clothes?”

The question was simply absurd to Kie’s intoxicated mind. It hadn’t dawned on her that anyone would notice , nor that Rafe would even be here. It may be his house, but he didn’t exactly get along with Sarah’s friends. Either way, Kiara burst out laughing in Rafe’s face and pushed past him to return outside.

In the sitting room, she was called over by her hostess hanging out on a couch alone. Kie plopped next to her, nearly splashing the remainder of her Solo cup concoction on their laps.

“‘M ready to go home,” Kiara admitted, resting her head on Sarah’s shoulder, who patted her gently.

“You are home, silly.” Sarah took Kiara’s cup from her and tossed the rest of it back before grimacing. “Oh my God, killer, is this what you’ve been drinking all night? No wonder you wanna leave!”

“I’m fiiine,” Kie insisted, really proving that she wasn’t. She leaned her entire body onto her friend in a hug combined with an attempt at finding a steady body. 

Sarah stood up, leaving her friend nearly collapsing on the couch. “I change my mind. Let’s go home. Y’know, my room.”

The intoxicated girls skipped hand in hand out of the party and up to the blonde girl’s bedroom. When they reached the top of the stairs, Kiara’s foot caught on the final step and sent her stumbling to the carpeted floor. Because she was so entwined with her friend, they both crashed in a fit of giggles and limbs. 

When they caught their breath, Kie rolled her head over to see Sarah already smiling at her. The thought, Sarah is so pretty , pushed to the front of her mind like a diva demanding her solo. It’s a fact she’s always known , an axiom. Magnets point north, the sky is blue, and Kie’s best friend is a beautiful girl. But as she soaked in Sarah’s huge brown eyes, pointed nose, bitten-pink mouth, Kiara appreciated the parts that made the sum of the girl’s beauty. Maybe even for the first time. 

Perhaps it was the chilled plastic carton of Malibu she’d drunk from directly, maybe it was the proximity of the girl who’d been with her through everything since middle school, or maybe it was the phase of the moon. But Kiara leaned over without thinking and kissed Sarah .

Both were too loose to feel any inhibitions about the situation, but the blonde seemed much more impassioned than Kiara expected. They broke apart with a wet sound, and Sarah pulled herself up to nearly drag Kie down the hall. The majority of the partygoers had flocked to the pool area outside and the kitchen downstairs, so the girls passed no one on the way. Kie would’ve sworn she saw some shadowed figure around the corner of the landing, but then Sarah started kissing her neck , and she was back to being putty in her hands.

Sarah’s lips were so soft, and her hands were unexpectedly eager. It was hard for Kiara to focus, and Sarah’s vanilla perfume was as inebriating as the drinks she’d had. Her head lulled backwards and hit the doorframe, and Sarah finally had the decency to let them both into her bedroom.

They couldn’t even separate for long enough to reach Sarah’s bed, but Kie made sure to pull the door shut behind them. The house was older than the trees and didn’t have locks on several of the doors, but her mind was so preoccupied, there wasn’t a chance in hell she’d remember to do it anyways.

The girls sat on the bed facing each other, torn between sitting comfortably on their knees and leaning into the kiss as much as possible. Kie would’ve been fine with making out, but Sarah’s warm hands went from her neck to her shoulders to slipping under the straps of her tank top. Soft moans slipped from Kie’s mouth as Sarah played with her nipples— she wondered if her tongue would feel as good there as it did in her mouth.

Kiara’s knee slotted between Sarah’s, forcing them closer until her cunt was pressed on the other girl’s thigh. The feeling was euphoric, sending waves of pleasure up her spine and forcing wanton moans out of her. 

It was easy, natural, to shift into a position where both girls could grind on the other. They held each other’s shoulders for stability and the movement was a bit awkward, but she was barreling towards a release regardless. 

Kiara found just the right angle to apply pressure directly to her clit, and she came before she realized she was that close. 

Oh my God, Sarah just made her cum. Well, she made herself cum, using Sarah. Did that still count? 

A knock at the door had the girls scurrying off of each other. The blonde girl stumbled up with shaky legs and opened the door to address the person looking for a restroom, while Kie leapt off the bed. She scanned the room for her phone, but she’d left it on her own nightstand before the party.

When Sarah sent away the intruder and turned back, Kiara had already grabbed her belongings from earlier. “I think I need to go to sleep, I—” It was difficult standing on two feet, and she couldn’t tell if it was from drinking or the orgasm. Her friend watched her amusedly, letting her out of the room but leaving her to traverse the halls alone.

Kiara hit the bed with her makeup and clothes still on. Well, Sarah’s clothes. She was even a little certain the sheets below her were from her friend’s bed. The water on her nightstand was the Nalgene Sarah used in high school. Fuck, everywhere Kiara turned was another claim that Sarah had made on her.

Now… why didn’t it bother her so much?

***

Kiara flipped over in bed. It had been a few days since the party—since she and Sarah had quite an interesting experience. 

Her friend had done an amazing job at acting like nothing was wrong, that nothing even abnormal had happened between them. Kiara briefly wondered if the entire encounter had been an alcohol-induced hallucination until she had caught a flash of Sarah’s perfume at breakfast the next morning and the memories came flooding back. Her friend’s thigh pressed against her cunt, her hands exploring her body, the moans right in her ear, fuck —

She threw the duvet off her body and got out of bed; she needed some fresh air. The cooler weather made the doors move easier at the expense of the quiet hinges— every movement had to be deliberate to not wake anyone in the house.

Through the halls, down the spiral staircase, out the side door to the patio that faced the water. She just needed to sit and listen to the waves, yet scurrying around in the dark felt so infringing— her head was on a swivel despite the overwhelming silence.

Apropos of a nicer security system Rose demanded, the exterior doors were the newest part of the manor. She stepped out onto the smooth tile flooring and took a deep breath, finally feeling like she’d made it past the hardest part of the night. 

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Kiara jumped out of her skin, clearly not expecting to find anyone out here—even if that someone was a resident of the home. Rafe sat at the outdoor table, illuminated by the soft porch lights that stayed on through the night. A lighter sat on the table, and smoke drifted from whatever was tucked between his fingers. Her eyes narrowed when she noticed he was pulling from something hand-rolled.

“Is that weed?” she asked dumbly, as if she couldn’t smell it as soon as she laid eyes on him, and stepped towards him.

He giggled, almost a cute sound if it wasn’t so condescending, and took a drag. The lit end glowed before releasing a crisp vein of off-white smoke, and he exhaled. “You gonna tell Ward?”

She was a stunned little rabbit, processing every word and action like he would strike any moment. Kiara’s parents would probably knock her upside the head for referring to them so disdainfully by first name, yet Rafe lets the word fall from his serpentine tongue so easily. 

“Or are you too scared to speak to him?” Rafe continued, taking another hit. “I’d be hesitant, too, if I was in your situation. Room and board, huh?”

Her brows furrowed as she processed this. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“A good piece of advice— when you’re at a party, always assume someone is watching you.”

Oh, God. Sarah. Mortification blazed through her body, creeping up her neck and surely tinging her face pink. “I— I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Oh, shut up. I’m not gonna tattle on you,” Rafe rolled his eyes and stamped out the half-finished joint, sending a pang through Kiara’s chest. “Don’t feel like outing my sister just to mess with you.”

“How charitable.”

Rafe stared her down, assessing if he’d actually upset her or if Kiara was just apprehensive. When he found nothing but a quickly-beating heart inside her, he smiled again. “So, when did it start? Drunken escapade that got out of hand? Or did I stumble upon a relationship that’s years in the making?”

“You’re a creep. This is none of your business.”

“Why? Because you’re still figuring out you’re gay, or because you’re fucking my sister?”

She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not gay.”

“I think Ian McKellan didn’t come out until he was, like, fifty.”

“How do you know who Ian McKellan is?”

Rafe grinned. “Aww, you’re stalling! So, what? Are you just experimenting?”

Defensiveness settled over her body. “Is there something so wrong with that?” she asked, voice suddenly in a whisper.

He didn’t answer but quickly stood up from his chair, the legs scraping against the concrete and she winced. Rafe took a step towards her, and her neck craned to adjust to his height. She caught a whiff of his leathery cologne, just barely detectable in the breeze. Blood rushing in her ears drowned out the cicadas and waves lapping against the pier. Really, everything that wasn’t Rafe Cameron became white noise, background visuals, nothingness. She’s pretty sure she wasn’t even breathing.

Rafe leaned in, testing the waters. Kiara was yet again reduced to a frozen prey animal until he reached up to hold her chin. His fingers were so careful, so delicate on her skin that she could feel the heat of his body before his touch. He was asking for permission with his eyes, and she wordlessly granted it as her own fluttered shut. 

But he didn’t kiss her. In fact, he dropped his hand and chuckled, and the embarrassment turned her cheeks a different shade of red. “You’re a jerk, you know th—?”

“Bend over.”

Kie’s eyes widened . “Excuse me?”

“Hearing aid need new batteries? I said bend over .” He plopped down in the chair again and gestured to the table in front of him. “Really wanna see what you’ve got under that cute nightgown.”

She reared back a bit, taking in his demand. “Or what?”

Rafe scoffed, finding her little question amusing. “Oh, no. I’m not blackmailing you. I don’t have to. Bend over, and don’t make me ask again.”

You haven’t even asked once! Kiara knew better than to bite back at him right now. The hunger in his eyes intrigued her, anyways.

So she bent over.

The satisfaction in his exhale had her flushing, but she wasn’t facing in a way for him to see. His warm hands pressed against the backs of her thighs at first, fingers digging into the flesh and sliding up to her ass. He skirted over her panties but pushed the hem of her gown up to her lower back.

His fingers played with the lace trim. “The hell are you doing wearing this, anyways? Walking around in this frilly, paper-thin gown? You could just make a shirt that says fuck me.”

“You don’t like the subtlety?”

He laughed at her joke, and she heard a rustling from behind but remained posed over the table. Rafe continued playing with her cunt, stroking over the damp fabric and teasing at the edges until her skin erupted with goosebumps. 

She heard him lean forward and tug down her underwear, all the way until he made her step out of them. Without turning back to be sure, she was almost certain he pocketed them. 

“C’mere, sweetheart,” he said, finally giving her permission to stand up again. Her face warmed at the endearing term, and turned back to see him holding his hard cock, the leaking tip glistening in the porch light. 

Rafe gave no instruction because, like the threat she’d suggested earlier, it wasn’t needed. Her dignity had no say anymore. 

Kiara obeyed, just like she’d done already, and climbed into his lap by holding onto his shoulders and straddling his spread legs. He aligned himself easily, notching the head into her warm, already-wet cunt, but didn’t move until she was ready. 

His fat cock stretched her open, receiving enough resistance that she struggled to sit all the way down. He let her work at it, fuck herself down on him until she was comfortable. He was in no rush.

He reached up to thumb her nipples through her gown and a strangled whimper slipped out of her. “Hush, baby,” Rafe said, grabbing her hips to still her for a moment. “Don’t want my dad to hear, right?”

Rafe pushed her down all the way, letting his cock fully sink inside and twitch at the soft spot inside her. This didn’t help with his request for her to be quiet. “Or, y’know. Someone else .”

He was antagonizing her, and he made it worse with how slow he was fucking her. The careful drag of his member, gliding against her walls, filling her and stretching out any ridges or folds inside her… Her only option was to cover her own mouth, something Rafe allowed with smug amusement on his face.

Once Rafe let go of her hips and allowed her to resume control, he enjoyed his personal show as Kiara chased her orgasm. One of her hands was gripping the back of the chair for stability while the other was barely muffling her noises, so Rafe was a gentleman and rubbed her clit for her.

Kie’s legs shook as she came, and she had to bury her face in the crook of his neck to silence herself. He pulsed inside her, spilling his seed deep in her cunt as she convulsed and mewled above him. 

He reached over for the stubbed-out joint and his Bic, and relit it as he softened inside her. She caught her breath before taking the weed from him and pulling a heavy drag. 

Rafe helped her stand, but didn’t return her underwear. “But how am I supposed to—?”

“Carefully,” he responded simply, putting himself back in his trousers and plucking the joint back from her fingers. “And I just paid the cleaners for the party, so don’t make a mess. Goodnight!”

***

Knock knock. Kiara looked over from the Glee episode she’d put on to find Sarah at the doorway of the media room. Without waiting for her to say anything, she skipped in and plopped onto the couch next to her. “Of course you like this show.”

“Gonna assume that’s a jab at my musical inclinations,” Kiara muttered.

“Totally,” Sarah said, leaning over to cuddle with her friend. It was a bit much, a bit crowding as she basically pushed Kie to lie down and rested on her stomach. 

It’s possible Sarah wanted plausible deniability about her intentions, but it didn’t take a full musical number between Rachel and Finn before her hands were caressing Kie’s stomach and thighs. Sarah’s fingers slipped into the waistband of Kie’s shorts, pulling them down along with her underwear. Kiara sat up with her thighs pressed together nervously, doe-eyed and looking at the door leading downstairs. 

“Wait, wait, fuck! You can’t do this right now , w-what if someone comes up?” There was only one other person in the house, but it wasn’t anyone she particularly wanted to walk in on them. 

The dots connected immediately. “Rafe never comes up here. We’re fine. Lay back.”

Without waiting for a response— or for Kie to lay back— Sarah continued tugging down her friend’s soft shorts and panties until she was just left in her t-shirt. Her knees knocked together on instinct, but Sarah pushed them apart to make room for her shoulders. 

She was able to make herself very comfortable between Kiara’s legs despite having been there only once before, and nowhere near this close . Sarah brushed her fingers down her slit carefully as first, then spread her open to examine.

It was exposing, intimate, and Kiara slid her elbows back and turned her head to keep from looking at her. She could feel it all the same, anyways. 

Sarah licked her middle two fingers and rubbed her clit, enjoying the way Kie’s hips twitched. She ran her digits up and down the folds, and beamed when her friend’s hole started to drool. Her fingers reached her swollen nub and framed it, watching it twitch and pulse. “God, you’re so pretty. Y’know your pussy is gorgeous?”

Kiara didn’t answer, because Sarah pressed the tips of those two fingers against her entrance and eased them inside. The blonde watched, enraptured and smiling a little with her lip between her teeth. Kie gave up and fell back fully to stare up at the ceiling guiltily. 

It wasn’t until this moment that Kiara thought maybe she shouldn’t be doing this. Not wanting to fuck the same girl as your brother was a pretty valid dealbreaker. Rafe was already aware of her and Sarah, but the opposite wasn’t true. At least… she didn’t think it was. 

Sarah’s mouth moved higher, kissing a trail up Kiara’s chest. Her lips latched onto one of her nipples, sucking and biting until Kie’s head fell back with a moan. Her fingers pumped and scissored into her hole, easily finding her G-spot while she sucked marks into her chest. The sensations were a heady mix of pain and pleasure that left her gasping for more.

Returning back to level herself with Kiara’s pussy, Sarah spread her friend’s cunt again to spit right on her pulsing clit. Kie gasped but had no more time to react before Sarah kissed the bud and sucked it into her mouth, all the while still using her fingers to stroke her G-spot. 

Kie sat up on her elbows, partially to see better and partially to get a better angle grinding her cunt against Sarah’s mouth. The blonde was patient, letting her friend use her tongue to make herself cum, but her fingers dug into Kiara’s thighs possessively. 

She gasped and bucked her hips as Sarah ate, biting her lips to keep quiet and raking her fingers through her hair. It allowed for more control as the soft pad of Sarah’s tongue pushed her over the edge. 

“Fuck, I’m cumming—” Kiara blurted and her body tensed up. Pleasure washed through her body in electric sparks and Kie pulled her friend’s hair a little. 

The afterglow of her intense orgasm was soured when the sound of Rafe’s voice came echoing up the stairs along with his footsteps. Sarah jumped up to the other armrest and Kiara grabbed the throw from the back of the couch to drape over the half-clothed body.

“Goddamn it, kid, I’m not gonna let you use my car again if you can’t put the fuckin’ k—”

Rafe reached the top of the stairs and turned into the theater, arms reaching up to rest on the top of the door frame. He paused mid-sentence to observe the situation, but let it slide without comment. Just a knowing smirk. 

“Have you seen my keys?”

“I told you, they’re in the bowl near the front door,” Sarah explained, breathless from getting her friend off (and the adrenaline rush of being caught doing so).

“I checked. You lie.”

They bickered back and forth until Sarah finally conceded to help him look. Before leaving, she turned back to a wide-eyed Kiara, who had been awkwardly trying to return to some normal state in the midst of it. “Wait here. I’ll be back.”

And for some fuckin’ reason, she did. 

***

“Hey, Kie!”

Rafe called to her as she walked down the hallway. He motioned for her to join him when she turned back, then slipped back into his bedroom to wait. 

Kiara looked behind her, as though the person to whom he was actually speaking would appear, but found only an empty hall. So she followed after him. 

His bedroom was neatly made and smelling of body wash. This—along with his wet hair, the steam coming from his bathroom, the boxers sitting low on his hips—confirmed she’d just missed him coming out of the shower. He gestured towards the bathroom and she followed, mind empty and pliable. 

The fog in Rafe’s bathroom was still thick, clinging to smooth surfaces, beading up, dripping onto the floor. Kie was just glad she’d braided her hair that morning. The fan above whirred noisily but did little to clear out the room. 

“What do you ne—?”

Realistically, she should’ve known he didn’t need anything. This is Rafe, after all, a man with more access and control than a man his age should possess, and what could Kiara give him that he couldn’t acquire elsewhere? No, he called her in because he wanted something.

He hardly acknowledged her when she joined him in the bathroom, merely beckoning her to stand in front of him. A large hand landed on the top of her skull, pushing down until her knees buckled and she dropped to the plush mat below. Without letting go of her head, his other hand reached up to pull down his boxers, letting his semi-hard cock spring free. 

Still unspeaking, Rafe extended his hand, taking her own and wrapping it around himself. The sheer audacity of every move, the manipulation of her body without even stopping to ask, the way he was already using his hold on her skull to guide her forwards—

It really turned her on. Her mouth fell open, not of disbelief, but to let him slide the smooth head of his cock onto her waiting tongue. Her lips closed around him, sucking on the tip and looking up at him for approval. 

He gave none because he expected nothing less than her complete compliance; Rafe’s eyes were drooped, jaw a little slacked, hair still dripping onto her and the floor around her. 

Everything Rafe did was in the name of dominating her. A hand rested on her head, not to push her further down his cock but to keep her down on her knees, as if she would dare to stand up. He gently rocked his hips forward and he held onto the edge of the sink for balance. 

“Fuck yeah, just like that,” he cooed, the first thing he’d said since calling her over. 

Her mouth stretched to accommodate him. It was no easier than fitting him inside her cunt, but he appreciated the effort as he rapidly approached an orgasm. 

“Where do you want it?” A silly question, especially when Kie’s lips were wrapped around his shaft. What did he expect from her?

She was resourceful, though, and fluttered her eyes shut. Kiara pushed down to the base of Rafe’s cock— or, as much as she could take— and pressed her tongue against the underside. A perfectly acceptable answer, in his eyes. 

Rafe’s hands gripped the counter behind him and he groaned, canting his hips forward to slip just a little further inside. His cock twitched and he gasped as he came down her throat. Kie was insatiable, sucking and swallowing until he trembled and pulled her head off with a wet pop . A thick, heavy string of spit connected her tongue to his cock, and when it broke to drip on her, it was still warm. 

“Fuckin’ amazing. See you downstairs.” He pulled his boxers back up and grabbed a pair of shorts from his room, then left her alone in the foggy bathroom to recover. 

Kiara stumbled out of Rafe’s bedroom, and she didn’t even care enough to make sure no one was watching her.

She intended on going downstairs to find something to do, but instead went back to the guest room where she slept. Her phone was still charging on her nightstand— she unplugged it and opened the phone app to make a quick call. 

“Hey Mom!... I’m glad you’re having fun! Say… is it alright if I stay here a few more days when you get back?”

[midnight1nk]

Y'know what would be the funniest and most fucked-up thing the Team could do? imagine this: as always, a new episode comes up and you see this

Well, we gotta watch the episode, don't we? ↓

It starts with the Crew (minus 4) doing their usual hijinks in the Castle lobby. Just another day. But then, out of curiosity, one of them asks "Hey, guys, what is behind that door anyway?"

No one has questioned it until now, they looked over the ominous door. A flashback from the "The New Castle" episode of 4 telling them "I'm not sure what's behind this door" and "We... don't talk about that room". For the Crew, some say that it's none of their business to know while others point out why go through the lengths to board the door up if 4's got nothing to hide. Well, if it was 4 anyway.

One peek wouldn't hurt. Besides, 4's out doing errands, this will be quick. So they try to peek through the cracks/keyhole. When that didn't work and only saw dark shadows, they tried to pry the boards off. Tried to karate chop the boards off. Tried using Meggy as a baseball bat. Tried using explosives.

During every attempt, each one tried to take a guess at what may be inside. At the start, the guesses were lighthearted like it was 4's huge stash of rizz soda cans or a secret collection of memes or something he was too embarrassed to share. Then, Mario tried BLJ and SOMEHOW THAT DID NOT WORK. This left the Crew spiraling, Mario's BLJ always worked without fail. What was behind that door?

We cut to 4 and Beeg4 on their way home to the Castle after finishing up some errands, the B plot of our episode. Obviously, 4 would be driving his forklift, trying to sing-along to a fnaf fansong. (no, trust me he would.) Then 4 remembers that he needed to get some groceries so he stops by the store. Beeg immediately wanted to ride in the cart basket.

Back to the A plot, most of the Crew is doing anything and everything they can to break the door open. Tari was put in charge of watching where 4 is by GPS until she got jumpscared by the same man calling her. He wanted to ask to check the fridge and pantry for him and she had to stall for time, pretty much telling 4 to take the store itself. She returned back to see the Crew trying and failing to make a hole in the wall. So they resorted to digging their way in with a tunnel through the floor. Of course, they kept guessing what was inside, the guesses this time meeting the strange vibes of the room. Maybe breaking the 4th wall a bit of fan theories (*points at self*).

The tunnel didn't work. Crashing a monster truck into the wall didn't work. 3's Meme Guardian powers didn't work. Breaking the 4th wall didn't work, "I swear it worked for SMG4 last time". What the fuck was behind that door?!

Meanwhile, 4 and Beeg4 were kicked out of the store with whatever bags they were able to hold on to. No, they weren't allowed to buy out the whole store, but they were lucky to have some food. So back to the road again. That was until Beeg4 spotted an ice cream truck driving ahead of them and proceeded to take the wheel. "Wait, BeegSMG4! You're not forklift certified AAAAAAAAAA—"

At this point, the Crew was starting to give up until someone from outside pointed out that there was a window. They all went outside and indeed, there was. "You got to be kidding me." They broke the glass and unlocked the window from the inside, only to be met with MORE wooden boards. Back to square one. "MAMA-FUCKER!" They check in with Tari on where 4 is.

Jumpcut to a grumpy 4 trying to fix the forklift up while Beeg enjoying his cone of ice cream, both stuck on the side of the road. "Y'know you could've asked for ice cream when we were at the store." Beeg lets out a pufferfish sound, arguing that it doesn't taste the same.

3 had enough and ran to his cafe for a moment before heading to the Meme Factory. The Crew's eyes followed him and wondered what was he planning. He came back with a giant bomb and a couple of memes in his arms, explaining that he was going to supercharge the bomb with meme energy. Sure, it'll be harder (and likely more dangerous) to do without 4 here but "desperate times call for desperate measures". While he focused on doing so, the rest were convincing him to stop, that he's gone insane over this.

But wouldn't you know it? It worked! Long at last, they all jumped into the hole that bomb made through the wood. The camera focused on their faces, their reaction to what was the whole fuss about. WHAT WAS INSIDE?

"It's.... It's..."

Cut to credits :)) that's it. that's the episode. but why of course, the episode was only a little bit over 15 minutes, we ran out of time.

And literally every episode after that, no one mentions about what they saw until the Team actually reveals it to the audience in a future episode (whether what was inside be mind-blowing or not). Not only that, but we also get to see the 2nd floor within the same episode so there's that.

I would honestly break my phone in half if this episode happened irl lmao. I should write this as an official concept 🤔

[royalreef]

(( Working on updating my rules today (after having already cleaned the house), and trying to figure out how to phrase this change to them.

Namely, I want to start writing Miranda's self harm impulses and urges and even attempts a little more graphically, and talk a lot more about the trauma and what she's gone through in the way that they still intrude on her life and that she's still ending up traumatized through the Merkingdom again and again. I feel like it's dishonest, a bit, to not feature them, because understanding them and understanding Miranda's own feelings regarding them is key to knowing how to even move forward or what that might even look like to begin with.

Like, my point is that you can't have Miranda without the ugly parts. That's one of the themes that I'm working with here, and something that's very important to me. You can't have her without her trauma and abuse, and you can't have her without the atrocities that she commits and which she serves as a part of the Merkingdom's royals. You have to come to terms with both, and part of that is truly understanding and getting how nasty they are to begin with. I refuse to make them look cool, or fun, or enjoyable by any definition. If violence happens, my goal is to write it as deeply uncomfortable and horrific and possible, and the repercussions of that violence are always going to ripple out and grow larger and larger over time.

It feels wrong to me, to mention all of this and to have it feature so heavily, but not be willing to ever look it in the eye and see it for what it is, you know? Innuendo and fading-to-black just aren't cutting it here. There's a lack of understanding that these promote, and I'm not a huge fan of obscuring the very things that I am trying to get people to grasp.

[teaandinanity]

What OTP True actually does: shows fics that have ONLY that relationship tag. What OTP True would do in my perfect world: automatically filter out every fic that has any of the attached character tags for the OTP showing up in ANOTHER relationship tag.

[waywardsalt]

there is undeniable opportunity to make bellum x linebeck fucked up but i dont have it in me. im a sucker for it just being fine with a side of like. light nautical crimes against nature but i cant make it toxic or w/e after a certain point. theyre chilling

[livelaughlovekill]

panic

[cesium-sheep]

I ended up chatting with amy for a bit about how sick I am, and about fighting to exist before. it was really nice to talk to them. they understand the shit I say, I have some longer friendships but they're the longest contiguous contact so they understand me to an exceptional degree. they understand how bad it is, even though or because I can't actually explain.

it's easy to just depersonalize and forget and drift by, I was depersonalized for so long both interpersonally and psychologically and it's so easy to fall back into, especially with the brain fog and the literal physical numbness. but being sick is so lonely.

I miss them. I miss you all.

I miss everything.

[maruflix]

MEA CULPA #oneshot #squidgame #therecruiter #thesalesman

The Salesman knows that love is truly the most dangerous game of all, and there is penance in yearning for someone who can never be yours. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea máxima culpa.

feat. the salesman / the recruiter　　⎯⎯　wc. 2.4k

cw: female reader, recruiter!reader, cheater!reader, language, the salesman is probably ooc, unreciprocated crush, one sided love, friends with benefits, cheating, kissing, choking, face-fucking, hair pulling, unprotected sex, slight frontman x reader, no beta we die like gi-hun’s mom

I.

Busan is so hot this time around.

You plop down with a sigh. Thankfully, having met your daily quota, you can go home early tonight. There are lots of desperate people nowadays, so finding ten people to join a game with a prize of 45.6 billion won isn’t really that difficult.

The clacking of shoes snaps you from your trance.

Without having to look up, you immediately figure out who it is. The scent of expensive cologne comes first, followed by the rustling. You grumble and slam your briefcase down, using it as a wall to separate the two of you. “Hey, not-so-friendly reminder: you’re on my turf.”

The Salesman blinks at you, feigning surprise. “Oh? I was under the impression that this was a team effort.”

His innocent tone makes you want to hurl, so you choose to ignore him completely. Instead, you stare at him in annoyance and wonder how he’s able to look so perfect in that cashmere suit of his. Not a single hair out of place, his tie straight and his shoes laced.

“You’re done for the day, aren’t you?” Your colleague tilts his head to look at you, a smile adorning his features, “Let’s play a game.”

You scoff.

He ignores your obvious displeasure and inches his whole body to face you, one arm shooting forward to grip the side of your bench. “Say, should we play ddakji? I’m in a good mood today.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of smacking paper squares?” It’s hard to keep a straight face when his handsome face keeps getting closer to you, “Get your ugly face away from me.”

The Salesman doesn’t budge. “Not until you say yes.”

He has a certain charm to him, you had to admit— he is so assertive, with just the right amount of pushy but not to the point of being obtrusive.

“Fine,” you exhale, “what do I get?”

II.

When you agreed to play a game with your fellow Recruiter (specifically, the totally unhinged one you’ve grown to dub as ‘The Salesman’), you didn’t expect this to happen.

Your colleague’s body pressed on top of yours, both your suit jackets thrown away somewhere in his fancy condo—he doesn’t even bother to wait for you to finish unbuttoning your shirt before he captures your hands and pins them on top of your head.

“Fuck,” you rasp out when he pushes himself into you agonizingly slow, savoring the way you tighten around him, “s-slow down—”

He chuckles breathily. “Darling, I’m barely moving. Besides,” eyes clouded with lust, he revels in how defenseless you look under him, “you lost our game, so you’re in no position to tell me what to do.”

With that, he sloowly drags himself out before slamming his full length into you, causing you to moan loudly. Greedily, he drinks in the sight of you, sprawled on his bed, legs open, taking all of him like a good, good girl.

“Who knew you were hiding all this underneath that suit of yours?” He teases, running a hand over your breasts, “I should’ve done this sooner.”

“I can, ngh,” Pushing yourself up on one elbow, you use your other hand to grip his chin, yanking him closer to you, “say the same about you.”

His smirk widens. “Always has to get the last word.”

He grips your throat, pushing you back down to the bed as he picks up his pace, thrusting in and out of you mercilessly while you mewl in pleasure.

“F-fuck-” you struggle, clawing on the hand that lodges itself around your throat like a serpent, “ngh,”

Your panic excites him like no other. “What’s wrong, darling? Having trouble breathing?” straightening his back, he keeps his hand securely wrapped around your neck, eyeing you down as he continues drilling into you, “Do you realize how wet you are?”

You wanted to look away, but his strong hand firmly keeps you in place. It’s not like you can hide yourself away, not when the sounds of plap! plap! plap! keeps echoing around the room—a testament of how much your cunt is drooling, soaking the bedsheets. His constant pace feels so good, and the way he gazes at you makes you feel lightheaded.

“You’re- haah, so tight,” he feels how you’re spasming around him and groans, “enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” he’s all out of breath now—you feel so good when you clamp down on him like that, so right, like the two of you are made for each other.

“Fuck! Yes!” You whine, your nails digging into his back, delicious jolts of electricity running along your spine when his girthy cock hits your sweet spot over and over, “Don’t stop, I’m, ugh, close-”

He doesn’t miss the way your legs wrap around his waist, preventing him from pulling away. Raising an eyebrow, he loosens his grip on your neck to bend down to your eye level, “What’s this? You want me to fill you up?”

His thrusts never decelerates and you’re too fucked out to even muster a reply, your moans nearly drowned out by the sloppy sounds of skin slapping against skin.

“You want that, huh?” Although his voice drips with arrogance, he’s also reaching his limit—the sight of you with your cheeks flushed and mouth hanging open drives him to the edge of insanity. He throws his head back, groaning, shooting his load deep into your womb.

You’re still shaking when he lets go of your neck, falling on top of you. Before you can think about the consequences of your actions, the fatigue catches up with you. Your body feels heavy, like it’s being pulled to the center of the earth—and your world goes dark.

Sensing that you’re not moving, The Salesman takes a glance at you and finds out that he’s quite literally fucked you unconscious. “Hey.” he shakes your shoulders a bit, but you’re unresponsive, your chest heaving up and down.

He huffs and rolls down to your side, studying your sleeping figure with a smirk. You look so beautiful in your afterglow, your hair framing your face like a halo. Like a man possessed, he moves to your ear, mumbling—

“I like you.”

III.

You groan loudly when the scent of your colleague’s cologne invades your nostrils again, ignoring the weird looks you got from strangers boarding the oncoming train.

The Salesman bats his eyelashes at you innocently.

“No, I don’t want to play with you again.”

“Aw,” he straightens his tie, “even though you told me that you had such a good time?”

At a loss for words, you can only stare at him.

The motherfucker has the audacity to cross his arms over his chest, gasping, “Stop ogling me!”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Come on,” He scoots closer to rub the back of your hand sensually, “I know you want me.”

It’s always a game with him. You just don’t know what kind of game it is right now, and why he’s so hell-bent on having you as player two.

“Nah, I’m good. I have two bags of groceries to carry home, so good bye.”

The Salesman keeps a trained smile on his face, but his heart clenches—he doesn’t know when he started to view you differently. It was fun to pick on you at first, but he’s slowly started to feel weird around you.

Like watching an oncoming crash, he can’t bring himself to stop.

“Wait! Let me help!”

IV.

Looking back, you probably should’ve stood your ground. But it’s hard to say no to his stupidly handsome face.

Your groceries are forgotten, your apartment still dark. You probably should start cooking dinner, but instead you’re on your knees, your back pressed against the wall.

“Open up,” his eyes are as cold as ever, his lips pulled up to form a victorious smirk as he guides his leaking cock to rest on your mouth.

You find yourself obeying, allowing him to fill your mouth full of his cock. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust to his size, already thrusting his hips, making you gag almost immediately.

“Just like that, baby,” he takes hold of the hands that’s trying to push him away and pins them against the wall, quickening, smirking down at you as you struggle to wrap your mouth around him, “You feel so good.”

Meanwhile, you’ve finally adjusted to his throbbing length. In an act of protest, you hollow your cheeks, deciding that it was your turn to dominate this man. You move your head to his pace and even quicker, your eyelashes wet with tears when you look up to glare at him.

He feels like he’s going to explode—your adorable defiance is so cute and your crying face—oh, don’t get him started on your crying face.

“Mmngh?!”

He jerks his hips sharply, moaning at how good it feels when the muscles of your cheeks tightens at the wide stretch of his cock. Oh, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you—

“Mmfh—?!”

Your muffled exclaim makes him halt and he looks down at your shocked face. Only now does the realization dawns on him that he’s accidentally said his thoughts out loud.

IV.

You no longer look up when you sense a presence sitting down next to you.

“This was a mistake.”

He’s silent, so you turn to look at him. The Salesman has a poker face on, but you can tell that he’s thinking. Contemplating.

“Honestly, stop it. I... I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?”

You sigh in frustration. “Look, I..” squirming in your seat, you finally confess, “I’m already in a relationship.”

“So?”

The genuine confusion in his tone makes you look at him in incredulousness. He doesn’t back down, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not asking you to love me, I’m asking you to let me love you. I don’t care if you’re married—hell, I don’t care if you have kids.”

“Wha-” You flinch away from his touch, shocked, “W-well, I care!”

“Do you?” He shoots back, his gaze sardonic, you felt like you might crumble underneath it. “Is that why you begged me to cum inside you?”

“I-”

“I know you want me.” His smile is confident, “so stop acting. You suck at it.”

You tremble, but lets him guide you away.

V.

You’re whimpering, your hands shakily unbuttoning his dress shirt. In front of you, he chuckles, bringing his hands up to grip your waist and pushing them up and down.

“Wait, fuck,”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he murmurs, rocking you back and forth, “a purely physical relationship?”

The Salesman keeps his grudges, and right now he’s punishing you by rutting into you, sending you gasping and moaning, but he’s unrelenting—one of his arm circles your waist as he pulls you closer, his thumb starting to circle the nub of your clit.

“Fuck, please, please-”

“You want to cum?” He stops touching you and you whine in despair, leaning on his broad chest.

“Yes, yes, touch me-” you grab his hand and aligns it to your sopping wet hole, but he easily yanks his hand away.

“Say it.”

You’re close to crying now—your nerves are ablaze, but he refuses to let you reach your climax. “W-what?”

“Say you love me.” his hand hovers above your clit, “Say it.”

You know what you’re doing is wrong—but right now, all you wanted was release.

“I love you, fuck-” your body quivers when he instantly rewards you by a sharp thrust followed by his finger deliciously circling your sensitive nub, “I love you, I love you-”

He’s moaning with you now, shutting you up by kissing you sloppily on the lips, his free hand reaching to grab your hair, pulling it. You gasp and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside, tasting you fervently.

“‘m gonna-” Before you can finish, your orgasm shakes your whole body. You can feel your walls clenching and unclenching around his length, trying to milk him dry. He groans in response and buries his face on your neck, pushing his hips up and down to chase his own high. He fucks you through your orgasm, making you scream, pounding into you raw until he shoots his load. It trickles down your pussy onto his own shaft, coating it with a thin layer of cum.

He kisses the top of your head and lays you down on the bed, your body shuddering in his arms. “Now, was that so hard?”

You look away as he wraps an arm over your naked body, pulling you close to him.

The first ray of sunlight peeks through the curtains and you realize that you only have about four hours to sleep.

VI.

It’s unusual, but you were a special case: recruiters work on the outside world so there’s really no need for them to visit the game venue, but you’ve received a special invitation.

Your heels clicked against the hardwood floors as you pass by the guards. The Salesman follows you closely, ignoring the stares that he got.

“Ah, you’re finally here.”

The Salesman stops in his tracks when he sees a man in a black mask standing several steps away. The masked man puts away his mask to reveal his face and his heart drops.

“Oh, you’re here too. Have you come to watch 456 play?”

The Salesman stays silent when you smile and walk away from him to the direction of his boss, thinking— ‘so you weren’t lying after all.’

The Front Man instinctively wraps his arms around your waist, his lips claiming yours. “Long time no see,” your lover smiles as you rest your head on his chest. “I’ve been busy, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you mumble. You miss having him by your side—so much so that you let another man hold you in his absence.

“Come on, the games are going to start.” None the wiser to your actions, he guides you away, taking one last look at his other subordinate, “Don’t stick around too long, the VIP’s are going to arrive soon.”

The Salesman smiles and nods, watching as you disappear behind the double doors with your lover in tow. His heart feels like it’s being stabbed and ripped to shreds—deep inside, he has held out hope that you’re lying; making up excuses to ignore the obvious chemistry between the two of you.

Now, when he closes his eyes, all he can see is the image of you kissing another man—but can he blame you? You told him the truth, he was the one who chose to keep loving you like a fool; dancing to the beat of your rhythm, losing himself in the process—

You are not to blame, he is. He’s the one at fault; he’s the one to blame.

As he turns away and walks to the direction of the exit, all he can think about is this: Your lover may have you now, but when the games are over—oh, his turn will come.

Patience. Patience. Your turn will come. He repeats it like a mantra.

Patience.

note: ok this is probably the most self indulgent fic i’ve written. first time writing smut i hope i did okay 😭 anyway english is not my first language so please be gentle with me 😭

[sturnsdarling]

'Chris likes girls who don't like him back'

Late night streaming with your best friends turns to a conversation about the boys' type, and Chris gets called out

vibe check: flirty fluffy fun, 3/4 of my favourite f words

1.4k words

A/N: i had this idea literally straight away after what Matt said about Chris' type.........the idea of being Chris' best friend that he openly fancies but you're 'not interested' makes MY TOES CURL BRO LIKE ARE YOU KIDDING anyway I hope you love this. PART TWO IS INCOMING…

love and cigs, merc

"Matt he's right there what the fuck are you doing?!" you scream down the mic, nearly throwing your controller across the room as you jolt back in your chair.

You watch as Matt gets sniped in the head from the back, laughing as he wails on this desk, making the whole stream glitch and nearly crash. Chris is laughing along with you, trying not to make it obvious that he's watching you, and not Matt.

"Matt, bro you need to fuckin' up your game, y/n/n is actually carrying us right now." Chris says as Matt picks his chair up off the floor and sits back down in a huff.

"I always carry when I come on with you boys" you smirk, looking at the tiny square of Chris on your screen.

"yeah because you're a little sweat" Matt chuckles.

The boys had been streaming everyday for over a week now and, after some convincing, they managed to get you to join in on one of their games. At first you were apprehensive, obviously, but they explained that they were trying to diversify their platform and find a more mature audience so, actually interacting with girls on the internet was their first step.

You and the boys had been friends for forever, you met them through Nick in elementary school and had basically all been inseparable ever since, you'd been in some earlier videos but the fans back then made it very difficult to just exist around them so, you took it upon yourself to only exist in their real life, not their online one.

Cut to right now, you're nearly two hours deep in fortnite trios with the boys on stream, everyone was super excited to see you when they announced that they'd be joining and, other than a couple comments that you all ignored, it was going really well.

"Matt, someone asked what our types are" Chris laughed, reading the chat.

"I'm not answering that" Matt dead panned, screwing his face up at the camera

"I can answer it for you both, for sure" you chuckle, "chat do you want me to answer it?"

"yes, yes, yes, yes, omg yes" Chris was reeling off the answers in chat, "everyone wants y/n/n to answer, Matt should we let her?" Chris asked.

Matt rolled his eyes with a smile, "g'head, y/n/n, expose us" He chuckled.

"okay, so" you said, in your best girly gossip voice, "Matt likes nerdy, reader, soft girls" you begin to explain, your train of thought is interrupted by Chris erupting into laughter.

"dude she's so right! you love a girl that looks like she's always buried in a book" Chris wails.

"what are you guys even saying?" Matt complains, the smile etched across his face giving his tone a lot less power.

"you definitely want a girl who will go on a hike with you or some shit, Matt" You say, enjoying this whole interaction a bit too much.

Chris was keeled over in laughter, loving finally being able to talk about this kind of stuff on the internet without everyone going insane.

"I dunno why you're laughing so much, Chris, you're next" Matt states, Chris shrugs in reply.

"i don't give a fuck, call me out y/n/n, gimme the best you got" Chris sits back in his chair, arms folded over his chest.

"hmmmm" you say, exaggerating your thinking, "what is the famous Christopher Sturniolos type" you rub your chin, pretending to be thinking deeply.

A knowing smirk is spread wide across Chris' face as he stares at your face on his screen, tongue prodding the side of his cheek.

"I know Chris' type" Matt adds, a menacing smile on his face.

"g'head matt, you take this one" you gesture to the boy on your screen.

"Chris likes girls who don't like him back" Matts brows raise in accusation towards Chris.

You try and hide the smile forming on your face, attempting to look as focused on the game as possible as your tongue prods at your teeth. Neither of the boys say anything, both of them cheesing, Matt in a teasing and knowing kind of way and Chris more so in a 'I cant say what I wanna say' kind of way.

"damn, Matt, you just called me the fuck out" Chris shakes his head, looking to the tiny version of you on his screen.

You're still quiet, trying to fight the smile on your face and look as focused as possible, you catch Chris looking as if he's looking at you on his screen and shake your head with a chuckle.

"what you grinnin' at, kid?" Chris smirks.

You raise your brows, shaking your head with a downwards smile, "no, nothin', nothin" you say, returning your focus back to the game.

All of the viewers watched the interaction and were blowing up the chat with comments about how Chris definitely likes you, saying things like 'did you guys see that?!', and 'think they're slick look at how they're both smiling!!!!!'. Chris was reading the comments and trying to hide the red blush crawling its way onto his cheeks, Matt was relishing in the fact that Chris was so obviously nervous, and you were just trying not to react.

"Chris, dude, you better wipe that smile off your face, chat's onto you" Matt pokes the bear.

"chat ain't onto shit, Matt, shut the fuck up" Chris says, trying to be serious but unable to push his smile down.

"you know i'm right though, you do like girls who don't want you" Matt pushed on with his joke.

"Matt, shut your fuckin' mouth, dude" Chris rolled his eyes and shook his head, his smile still prevalent.

You couldn't help but laugh, still pretending to not care about the situation unfolding. In hindsight, it probably made it all the more obvious that you knew exactly what Matt was referring to.

"you're awful quiet, y/n/n, you got nothing to say on Chris' type?" Matt extends his joke over to you and your attention is immediately on him.

"nah, you hit the nail on the head, I think" you shrug, stretching back in your chair and adjusting your headset.

"oh really?" Chris replies, brows raised in accusation.

"mhm" you nod, faux innocently.

Chris kisses his teeth, nodding and trying to hide the smile on his face once again.

"yeah, chat, Matts right, I like pretty girls, who don't like me back" Chris says, subtly turning his attention to you and then back to chat.

You roll your eyes with a smile, leaning forward once more to lock into the game.

"you're ridiculous, Chris" Matt chuckles into the mic, watching you shift in your seat, trying not to blush.

The rest of the game went off without a hitch, you guys went on to win multiple times and all the viewers eventually stopped trying to get the conversation back to Chris' obvious crush on you. You played until the early hours of the morning, joking and laughing with the boys' just like old times and relishing in the fact that you were finally able to be a part of their online presence again. When it hit around three a.m you told them you had to sign off, explaining that you had to be up early for college that morning.

"guys, I gotta go, but I'll text you when I wake up" you said, pulling off your headset, and brushing your hair back with your hand.

"alright, y/n/n, thanks for helping us bury kids, its always a treat" Matt grinned at you, shooting you his token boyish smile.

"you know I live to humble kids on fort, Matt" You shrugged, putting on your best boyish persona, earning a laugh from Matt

"okay seriously, I gotta go, bye chat!" you smile, "bye boys" you go to switch off your computer but you're stopped by Chris booming voice.

"bye, beautiful" he says, a cheesy grin on his face.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as an uncontrollable smile finds your lips, "bye, Chris" you reply, switching off your computer.

The whole chat erupts with people losing their minds over Chris calling you beautiful, the boys say nothing, Matt just shakes his head, laughing at the chat as he watches Chris, grinning with pride and completely unashamed of his very obvious crush on you.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10

[svtiddiess]

Sex Education

Synopsis: In all your years of education you learned that there are many methods to study: flashcards, study groups, the pomodoro method etc. But you find that practice is better than theory. And what better way to study Biology than practice with your study buddy?

Pairing: loser!virgin!med student!Mingyu x afab!med student!reader

Genre: smut, slight crack, med school! au, mini-series

Rating: mature

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: pet names (puppy), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), creampie, size kink, choking, loss of virginity, sub!Gyu, big dick!Gyu, loser!Gyu, riding, masturbation, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: Thank you so much for helping me with the synopsis my twin @tomodachiii! As promised, here's sub!Gyu.

Thank you so much to @onlymingyus for beta reading!

Read part 2 here!

Click here to join my taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

Mingyu.

That's the only thing on your mind right now—nothing else, just Mingyu. You should probably be paying attention to the lesson, but how could you, with the hot nerd sitting right within your line of sight? Okay, maybe you chose this seat specifically so you could look at him without getting caught, but still! He’s a distraction you’re more than happy to have.

You rest your chin in your hand, sighing as your eyes trace over his figure. He’s built like a Greek god—strong, tall, with perfectly styled black hair, and his large square glasses barely hide his handsome, tan face. Oh, what you’d give just to see him without those glasses on.

You’ve known Mingyu since middle school. You never really interacted, but you definitely noticed him around. Back in school, he was known as the nerdy kid with glasses and a scrawny, lanky frame to match. Shy and awkward, he was an easy target for bullies. But over the years, his muscle mass increased, and his frame filled out. It seems he’s been putting in serious hours at the gym, and it’s definitely paid off.

Although he’s the most handsome guy in med school, he’s still incredibly shy and reserved, keeping his circle small and close-knit. Despite numerous people, especially girls, trying to get closer to him, he just pushes them away. That’s why, despite your massive crush, you haven’t made a move. You’re too scared he’ll shut you out and avoid you for good.

You can't help but bite your bottom lip and squeeze your thighs together as you rake your eyes over his bulging biceps, his shirt barely able to contain the muscle. Just one chokehold; one chokehold is all you're asking for, really. You sigh once again, knowing that you'll never be able to have him.

Your train of unholy thoughts is abruptly interrupted by the sound of your professor calling your name. Startled, you sit up and look towards him.

"Miss Y/N, are you even paying attention?" Prof. Choi huffs, crossing his arms.

"Of course I am, professor," you reply, flashing the sweetest smile you can manage.

"Then, for the third time, please answer the question on the board," he says, gesturing to the problem.

"Uh…" you trail off, completely lost.

Prof. Choi sighs and tells you to see him after class, to which you reluctantly agree. You sink into your chair, dreading what’s to come. Shaking your head, you let out a sigh and shifted your gaze back to Mingyu, watching in awe as he effortlessly answered the very question you stumbled over. Tall, muscular, hot, and smart—he really is the perfect guy.

You grumble as Prof. Choi calls your name, sabotaging your plan to slip out of class. Sighing, you drag yourself over to his desk, only to be surprised when Mingyu joins you. You glance between Mingyu and Prof. Choi, waiting for an explanation.

"Y/N, I’ll get straight to the point—you’re failing this class," Prof. Choi says. "At this rate, I’m not sure you'll be able to move on to the next year."

Well, it’s not your fault that a hot distraction named Kim Mingyu exists.

"That’s why I’ve assigned Mingyu here as your tutor to help you pass," he says, nodding toward Mingyu.

Your eyes widen, and you struggle to suppress a smile. Mingyu tutoring you? Spending time alone with him? This feels like a dream come true. You silently thank both Prof. Choi and the heavens for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Mingyu gives you a shy smile. "I hope we can get along well," he says, extending his hand.

You gratefully take it, noticing the blush coloring his cheeks.

"Please take good care of me, Mingyu," you say, beaming, already looking forward to your tutoring sessions.

You smooth out your skirt one last time before opening the door for Mingyu. You made sure to wear your sluttiest outfit today. After insisting that your brain works better when you study in your room, Mingyu shyly agreed to hold the tutoring sessions there.

You smile and step aside to let him in, watching as he sheepishly steps into your house. Making sure your ass is sticking out, you made him follow you upstairs to your room.

You sat down on your bed, subtly raising your skirt, and gestured for Mingyu to take a seat next to you. He awkwardly took his seat and started pulling out his notes.

He keeps his eyes on his notes as he starts explaining today’s lesson—something about the Krebs cycle, though you’re not really listening. You’re too busy admiring his handsome face. You twirl a strand of hair and blink sweetly as you ask (hopefully relevant) questions, but he barely glances at you while answering.

After what feels like hours of studying (it’s been 30 minutes), you whine and beg him for a break, and he blushes as he agrees.

"Would you like some snacks? Or maybe water or juice?" you ask, perking up.

"Just a glass of water is fine," he mumbles, still focused on his notes.

You nod and grab a glass of water for him and a snack for yourself. Returning, you hand him the water with a smile, which he accepts with a quiet “thank you,” while you peel your banana for your snack.

You lick the tip of the banana before biting down on it, smirking when you see Mingyu gulping at your actions. Noticing you looking at him, he blushes and quickly averts his gaze.

"Want a bite?" You offer him with a sultry smirk.

"N-No, thank you," he mumbles, his ears turning red.

You giggle as you finish your banana and scoot a little closer, prompting him to continue the lesson. But he’s a stuttering mess, tripping over his words and repeatedly asking for more water to soothe his suddenly dry throat.

After stuttering his way through, Mingyu finally managed to finish the lesson. Sore from having hunched over, you stretch, not so subtly pressing your chest against his arm. Mingyu flushes, quickly gathering his notes and mumbling something about being late for a gaming session with Wonwoo.

You see him out, throwing in a wink and waving goodbye. You watch as he stumbles a bit while getting onto his Vespa and driving off. Chuckling to yourself, you can't help but smile at how cute he is.

The rest of the tutoring sessions go the same way: you not-so-subtly flirt with Mingyu, while he either purposely ignores it or remains completely oblivious. You even try to out-slut your outfits with every tutoring session, but nothing seems to work.

One night, after yet another session, you lie in bed, frustrated that Mingyu isn’t picking up on your very obvious hints. Who knew the loser nerd would actually turn out to be a huge loser? You sigh, but him being a huge loser is what you find most endearing about him.

You bite your lip, remembering what he wore today—a black polo that stretched perfectly over his muscles, jeans that hugged his thighs just right, and of course, those thick black frames.

You can't help but sneak your hand down your torso as you remember how his arm felt pressed against your boobs. They felt so strong and firm, you bet that he could easily carry you and fuck you mid-air.

You shiver as your hand sneaks under your panties. You circle your pussy, collecting your arousal before pushing a finger into your hole, sighing at the slight stretch. You moan at the thought of Mingyu's fingers being way bigger than yours. His fingers would stretch you out so well before he finally fucks you with his huge cock.

You insert another finger and start thrusting your fingers, moaning out Mingyu's name. You imagine him hovering over you as he relentlessly thrusts into you, groaning your name right beside your ear. He'd growl as your fingers rake his back, leaving angry red marks. You'd wrap your legs around his hips and push him in deeper, making him breed you.

Your other hand circles your clit as you feel yourself getting to the edge. You imagine him thrusting from behind as his large bicep chokes you, putting just enough pressure to heighten the pleasure. He'd whimper and moan in your ear, letting you know how good you feel wrapped around him. He'd fill you up with his cum, again and again, and again, until the sheets underneath you are soaked with your mixed fluids.

Your breath hitches as you cum, whispering his name like a prayer, hoping that if you say it enough times, he’ll appear before you and make your dreams come true.

But he doesn't, and you're left lying in bed, sticky, sweaty, and alone.

You yawn for the umpteenth time as Mingyu drones on about anatomy; you're sure your brain has shut down by now. You sigh as you lean back onto the bed, too tired even to sit up.

"Mingyu, can we please take a break? I don't think my brain can take any more of this," you groan, resting your arm over your eyes.

"U-Uh, yeah, sure," Mingyu mumbles, fiddling with his notes. "We could always switch to a different topic if you want a change of pace…"

"What's the next topic?"

"The reproductive system."

Your eyebrows shoot up, and a smirk paints your face as an idea pops into your head. You sit up and grin at Mingyu.

"Sure, let's learn about the reproductive system."

Happy that you're finally interested in a topic, Mingyu gathers his notes and starts to explain. After about 15 minutes of explanation, you put your hand over his and gently push away his notes.

"Mingyu, I don’t understand the topic at all," you say with a pout, shifting to sit directly in front of him. His face turns bright red, clearly flustered. "I think it would help if we put the theory into practice so I can learn better," you purr.

Mingyu stumbles over his words, stuttering, his brain clearly short-circuiting. You giggle at his flustered state and shift to sit on his lap, your legs on either side of him.

"Will you let me use you to put the theory into practice, Mingyu?" you ask, tilting your head with a pout as you gently cup his face.

"I-I’m not sure h-how…" Mingyu stammers, swallowing hard.

"Oh, you poor thing," you coo. "It's okay, I'll guide you, puppy. Will you let me?"

He licks his lips and lets out a shaky breath before giving a small nod.

"Don't worry, puppy, I'll make sure to take good care of you," you hum as you gently remove his glasses.

He blinks and looks up at you, lips parted and cheeks flushed. You take a moment to admire his handsome face without the glasses. Cupping his face, your eyes trace over his features—his strong jawline, his parted lips, and the small mole on the tip of his nose. Unable to resist, you lean in and place a gentle kiss there, making him shiver.

"Can I kiss you, puppy?" You whisper.

"P-Please," he whimpers, and you can't help but smile over how pathetic he sounds.

You lean in and press your lips against his, and he kisses back desperately, hungry for your lips. You chuckle into the kiss, his inexperience showing with every hesitant movement. When you pull back, he leans forward, chasing your lips and letting out a soft whine when you don’t return the kiss.

"Puppy, if you don't behave, I will punish you," you scowl, furrowing your eyebrows.

"'m sorry," he mumbles with a pout.

You plant a soft kiss on the tip of his nose, then slowly run your hands down his torso, gently squeezing each muscle through his white polo. He moans and shivers under your touch, his eyes squeezing shut.

"Puppy works hard in the gym, hm?" You giggle, squeezing his chest slightly harder, eliciting a gasp from him.

You giggle, then start slowly dragging your hands to his arms, squeezing his biceps.

"God, your arms are so big and strong," you moan, squeezing him hard. "I want you to choke me, puppy. Can you do that for me? Choke me with your biceps?"

Letting out a shaky breath, he nods. You shift, pressing your back against his chest. He gently puts you into a chokehold and squeezes his arm slightly. Your eyes roll back, and a moan slips from your lips when you feel his biceps push against your throat.

You can't help but feel small in Mingyu's hold; he's just so big and beefy. You grind your hips against him, and you feel his grip faltering. He whimpers and pushes his erection against your butt.

"P-Please, I can't. I-It hurts," he whimpers against your ear.

You sneak down your hand and palm him through his jeans, making him groan and buck your hips against your palm.

"Need me to take care of your problem puppy?" You giggle, palming him roughly.

"Please," he strains out, choking back a moan.

He releases you from the chokehold, and you quickly clamber over to grab the bottle of lube you've stashed on the side table. You look over to see that he's already pushed his jeans and boxers down and freed his aching cock.

"Impatient are we now, puppy?" You chuckle, making his cheeks heat up.

Locking eyes with him, you give him a sultry look as you slowly peel off your panties but keep your skirt on. He gulps hard, shifting in place, anticipating your next move.

Biting your lip, you slowly crawl back over to him. You pour lube all over his cock and give him a few pumps, he whines your name and bucks his hips, making you giggle.

"Gonna make you feel so good, puppy," you whisper as you shift to hover over him.

You grab onto his shoulders and slowly sink onto his big cock, the stretch making you moan out loud. Mingyu whines and groans under you, his hands fly to your hips, fingers digging into you.

"F-Fuck," he groans, squeezing his eyes shut as your warmth slowly envelopes him.

Your mouth goes agape, and your eyes roll back when you feel his tip kiss your cervix.

"M-Move, please move. I-I can't," he begs, muscles straining under you.

You slowly lift yourself and slam back down onto him, making the both of you moan out loud. Slowly picking up your pace, you start riding him. He becomes a blubbering mess under you, moaning your name and whining at how good it feels.

"Look at the mess we're making, puppy," you pant out, lifting your skirt and showing him the sticky mess forming at the base of his cock.

He looks down at where both of you are connected and moans. He starts picking you up and slamming you down at an animalistic pace, his hips meeting you halfway. You squeal at the feeling of him rutting into you.

Unable to hold back any longer, he cums hard, filling you up to the brim with his seeds. Desperate to reach your high, you continue to ride him despite his chokes and whimpers. You capture his lips into a messy kiss to distract him from the overstimulation.

"C-Circle my clit," you mumble in between the kiss, and he complies, his hand immediately sneaking down and rubbing your clit in circles.

You yell his name as you cum around him, squeezing every drop of cum out of him. Mingyu moans, and a few tears slip from his eyes at the feeling of you squeezing him with a vice-like grip.

You both take a moment to catch your breath, your head resting on Mingyu’s shoulder as he leans back against the headboard. Licking your lips, you cup his face and look into his dazed eyes.

"You did so well, puppy," you coo, watching him blush and give you a fucked-out smile.

"But I don't think I've fully understood the topic yet. Maybe we should go over it again, just to be sure," you say before smashing your lips on his again.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour

@iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina

@theidontknowmehn @aliiikareed @jennwonwoo @toplinehyunjin

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Since you've mentioned Scarlet Lady in one of your posts, what's your opinion on it?

I've mentioned before that I'm a big Scarlet Lady fan, which is the only reason that I'm comfortable answering asks like this one. I don't publicly criticize the content of hobby creators. That's wildly inappropriate! Punch up, not down.

The linked post was a general discussion of the adaptation process and how @zoe-oneesama did a fantastic job, so for this one, I'm just going to do some general gushing because I do actually like praising and enjoying things!

Scarlet Lady's chosen format (comic) allows it to have this wonderful conversation with canon where it can rely on the framework of canon to tell it's own story while also using canon for jokes and meta commentary. This means that Scarlet Lady is about as close as fan content can get to a direct reboot because it's able to have moments like this one from the comic's first post:

[Image description: Adrien standing in his room after transforming into Chat Noir for the first time. He is beaming and his eyes are shining with excitement as he exclaims, "This is gonna be awesome!"]

A single picture that communicates everything we need to know about Adrien getting his miraculous. When I've done this same thing in fanfic, I had to write out the full scene because that's how novels work. You have to give the full picture. With a comic, you can just quickly acknowledge this thing that we all already know and then move on to the new stuff. A picture really is worth a thousand words! (Or, in my case, more like two thousand...)

This allows Zoe to keep the same akumas that we get in canon without her story feeling like a boring rehash because she can focus on what's different in her version. A novelization of the same content would have to show both the stuff that stays the same and the stuff that changes for it to be coherent. That's a lot less fun to read and write. It's why I basically never revisit canon akumas in my own stuff. It's just too derivative for the written word.

This is one of the big reasons that I loved Scarlet Lady. Because it was able to have that more directly conversation with canon, it was able to take canon and say, "hey, why don't we embrace the tone that you established in season one and retell the story with that vibe?" That's something that I desperately wanted to see, but that is totally unsuited to my chosen artistic form. It couldn't be a novel. It had to be a comic.

If you want to know what a true formula show version of Miraculous would look like, Scarlet Lady is it. It does everything that Miraculous should have done:

Sticks to a lighthearted tone where nothing is ever super serious

Keeps Gabriel entirely unsympathetic

Has slow character development and background hints at a bigger plot as the only serial elements, allowing the individual episodes to be their own story while never feeling incomplete or rushed

Allows characters other than Marinette to shine while keeping Marinette as the clear main character

Makes Adrien narratively important

MAKES THE LOVE SQUARE CUTE SO I CAN ACTUALLY SHIP IT

Understands that Lila and Chloe can't coexist as antagonists

Reverses the love square, which is the best way to tell their story. Yes, I will die on my "love diamond" hill. It's a good hill. Come join me. I'll bring cookies.

I could keep going, but you hopefully get my point. While Scarlet Lady is certainly not the only way to do a formula version of canon, it's proof that a formula version does work! You don't have to go the serious route for Miraculous to be successful.

I want to take some time to gush about the ending, but I don't want to spoil it, so I'll put that gushing under a "read more" in case anyone hasn't seen it. I'll finish out this less spoilerish section with this:

I feel like some people are surprised when they learn that I love Scarlet Lady because - as some of you have probably picked up - it is quite different from my ideal version of canon. I'm not sure why that would stop me from enjoying a thing, though. It's important to remember that our personal ideals are not the only way to tell a good story. There are lots of ways to take what canon gave us and make something wonderful! It's part of the reason that I enjoy being in a fandom.

If I only wanted to see my ideal take on canon, then I'd stick to writing/imagining my own stories. But I don't want that! I like seeing alternate takes, too. Scarlet Lady is one of my personal favorites. It's completely different from anything that I'd ever think to write and that's why I'm so glad that it exists! I like being entertained just as much as I like creating my own entertainment and I don't want to only read stories that look like something I'd write. That's boring!

Spoilers below:

I've mentioned before that there are many, many ways to properly handle Chloe's character and Zoe did such a good job with her take on that! Chloe isn't absolved of all the things she did wrong, but she's also treated as a young woman with the ability to change.

While the comic bares the name of Chloe's alter ego, she was the never the main character. She never went on a journey. The story kept her to her shallow season-one self: a petty brat who just wanted attention. It did this because that's who Chloe was in canon and who Chloe needed to be for the comic to work.

The first time we see any complexity from Chloe is in the comic's final few episodes, which was absolutely the right call for Zoe to make! In a recent post, I talked about how the end of a formula show is the only time when you can break the formula in catastrophic ways and that's what Zoe did. She kept Chloe static until it was time to end the story and that's when the formula breaks. That's when Chloe gets depth because, once she has depth, the formula doesn't work.

That depth is not used to redeem Chloe, but to show us that there's hope for Chloe. That this petty brat who we've been dealing with has some serious issues and needs help. Help that she's going to get far away from the people that she's hurt because her issues aren't an excuse for what she's done. They don't erase the harm that she caused. At the same time, understanding her issues makes us hope that she can be better now and Scarlet Lady took a moment to give us that hope. To show us the START of Chloe's true story.

That is the kind of ending that I have wanted to see in so many properties!!! It was so wonderful to finally get one that did this right. A story that understood that full redemption to the team and damnation to death/suffering are extremes on a scale of possibilities. You don't have to go to extremes! You can fall in the middle and the middle is a perfect, natural place for Chloe to land in this kind of story. Fully redeeming or even fully damning Chloe simply doesn't work in lighthearted formula content. It's too big a lift as canon has already demonstrated.

I also loved Zoe's take on Emilie. I've mentioned that I don't like evil Emilie in part because it makes her revival feel like the start of a new story. She's back and she'd bad, so we have to take her down now! But I don't want that. I want the story to end when Gabriel is stopped. Zoe does this by giving us an Emilie that is another perfect middle ground. She matches canon's uncomfortable implications without feeling like a true villain who is a threat to society.

[sunsburns]

okay but logan taking an interest in neighbor who works in fashion?? he always sees her carrying stacks of magazines, dressed in her chic attire that is sometimes a bit too tight in all the right areas, glasses slipping off her nose, always making calls on that damn phone, and yet he always wishes she looked his way…

oh anon ur cooking here. i think this is what's pulling me out of my writing slump 🥴 (wade breaking the fourth wall, suggestive 16+)

the first time he noticed you, it wasn't even in your building complex, but rather the stairs to the subway station down the street. you were rushing up the steps while he, wade, laura and al were just about to enter. it was al who noticed you first, calling out your name and poking your side with her walking staff.

you shrieked, dropping one of the fabric rolls you had been carrying, a curse at the tip of your tongue before you realized who it was. "al," you sighed, a little relieved, when you saw her and wade, who was dressed in a "i love nyc" t-shirt.

logan, being the gentleman he was, picked up the roll you dropped, handing it back to you. it was then that you looked at him, or well, briefly glanced his way with a quick "thank you" before wade started fucking talking.

that son of a bitch.

he didn't even have the courtesy to introduce the two of you to each other.

it was obvious you were in a rush, lips in a tight smile as you nodded and tried to smile at wade telling you all about how they were about to "hit up" times square.

logan felt bad for you, but only a little bit. the longer you stayed to listen to wade's painful monologue, the more he could look at you. he was a little shameless about it, perhaps not the most gentlemanly thing he could've done, but god you were just a sight for sore eyes.

a pretty thing in a mini skirt despite the cool late september breeze that was starting to kick, white, lace and ruffled. delicate with tall brown leather boots. and a washed-out denim vest you wore as a top, two buttons undone, a little pink bow tied to the pocket. logan didn't know a lot about fashion, but he liked the way clothes looked on you.

and then you were gone, al kicking wade across the shin to shut him the hell up when she realized you were in a rush. she let you go, and you left, quickly trading numbers with laura and without saying much of a goodbye or another glance logan's way.

but he watched you go, watched the way your skirt moved with the wind too.

"yeah, look at it bounce. god, i am no better than any man. " wade hummed, leaning all his weight on logan's side. "i didn't peg you as a creep, honey badger. with the way you were undressing the reader with your eyes, i would've thought you were on a registered sex offender's list."

"shut the fuck up, wade."

logan could hear the way laura snorted, her and al continuing their way down the stairs.

wade held his hands up in surrender before logan could try anything (and by anything, he meant to cut him to pieces. wade can't deal with that right now, the blood would take ages to get off his white shirt). "i'm just saying, after living with us for a few months, i would've thought you'd met her by now."

logan raised his brow, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"i mean, she literally lives across the hall." wade turned his head to the side, pointing his thumb at logan, "he can't possibly be this stupid, right? it's gotta be for the plot to build up tension or something."

from that day on, logan's started to notice you more. not that he was looking for you, he's not that big of a creep. but he's spotted you out the window some days, running down the sidewalk, always in a rush. then he was able to hear the way you slam your door shut when you leave in the mornings or when you get back home.

every single day, you're usually out and about. unless it's a sunday, those are the days you stay in your apartment, sewing and hanging out with blind old al and sometimes even fucking laura. turns out, you were the one who got laura all of those new clothes, made them for her.

jesus christ, how out of the loop was he?

you stood out like a sore thumb, always carrying something. whether it be magazines, sketchbooks, fabric rolls, or bags, you're always struggling to open your door when you get home, keys sometimes slipping from your grasp as you're trying to juggle everything.

one day, logan had come back from a run and spotted you in the hallway. well, he had heard you from floors below and was able to pick up the lingering scent of your perfume by the time he entered the lobby. it took him a bit of courage to walk up the few flights of stairs knowing he'd bump into you.

what the fuck was this?

he was a grown-ass man for god's sake. you had him overthinking and blushing at the mere thought of being in the same space again.

when he saw you in the hallway, you were on the phone, the device tucked between your ear and your shoulder, cursing under your breath as you tried to pick up your keys. you were wearing a black dress that day, a black hat and a big maroon scarf around your neck, "no, emily, don't fucking buy it in that colour. it looks like fucking vomit. i don't care what amy told you, she's basically colour blind-"

you stopped mid-sentence when logan appeared in front of you, grabbing the keys for you. "oh- uh. thanks."

"yeah, no problem."

he noticed your nails and glasses were dark red to match the scarf. lipstick too.

you didn't mean to grow flustered in his presence, he could tell from the way you froze, as if you didn't know what was supposed to happen next. he had disrupted your daily pattern, everything in your life moving constantly and quickly but all of a sudden everything is slower. it left you breathless.

"you're logan, right?"

he furrowed his brows. he hadn't expected you to remember him, nevertheless, remember his name. "yeah."

"wade told me all about you," you said, and your eyes dropped from his face a little, then lower, a smirk not too different from a sly cat's. you were staring shamelessly, eyes following every part and curve of his body, the way his long-sleeve shirt clung to his skin with sweat. "you don't seem austrailan."

logan tried not to groan. the picture of wade's stupid face in his mind now that you've mentioned him. he hated that the two of you seemed close. "i'm canadian."

"aren't you full of surprises?" you laughed, a smooth, teasing sound, and finally pushed the keys into the nob, unlocking the door. you turned, lingering by the door as if you were about to invite him in, but then the voice from your phone was trying to get your attention and you nearly seemed disappointed. "i'll see you around, logan."

and you were gone again.

logan liked to see your different outfits every day, dawning a different style every time you walked out that door. it was like you could never settle for one style, but you managed to look so fucking good in everything and every colour you put on.

he could never get tired of it. never get tired of you.

you and your tiny bottoms that he swore were getting smaller and smaller every day, even though the city grew colder and the days shorter. you and your stupid phone calls that sometimes went on late at night. you and your clothes, every single one different from the last.

you and your sketches, the ones he had started to find loose pages on the floor of the small hallway between your apartments, pretty designs of lingerie on a model that looked a little bit too much like you for it to be a coincidence.

though you never made another attempt to talk to him, you knew he was watching you. but you never chased, your heels were too expensive for that. you were just trying to give him a reason to come on you.

to you**

to come to you.*

sorry. typo.

[flowercrowncrip]

Today (July 19th) is Changing Places awareness day!

[Image description: a photo of the changing places toilet with the features listed below /end ID]

What is a changing places toilet?

A changing places toilet is a toilet which can be used by disabled people like me who can’t use a standard accessible toilet. This may be because someone needs extra equipment, and/or room for carers to help them. The main features of the changing places toilet are:

Lots of room! Changing places toilet must be at least 12 square metres. This means that there is plenty of room for a wheelchair user to turn around as well as room for up to 2 carers.

A peninsular toilet! This is a toilet which has enough room on each side were wheelchair to be positioned for transferring. As with standard accessible toilet there are grab rails on each side.

Accessible washbasin! The washbasin must have room underneath for a wheelchair user. An adjustable height washbasin is preferred.

A ceiling hoist! This allows people who cannot transfer independently to be able to safely get out of their wheelchair. A person brings their own sling which is hooked onto the hoist allowing them to be lifted.

An adult size changing table! This allows people need help with undressing to use the toilet, or help changing incontinence pads to have their needs met safely and with dignity. Without a changing table, many people have to resort to lying on the toilet floor to change their pads which is unsafe, undignified and unhygienic.

Why raise awareness?

The lack of changing places toilet means it’s hard for disabled people like me to leave the house. It’s limits our ability to socialise, access work/education, exercise, travel, and even attend hospital appointments. (In the UK there are only 93 hospitals with a registered changing places toilet).

I have to plan my entire life around the few changing places toilet that exist, which massively shrinks my world. It’s incredibly difficult for me to travel (less than 2% of train stations in the UK have a changing places toilet), go days out, visit the hospital, and otherwise experience the world outside my house. Hopefully one day every event like Pride or music festivals will have a mobile changing places toilet, and there will be public changing places toilet with 24/7 access in every town, as well as changing places toilets in public buildings like leisure centres, libraries, museums, cinemas, tourist attractions and shopping centres.

More info including what you can do to help the UK campaigns for more changing places toilets can be found at changing-places.org

[quicksilversnails]

It's so fun how the Princess and the Dragon acknowledges and plays with game mechanics that are assumed to be non-diegetic, and uses them to add insight to the story/characters.

The title card is a really obvious example, being something that TLQ actually sees and can comment on, and something that the Princess hadn't ever seen. What most would assume is just a framing device for the player is a real element of the world/construct.

I think it emphasizes how the story that the Narrator constructed is only "meant" to be told to TLQ. After all, The Narrator only appears in TLQ's mind, providing elaborate descriptions and attempting to contextualize the events of the game as a heroic task to save the world. Meanwhile the Princess is all alone, with no title cards or exposition, no context for why any of this is happening to her. The story revolves around her, but it doesn't care about her beyond her designated role, as something to be slain and hated. Her perspective is irrelevant to the Narrator's plan, so she doesn't get the fancy presentation or necessary context: she doesn't deserve it.

There's also those long stretches of dialogue where the voices talk to each other in TLQ's mind without progressing the story. They're occasionally acknowledged by the Princess elsewhere (Prisoner, Nightmare) but P&tD makes it very explicit and confirms that time is actively passing during these conversations, with TLQ staring in silence for who knows how long.

(Personally I don't think all of the voice dialogue is necessarily in real time, if only because some Princesses wouldn't have had the patience for it. Like if you had really stood still for that long, the Beast would've definitely eaten you... she's not waiting for you to finish thinking lol)

This one I think is more for humour, but it also draws attention to how much of the inner conversation the Princess is missing in normal chapters, when the voices aren't actively speaking to her through TLQ's body. Where we're having vibrant debates or key information revealed by the Narrator, she just sees a silent, staring figure. Speaking of the Narrator, He's completely absent from the Princess' POV, either because He doesn't want to speak to her or is somehow unable to (He does say in Tower that she's not supposed to be able to interact with Him...) Again, the story was not made to be told to her, so she isn't given His context, and because the player is usually so immersed in TLQ's perspective, they probably wouldn't realize just how much she's missing until they see things from her perspective.

One other example: if you choose to [Say nothing] immediately after you excise yourself, the Princess reacts to it:

I just find this so hilarious tbh, and the fact that she repeats back those exact words implies that she literally senses the text written in brackets. If you do it once you're back in the basement, she says this:

I wonder if it's the same for the Narrator/voices... do they also “feel” your actions while you’re choosing them? Do they hear you say (Lie) before you lie? When Skeptic said "Wink" out loud did he actually choose a dialogue option with [Wink] in brackets?? Ok that last one's a joke but there's lots of potential here

I just think it's cool because the average player wouldn't think twice about any of these things, because they seem like simple stylistic/game design choices. In a game where all player input is through dialogue options, the square brackets are an immediately understandable way to convey action, as opposed to plain text. In a game structured around repeating loops, it makes sense to make those loops distinguishable for players by separating each loop with a title card, and the chapter naming convention works as a nod to the fairytale storybook aesthetics the game draws from.

But by placing you into the Princess's head and acknowledging those design choices as diegetic elements that change depending on your perspective, it forces you to reevaluate your experiences: the things you didn't think were really "part of the game" and the experiences you didn't realize weren't universal. It exposes your hidden privileges, the luxuries and structural supports you have compared to the Princess that you don't even notice because you've never experienced the alternative.

It might make you realize how the way you perceive and conceptualize the world might be very different from how others conceptualize it (Tony's recent ask about the multicoloured glass in HEA could also play into this in a fascinating way, with the mismatch in perception between TLQ and the Narrator's script). It's all just very cool for a game that's based on perception.

It also makes me wonder... what other elements of this game are diegetic that we just haven't paid attention to?

Well, I think that the captions are probably also diegetic. TLQ occasionally refers to the voices by their complete titles despite them not ever referring to each other by those titles, instead opting for descriptors like "jumpy one" or "the worst one" or "rage boy" or "chilly little freak" lol. For a direct comparison, Paranoid exclusively calls Smitten "the lovesick one" or some variant in HEA, but TLQ refers to him by his full name using quotation marks, as if he's quoting something he's read:

The voices don't seem aware that these titles exist, while TLQ does, despite them sharing a mind. Also, when the Princess shares a body/mind with you, she never uses their titles either. In the Spectre/Princess and the Dragon, she calls Hero "the nice one", Cold "the quiet one" or "cold little freak", and the Narrator "the bossy one" or "that murder-happy know-it-all". Spectre describes the voices as shards of broken glass on the floor, so she likely perceives them completely differently to how we/TLQ see them.

Even The Narrator isn't aware of His title. If you call Him that in the mirror conversation, He says "'The Narrator'. I suppose that's my job, isn't it?", reacting to the title as if it's His first time hearing about it. There's also this question from the fourth Shifty encounter:

It seems like the titles are presented specifically for The Long Quiet/decider, and that they somehow reflect how TLQ perceives the voices/Narrator, since TLQ takes credit for "calling him" that. If the captions were specifically shown to TLQ in the same way that the title cards are, it'd explain how he has this information without it ever being verbally told to him, and why the Princess doesn't know their titles even when she's sharing your body.

But besides the captions, I think it could be fun to interpret the game as if most, if not all of its game mechanics exist in-universe. The choice menu, the music, the cursors, the save/load icons, saving/loading in general, the title screen, the Clown Princess living in the walls (game files), you name it. Let’s peel away these game mechanics cell by cell! Let's see what meaning we can find together, let's see what we're made of!