#BUT it would mean i would have to eat them all on my own

[love44lew]

what turns them on/off

彡drivers lewis hamilton, max verstappen, charles leclerc, sebastian vettel, jenson button

彡genre hcs/scenarios

彡summary what gets their wheels spinning and what makes ‘em dnf ★

彡notes i apologize for the wait my loves i didn’t want any of these to feel rushed </3 thank you for 100 followers ❤️❤️

彡warnings sexual content

————-꧁🪼🦈🐋🐬🦭꧂-————

lewis

pleasuring you lewis loves to satisfy the people he loves. getting them gifts, compliments, paying the bill for any meal, you name it. as long as his special ones are happy, hes happy. so in bed you can expect those same things to apply. he gets pleasure from pleasuring you, he loves it. he enjoys seeing you trembling, blushing and fucked out more than his own pleasure. thats why his favorite thing to do is eat you out. and by life itself, this man can EAT!! its almost like your pussy put a spell on him he gets so lost in the sauce. you physically have to push him off to make him stop and by that time your legs are already shaking. he really touches the ocean floor if you know what i mean!! and the d is fire!! and it will put you to sleep. lewis loves being your personal melatonin.

meaningless sex when lewis was single and needed some pleasure every once in a while, he would just go on raya or hit up one of the six trillion girls who wanted him. he wasn’t satisfied with living that way. lewis is a lover not a player. he’s been through a lot of stuff to make him this way and he learned this the hard way through his late twenties and early thirties. born to be a lover, forced to be a hoe !! fortunately though, he met you and looking back on it, he’s realized how much he hated the shallowness of it all. lewis craves for deep meaningful connections and just having sex with random women didn’t fill that hole in his heart. he had to relearn the true meaning of sex and how magical and special such an experience can be. you helped him rediscover this important aspect of his life and it feels great. being with you has definitely taught him quality over quantity.

max

loss of senses max needs to see you, so darkness is a no no. plus, more unnecessary risk of hurting yourselves. he loves the sound of your voice, weather its your moaning and whining as he works your body in every way you enjoy or its just you rambling about your day while running your soft fingers through his thin silky hair. max needs the stimulation of sight and sound to get himself going. “let me hear you” he’ll whisper into your ear

this may be why he loves his mirrors !! the only solution to this issue is to just fuck u in front of a mirror. most men love to do that for their own pleasure but the only thing max is looking at while fucking you in front of a mirror is the way your face twitches, contorts, and relaxes with every thrust. the way your doe eyes roll back and cross, further showing to him how good he fucks you. he picks you up by your neck forcing you to straighten your back as he whispers sweet praise into your ear. “you look so pretty like this baby” “you want me to keep doing that gorgeous?” “uhuh im fucking you good baby” your legs twitch every time his sweet voice sings into your ear telling you everything you need to hear.

charles

charles loves to see you in lace, latex, and silk. the way the latex hugs your figure so beautifully makes you almost look naked. weather its black, beige, white, or print he loves when you look all sexy just for him. silk is almost like maternal for him. as much as he loves to see your curves he also loves the look of ‘sheets after sex’ the open back with the jewelry and the flowy trim, he loves it. it simply just makes him want to imagine you bloated with your shared creation but still keeping your elegance and beauty along with it. the look of silk makes your skin glow like the sun and you simply look like a greek goddess in his eyes. the beautiful custom embroidery that revolves around your every curve when you wear lace is unmatched. he loves that it shows just enough that he can imagine what hes already seen but also covers enough that others cant. the sexy elegant vibe of lace changes your aura enough to make him want to eat you out through your thin panties. your beautiful skin covered by a thin soft custom embroidery made just for him makes his mind go wild.

waiting charles is very impatient when it comes to his pleasure. weather its the pleasure of winning or reaching tip of his climax so good that he’ll just want to fall asleep after, he’ll work hard to make sure he gets there, for you too. sure, he can do foreplay but only for a certain amount of time until he begins to bore. ‘lets get to the good stuff already’ ((sass)) charles is a gentleman, so he will make sure you finish before him. plus, he has amazing stamina, so don’t feel rushed to reach your climax, he can wait for that. sometimes he’ll slow down just to watch you overstimulate for a little bit longer, just until you start fussing before going rough and slow, just how u like it. “whats wrong mon cœr? don’t you like it slow?” “ahh you want it harder.. yeah, just like that.”

sebastian

cuddling (smirk) the bed creaks as seb adjusts himself to face your back swinging an arm over your waist and the other snaked around your neck. “good morning, der liebling” he greeted in his raspy low morning tone, planting soft kisses on your cheek and shoulder. you turned your head to catch his lips. “good morning sunshine” you teased his nickname. he rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging his lips. he kissed your nose before diving back onto your lips, his hand now squeezing and caressing your waist and hip. you scooted back, carefully grinding your rear on his front. his hand stuck on your hip while his other now holding your neck. you continued grinding your ass back on him. little moans and purrs escaping between kisses.

full attention its important that you fully engage with seb while having relations. if you seem at all uninterested in what you’re doing he simply wont have the means to do anything anymore. its important to always make sure you’re not holding back when it comes to him. he loves when your hands are anywhere they can find groping or caressing his skin as hes burried deep in your core. he needs to feel extra wanted every time. “touch me” he whispers into your ear as he slowly inserts himself. the extra sensory makes him go wild as he resists cumming after just a couple strokes. your nails lightly scratching circles into his scalp as he’s pressing your knees into the cushion below. even when hes fucking you from behind you always reach a hand over to run down his chest and abs and make eye contact as you match his thrust rhythm.

(i might add jenson in the future but im trying to get this out for you guys asap!!)

—-

dm for tags!! plz request more ideas ❤️

[bunnyrafe]

i need to smoke with stoner!rafe oh my god 😭😭😭 both of us high and horny that’s the dream

here’s the deal— i genuinely blacked out while writing this so apologies if it's all over the place. anyway, stoner!rafe is a bit of a fuckboy and also so mean sometimes… so basically just regular rafe but make him a burnout !!! toodles xoxo

content / warnings -> 18+, MDNI. stoner!rafe AU. f!reader, a touch of crybaby!reader, drug use, male masturbation, mentions of f. receiving oral / fingering, cum eating.

it always starts the same— rafe calls and practically begs you to come over no matter what you may be up to, and then he's rolling up a blunt within twenty minutes of you being at his place.

you'd be stupid to turn down a free smoke session, but you know what he's doing. you know his game, and you've been playing along with him for quite some time now. you wonder how many girls are on his roster. how many of them probably stay the night and go to sleep tucked in his arms and adorned in one of his hoodies just like you do...

"you're doin' that thing again," rafe grumbles before pulling a hit from the blunt, inhaling with a sharp sound and watching you pluck it from between his deft fingers.

your feet are resting in his lap while his large hand rubs up and down your legs, clearly savoring the feeling of your smooth skin against his palm. with each leisurely pass, his hand gets higher and higher up your plush thighs. his fingers could creep right into your shorts, and you wish he would just go for it because your cunt has been throbbing in your panties from the moment you saw him close the seam of the blunt with his tongue.

"doing what?" you ask rather dumbly as you come to your senses.

you barely recognize your own voice and you can’t help but wonder where the fuck rafe even managed to get weed this good.

"getting lost in your head—" he snorts, "is it the weed? can't keep up with me anymore?"

you roll your eyes, exhaling your last hit. seconds before your lips part to speak once again, “shut the fuck up.”

rafe grabs your face. the tips of his fingers dig into the pudge of your cheeks, almost making you whimper in pain but it's quickly numbed out thanks to the drugs in your system. his eyes flicker to your jutted lips, shaking your face that's in his grip— “you should watch that pretty mouth of yours…”

"or what?" you blubber out.

your famous last words.

you can barely remember how rafe managed to get you on your knees. your whole body is buzzing. from your lips to the soles of your feet, all while your knees ache as they press into the floor. you blink slow, watching rafe get his heavy cock out.

he squeezes his fist around his length and the tip nearly drools pre-cum all over his hoodie before he strokes himself slowly. the way your eyes follow the movement is nothing short of pathetic. along with the saliva that pools in your mouth— so eager to get another taste of him after so long.

“‘m not even sure if you deserve to have your throat fucked,” rafe huffs out. his voice has a rasp to it, the kind that sets off a fever in your already melting brain, “seems like more of a reward for nasty girls like you, hm?”

at that, you smush your face against his thigh, putting on your best pout. you don’t have to try very hard— “please, rafey…”

“nah— you’re gonna watch me get m’self off, and maybe if you’re good you’ll get somethin’ from me.”

you’re crushed. your eyes well up with tears, your tiny voice gets caught up in your throat, and you sniffle so loudly that rafe laughs down at you— he continues on, jerking himself off in the process. a groan crawls up his throat between his words, making your heart beat faster in both your chest and your cunt as he drawls on between puffy breaths. his heavy-lidded eyes trail down your trembling form, watching your thighs squeeze together, “bet that lil’ pussy’s so needy, too… coulda ate you out for hours if you jus’ watched your mouth.”

in the back of your mind you know he’ll take care of you later.

he’ll probably put on one of your favorite movies and finger you until you’re squealing and creaming in his lap as an apology for being so mean, but you can’t say that you’re hating it.

especially when he’s panting and whining about how he’s gonna cum a few moments later, right over your heated face. he’s so wound up just from watching you be needy for him, watching you cry and whine over not having his cock brutalizing your throat. and when he commands you to open your mouth so he can shoot his load on the soft, pink pad of your tongue you don’t hesitate for a single second, proving that you can be good for him…

“that’s a good fuckin’ girl,” he practically snarls the words out, milking every last drop out of his cock with a firm grip and sloppy strokes.

you mewl happily, reveling in both the praise and the taste of him.

yeah— you can’t be too upset.

[gay-dorito-dust]

I’m obsessed with Beetlejuice now, and the original film came out in ‘88, so that means Ford didn’t get to see it. So what if the reader, after he came back, asked him to the theaters to go see a rerun of it? And ofc he says yes, but it doesn’t click until a little bit later that he basically just agreed to go on a date with you

Halloween was a beloved holiday to the townsfolk of gravity falls, for you however your favourite part about this was that the local movie theatre would host reruns of beloved movies, but not more beloved to you then the movie Beetlejuice.

You’ve watched it countless times and countless times more when the theatre first started doing their re runs, so much so that every summerween and Halloween the employees had come to expect your arrival without fail. You were pretty certain you were single-handedly saving the theatre with your constant visits but you didn’t care, for as long as they kept the tradition of keeping Beetlejuice on their list of reruns, you would be there to throw your hard earned money at them.

So when you found out through Stanley that Ford hasn’t ever seen Beetlejuice due to…certain circumstances that he had just gotten out of, and finding it criminal before deciding to take matters into your own hands as you quickly ventured into Ford’s room; completely forgoing knocking as you found him sat on his bed reading a book…well was before you burst through his door, triggering him into reaching for his gun that he kept on the bedside table out of instinct.

‘Y/n you scared me my dear.’ Ford said in relief as he sets the gun back down on the bedside table.

‘Sorry Ford but I’ve got something really important to ask of you.’ You said as you rubbed the back of your head sheepishly.

Ford sets down his book to give you his full attention as his kind, wise eyes looked deep into your own. ‘Ask away my dear.’

‘So the theatre is playing some reruns of some movies for Halloween, and I was thinking if you’d like to come with me, tonight?’ You asked as you found yourself playing with the hem of your shirt out of nervousness, hoping that you weren’t bothering him by asking or preventing him from doing something important.

Ford on the other hand only smiled wider at your request, feeling a warm, fuzzy feeling within his chest that he wouldn’t acknowledge until after your minor interaction. ‘I don’t see why not, I would love to join you tonight my dear.’ He agrees and your eyes brightened as you exited his room, poorly concealing your excitement, as he heard your celebratory yell of ‘yes!!’ from inside his room. He was happy that you were happy, however you wasn’t the only visitor Ford has that day as soon after, Stanley was stood at his doorway with a smug look.

‘Heard you agreed to go on a date with y/n tonight.’ Stan said, Ford furrowed his brows.

‘A date? When did I-oh’ then it hit him, when you asked him to accompany you to the theatre. He assumed that you meant as a family outing with the kids and Stan, only to remember that you didn’t mention the kids or Stan but only yourself and him. Poor Ford must’ve looked red as a tomato as he buried his head into his book, much to Stanley’s amusement as he cackled, holding his sides while his face became beat red.

‘Have fun on your date! Make sure you give me all the details when you get back lover boy!’ Stan cooed as he left his flustered brother, who was now ripping apart his wardrobe in hopes of finding something nice to wear for your date tonight. ‘Y/n is going to eat him alive.’ Stanley added as he high-fived Mabel on his way towards the living room, the two of them having succeeded in masterfully pulled off the greatest match making of their lives.

[multifandomhaven]

A/N: Tooth-rotting fluff ahead. Idk what brought this on (and it's everything but edited), but I couldn't get it out of my head, so enjoy!

Maid of Honor!reader x Best Man!Simon Riley

The wedding had been beautiful - the sun shone brightly and the skies were a bright, cloudless blue. The gentle breeze that had ruffled the dress of the bride perfumed the air, the lingering smell of the flowers attached itself to everything in the vicinity.

Ava and Johnny were quietly married in the presence of their family and a select few friends. You had been among that group - having been Ava's best friend since you were both little girls. You played dolls together, braided each other's hair, held each other when you cried. It was only natural that you were chosen to be her maid of honor.

Johnny's best man had been his friend Simon. You hadn't met each other before the rehearsal dinner the night before and to say that you'd already formed a strong opinion would be putting it lightly.

You were balancing precariously on the edge of a tall ladder, draping tulle across the large chandelier in the middle of the room. Your tongue poked out at the corner as you tried to steady yourself. You reached out just a bit further when you suddenly feel yourself being jostled. Your brows furrow and you glare down at whoever it was that had run into you.

"Hey!" you bark, your fingers curled desperately around the slope of the light fixture above you. Your heart raced in your chest as you fought to steady your quick breathing. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"What's the matter with me?" The man looked up and narrowed his gaze in on you, not looking amused. "You're not supposed to stand on the top cap of a ladder."

"And that gives you the right to knock into it?" you fire back, your cheeks flushed.

Slowly and discreetly you try to step down a wrung. Your foot slips and you find yourself free falling through the air. You yelp, your eyes closing on their on volition. The fall is short, stopping abruptly as you're caught mid-air. Strong arms are around your middle, the man you were just berating now holding you to his chest, your feet dangling off the floor.

Your chest rises and falls dramatically, your eyes sliding open to find the man still staring at you. The look of indifference was now gone, replaced with a slight smirk.

"You alright?" he asks, his voice lower now that you were closer to him.

You nod, swallowing the fear you were feeling. He allows you to slide down his front, keeping his gentle hold on you until your feet were firmly on the floor. You take a small step back away from him, crossing your arms over your chest to hide your embarrassment. "You know, you really should watch where you're going."

"And you should be more careful."

The flash of a the camera broke you from your thoughts. You were smiling for the photographer, your hand on Simon's chest as he posed beside of you. You could feel him staring down at you, but you paid it no attention. You quickly wrapped up the pictures and then went to find your seat, sighing as you saw the nameplate beside your own.

"Can't escape you, can I?" Simon's voice crooned in your ear.

You plop down into your seat and drain your glass of wine. "What are you, a mind reader?"

Simon chuckles lightly and sinks into his seat. If the way his fingers pulled at the collar of his shirt was any indication, he was just as uncomfortable in his tie as he looked. You arch a brow at his incessant pawing. "You gonna fight your tie all night or take it off?"

He gives you a small glance, but says nothing. You huff and reach over, your fingers picking apart the knot in his tie, undoing it with ease. You fold it up and lay it on the table by his plate.

You eat in silence, listening to the soft music that played in the background. It wasn't long before the bride and groom had their first dance. You can't fight the cheek-aching smile that curls your lips as you see them move about the room. It wasn't smooth, by any means, neither of them had any dancing experience, but it was so very in tune with the couple.

You swallow back a wave of tears as you see your best friend lean up and place a sweet kiss on her new husband's lips. You take a quick picture with your phone, knowing how she'll treasure that moment in the years to come, and then wipe at your eyes with your napkin. You chance a glance at Simon and see him watching you.

"What?" you ask him quietly.

He shakes his head, the movement so small you barely noticed it. "I didn't say anything."

"You're looking at me funny," you accuse him softly. "You gonna make fun of me for crying?"

"Course not," he defends himself with a small shrug. "It's just... this is the first time I've ever seen you not actively wanting to punch someone."

You can't stop the snort of laughter that follows. You try to hide your grin behind your napkin, but you know you've been caught by the look on his face. He looks smug, like he'd accomplished something. You relent, your shoulders relaxing a bit. "Touché."

It's quiet for a moment before Simon speaks again. "You know, I don't go to many weddings-"

"Obviously," you add, your lips still twitching upwards.

Simon narrows his eyes again, "-but I do know you're supposed to dance. Humor me?"

You're shocked, but you nod and take his hand, following him to the dance floor. You fall into a simple rhythm, a slight sway around the floor. Simon is gentle with you, his hands firm, but soft in his hold. He clears his throat and says, "You clean up nice."

"I'll take that as a compliment," you say, scrunching your nose at him.

Simon's cheek puff as he grins. "You should. It's the best I can do."

A laugh escapes you again, the volume of it drawing a few confused looks your way. You notice Ava and Johnny looking at you, both of them wearing face splitting grins. Your eyes widen and the hand you had on Simon's shoulder quickly covers your mouth. You shrink slightly, almost as if you're trying to hide behind his large frame, your cheeks burning.

"Why're you hidin'?" Simon laughs, his hand on your back firmer, guiding you back to your natural height. "Come back up here."

You straighten up, your eyes on Ava's across the room once more. She sends you a wink and a thumbs up. You shake your head and look back up at Simon, the fairy lights twinkling in your eyes. "Ava and Johnny seem to have their hearts set on something happening between us, don't they?"

Simon glances over at them, too, and Johnny wags his brows at him. Simon huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes. "Johnny has been talkin' about it for months."

The liquid courage from the wine you'd had during the dinner burned hot in your veins. You rake your eyes back up to his. He was handsome - tall, well built, the tattoos you saw peeking out from beneath his sleeve - you'd be lying if you said he wasn't your type, even if you did get off to a bad start. "Well... we can't disappoint them on their wedding night, can we?"

Simon's eyes widen, and it's the biggest reaction you'd gotten out of him the entire night. His tongue darts out and wets his lips before he speaks. "No, I don't believe we can."

You let your hand fall from his shoulder, running down his arm to grip his hand. You curl your fingers around his and guide him along with you, out the doors of the reception hall of the hotel and toward the elevators. Your footsteps were quick, your heart pounding in your ears. "We're good friends."

Simon follows behind you with a nod, his eyes never leaving you. "The best."

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

By Kelly Betts

People can’t see my disability from the outside. I worry that in this current political climate and with the new law, it may not end at the comments and harassment I already face.

On Thursday, officials in Nassau County, New York, where I live, signed a mask ban into law, one of the first of its kind in the country. And while to most healthy adults it doesn’t mean much, to those with serious health conditions, like me, it makes getting out into the world a lot harder.

The ban was touted by lawmakers as a public safety measure after reported antisemitic incidents and protests at various New York universities, many involving people wearing masks. Those who violate the new law face a misdemeanor charge punishable by up to a year in jail and a $1,000 fine. And while there are exemptions for people with religious and medical reasons, it’s not dealing with the law that I’m afraid of. It’s dealing with the “citizen cops” of the world who will be using their discretion to enforce it.

I was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia in February 2023. It’s a fast-growing type of blood cancer. I underwent more than five rounds of chemotherapy, and the following July, thanks to an amazingly generous donor, I had a stem cell transplant, something I knew nothing about until I got sick. I was given some of the most powerful chemotherapies to kill my old immune system and any remaining cancer cells. Then I was given my donor’s stem cells to help build a brand-new immune system.

There are a lot of risks that come along with the transplant, especially in the early stages as the stem cells are engrafting and you have no immune system. The first 100 days are the riskiest, and you must watch everything from what you eat to how it’s prepared, and most of all the people around you. Your body is starting from scratch, so you have almost no immunities. Any vaccinations you’ve had over your lifetime have been wiped out. For the last year since my transplant, my immune system has slowly been getting stronger. But building a new immune system takes years, and I have a long way to go. So, wearing my face mask whenever I go out is essential.

That brings me back to the new law. I wear a medic alert bracelet and would hope that showing it to the police, should it ever become an issue, would be enough. But that’s not guaranteed, because anyone can just order one. Would I be forced to show up in court to prove my medical condition to a judge? And what cost and time could that take, all to protect my health? And what about my family or people who act as caregivers, who don’t technically have medical conditions of their own, but still wear masks to protect me? Would there be an exemption for them?

Most of all, I worry about those who have strong feelings against masks. As we know, many people read headlines and not always the full story. And just reading most of the headlines, all someone will know is that there’s a mask ban in Nassau County. Even at the height of my illness, with no hair and really looking like I had cancer, I still got comments like “Covid is over” or “that’s not protecting you.” And while the few comments hurt, especially while I was battling for my life, I could shake them off. I had a bigger fight ahead of me.

Now, healthier with hair again and 43 years old, the comments continue. But I worry that in this current political climate and with the new law, it may not end at that. People can’t see my disability from the outside. It’s been hard to get back out in the world, as many can relate to after going through a global pandemic. Even being as careful as I am and just starting to let my guard down a little in outdoor settings, I caught Covid. And it took my body and immune system down hard. Luckily, I’m recovering and back to wearing my mask diligently, even outdoors.

I want to be able to return to my normal life. And go out with friends, see a Broadway show, and one day get back to my office in the city. But now with New York City considering passing its own mask ban, I don’t know when I would feel safe enough to do that. Is this law really protecting the masses?

[sceletaflores]

•｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ wip wednesday!

thanks for the tag angel baby @guiltyasdave <3 • 18+ under the cut! MDNI!

wip #1 • far too familiar a stranger…feat. logan howlett (& crimson!)

a long time ago, logan howlett knew a woman with your face…

i couldn’t not write a ‘worst!logan coming face to face with his tragically dead love interest but from wade’s universe after wade forced her to help them stop the TVA and hating her for bringing up that time in his life until he doesn’t anymore’ fic.

it's crimson because i felt that making whole new mutant reader would be sort of confusing so this fic is in the to the bone universe but it's not the same timeline...if that makes sense lmao

Wade Wilson is the worst neighbor in the entire fucking world. It’s really something you should have known sooner, like ‘the very first day in your new place ending with him breaking in through your window fully suited up after counting the floors wrong and bleeding all over your brand new pottery barn throw rug because he was still a little too concussed to walk’ sooner. Even after that whole fiasco left you with a broken window latch and a beyond fucked non-refundable $80 carpet, you still let yourself entertain his crazy. Just like everyone else whose life Wade crashed into, both physically or metaphorically. And once he's in, you can never really get him back out again. So yeah, maybe this whole thing is your fault. Maybe getting thrown into a barren, dusty void with two somewhat failed X-Men is just all your bad karma manifesting in one huge finger from the universe.

wip #2 • red and yellow kill a fellow! feat. logan howlett & wade wilson

logan doesn’t appreciate you letting wade get one up on him…

finally finally finally getting off my ass and writing logan x reader x wade! i was inspired by this one episode of satc (which is like my favorite show ever bee tee dubs) where charlotte goes out with two guys at the same time and she has sex with one but not the other until one of them catches her with the other guy and they all break it off.

my vision is a little different cause instead of getting mad and leaving when logan finds out reader fucked wade and not him, he figures it's his turn to get even. aka wade in the cuck chair and loving it.

The three of you pass a BMW sitting in a no parking zone, all four windows rolled down as Madonna blasts through the speakers. "So," Wade says, voice breaking the silence for the first time in five minutes. "Who white-washed your guts better?" You nearly trip over your own feet, whipping your head to gape at Wade. "Fucking excuse me?" "You know," Wade shrugs, like it's a perfectly normal thing to ask. The leisurely pace of his stroll not slowing, his hands still stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. "Who carved the lyrical railway better?" He just keeps going as you stare at him with a repulsed look on your face. "The number one stud that's stuffin' your muffin? That's takin the ol' bald-headed gnome for a satisfying stroll in the misty forest. Pick one hot stuff, they all mean the same thing." Before you can even answer there's a rough, questioning grunt from your right and your stomach flips. Oh. Logan, he was still here too. Still here and right next to you, listening. Oh yeah. "You fucked?" You still haven't slept with Logan yet. You turn to him face slowly, eyes a hair wide as you take in the sharp raise of his brow. "Um..." "Whoops," Wade snorts from somewhere behind your shoulder. "Cat's out the bag."

wip #3 • it's the easiest thing (just love me and eat me) feat. logan howlett

it’s not often that logan needs this, but you’re always more than happy to give it to him when he does…

the same requested sub!logan fic from last wednesday just with a new name and weirder energy! like this has really gotten away from me and turned into something that i can't really explain well enough to make it sound like chill...

lots of religious imagery and symbolism...and some metaphors of cannibalism...idk i'm just a girl with religious trauma and a weird blood fetish sue me.

You've come to think that being in bed with Logan is like being in church. The familiar weight of his body pressing you into the mattress is the alter. The heat of it like laying in the burning flame of a candle. The strong planes of his muscles each a different scripture that you take in by touch alone, skating your hands over his skin with something close to worship. Each bead of sweat on his skin feels sacred, a testament to the intensity between you, as though every part of him has been crafted for this moment of devotion. The hard length of his cock carves a place for itself inside you, each heavy smack of his hips punching another desperate sound out of your slack lips. His breath, deep and ragged, is a chant that pulls you into reverence. It puffs against the wild beat of your pulse, his lips brushing over the fever hot plane of your skin. The sound of your name pulled from his mouth sounds like a prayer answered. You can’t help but close your eyes, not in exhaustion, but in a kind of spiritual surrender, like by shutting out the world, you can truly grasp the divinity of it. There's a holiness to the way he holds you—like you’re the only thing worth believing in.

kisses!

no pressure tags! @ebodebo @artemis-b-writes @avocado-writing @superhoeva

[starchbean]

Y'ALL

Scummies--c'mere. Closer. CLOSER

WHY ARE YOU HOLDING OUT ON MEEEEEEEEEEE?!?!

I just learned about the Cakeverse. We NEED to make SVSSS fic for this! There's like ONE FIC and it's in Italian and I have a cousin but I CANT READ ITALIAN PLEASE CHAT DO IT FOR MEEEEE

**to clarify, I don't mean read the Italian for me, I NEED YOU TO WRITE SVSSS CAKEVERSE

Of course I'd be a hypocrite if I didn't at least offer a little something of my own, so here's the bit:

Shen Qingqiu was a fork, and everyone knew it. The readers of Proud Immortal Demon Way knew it. The Peak Lords and disciples alike of Cang Qiong knew. Hell, even people from other sects had heard the rumors about the Qing Jing Peak Lord.

As for Shen Yuan, the first few months of experiencing it had been really demoralizing! And worse–the cute little white lotus protagonist himself had taken the initiative to cook his meals, and he wouldn’t even be able to taste them at all! How could he appreciate them properly?! Luo Binghe knew this, and STILL he put his whole effort into cooking his best meals for his teacher. Ah, truly there was no disciple more filial than Binghe! 

If nothing else, Binghe’s cooking had been pleasing to look at, and the hot steam that wafted up from it felt soothing on Shen Qingqiu’s face, so of course he would eat it. He wasn’t going to waste food, okay?! He knew he was immensely blessed to experience Binghe’s cooking on any level at all. Still, it would have been nice to not leave the flavors to his imagination.

Thankfully, today’s breakfast brought a breath of hope to the poor transmigrator that caused him to shed a tear of joy behind his fan. It seemed his old sense of taste was starting to come back to him after all! Perhaps the System just needed some time to adapt Shen Qingqiu’s body to better suit its new occupant. 

The flavor wasn’t much, just a hint of something in the dough, vaguely sweet like icing. Thinking about it, it made sense that the power of the Protagonist’s cooking was enough to pierce through even the Scum Villain’s taste buds! At this rate, maybe he could avoid the original Scum Villain’s fate as a human stick for almost devouring Binghe after accidentally tasting his blood at the Immortal Alliance Conference! 

.

Luo Binghe eagerly watched as Shizun ate his breakfast with an intense glint in his eye. He knew what he was, and what he had done to his beloved teacher’s food this morning. It wasn’t much. He had just pressed a little kiss to each of the buns before cooking, but the effect of his saliva was just enough. Shizun did taste it, Binghe could tell. Shizun wasn’t reacting aggressively and seemed not to suspect Binghe at all. Maybe he would add something a little more of himself next time. Something that would prickle all of Shizun’s senses. That sounded delightful indeed.

[pigeon-behavior]

There's a very enjoyable change you can observe over time in your breeding birds.

In my experience, parents are EXTREMELY protective of their first clutch. I know not all pairs are like this, but mine have been. Newt was so protective of his first babies that in his quest to bite me he bit his newborn kid instead - drew blood and everything. I had to run inside for the kwik stop and terramycin.

He came at me with everything he had those first few checks. He was VERY excited about having babies and he was NOT going to let me take them!

Fast forward a few clutches... Newt has done himself some simple observing. And he's noticed that I have not been eating his kids for afternoon snacks.

In fact, he's noticed I come in and offer family meal time in his next box with some of his very favorite food on earth. He doesn't even mind that it's in my hand - it's not like he hasn't eaten from my hand before!

And very quickly he has gone from suspicious and defensive to casual and accepting. I check under him to see his new babies, holding my hand in a position that would prevent him from accidentally biting his own kid, but I don't have to anymore. He's not thrilled, but he's willing to let me look. He knows I give them back.

He also has seen me performing what should be parental duties with his children. I don't know if that's a thought that fully connects in his head, but with the two pairs I bred longer it almost seemed like they had some acceptance of me taking care of their kids.

And, anecdotally, my other breeder friends tell me about how their most established birds sometimes seem like they are relieved when the kids are collected for socialization time. Getting off the nest as the people enter the loft with an air of 'thank god, the babysitter is here.'

It's really hard to say if that's how they view us after a while. But, at the very least, you can see the trust they have with you really grow. I think it is partially desensitization, but I also think it is just simple learning. Instinct says something taking Baby is Dangerous, so panic. But then Baby keeps coming back unharmed! So why stay upset?

Domestic animals are so cool, man. What do you mean that animal is set up to just chillax? Thas crazy....

If you enjoy my posts, consider tipping me on ko-fi!

[penelopepine]

I’m absolutely in love with your writing 💕

I’ve always had this scenario of Phillip and Reader (who are both first time parents) going out with their baby, and Reader having to breastfeed the baby in public and a man tries to harass her about it (telling her she shouldn’t be doing this in public and whatnot) and Phillip stands up for her

Maybe the man tries to harass her while Phillip was at the counter getting them something to eat and he hears what’s going on or something?

(Moms who are alone in public get bothered like this irl by men so often and it’d be so sweet to see Phillip standing up for his wife 🥺❤️)

Thank You!!! I hope that you like this as well!

It's weird that people get so bothered by breastfeeding. Like just let the mom feed her baby in peace.

Mind Your Own Business

Phillip Graves x Fem Reader

With the baby turning six weeks old just a few days ago you and Phillip both felt comfortable taking the baby out to more public spaces. It was a beautiful day out, and that of course led to you both walking around the farmer’s market with the little one in tow. 

Philip had both hands on the stroller while you had one hand wrapped around the crook of his elbow as you both walked around. It wasn’t until half an hour had passed did he insist on sitting down in one of the bakeries for a bite to eat. “Come on, let me treat my sweetheart to something sweet.” 

“I think it’s you who wants something sweet.” You give him a playful nudge as you walk towards the shop. 

“Who says it can’t be both?” Phillip counted your accurate remark. “I’m a man capable of many things after all.” 

Once in the shop looking at all the available options is when the little one decides to make a fuss. Glancing at the time you know she’s probably just hungry since this is about the time you would normally feed her when at home. 

“Oh, are you hungry baby?” You gesture for Phillip to let you take control of the stroller, “I’m going to take her outside and feed her. I saw a shaded bench right outside.” 

It’s obvious he doesn’t want to leave you both alone, but understands that that’s just his protective nature talking. That little voice has been speaking a lot more ever since the baby was born. “I’ll be there in just a few minutes; I’ll bring you one of those chocolate croissants I saw you eyeing too.” 

"I love you so much." You give him a small kiss, and swiftly make your way outside to the bench just as the baby starts to cry.

It only takes you a few moments to get comfortable, grab the now crying baby out of her stroller, and adjust her so that she can easily breastfeed from you. 

You take this time to admire the tiny wiggling bundle of joy in your arms. She truly is the perfect mix between you and Phillip - it almost feels like she’s not real sometimes with just how perfect she is. 

The baby's crying and wiggling finally starts to settle down as she latches on. Just as things seem to settle down you feel a sudden presence next to you. Thinking it was Phillip you look up with a smile on your face which quickly shifts into a frown as you take in the strange man now standing in front of you.

It was the look of anger and disgust on his face that had you gripping your daughter tight to you; trying to decide if you needed to get up, and walk away. Before you can make a move though the man is already practically spitting venom at you. “Do you really think that’s appropriate to be doing in public? Why don’t you go do that in the bathroom like you're supposed to do?” 

“I’m breastfeeding - I’m just feeding my baby.” Is your immediate response to his unpleasant questions. You knew some people didn’t like it when women breastfeed in public, but you didn’t think anyone would actually try and fight you about it. All you're doing is feeding a baby after all. 

“No, what you are doing is purposely exposing yourself to others around you. I mean my god woman could you not have the decency to atleast have a cover on?” 

“A cover? It’s 80 degrees out right now, and you want me to practically put a blanket over her?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing right now. Not to mention that you didn’t like using a cover; all it felt like was another thing you had to pack around and worry about. 

Arguing only seemed to be making the man more upset with you. As if you should be thankful that he was gifting you with his “amazing” advice on how and where you should be breastfeeding your baby. 

Red faced with a pointed finger raised, the man takes a large step closer to you. It genuinely seemed like he would have come even closer if he wasn’t so suddenly jerked away from you. 

“Now what do you think you're doing here bothering my wife and child?” There Phillip stood now in between the man and you. Finally, it felt like you could breathe again knowing that your husband was here to help you. 

Phillip was furious - that much was obvious even from where you sat with his back to you. His shoulders were tense, and his clenched fists looked like they were one wrong move from throwing a punch. 

“That’s your wife?” The man waves in your direction, “How about you tell your wife to cover up while in public.” 

The silence that follows after those words are deafening.

“Phillip,” You softly call out to your husband. As much as you would love to let him do whatever he sees fit you’d rather not have to be escorted off by police. 

You watch as Phillip slowly releases a sigh before he continues with his words to the man, “I'm not going to waste any more breath explaining just how stupid you sound right now. What I am going to say though is that if you don't walk away right now I'm going to beat the shit out of you, and I promise you that is a fight you don't want - not with me." 

The man clearly wasn't prepared for the outright threat of violence against him, and it showed on his now shocked face. People like him are all talk; just wanting to pick on someone seemingly weaker than him, and the second someone stronger stands up to him he's playing the victim. 

"Whatever," the man growls out before hastily turning on his heels and walking away further into the market. 

Phillip doesn't move from his position until the man has completely disappeared from view. When he does eventually turn around he puts one hand on your check and the other one cradles the baby's head before he asks you, "are you both alright?" 

"We're- we're alright. He didn't do anything besides give me a lecture." You're so thankful for that too, and luckily your daughter didn't seem to notice the tense situation that just occurred. "How did you know he was even here?" 

"You really didn't think I wouldn't be watching you while I was waiting inside did you?" Phillip looked much calmer now that it was just the three of you again. "Which reminds me I still need to pick our order up. Now let me help you pack up; there's no way I'm leaving you alone to get harassed again." 

Normally you would have insisted that you were alright to stay where you were, but right now all you wanted was to stay by his side. This encounter has really rattled you more than you thought. 

It only takes Phillip a few seconds to get everything back in the baby bag. The baby is still feeding from you as you both walk back to the bakery. In the silence you can’t help, but ask a question that has been bothering you. “Do you think I should … hide away when I need to breastfeed in public?" 

"Sweetheart, don't let one dumb fucker stop you from feeding our baby when she's hungry. You have the right to breastfeed anywhere you damn want to."

"You're right, you're right," He was right, this one experience shouldn't stop you from going out and enjoying things with your baby.

Phillip reached out and gave you a quick peck as he opened the bakery door, "besides I'll always be there to defend my girls." 

[ryuzakemo128]

Grim Reaper Part Seven

Pairing: Poly 141 x female reader / Female reader/ You x Her mental health x König

Content Warning: Bloodshed, fight between a man and a woman, tech talk, injuries, future implications of murder on the horizon. Use of your nickname for König.

Words: 2628

Masterlist - Prequel - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven

Supernatural AU - Poem

Credit for Dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Summary: “Who says I was going down to their level? When that level I go to is clearly lower?”

Just because you can, it doesn’t always mean you should.

Sometimes it better to walk away.

Letting things lie.

Leaving them in the shadow of what could have happened if you wanted to act upon your urge to be rid of them.

Your fingers trail along the mask. An incredible gift in your eyes. The sleek material cool beneath your fingers, the curves forming over your face.

As if the material itself bonded together with your face, the digital HUD flickering to life with a gentle hum, casting a soft glow in the otherwise pitch-black room.

Simon took a tentative step towards you. He looked at it, he said, "It's a beauty," he whispered with a hint of envy.

"Lightweight, customisable, and undetectable by most standard security systems, protects my face from dust, debris, and potentially harmful airborne particles." you described part of it.

Other functions of your mask were less visible but equally important. It had a built-in respirator allowed you to breathe without revealing your position through foggy breath in cold environments or leaving a trail in smoke-filled rooms.

The mask's indented 'teeth' served as a silent venting system for the excess heat your body produced during intense combat. It was a marvel of modern warfare technology, and it complemented your lethal skill set like a second skin.

You don’t know when the chatter around started to grate on your ears and eat away at your nerves. Part of you thinks it was because of a certain part of you being denied sustenance. Thrill of a fight itching to be satiated.

Itching. Aching. Burning in the bottom of your stomach like a meal denied.

“We are all doomed. We are not special. None of us are special. We live on a tiny rock floating amongst other tiny space rocks. To imply we are special is to deny the truth. You are not special, just as I am not special.”

You were tired of the excuses. You were tired of them. “You are mediocre at best and tolerable at worst. I don’t care about you or anyone else here. Your existence is finite.”

“You are mediocre at everything I have seen you do.” You repeated with a narrowed glare. “Everything you are. It could and would be forgotten as long as your superiors benefit from it.”

“You don’t get to keep something someone else owns. Not ever. I don’t need a ‘saviour’ stop implying that I need one.” You murmured, your voice as fierce as a cat's growl. Your hold on his throat base stayed firm, as relentless as desert sands.

Despite your injury, you retaliated fiercely when threatened sufficiently. The cut deep enough to insert at least three fingers. You were always considered difficult to your peers. You didn't care about their opinion as much as they believed.

Imagine talking about someone’s trauma and labelling them as the ‘difficult one’ pathetic morons can’t consider the fact trauma changes people.

If they knew how trauma worked, they wouldn’t be flapping their pathetic mouths so much.

They need to learn to shut the fuck up.

Projecting their morals onto others like they’re the only people in the world.

Shut the fuck up. Most of you are more likely to have the privilege to never go through it.

Stupid pathetic moronic children who can only think of themselves first.

I see Simon receive the same treatment by women who label him the ‘difficult one’. It makes me want to smack the shit out of all of them.

Assault of any kind should not be tolerated. They need to shut the fuck up before I make them shut up.

I am tired of them. I am sick of their justifications of labels on people.

Shut the fuck up, I hate you all.

Trauma isn’t something you belittle. Yet you seem to have fun in doing just that. I hope you die and reach a depth of hell most won’t be able to reach.

It is what you deserve. It is what I want you to have. Now more than ever.

You think you snapped when it happened. Not that you aimed for a psychological snap any time, sooner or later. Yet the whispers and murmurs grated on your nerved like nails on a chalkboard. Call me pathetic and I will give you death.

I will give you a death even your so called god will not look away.

Your enemies cannot reach you. Sleep well, the clock ticks on.

The stars do not know you, prepare, they’ll whisper you your fate.

They look at you and wonder how you are even alive. Fear mixed with disgust. You feel it. You see it. They keep you because otherwise you would have been a darker shell of yourself.

He pushed you far enough to get here. Yet it caused you to laugh. To giggle. The blood gushing from your nose, a bit from your mouth, you laugh. You laugh because you know it’s all a game to them. A game of fear and power. And in that moment, you had all the power. You knew because the stars had already whispered to you, and they had never lied.

"An itty bitty knife? Are you fucking serious?" you taunted him.

The man snarled back a response, "This isn't a game, bitch," as he raised the knife, ready to strike fear into your heart.

“Are you scared? Are you going to run crying to your superiors, little bitch?” you taunted relentlessly. “Gonna cry now?”

A beast circling its wounded prey, every nip, every bite and every taunt. You became more beast than human when your anger wound-up tighter than a coiled snake. Posed and poised to strike. His eyes widened with fear, his breaths shallow, and his smugness replaced with a desperate plea for mercy.

Simon intervened, trapping you inside a headlock, the guy silently murmured and thanked for his timely intervention. He got off lightly in your opinion. Though getting stabbed by a butterfly knife put a damper on things.

"You're the one who should be scared." Simon's voice was cold and firm as he held you back, his grip tight but not painful. "You're better than this. Don't let them bring you down to their level."

“Who says I was going down to their level? When that level I go to is clearly lower?” you growled like a feral creature, clawing at Simon’s arms as he held you firmly in his grasp. His eyes, a mix of concern and irritation, searched yours for any hint of sanity left in the rage-filled maelstrom.

“We need him alive for intel," Simon reminded you, his tone still unyielding. You knew he was right, but the desire to rip the man’s throat out was a hunger that demanded satiation.

“Tell him that. The fucker stabbed me not you.” You jerked your chin towards the man cowering on the floor, trying to push Simon away, but his grip was like steel bars.

You knew he was right, but the adrenaline and anger pumping through your veins made it hard to think rationally.

You felt the warmth of the blood trickling down from your nose, mixing with the saliva on your teeth. It tasted metallic, a flavor you had become unfortunately accustomed to.

“Calm down,” Simon whispered in your ear, his grip on your arms tightening. “Remember who you are. Remember why we're here. And we'll get the stab wound looked at, I promise.”

“I'm not calming down for his sake.” You reminded him.

“No,” Simon's voice was low and controlled, “You're calming down for ours. We need you focused.”

You let out a breath, trying to regulate your breathing, which Simon knew was a sign that you were listening to him. You nodded slightly, allowing him to loosen his grip.

The room fell silent, except for the distant sound of gunfire outside the abandoned warehouse. The man on the floor was trembling, his eyes darting between you and the knife clutched in his hand.

Soap walked in moments after the whole debacle, his eyes scanning the scene before his gaze settled on the trembling man. “Well, well, look what we have here. A little stabbing party and I missed the invite,” he quipped, a smirk playing on his lips. He knelt down, pulling the knife from the man’s shaking hand with ease. “Looks like you’ve had enough fun for one night.”

You were about to leave the rest to Simon and Soap when Soap dragged you out instead, muttering things about not letting the bloodlust get to you. “I could have walked outside you know?” you muttered to him.

“You're a liability like this,” he shot back.

“Like what? Stabbed?” you countered.

Soap's smirk grew wider, “Exactly. Now, let’s get that wound patched up before you go full on Wolverine on us.”

“The animal or the mutant?” you snorted. “My life would be easier if it was the mutant. He heals instantly. Don't roll your eyes at me. I read so many X-Men comics growing up.”

Soap chuckled despite the gravity of the situation, his Scottish accent thick with sarcasm. “Ah, so you’re telling me you wish for the gift of healing rather than the rage of the beast?” He led you to a makeshift medical station set up in the corner of the warehouse, the harsh lighting revealing the stark contrast of the crimson blood against your pale skin.

“I mean that would just come with the healing right? With how Wolverine is, I wouldn’t mind the rage as much. The claws would be a bonus.” you quipped.

Soap shook his head, his amusement clear despite the seriousness of the situation. He took a deep breath, his eyes focused on the wound, “Well, we’ve got bandages, not adamantium, but it’ll have to do for now.”

Simon glared at the comment made from a bystander calling you cute when you are clearly not. You had wanted to be called it when you weren’t bloodied with another person’s blood on your uniform and your knuckles.

Once you were isolated, Price looked at you from the sidelines, his expression unreadable. As you let your aggression out on a punching bag. The smacking of gloves against leather in the background as they continued to speak about the fight between you and a guy who happened to be taunting Simon.

It grated on you enough to lash out. Ending in bloodshed. Despite these fights being rare, they are bloody enough for people to remember them. You felt the weight of Price’s gaze, his silent disapproval heavy in the air. He couldn't be upset with you entirely as you don't escalate them as much as people would love to believe.

“You okay?” he finally spoke, his tone flat.

“If you're angry with me just say so.” you told Price.

Price took a drag of his cigar, his eyes never leaving yours, “I'm not angry with you.” He said, “I'm just concerned. This isn't the first time you've lost it like that.”

“And it's not the first time they escalated it either. But you don't see that part because by the time you're here. They're on the ground and I'm already stabbed.” you reminded him. “Lecture them before you lecture me.”

Price's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he took a step closer, his voice dropping to a serious whisper, “Look, I know you've been through a lot, but we need you sharp. We can't afford any more… incidents like this. Do you understand?”

“How about you tell them to keep their hands to themself?” you countered.

Price sighed, his gaze flickering to the side, “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes it is. Its called keep your hands to yourself. Don't touch someone without their consent.” you reminded him.

Price knew you had a point, but the situation was more complicated than that. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch your shoulder. “I’ll handle it. But you need to control your temper. We're in a war zone, not a playground. If we don’t keep our heads on straight, we're all going to end up dead. Or worse, captured.”

Like the god Hades, you will never been seen as anything other than a monster of your own creation. Maintaining a balance most will never see. Passive. Altruistic. A creature made by whims and wants of others. A creature made and remade repeatedly.

A story retold to fit the whims and wants of those they want to appeal to. Hades went from passive to a main villain because of the lack of media literacy to think clearly. Whittling down his wife to a lost lamb in distress. When she is in fact his queen with strengths of her own.

A falsehood created by those who would rather see their version of a tale prevail than to see a man be gentle with his wife. Better to dehumanise the king of the underworld than to think otherwise.

They don’t seem to understand. Evil has no shading. Darkness does not equate to evil, and living in the shade of blissful ignorance will not save you.

Just as fire causes destruction. It also has a hand in creating life.

Neither side is good. Neither is side is bad. Both sides would have been considered good and great given the angle someone would take. Both sides can be considered a great evil. No matter what happens from this point forward. You will always be referred to as the name you are given. No matter how tainted you feel about yourself.

They will still refer to you by this name. Now, today and tomorrow.

As Elysium and Tartarus are both heaven and hell. It is both. It will always be both.

Choosing to believe one version of a tale over the other reeks of bias.

Much like Hades. You don’t have to go to them. People will come to their own end when they come to you. A fruitless endeavour to ever hope they could live to see tomorrow if they were your target. They are good as dead.

You are the least evil amongst them. It also didn’t mean you are harmless like a pup as much some might think.

“They will all come to me eventually. Regardless of how they feel on the matter.” You muttered. Mostly to yourself than to Simon.

Simon decided to interject, his deep British accent breaking through your deep meditated rhythm. The punches against the bag hard enough to shake through a concrete wall. Strong enough to go through a wall made of wood. You wore specialised earphones to block out background noise.

Now all there is left of you there are memories. It’s been a month since your kidnapping, entering into a second month now. They turned to your private thoughts of your journal in the hope they would find you sometime soon. Hoping König would not kill you out of boredom of you.

People fear death and fawn over theatrics.

People hate you because you represent the end of life.

Death. Grim Reaper.

Retellings will tell them you took them. Kidnapped them.

Even though your intentions were revealed to them and them alone.

Behind closed doors.

Twisting your words against your memory.

Even when your intentions were not what they will assume.

They mix up benevolent with kindness. You will show them, won’t you Mäuschen?

You will show them what it means to evoke the name of death upon their lips, right Maus?

The walls of your old bedroom, no longer the same as they once were. Not like you cared now. It was a moment of another time. Inside a lifetime, you thought you had all to yourself. Fleeting, as they were, finite. You were glad they were gone. As you were about to something so heinous. Even your mother would have disowned you.

No. She isn’t here anymore. She can not save you. No one outside this room can save you apart from yourself.

Rely on your instincts.

“What’s the matter, lamb? Are you scared?” You cooed into his ear. A plan forming in the back of your mind. If this was the game, he set up. He should be prepared for you to win it.

Fair is fair after all.

What is his will become yours.

What is yours will never be his again.

[chevelleneech]

Are You Sure? - Ep8

Here are my thoughts now that I finally watched the episode (I was at work all day, anon, lol).

I honestly don’t have too too many, because my main takeaway was that they seemed to have truly needed these trips together. They knew by Jeju they’d be enlisting together, so I feel like any thoughts I had about the trips being a sort of last hurrah before potentially being separated go out the window.

They knew they’d be together, so barring them being romantically involved in some way… I kind of don’t get the point of the series.

Had this been a special involving other members, then it being work related would make sense. Had this been more like the Jeju episodes where they weren’t as laid back, I’d get it, but it wasn’t. Five out of eight episodes focused on them not doing much else other than simply spending time together. Sight seeing and going out to eat, with a sprinkle of activities. We saw them shopping for food and driving more than anything else, but for some reason they both still say the whole experience and filming of the series was the best thing they’ve gotten to do.

That to me, and I say this with full honesty, does not make sense to me, if they’re strictly platonic. I don’t know, episode eight sees them putting a certain level of importance on these trips that many antis wanted to rip away, and surely they knew that. They know what people think about them in their own fandom, both for the better and the worse, and they didn’t care. Which, good for them.

Moving away from my confusion in an attempt to find another explanation, I also think their joint melancholy about having to leave triggered the dropping of their guards a little bit. Add that to them drinking some, and their whole reaction moment felt almost intrusive to see, lol. They kept gravitating toward each other the entire time, only for the editors to skip to them sitting back up with more space between them. Nevermind the footsie and Jimin walking by the room they were shown going to bed in, when he said he was going to wake JK up.

So unless Jungkook was already up and in the shower or something, which they conveniently didn’t mention despite doing it every other time… they either didn’t sleep in the room with the camera or JK moved rooms. But again, given they gave us updates about every other sleeping arrangement or change, why would their last night be different if nothing happened? (By “nothing” I genuinely mean I think they moved to a different room without a camera, likely to talk or simply be closer. Not necessarily sex, because again, I don’t see them going there with a house full of staff.)

Pure speculation of course, lol, but yeah. Those moments made me feel a little like, okay, they did this with the intent of making memories. They may have wanted to cement who they are to each other in this moment, because no matter how optimistic they were that things wouldn’t change and their friendship would be solid, no one can predict the future.

Couple that with them both starting Ep1 saying they hadn’t seen each other and Jimin not being sure (no pun intended) the trip was a good idea in the first place, to them ending Ep8 saying they didn’t want it to be over and spent the last few days happy… it’s a big deal, I think. Especially with how many times they spent their last day in Sapporo taking about how romantic and pretty everything was.

Per the words from their own mouths, they created a small, romantic, nice, and happy bubble they didn’t want to leave, and I love that for them. They got to be happy and cared for by one another, and want to spend many more years to come doing the same thing. I hope they get that.

Oh and final thought… I want that house! Their final Sapporo house was beautiful, as was the town. It felt like a holiday special!

[pancakeke]

hey just wnated to give a tip dont use tap water for the marimos, leave it out for 24 hrs, if possible use pond water or something with natural bacteria 🫡

I understand that you had good intentions by trying to give advice, but please understand that if I wanted advice I would have requested it.

and I'm really really not trying to be mean to you here, but this is a good example of how not knowing the context of someone's situation and then giving unsolicited advice can spread misinformation.

using pond/creek/river water for anything other than a pond jar is a bad idea. the contaminants this may introduce to an aquatic system far outweighs the benefits good bacteria may provide. potential water quality issues should be assessed by testing first. changes should be made based on test results, and only by means of safe chemical or bacterial additives.

good bacteria is most useful for eating up detritus and fish waste before its decay can create chemical imbalances in a tank. but I don't have any critters that poop and my marimo have never appeared to shed dead parts. if anything they generate more living tufts of algae that then start looking for a place to anchor themselves, which is a whole different problem.

again, sorry if this comes off rude but I see sooo much misinfo spread around the houseplant subreddits I follow as well as on instagram. a lot of it comes in the form of unsolicited advice that doesn't directly address anything at hand.

the (serious) fish/aquarium hobbyists are way more likely to be straight shooters, though I guess that comes with the territory when the hobby has a higher barrier for entry and it's easy to do tests that can back up your claims lol

my marimo have been cute and doing fine for the 6 years I've owned them. the only reason I killed one recently was because I neglected them all completely for months. I'm going a little more extreme with their setup now (like adding pumps and stuff) because this would either extend the time they can be left alone OR I'll want play with their habitat more, which means I'll check them more. also once I started looking at the types of aquariums equipment out there it all seemed fun and I wanted to get silly with things.

[peachjagiya]

I hope you don’t take offense to what I am about to say cuz i’ll speak freely. I think the issue here is, so many taekookers kept talking about how much Jungkook didn’t want to do the show and even went as far as claiming that he was forced to do this show no matter how much Jungkook verbally proclaimed how much fun he was having and how he loved the show. Let’s also be serious here, does anyone really believe that Jungkook would have continued shooting in other locations if he hated the first experience in NY? Before someone comes up with the contract excuse, I need to remind everyone that this show was never the company’s idea. It was Jimin who thought of it, told Jungkook about it and then pushed at the level of the company to make it happen. I had never gotten chance to watch ITS friendcation with Tae because honestly I am more a music fan and their variety shows or other healing shows kinda bore me but I recently watched Friendcation and it was Tae too who wanted to film the show with his wooga squad and from what I understood from what they said at the beginning, he was the one who took the idea to the company and they let it happen. So I don’t think it’s fair to claim that Jungkook couldn’t back out of the show even if he didn’t like it because he was contractually bound.

Right now if I were jikookers I would gloat too because so many people have claimed that Jk looked miserable, looked disinterested, didn’t want to do the show at all or didn’t see the point but from his own words we know that is far from the truth. Not only did he declare how much he loved the show and how free he felt during the show, he also thinks that out of all the trips he been on in his life, these trips for AYS were the best. He also mentioned wanting to go back to the start of their trip so anyone still claiming that Jungkook didn’t love being on that show is not being realistic or reasonable at all. He could have just not said anything if he didn’t feel that way because ofcourse he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy the trip if he didn’t (or maybe he could) so knowing how blunt Jk can be if he said he loved it, then he loved it. So I think it is wise to just stop with all the stuff about him not liking it or not not wanting to be there because nothing we have seen and heard from him supports that line of thought. He clearly looked bummed that the trip was ending, him and Jimin, and someone wouldn’t feel that way if they didn’t enjoy the trip. I feel like those trips to him, were an opportunity for him to break away from his excessive work load for a few days and just unwind, have fun and eat to his hearts delights. In hindsight, I think it was a great Idea that the show was there to film as after watching his documentary and seeing just how much he worked and pushed himself, I think those few days inbetween schedules to just have fun did him some good.

This is just me stating my honest opinion and I hope I didn’t say anything condescending or rude.

Honest opinions are fine and you're welcome to them.

The only thing I want to query is that jimkookers should gloat. What is this victim storyline? Oh well they're only gloating cos we were so mean to them?

They spent a couple of weeks saying JK visibly hated Tae, laughing at misinterpreted jokes to make it look like JK wanted him gone, mocking their short lay down. Did they all bow at our feet when he finally said it was better with Tae? No they absolutely did not. What they did was just carry on. Cos they perceived events a different way. And I couldn't give a fuck if they do that.... until they get pissy when others do it.

I have never, in my life, been to a JMKK space to "gloat." Or to say anything actually. I've often wondered about their thoughts on things and I just haven't ever. It's not my space.

Imagine if the tumblr Taekookers reacted to, for example, Hawaii this way. Ran into Jikook spaces to "gloat". Because as you say here, we had plenty of reason to. After months and years of "JK can't stand being around him" and "Tae just lies" that became too much even in the short time I've been around, there was vindication. Yeah, we could have gloated.

I bet if we'd done that, the first thing the jmkkrs would say would be "why hasn't this made you feel good?"

What actually happened is we just had a couple of exciting days being dorks about it, feeling good and happy in our "community" here.

So they should go do that.

[asirensrage]

Saudade - Chapter 10

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Mikey x OC, Hanma x OC, Ran x OC, Mikey x OC x Draken Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Warnings: swearing, violence, threats of violence, murder, smoking, sex, consensual sex between teenagers, alcohol, recreational drug use, mention of trafficking, torture, family neglect, mentions of sexual violence. isekai OC. memory loss. unbeta’d **warnings are not exhaustive** Summary: No one seems to realize she doesn’t belong until she finally runs into her “new” brother, Hanagaki Takemichi. Now, hearing his story, Takara makes the choice to help him and hopefully find her way home, but faking it til you make it only lasts so long when you start losing the memories of the life you had before. As Takemichi becomes the only family she’s ever known, how far will she go to protect him?

notes: Thank you all so much for reading this and for your comments. They mean the world to me. I'm so glad you're enjoying this. Please let me know what you think about this chapter. I'd love to hear your theories about what's going to happen. 😏

also on ao3

fic masterlist - prev chapter

She doesn’t sleep.

How can she when she has to sort through the shit in her head? She doesn’t regret her choice to threaten Taiju. He nearly killed Takemichi and she’s not prepared to let him die, now or in the future. She’s already planned to do whatever it takes to keep him alive. Accepting Toman’s help would be another shackle around her neck. She’d be subjected to the orders of Mikey and the other leaders…including Kisaki. On her own she would have less protection, but she’d be free to make her own choices. 

She ignores the texts that make her phone buzz and instead buries herself in her blankets. It would be easier if she didn’t give a shit about her brother, but Takemichi is the only one she has. He’s the only one who knows she doesn’t really belong here and that…he’s the only one who actually sees her. She has to protect that. 

🏍️

By the next morning, the bruise on her face is mostly yellow with some splotches of red, but the one on her side where she took the direct hit was a mix of red, dark blues and purple. It is a bit hard to see. It hurts like hell though now. The lack of sleep didn’t help, nor did the call demanding her presence at a meeting she definitely didn’t belong at. She was also warned not to bring her roller blades which felt like a punishment already. 

“What happened to you?” Takemichi cries out the moment he sees her. 

“A funny thing happened on the way to the market…” she says lightly, hoping she could avoid telling him. Considering the order she received to follow her brother to the meeting, it isn’t likely. “I met the Black Dragon giant last night.”

Takemichi drops the cup he’s holding in shock before darting over to her. “Are you alright?! Did he do this?! Was it because of me?”

She winces and steps out of his hold, shoving his hands down so he stops touching her face. “Knock it off. I’m fine. I just had something to tell him.”

“What could you possibly need to tell the leader of the Black Dragons?” he asks, looking at her incredulously. 

“That if he ever touches my family again, I’ll kill him.” 

Her brother’s mouth drops open, staring at her in shock. “What?!”

She ignores him, grabbing something to eat for breakfast. She gets enough to make some for her brother as well. She goes through the motions of cooking, keeping an eye out for their parents. None of them are around, or if they are, they’re avoiding them. It feels weird. Parents should be more invested in her opinion. Or maybe that’s just what she was used to. 

“Takara, tell me you didn’t threaten that monster!”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“Taka!”

“Take!” she quips back. “Hurry up and eat. I gotta go with you to your meeting because of this,” she motions to her face. 

“You’re like five feet tall! He’s ginormous! He could kill you, Takara! He wanted to kill me!”

“Yeah, but you’re the idiot who doesn’t know how to duck.” 

“What?!”

🏍️

They continue to go back and forth, heading to meet the others until Takemichi stops her to admit that she’s not the only one who did something without thinking last night. 

“You told Chifuyu?!”

“I didn’t mean to! It just slipped out and then the next thing I knew, I was saying everything!” 

“And he believed you?”

“Yeah, he said it made sense. That it was like I was two different people at times.” 

She falls silent. It was true. The Takemichi standing before her now is familiar and comfortable. It’s the one who actually feels like her brother. His present self that returns when he leaves back to the future…it doesn’t feel the same. 

“This will be good,” Takemichi says. “Another person on our side! Who can help me.”

The way he says it rankles, digging into an old wound when it sounds like she’s not good enough. She swallows the feeling back, knowing her brother is an idiot and probably didn’t mean the way it sounds. “Sure.” 

“On the inside,” he says quickly as if he realizes he made a mistake. “With Toman.”

She sighs. “I get it, Takemichi.” Takara shoves her hands in her pockets and continues to walk, her brother following quickly behind. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Are you sure? I really didn’t mean that you can’t help me! I just meant that having someone in the gang who knows the people better than either of us do…”

She tunes him out. This Takemichi doesn’t know that she’s been dragged into a friendship with Draken and Mikey. He doesn’t know that Hanma has hounded her for her attention and that there’s a bet out there to sleep with her. It’s driving in the reminder that she’s alone in this world, that she doesn’t belong here. 

Takara hasn’t made friends outside of being adopted by her brother’s friends. Her parents here have only acknowledged her when she was arrested after trying to save Baji. The only reason she’s not failing school is because it was driven into her as a child that failure was not an option. All she has is Takemichi and the sports she keeps telling herself she’ll join again but she hasn’t because it’s not the same. She doesn’t have anyone telling her she needs to do something. She’s left to her own devices and she’s floundering. 

🏍️

The only ones who don’t look surprised to see her when she shows up at the executive meeting are Mikey and Draken. Hanma stands instantly, gaze darkening as he takes in the bruise on her face but he’s prevented from heading towards her both by Kisaki’s hand on his arm and Mikey calling her forward. 

She straightens her shoulders, ignoring the looks of concern she’s getting from Mitsuya and his vice-captain she knows she’s met before, and the confusion from the others she doesn’t completely recognize. 

Mikey moves forward from where he’s sitting, perched above the rest like a king on his throne. He leans down, face turning as he inspects the damage. “It’s not that bad.”

Draken has his arms crossed, watching them. “Lift up your shirt.”

“Hey!” Takemichi protests. “That’s my sister!”

“Not like that!” he shouts back, sounding annoyed at the accusation. “She’s injured.”

She glares over at Draken but he stares back, unimpressed. She exhales sharply as she lifts up the side of the shirt she’s wearing, trying not to wince at the pain the motion creates. 

Someone swears. 

“Takara!” her brother cries out. “You said you were fine!”

“I am fine!” She jolts to the side when Mikey pokes her bruise. “Ow!” She swipes at his hand, forcing it down instantly. “Stop that!” 

He moves back to his perch. “What happened?” 

“You mean Draken didn’t tell you?”

“I want to hear it from you. Everyone here should.” 

“Your choice will impact ours,” Draken says, reminding her of what’s coming. 

She can practically feel Hanma’s gaze burning into her back. “Fine. I came home yesterday to find my brother beaten to hell. He told me what happened. I…picked up my bat and left, tracking the giant asshole down, which wasn’t hard by the way,” she admits. “I rolled up on him, broke my bat across his head and gave him a warning that if he ever touched my brother again, I’d kill him.” 

There’s a moment of silence as her words are processed. Someone behind her laughs. 

“The bruises are because he managed to hit me once on the side. I crashed into a wall,” she motions to her face. 

“You’re saying you hit Taiju Shiba?” She looks back to see that the one who asked was one of the guys she doesn’t recognize with blond hair. 

“Princess does pack a strong hit,” Hanma grins. “Especially with a weapon.”

“It’s sports equipment,” Takara says. “And yeah, I hit him.” 

“You’re…tiny.”

“No shit.” She turns back to Mikey. “I ran into Draken after. I didn’t know about the rules or anything like that. He told me I gotta choose which direction I want to go in after that.”

“What?” Takemichi interrupts. “What choice?”

She ignores her brother.

“Did you?” Draken asks. 

“Yeah,” Takara nods. It was an easy one when it came down to it. “I’ll remain unaffliated with Toman.”

“You’re sure?” Draken asks, looking between her and Mikey who hasn’t looked away from her. “You know what that means.” 

“Yeah. No protection but it’s fine.”

“It’s fucking stupid!” She rolls her eyes at Hanma’s voice and doesn’t bother to turn to look at him. “Come on, princess!”

“I don’t need your opinion,” she snaps, glancing back at him. 

He scowls darkly. “What? You think the fucking Haitanis are going to protect you?”

“Haitani?” Multiple people ask, a mixture of confusion and accusation. 

“You running with another gang?” the blond one she doesn’t know asks. It sounds more like an accusation. 

“I’m not running with any gang,” Takara says, looking back at him in confusion. “I went to a rink and they found me. They just wanted to talk,” she shrugs. 

“About what?” the blond asks before taking a step towards her.

“Mucho!” Draken snaps. “She’s not a traitor.”

“Can’t betray anything I’m not a part of,” Takara adds. She rocks back on her heels slightly, wishing she was wearing her skates. Despite the confidence she has in her brother having her back, he’s a terrible fighter and she’s starting to feel cornered. 

“Are you sure?” Mikey asks, eyes meeting hers as he ignores the others. He’s steadfast as he waits, exuding confidence as he acts as the leader he is. It’s such a contrast to how she’s seen him when it’s just her and Draken. 

Takara nods. “I thought about the pros and cons last night. I’d rather be free and face the consequences. No offence.”

“None taken. Wait outside.” 

She nods again and leaves, ignoring the stares that watch her go. She can practically feel both Hanma and Takemichi wanting to say something. It’s a miracle her brother doesn’t.   

🏍️

She makes her way outside, sitting down in the dirt and leaning back against one of the walls. Her legs ache like she needs to stretch but the pain of her side and face are enough to ignore it.

Looking back, it was a bad idea to go after the giant. Still, she couldn’t get over her anger that led to her lashing out. Takemichi faced not only death now in the future but incarceration as well. He refused to tell her where she was, only that they weren’t close, and her day earlier with Ran and Rindou had been ruined by Hanma’s arrival. Mainly because of the possessive way he spoke about her to them and the fact that she knew it was only going to get worse if she enacted her plan. 

She leans back and closes her eyes, letting out a sigh. She wants to be back on the ice, a hockey stick in her hand and…and..she wants her family back. Her friends. She wants to not have to worry that her brother is going to die and there’s nothing she can do about it. She wants…to be able to remember what they look like. In detail. She can remember her brothers, her mother and father, but her friends' faces are slipping away. When she thinks of her friends, she only thinks of the people she knows here. 

A lump grows in her throat and she takes a deep breath, swallowing it back. It’s a constant ache that leaves her feeling empty and the worst part is she knows something is missing but she doesn’t know what it is. It’s like the way she likes things now she knows she didn’t before, not who she used to be. 

If she’s losing pieces of herself…what is she left with? Is she anyone except Takemichi’s sister? 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

She jolts in surprise, looking up to see Hanma storming towards her. The grief slips to the back of her mind as she forces herself to her feet to face off. “The fuck do you want?” she snarls back, instantly on guard. She sees the others coming out of the shack they had their meeting in, but they’re all moving slower than Hanma and she doesn’t see her brother yet. 

He moves closer as if he can force her back and corner her. 

She digs her metaphorical feet in and doesn’t back down. He’s not the first to attempt to cow her into submission with his size and he won’t be the last. “What the fuck do you want?” she repeats, slower this time, sharpening her words to a point as she glares up at him. 

“Why didn’t you come to me for help?”

“Why would I?” She asks, almost genuinely curious. “We’re not fucking friends, Hanma, and in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t want you around.”

“I would have helped you, princess,” he says, voice slightly softer than before as he stares down at her. Takara stares back, confused at the insistence and the way he’s looking at her. 

“Fuck off, I don’t need help.”

“Yeah, you made that fucking clear when you refused Toman’s. Why didn’t you ally with us?”

“Why the fuck would I trust you?” She asks, glaring up at him. “You forced a kiss on me the second time we met. You fought against my brother. You want to help me? Suck my dick.”

“Kara-chan. Come.” Mikey calls out, breaking the tension between the two of them. He’s emerged from the shack with Draken at his side and both her brother and Chifuyu following. 

“What am I, a dog?” she mutters before shoving her way past Hanma to join him. She gives him the finger before ignoring him completely as she follows Mikey.

“Takara–”

“We’ll talk later,” she murmurs to Takemichi as he tries to stop her. “Don’t worry.” She smiles at him before heading to meet Mikey at his bike. He climbs on and offers her a hand to get on behind him. He waits until she’s ready, feet on the pegs and arms wrapped around him, before he takes off, leaving everyone else behind.

tag list: @raith-way @zeleniafic @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse

@themaradwrites @kingsmakers @thatmagickjuju @awkwardchick87 @hayatoseyepatch

tr tag: @mitsuwuyaa @blackfire2013 @bleach-your-panties @reiners-milkbiddies

saudade tag: @thisbicc @scythegal

network tag: @pixelcafe-network

[rottingcompost]

born to love carrot cake, forced to live in a world where everyone hates carrot cake

[hazel2468]

I'm feeling salty so I'm just gonna say-

If you can't handle the idea of feeding live prey to something.

Do not get a pet. That requires you. To feed it live fucking prey. There are SO MANY OTHER OPTIONS!

Also don't be that fucking weirdo who goes on other people's socials and bitches about how it's "inhumane" or "gross". They'd be doing it out in the wild. It's a little something called nature. And no, you cannot find an "alternative" for your mantis.

It's a MANTIS. It is like. One of the most famous predatory insects. It is infamous for eating its prey alive.

If you're going to be a little baby about feeding live prey. Then get a pet that doesn't need that. And shut the fuck up.