#I ALWAYS GET WHAT I WANT AND I AM ALWAYS CORRECT

[wheeloffortune-design]

I guess you're unlucky because I just happened to glance at the comments on this post a year and a half after posting it. And your comment was near the top. So, graciously,

fuck you.

Telling someone that the way they reacted to empty platitudes the day their father died is 'kind of being a dick' is more than being rude, it's being cruel.

The whole post was about how, for one day, I decided to not entertain someone else's fantasy. For one day, I did not smile, placate, kept silent. That day was not about them, it was about me, my siblings, my step mother. That day, no one else's feelings mattered to me. I gave myself the right to be unpleasant while my father was dying down the hall.

It's incredibly hard to find something to say to someone when they're grieving. I've been on that side too. You can appreciate the thoughts and prayers, but nothing forces you to play along.

So I told my aunts that they could stop telling me about heaven, about how I would see him again someday, because I didn't believe that. I told that other family friend she could stop trying to give me her crystals because I didn't believe in that either.

The post I wrote a year and a half ago is about how they reacted badly to me rejecting their words. It was never about me, I don't regret what I said. It was about their reaction.

And here you call me a dick, for refusing to placate them on the worst day of my life.

I'm replying to this message not for you, but for the same reason I wrote the original post in the first place. Not knowing it would resonate with so many people, I just wanted to share my experience because I'd never heard anyone else speak of it. Maybe it could help someone, or make them feel less alone in this horrible feeling. I am lucky, it seemed to have helped several people.

If you are grieving, or when you will grieve, because we're all doomed to know grief, here are the things I learned, from that worst day of my life, and the 879 days since:

there is no good or bad way to live this pain. there is no correct way. you do whatever you can, however you want, to deal with this.

there is nothing good about this situation. don't look for the silver lining. accept that it's horrible. don't try to change this feeling into something it isn't because you feel like there should be a good side to this. there isn't. you loved them, and they're gone. it hurts.

it will get better, slowly, very slowly. you just need to make it through. but it will always hurt, at the strangest moments. the tears, years later, will be as true as the tears from the first day. this will be a relief.

and this is the whole point of the original post: if and when you lose someone close to you, you need to focus on your own pain, and not placate the other people, the ones who don't hurt as much as you do. it's not about them, it's about you. when the funeral comes, don't spend your energy in niceties, in small talk. don't make it a show for other people. take that time to get your closure. protect jealously your grief. it's your time, it's not a presentation.

The day of the funeral, a cousin talked to me about ancient Egypt, trying to cheer me up with a subject he knows I love. He started telling me about how the pyramids were built by ancient aliens, he'd seen something on youtube about it. I stopped him, told him I didn't believe in that. He was disappointed, but his disappointed was not my problem.

Tell me, should I have changed myself and nodded at his ludicrous conspiracy theory? Should I have accepted my aunt's crystal beads because they were supposed to give me strength? Then why should I have accepted something that, for me, is as completely false as ancient aliens and crystal beads?

Every other day, you need to meet people halfway. The day your father died, then his funeral? fuck that. their feelings are not your problem. don't let them make their feelings your problem.

grief fucking sucks, and this is me giving you permission to not make yourself smaller for other people when your loved ones die.

it's been a year so i feel more comfortable talking about it..

when you're atheist and you lose someone, religious people don't really know how to interact with you. it's fine, we have different worldviews.

'He's in a better place, now.'

Sorry auntie, but I don't believe that. I believe that his brain stopped working at 5h55pm on december 11th 2022, and that's it. Nothing after that.

It makes grief very difficult, because not believing in god or the afterlife also means accepting that you will never, ever see that person again. That's it. The end. Nada mas.

But, back to the aunties and other faceless people gravitating in the grey blurry waters of your awareness.

They tell you 'He's with god now' and you tell them 'Yeah I don't believe that' and.

they. get. annoyed.

Here I am, gutted open, the worst day of my life, barely holding myself together, and they! Get annoyed that I won't smile and entertain their point of view!

Another faceless person tried to heal me with cristals. She also got annoyed when I told her I didn't believe in that.

I usually don't really mind religious people. It's fine, we have different worldviews. I think I'm right but so do they. As long as they're good people, I don't judge them for their faith.

I'll even be grateful for them trying to console me. I get that you're trying to give me strength and love. Thank you.

But I'm going to be true to myself, yes even when I'm mad with shock and grief. And I still can't believe they got annoyed that I didn't play along to placate them, on the worst day of my life.

(I wanted to share because I've never heard anyone talk about atheism and grief, and the loneliness that comes out of it.)

[kxsagi]

slept through 12 of my 30 timers but the other 28 timers woke me from my coma-like slumber

I have come, with a Request 😋 Ahem.

Blue lock boys with a Reader who they're really publicly even close with, and not just friends kind of close, but so close that everyone automatically assumes they're dating, and the blue lock boys don't deny it because they are like head over heels.

But in truth, while they do all the couple stuff with reader and even live with her, reader is completely oblivious and calls it normal best friend stuff and the blue lock boys are absolutely frustrated. preferably with sae, rin, kaiser, otoya and whoever else you want (•⩊•)

“𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢��”

a/n: this concept is so juicy omg i am here for it 🤤

also sleeping through your timers is so real i fear

ft. itoshi sae, itoshi rin, kaiser michael, otoya eita, bachira meguru, mikage reo, isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, shidou ryusei, ness alexis, karasu tabito

itoshi sae

“we’re just best friends” you say, as sae spoons you on the couch like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

he’s been in love with you for years, but the second you moved in together and started calling it “platonically sharing rent,” he realized god was testing him. 

cooks you breakfast every morning. lets you eat off his plate. lets you steal his clothes. still gets annoyed when you call him your “best bro.” 

one time you kissed his cheek in public as a joke. it trended in spain with the headline “sae itoshi’s mysterious lover.” 

he didn’t deny it. 

“what do you mean we’re not dating?” he finally asks one night, deadpan, while you’re brushing your teeth. 

“wait, you thought we were?” 

he has never known heartbreak until this moment. 

and yet he still brings you a blanket and tucks you in after. 

he’s in too deep. 

itoshi rin

touch-starved menace who lets you touch him because it’s you. 

he doesn’t do this with anyone else. no one gets to poke his cheek. no one gets to play with his hair while he’s gaming. no one gets to walk around in his clothes except you. 

he has confessed 3 times. you thought all 3 were jokes. 

“rin, i love you,” you once said while drunk and clinging to his arm. 

he nearly passed out on the spot. 

when you said the same thing to your cat 2 seconds later, he nearly passed away. 

he can’t even get mad at you. he just sulks for days. 

his entire team thinks you're dating. he gets called “whipped” on a weekly basis. 

refuses to correct anyone. actually glares at them harder if they imply otherwise. 

he will keep living in this delusion until you finally realize the truth and kiss him for real. 

kaiser michael

he literally introduces you as his girlfriend. and you just go with it. 

“oh that’s just kaiser being dramatic 😄” – girl. be serious. 

buys you matching necklaces and has his arm around you 90% of the time. you’re practically in his lap in every photo. 

fangirls ship you. he absolutely has a folder of fan edits of “[yourshipname]” on his phone. 

he flirts with you constantly. you flirt back. neither of you break character. 

you once called him your “platonic soulmate” and he nearly choked on his own spit. 

“you think soulmates are platonic now? you’re gonna kill me.” 

makes up fake anniversaries just to celebrate them with you. 

“happy 6-months-since-you-moved-in day.” 

“thanks, roomie 🥰” 

he screams into his pillow every night. 

otoya eita

biggest fake boyfriend energy ever. if he’s not dating you, then what IS he doing? 

you sleep in the same bed. you call him “babe” when you're joking. his hand is always on your waist. and you still insist you’re just besties. 

he’s so down bad it’s physically painful. 

once introduced you to someone as his “partner” and you were like “awww you mean like crime partners 🤭” 

he cried. 

flirts with you shamelessly. you think it’s all jokes. it’s not. he’s suffering. 

everyone is convinced you’re in love. otoya included. 

but when he finally tries to kiss you during a movie night and you pause to ask “wait are we doing couple stuff or friend stuff rn?” 

he literally malfunctions. 

“i’m gonna die alone.” 

still cuddles you to sleep tho. he’s not gonna pass that up. 

bachira meguru

he’s your best friend! your little monster boy! your cuddle buddy! your ENTIRE BOYFRIEND WHO YOU SOMEHOW HAVEN’T NOTICED IS IN LOVE WITH YOU. 

everyone around you assumes you're dating. he draws you into his selfies, brings you to press events, and kisses your forehead like it's second nature. 

and you? you just giggle and say “haha he’s just silly like that!” 

he’s not silly. he’s desperate. 

literally introduces you to his mom as “the one.” 

still doesn’t correct you when you say “we’re just roommates lol.” 

he’s a patient man. he will wait. 

but one day he absolutely grabs your face and is like, “just to be clear. if i kiss you right now… are we still ‘just friends’ orrrr…?” 

pray for him. 

mikage reo

treats you like royalty. buys you flowers. gets you jewelry. lets you use his black card. 

“my best friend deserves the world <3” 

SIR. 

sometimes you joke like “lol you treat me better than any boyfriend ever has!” and he’s like “good. because i’m better than any boyfriend.” 

he said what he said. 

his dad thinks you’re engaged to his son. 

honestly you act married. he picks you up from work. he brings you coffee. you share a bed in hotels. 

still you call it “normal roommate behavior” like you're not literally couple-coded in every single way. 

one day he just looks at you and goes, “you know you’re in love with me, right?” 

“what? no i’m not! i just like your face and your money and your company and your laugh and –” 

oh. 

isagi yoichi

this man is the most boyfriend-coded best friend to ever exist. 

he makes you snacks, helps you study, ties your shoelaces, and sleeps with his head on your lap. 

“aw thanks yoichi! you’re like the perfect bestie!” 

he dies a little inside every time. 

you share a blanket when you watch movies. he always lets you pick the show. he even paints your nails once during a rainy day. 

he’s one emotional breakdown away from fully confessing. 

but every time he tries, you say stuff like “we’re such a power duo omg, can’t believe we’re not dating lol!!” 

he laughs. nervously. 

he’s literally praying you realize it on your own. 

until then, he’ll just keep living the boyfriend life in silent agony. 

nagi seishiro

doesn’t understand how you don’t already know he’s in love with you. 

you sleep in the same bed. you share showers (not at the same time but STILL). he lets you feed him. 

you call it “roommate bonding.” 

he calls it “slow torture.” 

“you’re comfy,” he mumbles while clinging to you like a human pillow. 

“awww, besties for life 🫶” 

his soul leaves his body. 

he doesn’t want to put in effort to confess, but he will if you keep playing dumb. 

“hey. if i kissed you, would that be annoying?” 

you: “uh… no?” 

“cool.” 

and then he does it. 

that’s his version of a love letter. 

shidou ryusei

the most feral “not-boyfriend” ever. 

he’s not subtle. he wants to bite you, kiss you, claim you. 

and yet… you think he’s just “really passionate about friendship.” 

“you’re so weirdly loyal to me it’s cute.” 

loyal? LOYAL? he’s planning your WEDDING. 

lets you wear his chains. lets you ride on his back. lets you slap his abs and call him your “emotional support psychopath.” 

and still you won’t date him. 

“babe. we live together. we sleep together. you’ve literally shaved my jaw for me. what do i gotta do to make you realize?” 

you blink. “huh? realize what??” 

“i’m gonna eat drywall.” 

ness alexis

poor boy’s heart explodes every time you say “roomie bestie 💕” in public. 

he is in love with you in seventeen different languages. 

cooks for you, folds your laundry, sends you good morning texts from the other room. 

kaiser makes fun of him relentlessly. 

“isn’t she your girlfriend?” 

“i-i wish 😭” 

you once kissed his cheek and called it “friend appreciation.” 

he almost fainted. 

tried to write a love letter. ended up crying into it because he didn’t know how to start it without sounding desperate. 

“what’s the german word for ‘i think my best friend is my soulmate and it hurts’?” 

lives for the day you finally realize and hug him a little longer than usual. 

karasu tabito

king of fake chill. acts unbothered. is actually dying inside. 

he calls you “babe” for fun. you call him “bestie bae.” it’s a sick game. 

he flirts. constantly. you think he’s just being a clown. 

you’ll sit on his lap, steal his fries, and call it “classic friend behavior.” 

“girl. we slow-danced in the living room at 2 AM last night. what part of this is FRIEND behavior??” 

“bonding 😇” 

he wants to scream. 

his mom literally thinks you’re dating. she sends you gifts. he lets her. 

karasu tries to play it cool, but the moment you show any sign of returning his feelings, he’s ready with a full slideshow called “why we should date immediately (with charts).” 

your obliviousness is his villain origin story. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[littlelamy]

you’d never had a whole week off before. rose had pressed the note into your hand that monday morning—short and stiff, typed on her monogrammed stationery: “y/n l/n, take the week. you’ve earned it. the estate will survive without you. (we hope.)”

you read it three times before blinking up at her. “you mean like.. all week? like seven days? like… no chores?”

she stared at you. sipped her coffee. “yes, seven whole days. go do whatever it is girls your age like you do.”

you gasped, “like pilates and journaling and maybe alphabetizing my nail polish?”

“yes...exactly that.. go away.”

so you did it; you made a color-coded schedule with glitter pens. tuesday was for deep-cleaning your closet and trying on all your swimsuits to see which ones still fit your tits right. wednesday was for cookie experiments. and thursday—thursday was yoga day.

you’d laid your mat out just as the sun came up, soft pink light kissing the dew off the hedges. you wore your tiniest spandex shorts—baby pink, obviously, barely covering the underside of your cheeks—and a workout bra that wasn’t really a bra so much as a small fabric of coverage. it tied in the back, thin like ribbon, your breasts held together more by sheer hope rather than support.

you were already halfway through your routine by the time rafe walked out.

you didn’t see him at first. you were in a downward dog, back arched, breathing steady, totally unaware that his bedroom window faced the front lawn. or that he’d woken up late, shirtless, grumpy, barefoot, and about to storm the kitchen for cereal—until he saw you.

you, on your mat, sun hitting your thighs, bent over with your spine stretched like a sleepy cat and in those little shorts that were definitely illegal in several states, bouncing on your toes between poses like you were doing it just for him.

his mouth went dry, as he desperately trying to grab his phone, snapping a picture on after another and zooming in on some.

“fuck.” he took another one, tilted his head, cursed under his breath when you dropped into child’s pose, ass high, arms stretched forward. rafe inhaled sharply through his teeth, padding outside without a sound. “what the fuck is this, pretty?”

you squeaked, nearly tipping off your mat. twisted around, face gleaming with sweat. “rafe! oh—oh my god, good morning! i didn’t think anyone would be up yet, you scared me!”

he was grinning, eyes locked on your ass. “you’re doing porn on the lawn now?”

you blinked, correcting him, “i’m doing yoga.”

“sure you are.” he stepped closer. your eyes darted to his bare chest, the cute sleepy crinkle of his hair. he hadn’t even put on real pants, just old sweats hanging low on his hips. God, he's gorgeous. your thighs squeezed together at the thought of him from last night, when he split you open on his dad's desk.

you cleared your throat. “it’s thursday. thursday’s yoga day.”

“riiight,” he said, gaze trailing down your body like a drip of warm syrup. “and what’s with the outfit, sweetheart? trying to kill the neighbors?”

you pouted, “i always wear this for yoga. it’s comfy. i get sweaty.”

“you’re giving the grass a hard-on.”

you giggled, “you want to join me?”

he blinked. “what?”

you tilted your head, sitting back on your heels, adjusting your top where it barely clung to your tits. “i said, do you wanna join me? you came all the way out here. unless you just wanted to say hi?”

his jaw flexed, you were being very earnest. no idea what you were doing or how hard he was under those sweats.

“sure,” he said, voice rough. “let’s do some yoga.”

you scoot over, give him half the mat, which doesn’t leave any room for personal space. your knee brushes his; your arm bumps his chest when you stretch sideways. every time you exhale, it’s comes out as little whimper, and every time he inhales, it’s just to smell you. your coconut shampoo, sugary scented lotion, sweat, and sunlight, fuck—he’s going to die.

you guide him through cat-cow. he growls on the exhale. “am i doing it wrong?”

“n-no, baby” you stammer, “you’re just…intense. that’s good though. yoga should be passionate. like..from the inside. that’s what my instructor used to say.”

you move into cobra pose, arching your back until your chest pushes forward. your head falls back with a soft moan of breath.

rafe watches, commits it to memory. you peek over, “you’re not stretching.”

he huffs. “i’m stretched.”

“you’ll pull a muscle, silly. here—”

you reach over, place both hands on his waist. pushing him gently.

“lower..breathe out. let it all go.” he groans, but not from pain. you were right behind him now, hands on his hips, pressing him into the stretch. your chest brushes his back. “does that feel better?”

“yeah,” he chokes.

you tilt your head, “you’re really warm.”

“so are you.”

you smile, drowsy and pleased. “that’s the sun for you. isn’t this nice?”

he turns his head, and your faces are inches apart.

“baby.”

“mm hm?”

“are you trying to kill me?”

you blink, shocked at the accusation, “what? no! i’m trying to help you find your center. we’re working on alignment—”

“alignment,” he repeats, licking his lip. “pretty, if i align any harder, someone’s calling the cops.”

you frown, then following his eyes down to his sweatpants. oh...you cover your mouth, a smiling forming.“oh my god.”

“yeah.”

“was it the child’s pose?”

“babe.”

“or the cobra?”

“it was everything.”

you squirm. “i'm sorry, i didn’t mean to—” he cuts you off by grabbing your wrist.

“stop,” he growls. “don’t apologize for looking like that. i want you to apologize for moaning!”

you squeak. “i was breathing!”

“you were whimpering.”

you blush, “i didn’t know you were watching or paying attention.”

he tugs you into his lap making your legs spread over his thighs. “i’m always watching you,” he says, almost purring. your breath stutters at the sexiness of his voice. his hand slides up your bare back. “you wanna stretch, baby? i’ll give you a good stretch.”

“r-rafe—” like before cuts you off by kissing you.

“fuck yoga,” he breathes. “you and me need a different kind of session.”

❤︎ tags below

@rafesbabygirlx @namelesslosers @drewsephrry @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @rafedaddy01 @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @lil-sparklqueen @rafessweetgirl @esquivelbianca @p45510n4f4shi0n @palomavz @cokewithcameron @donaldsonsgirl @yncoded @lilbunnysfics @solaceluna @icaqttt @alphabetically-deranged @bevstofu @wintercrows @emluvsuxo @rafestoothbrush @cadhlabear @st8rkey

[heavenlybodies333]

Study Buddy - S.R

Spencer Reid x hotchners daughter!reader

You’re going to fail. Again.

You already feel the burn of it in your chest when you drop your pencil for the third time and let your head hit the kitchen table with a dull thud.

“Don’t cry,” Spencer says, sitting across from you with a soft smile. “That’s statistically proven to ruin your retention rate.”

You groan. “I hate statistics.”

“That’s not a healthy mindset.”

“I’ve taken this class three times.”

“And you’ll pass it this time.”

“Why? Because you’re here?”

He raises a brow. “Yes?” You glare at him. He laughs. But he softens almost immediately, reaching out to tap the top of your notebook gently. “Look. You’re not dumb. You just panic when numbers stop behaving like words. You need muscle memory. You need to trust the patterns.”

“You sound like you’re flirting with a math problem.”

He grins, almost proud. “I am.” You groan again, but this time you manage a smile too.

You hate that your dad asked him to help. You hate that it’s the one favor you didn’t have the energy to say no to. Because now Spencer’s here every night, giving you soft praise and patient corrections—looking at you like you’re not a walking disappointment.

Spencer slides your pencil back toward you with two fingers. It bumps your wrist. You stare at it like it’s a weapon. “You’re going to pass,” he says again, voice calm. Certain. “You just need to get out of your own way.”

“You sound like my therapist.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Does your therapist also make you flash cards and bring you pastries from that overpriced bakery on 9th?”

You glance at the croissant on the corner of your notebook and shrug. “Not lately.”

He smiles again��God, that gentle, knowing smile—and says, “Try this one. And this time, don’t second guess yourself.”

You look down at the formula he’s written out. You walk through it slowly, out loud like he taught you. Your hands shake less now. You write the answer down and look up, heart thudding. He doesn’t check the paper. He just looks at you and nods. “Correct.”

You light up instantly, so relieved you almost cry again—but for a different reason. “That’s the first one I got right tonight,” you breathe.

“Yep. And it won’t be the last.”

Your chest aches in a different way now. Because he looks so proud. Like he always does. Like he’s the only person who sees you trying and not failing. You want to kiss him. You really, really want to kiss him. “Spencer,” you say, soft. His name lands a little too warm between you. He meets your gaze, cautious now. His voice lowers. “Yeah?”

Your fingers curl around the pencil. “Can we take a break?”

He nods, already reaching for your water. “Yeah, okay. Ten minutes?”You shake your head. “No.” You push your notebook aside. “I mean a real break.”

He freezes, catching the edge in your tone. You stand up slowly and walk around the table. Your fingers trail along the surface until you’re beside him. You sink to your knees between his legs. He looks down at you, breath caught. “Are you—”

“You said I need muscle memory,” you whisper, hands sliding up his thighs. “Let’s build some.”

His eyes flutter shut. “Your dad asked me to help you study.”

“And you are,” you murmur. “You’re very good with your fingers.”

He exhales sharply, head tilting back as your fingers find the button of his pants. “This is wildly irresponsible.”

You blink slowly. “This is what I want.” That’s all it takes. His mouth is on yours before the words have fully settled in the air. He kisses you hard and low, and when you gasp, he swallows the sound, tugging you up off the floor and into his lap like he can’t bear to be apart for a second longer.

Your thighs straddle his. His hands slide up beneath your shirt—warm palms against warmer skin, lifting and learning and memorizing you in real time, breath hitching while he kisses down your neck and slowly works his hand beneath the waistband of your leggings.

“What’s the formula for standard deviation?”

You gasp as his fingers drag through your wetness, teasing. “I—fuck—you’re evil.”

“Answer correctly and I’ll make you come,” he says, kissing the corner of your mouth. You whimper.

“You said you needed incentives.”

You try to focus. Try to pull the answer from the recesses of your brain while his fingers slide in, curling just right. He moans softly against your ear. “Say it.”

“Square root of the variance,” you pant. “It’s the square root of the variance.”

“Smart girl.” he breathes, kissing the inside of your thigh again like a reward.

“Now,” he whispers, fingers slipping deeper, “what are the 3 formulas for non-Linear regression?”

You whimper. He plays with your slick, watching your face melt. “Come on,” he murmurs. “You know this. Exponential, logarithmic and?”

You moan instead of answering, and he grins, mouth at your jaw. “Wrong. Try again.”

You half-laugh, half-plead. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m your tutor,” he says, punctuating it with another slow thrust of his fingers. “And this is positive reinforcement.” Your breathing picks up, but before either of you can take it any further, you hear a noise in the hallway.

You freeze. Spencer pulls back, eyes wide, a slight panic flashing across his face. You both scramble to straighten up, pretending like you weren’t just about to cross a line you never intended to—but both of you wanted to.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath.

Spencer’s voice is low. “We should… talk about this.”

You nod, quickly fixing your hair. “Yeah. Later.”

But the truth is, both of you know it’s only a matter of time before you both cross that line. And when you do, it’s going to be anything but casual.

a/n: Spencer Reid x hotch’s daughter is my Roman Empire

⋆•★⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆★•⋆

[shyxcherry]

Pretty in Red | Wooyoung

summary: your boyfriend wants to dye his hair. correction, your boyfriend wants you to dye his hair- causing you to dye his hair bright red on a friday night. at least he bought you pizza.

pairing: est relationship wooyoung x reader

genre/warning: no warning. just a short fic with a lot of fluff. im talking tooth rotting fluff that hurts if your single (like me)

word count: 1.4k

note: anyone want to be my wooyoung?

"What if we do my eyebrows?"

"Absolutely not."

You ignored the pouting of your boyfriend as you got out of the car. He was immediately at your side looking like a kicked puppy. He grabbed onto your hand to keep you from moving away from him.

"Wooyoung-"

"Baby, please." He pleaded. "Think of how good I would look."

"I can't because you can't decide on a color." You remind him. When you agreed to dying your boyfriend's hair, you should've realized how difficult he would make it. You already regret saying yes to him.

"What if you pick it out? You always know what looks best on me anyway."

You ignore the compliment as you look up at him. His dark eyes were pleading as he meet your gaze. You could see him smile as he knew you were about to agree with him- never being able to find yourself saying no to him. Hence, why your at a beauty shop late at night to get hair dye.

"You stress me out."

You snatch your arm away from him as you make your way to the front door of the beauty shop. Wooyoung was easily able to catch up with you, intertwining your fingers before kissing your hand.

"I love you."

"You better."

He laughed at your attempt to be mad at him. He held the door open for you before you two stepped into the store. It was just the two of you and a worker who really looked like she didn't want to be there. You greeted her before quickly making your way back to where the hair dye was, your boyfriend right on your heels.

So much, that when you stopped, he ran into you nearly knocking you over.

"Really?" You turn back to question him after he had caught you. He looked down with a sheepish smile.

"Sorry. I got distracted."

"What was so important that you nearly knocked me over for?"

Wooyoung shrugged, moving his hand down to squeeze your ass. You let out an embarrassed squeak as you slapped his hand away. He laughs at your reaction as you move away from him. "Your ass looks really good in those pants."

"I am going to murder you when we get home."

Wooyoung shrugged, unphased by your threat. "As long as I can look at your ass while I die, I'll be okay."

You scoff at his answer before turning away from him. You look over all of the colors that the store offers. Wooyoung couldn't make up his mind, but he did tell you he wanted something bright. At least his hair was already blonde- meaning you didn't have to bleach it.

"Have you made up your mind on a color?"

Wooyoung responds by wrapping his arms around you. He head rested on your shoulder. "You pick it out, baby. Make me look as pretty as you."

You felt your face blush- especially when Wooyoung pressed a kiss to your cheek. "But what if you hate it?"

"Like I could hate anything you do." Wooyoung scoffed.

You let out a sigh, knowing that when he makes up his mind there isn't any changing it. You look over the colors once again before your eyes stop. "Red?"

"Let's do it." Wooyoung said without thinking about it. He grabbed two boxes, holding them in one hand while grabbing your hand with the other.

"Your ability to just jump into things without thinking about them still amazes me."

Wooyoung chuckles at your statement as he buys the hair dye. After the cashier rings them out, Wooyoung is grabbing your hand before dragging you out of there. You hold the bag as Wooyoung drives the two of you back to your shared apartment.

Once you arrive back, you tell Wooyoung to put on a shirt that he doesn't mind getting dye on while you set up everything in the bathroom. You take of your, more correctly Wooyoung's, hoodie, leaving you in a tank top. You make Wooyoung sit on the toilet as you mix the dye together.

"Are you sure you want me to do this?"

"Who else would I want to dye my hair?" Wooyoung responded back with another question.

You let out a scoff as you roll your eyes. "Oh. I don't know. Maybe a professional."

"How many times have you dyed your own hair?" Wooyoung smirks, lightly tugging the blonde money pieces that frame your face before brushing it behind your ear. You do admit that you have dyed your hair yourself about a hundred times, but never someone else's. You were okay with messing up your own- not your boyfriends.

"That's different." You argue. "I've never dyed someone else's hair before. What if I mess it up? Or what if you hate it?"

As soon as you set the bowl of dye down, you are pulled into Wooyoung's lap. You know he did this to silence you-and you are proven right when he pulls you into a kiss. You feel your nerves about dying his hair disappear as he kisses away your worry.

"You're not going to mess it up." He mumbles as he pulls away. "And in a few hours, I'll be rocking red hair that everyone's going to be jealous of."

"Why would they be jealous?" You ask.

"Because my perfect girl did it."

You kiss him one more time before you get off of his lap. You put on gloves before you start on his hair. He opens his legs so you can stand in between them. His hands rubbed soothing circles on your waist where your skin was exposed. He tried hard to be quiet, so you could concentrate. But he could only last for a few minutes before he started talking. He could tell you didn't mind though due to the soft smile on your face.

Once you were done and were sure you didn't miss any spots, you set a timer while Wooyoung ordered you two some pizza. While Wooyoung was ordering, you quickly took the left over dye and put it on the blonde pieces that was surrounding your face. You pin them back before cleaning up your mess.

You walk back into the main room to see Wooyoung on the couch, scrolling on his phone while he was careful of not getting dye everywhere. You wanted to see how long it would take for him to notice your hair. As soon as you sat next to him, he turned to you with a large smile. A smile that even bigger when he noticed the now red instead of the blonde.

"Baby, you didn't tell me we were going to match." He spoke. "Now everyone really is going to be jealous."

"Oh hush." You shove his shoulder which caused him to laugh. You knew exactly why he was laughing when he pressed a kiss to your cheek. He loved teasing you and making you blush.

The food came right before the timer went off. Wooyoung put everything in the living room while you went to wash the red out of your hair. Once you were done, you helped Wooyoung wash the red out of his hair. After, you immediately made him sit, so you could dry it before the big reveal.

You dried his hair before allowing him to get up to look. You then dry your hair as you watch his reaction. He's quiet for a moment causing you to turn off the hair dryer.

"Do you like it?" You ask as you put the dryer up.

"Do I like it?" He questioned, looking over at you with raised brows. He steps over to you, wrapping you in his arms before kissing all over your face. You laugh as you try to pull away from him, but it didn't work. He ended his attack with a kiss on your lips. "I love it, baby. Thank you."

You smile as you run your hand through his hair. "It does look good, doesn't it?"

"I told you." He teased. You roll your eyes, not answering as you tried to pull away. Key word is try. He tightened his grip as he laughs. "I'm not letting you go until you tell me I was right."

"Then we're going to be here for a while." You respond.

"Are you sure about that?"

Before you could question the smile on his face, he hands attack your sides. You let out a scream as he tickles you. He laughs as you hit his hands- trying to stop him.

"Say it and I'll stop."

"Okay! You win." Wooyoung's hands freeze. He looks down expectedly as you catch your breath. "You were right."

"Now tell me you love me."

"I love you, so much."

"I love you, my pretty baby." Wooyoung leans down, pressing one last kiss to your lips before pulling away.

"Now, let's go eat before the pizza gets cold."

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

I am very intrigued to hear your expanded thots on sub!joe and pegging! I think it adds an extra layer of vulnerability to their relationship that is super interesting. Plus as long as you don’t include it in one of the main fics, people can choose to read it as a part of that universe or not 😊

sub!joe brain dump (NSFW edition)

I'm glad others want to hear about this because!!! It's been bouncing around in my brain for weeks now!

Note: There's more discussion about how the dom/sub dynamics are started, feelings, and relationship in this too.

CW: BDSM dynamics (heavily described, D/S dynamics, swinging), 18+ content (pegging described)

want to read other sub!joe? you're in luck (please note: main fics do not have all these dynamics; this an expansion of the entire universe)

sub!joe masterlist | joe burrow masterlist | main masterlist

________________________________

It always starts with consent. And anything new is always discussed outside of sex. Always, always, always, always. It's non negotiable. I know I haven't talked about it a lot in the fics. But there's a ton more that's happening behind the scenes. Between their escapades, there's a lot of conversations about boundaries, wants, if anything's changed. Safe, sane, and consensual. Pillars that the two of them live so deeply by. 

When these dynamics first started cropping up, Domme sat Joe down. She has experience prior to Joe about it, mentioned to Joe in broad strokes she was previously apart of 'the scene'. Joe took it in stride that it was her history. It intrigued him a little, and he asked all his questions but doesn't delve into specifics. Domme never forced it into their relationship either, didn’t cram it in at every turn. Just mentioned it once, let Joe ask his questions and then let it go. 

But the signs feel so obvious to her. They keep cropping up, how he reaches for her in a crowded room. Sighs into her when they’re alone. Jokes about wishing he could just his brain off. So, Domme makes it a conversation. She only intends to bring it up one more time, and again, let Joe decide if he wants to press it further. She brings the conversation to his attention with a soft and sweet, “Hey, I'm noticing similar things in you and our relationship that I’ve seen in prior dynamics and I want to make sure that a) you like it and b) to discuss if you want to make it a more solid and integrated part of our relationship?”

Of course Joe asks what she means, so she lays it--all facts, all, “I’ve noticed..” or “It appears..” so there’s room for her to be corrected. Which Joe doesn't. Because everything she lays out is true, is what it seems like.

Or so Joe thinks until he asks, “What does it remind you of?”

“Dominant and submissive roles and dynamics--that’s what it reminds me of.”

“And I’m the--” He can’t say it. 

“Well, you’re Joe. But if we map your behaviors onto that framework, the behaviors look like those of a submissive.”

It’s careful. Joe notices that much. She doesn’t call him a sub. Just talk about the behaviors. But he’s taking the leaps. He’s seeing where the conclusions, and summations will all lead. Joe hesitates, hadn't really considered himself a sub or anything. He wasn't oozing a super domineering personality but he took care of shit. He handled shit as it came up, when it needed to be handled. Like he was supposed to do. How could he be a sub when he's literally a leader? It's not like he lets Domme do everything. 

But she's, again, so fucking smooth and soft with it, "Think about it like this. When it's the two of us together, you seem to relax a bit more. You let me do more things for you than you let others do for you. Do you like it when I step up for you in specific situations?" 

“Yes.” Because it makes him feel cared for. Which is easy to answer, to admit too.

“Do you like it when I praise you? When I take a bit more of the control? Not all, but when you get to pass some of the weight over to me, what do you feel?”

“Relieved.” It’s like Joe can breathe easier. “But you feel the same right? When I help you out?”

“Yes,” she nods. “But I like shouldering that weight. I take orders all day at work. I like giving them sometimes.”

Joe is exhausted by them. He makes decisions all the time that by the end of the day he’s sick of it. “So you’re not annoyed when I call you asking for help on what to ask my chef for the week?”

“Never,” she grins. “It makes me feel needed. Like, if intimacy could go into a gas tank and is added into and taken out of. You relying on me in those ways fills my intimacy tank--to make tiny decisions when you don’t want to or are too exhausted too. Or when you say you just need to hear my voice or want me to give you the least amount of choices possible makes my whole body flutter.”

He nods, chewing at the inside of his cheek. He knows the feeling when she just steps up, when she’s just there for him--solid, unwavering, unflinching at even his silliest and tiniest of needs. “And me passing some of the smaller things onto you fills mine using that logic.”

The more Joe chews on it, the more he realizes, yeah no, he really likes it when she takes care of things for him. When she's with him at events, and she just gets it when his battery dies or when she helps navigate a conversation Joe feels himself slipping in, or when they're out shopping together and she rolls her shoulders back and strides with every step, confident and sure of herself in ways that Joe is confident, but that's full of practice and a quiet kind of internal pep talk. Joe's fought to be confident and she just is. So it starts slowly, the two of them easing into this dynamic.

The dom/sub came up near the year mark and they've been together a while now, since late, late 2021/early 2022.

Domme sits Joe down to do a 'Will Do, Won't Do, Want to Try' list after their initial conversation. She hands him a sheet of paper, walks him through folding it into thirds and then has him label each column as one of the following: Will Do, Won't Do, Want to Try. Explains that the idea is that Joe writes down what he's willing to do (inside the bedroom and inside their dynamic), what he won't do at all (hard limits), and stuff he's willing to try or maybe he's a little unsure about. 

"Think of it like a stop light. Will Do is green, you're all for it. Yellow is the stuff you want to try that we'll talk through and about, make sure there's rules in place. Won't do are red lights. Hard limits, no goes, no matter what." 

It seems simple enough. They work in separate rooms for a little bit but then Joe misses her and creeps out his office and kisses all over her face so it gets tabled for the day. But for the better half a week, it's swirling in the back of Joe's mind. It’s intriguing to take the plunge into all his fantasies. 

They finish their lists and then comes the hard part where they have to talk it through. He sets the page down, a few lines crossed out and then nearly bolts. 

But Domme coaxes him in, her voice soft and smooth, and silky, makes him feel safe when she says, "So, we can start easy. You tell me when you're most excited about from your lists." She doesn't read it, just trusts him enough to know he'll share it truthfully. Joe melts into the couch cushions right there, thinking to himself, I'll do whatever she'd fucking ask just as long as she keeps talking to me like that.

Joe's hard limits are like no visible bruises, no excessive pain (because he is a professional athlete so he needs to be able to discern a sting from something more worrisome), no tight bondage, and nothing that could cause severe harm--it's all reasonable. And Domme helps him sort of categorize and clarify as needed. But she distinctly notes there's nothing on his list about anything penetrative on his end. Like he couldn't fathom it all.

They establish safe words. His is turquoise. Hers is dragonfly. Joe's practiced in his head, Too much--use turquoise. It's the phrase Domme used with him. That if it ever became too much he could use 'turquoise'. Just over and over and over, so he makes the association. 

When they first get used to the dynamic, Joe slips and uses, "Stop." And what he was trying to say was something like, "I need to catch my breath." 

But the second the 'p' pops off his lips, Domme's pulling away from him, settles off to his side, her hands hover. "What was too much? Need space?"

It's the first time that Joe realizes just how much words matter and even though it wasn't his word, she's listening, she's paying attention to every little thing. Just like he does. So, any time Joe needs a breather, he's careful to use something like, "Need a second," Or "Can we take a time out?"

It may sound silly sometimes, but it works. It lets them both know what's needed. Wording is so incredibly important during their sexual adventures and even outside of the bedroom too. If Joe's overwhelmed in public or about something, he's a lot more mindful on how to communicate that. "Hey, can I take five?" or "I think I need just a second before we go out."

It's Domme that brings up pegging the first time. 

They check in on the Three W list (Will Do, Won't Do, Want to Try) like once a quarter, so 3/4 times a year. Joe's pretty consistent. Literally changes maybe one thing (marks are okay during the off season or asks if something they sort of rotated out to come back around [looking at you wax play]). So when Domme parts her lips and says, "I want to try pegging,’

Joe swears his eyes are going to fall out of his head. "On me? Peg me?"

She nods. He doesn't hate the idea, but it makes his stomach uneasy, "I need more time on that one. Can we loop back around to it?" Joe stews on it for two weeks. Does he want that? Would it be strange? Would it hurt? What would he do while being pegged? Would he feel different afterwards?

On a Friday afternoon, when Domme's off from work and finished her errands, and Joe's back from his meetings, Joe resurfaces the conversation with a simple, "Can we talk?" 

They talk through every minute detail. Everything. Dildo size, lubrication type, prep work, safe words, scenario (Joe has to be the one to ask for it. Even if it terrifies him, the ball has to be in his court for this)--everything, they talk about everything.

It's so strange at first, even though Joe asked for it, and Domme's being so gentle, he can't help but tense when the first wet finger traces his rim. Like is he actually about to do this? She pauses, free hand smoothing over his back, kisses up his spine. "Want me to stop or do you need a second?" 

He's usually so composed, can follow through on a decision once it's made. But this feels like it could shatter him. Could totally ruin him everything he understands about himself. "Just a second." 

Domme kisses at his back, a hum shaking at his spine. "Take all the time you need."

Eventually with a lot of encouragement, he lets her proceed and the push through the mental is the hardest part, because once she's in, the pad of her singular finger working at his prostate so gingerly, Joe's a goner. 

He pushes back into her hand and she laughs, not maliciously, a puffy satisfied sound. "Do you like that?" It echoes the question he offers all the time, usually in jest. But Domme knows the truth, that Joe loves the praise. That Joe's keening each time she tells him just how well he's doing, how good he's making her feel. To hear it back, with the delicious twist of his stomach at the careful work--Joe's literally on cloud fucking 9. 

She works slow and deliberate, eases him open with the second finger. Whispers into his skin, "Look at you. Doing so well for me. Fucking perfect. Want it that bad?" 

Joe doesn't think he can get enough, pushes and pushes and pushes back on her fingers and palm. He comes apart on her fingers, a soft and easy pull over his cock, the press of her fingers in his ass. It's messy, how hard and how violently he comes, but Joe is absolutely liquid for the rest of the night. His brain is just gone. Totally gone. Utter silence. He can barely respond to Domme. Barely hold the glass of water. 

He settles squarely onto her chest when she slips onto the bed later, tucks him up to his chest with the comforter. "Did so well for me. Took it so well. Made my misty eyed when you came, trusting me with that." Joe hears it, a smile ghosting over his face as he presses his nose into her breasts.

Joe does feel a little different. But not like he thought he would. He feels...so content. He wakes first and her fingers are still in his hair, he's proud of himself for actually going through with it. It's an instant classic. Joe still feels like Joe, like a man. He washes his face, pokes around in the kitchen, answers some emails, tries to ease her awake but she still jolt. He laughs at her huff of annoyance. "I know, I know,” he coos. “Mornings are rough. I'll sweeten the deal with a breakfast pastry." 

"Should've started with that,” she huffs. 

 It just feels right as the two of them orbit in the bedroom, getting ready. But she pauses him in the closet. "How do you feel?" 

"Good. Really good." Because that’s all there is to. She made him feel so fucking good. And that’s all that matters. 

And if Joe thinks her fingers are magical. The strap is literally god tier. 

It takes Joe a few tries to work up to the dildo. And it's just the tip, oh it's just the fucking tip and Joe's already damn near crying at how good it feels. He gets all puffy, chest heaving, begging her to keep going. "Need more, god, please." 

He loves it when she pulls at his hair, bring his head up and whisper against his shoulder, "Watch yourself." 

The mirror reflects back his own fucked out bliss--messy hair, puffy pink lips, red chest, the echoes of her kisses and bites scattered over his body. He wants to watch, wants to see her take him, claim him like this but it just feels so fucking good. Makes his brain go totally silent. He doesn't even know what's saying, if he's saying anything. Just becomes an absolute mess of himself. And she always makes sure the drop doesn't hit so hard, though it always sort of does. 

She likes to take him hard after he gets used to it. The growl of her voice into his body as her hips snap into his, bringing him under, so far under he does not remember his name. Doesn't know it by sound, only knows her voice--can't pick out words or their meaning, just knows they're taking up space, that something is happening. 

Joe is brought so utterly to feeling, that he swears he can feel the ridges in the strap, the faux veins, the divot of the tip, and he adores this space. It strips him bare. He's not the quarterback, not the head of the franchise. Joe's not a man, not a son, not a partner, not anything. He is just. He is. He's his muscles, tendons, ligaments. He is sinew. He is sweat. He is the puff. He is the labored breath. He is the begging. He is the pleading. He is the curl of his toes. He just fucking is. He exists as nothing more than the feeling of closeness between the two of them and it holds him. Fills his cup, leaves his thirst quenched. 

Then she coddles him, bring him the protein shake or water, praise him with soft whispers against his ears, play in his hair, make sure his phone is on the charger, his alarm set if he needs it, pick out his practice clothes (when needed) and Joe doesn't need to ask for her to do it because he's not going to be online enough to do it.

Joe doesn't ask to be pegged often, but when he does he asks it with a shy look on his face, like he's scared she'll say no. 

But Domme never does. Always grins up at him and nods. "I'd be happy to." And they still talk about the scene, because it keeps Joe at ease, but it leaves him with the thrill of anticipation buzzing at his skin. Makes him hot with glee for the time to come. He just feels so safe with Domme about it. She makes him feel so, so safe. 

When he brought up how he worried about what it would mean afterwards, she nodded, didn't make him feel crazy for being worried if he'd still 'feel like a man'. "Let's walk through. You do anal and then what? What do you think happens?" She didn't discount him, didn't tell him it was stupid. She just wanted to know and walked through it with him. 

"Well, I've never taken anything up the ass before, but what if it does change something? What if I realize something that wasn't there before?"

"Then you know better, baby."

 "What if I like too much?” he asks. 

"Well, then we either get hemorrhoid cream and use the strap more, or I get to introduce you to the world of threesomes." 

"Baby, I know about threesomes," Joe laughs. 

"Nah, I mean the real deal." 

He grimaces at the thought. "No, I like the idea because it's you. I don't think I want an actual dick. That just-no, hard no." 

Her grin is bright, arm sliding over his shoulder. "Then I don't think you have much to worry about, love. Sounds like you already know plenty about yourself."

Because they check in so often about the 3W list, they also use that time to check in about the relationship. They'll discuss goals they have for themselves in the relationship. 

Joe wants to be better at staying grounded and connected during the season and he has grown in that regard ,but when they're losing he tends to retreat and sometimes it leaves Domme feeling iced out. 

Domme wants to get better about not always taking over in social situations. Which is why we see in the NFL Honors blurb, she doesn't overstep, just encourages Joe. She's a social butterfly and protective over Joe. Which he appreciates when he needs it, but it's not an every time thing which can be hard for her to dial back on at times. 

They can talk about everything, "Hey, a couple weeks ago you said something and it wasn't what you said, it's how you said it. It's still bothering me. Can I talk to you about it?" 

To anyone on the outside it sounds like a work meeting, talking about KPI's or goals for the year, but for them it's just how it works. Because they're in the scene, it's super important that they do have this space to talk about their relationship, even if it can feel clinical.

What’s not clinical though is what happens behind those closed doors. That is all guttural, hot and biting. Just want they need, what they know the other loves. 

Domme, because she was in the scene first, eases Joe into it. She has a few friends still connected to the scene and knows about a rather large party happening right towards the end of the season. Asks if Joe wants to go when she finds out about it about two weeks in advance. Joe, now more comfortable with their dynamic about a year into the relationship, agrees to go. 

He’s not barred her from going previously, just asks that she abides by some ground rules: no sexual penetration, she can’t dominate anyone, but she can flirt if she wants, kissing is fine, she can sub if she wants to someone else too. So most often, Domme goes and spends her time being tied up, or goes to aide as a hostess. Helps newer couples find their footing. She still has her fun without Joe. 

However, when they finally go together, it’s a private affair. They rent a car so no one can trace their actual plates. Domme guides him around. It’s really just so Joe can see more, build his repertoire more. But he’s so fascinated with the scenes, and the rooms. No one bats an eyelash at him. No one gives a fuck about who he is. They don’t go often, a handful of times a year. But Joe brings back new things to try every time. Part of him feels like a kid in a candy store again, the unbridled kind of delight at seeing the scene in action, unfolding out in front of him in real time. Knows what people are feeling as it’s happening, a visceral kind of reaction that makes leaves goosebumps across his skin. 

Domme will settle into the main room and let Joe scamper about. She watches with pride when he comes back, a lipstick stain on his cheek and a mischievous grin on his face. “What did you see?”

“Follow me,” he returns with a hand held out. 

It’s usually always something that shocks Domme. The first few parties she brought him she stuck close by, reiterating the rules and keeping him up to date on the lingo. But later on, towards the start of their third year Joe scurried off only to drag her back to a shibari scene. “That--I want to look like that.”

He said it with so much awe, so much tenderness that it made Domme’s chest melt. He looked at it like art. Like one would look at a sculpture from years ago, taking into the details--so much awe and wonder. Domme spent weeks practicing on herself, doing research, testing the waters with Joe in non sexual scenes. Joe tries his hand at it too. Likes it when she lets him take the reigns a little bit. 

They don’t participate in the parties a ton. 

Joe’s not much of a sharer. He likes to watch, and likes to go. But again, Joe’s not great at sharing Domme. There’s a couple that Domme used to play with before Joe, the couple before she met Joe. He understands that of course others played with her before. But no one plays with her now except him. He’s Domme’s. Domme is his and he doesn’t want to share that with anyone. It is possession, but not ownership. And it’s not jealousy. She’s talked freely about how she used to play before Joe. He likes hearing about it. A couple times he’ll ask her to “turn on the charm” and that gives her permission to flirt, dazzle, lure, kiss, bite, light play.

But there’s no sex. For either one of them. Joe likes to watch her work a room, select her target and reel them in. Like watching a skilled lioness on the hunt. Lethal and charming, disarming and deadly. But there’s some pieces of her that Joe can’t let anyone else have but him. 

Domme’s willing to let Joe go a little further than he lets her take it. But Joe doesn’t do anything that she can’t do. If someone asks to give him a kiss, or something, he lets it slide. Knows how much Domme will light up at the mark. But the same rules she follows, he does too. Because that’s the most fair. Because in all honesty, that’s all he’s willing to give up, a kiss (rare-ish), a teasing wink (more common). 

Joe has a little admirer--Scarlett, a woman in her forties, he’d guess--who fawns over him. He’s happy to accept the attention because she’s nice about it. If Joe’s sticking close by Domme, she’ll ask, “Can I cut in?”

Usually, he laughs, eyes cutting to Domme, who nods at him after he nods that he wants to go. “Go,” she laughs, patting at his chest. “Have fun out there, tiger.”

Scarlett’s never offended if Joe shakes his head no. He’ll squeeze a Domme’s palm and she’ll slide in front of him just a fraction, even if she’s talking to someone else. Scarlett grins. “That’s alright. Find me when you’re ready, sweetheart.”

Sometimes Joe does loop back to find Scarlett. He’ll spot her watching him. It reminds him just a hair of Domme, the kind of magnetism they both have in their presence. Domme’s is teasing confidence. Knows how to bait. Scarlettl’s a quiet confidence, more assured. Scarlett will kiss his cheek, pull him into the couch or next to her. “She’s treating you right?”

Joe nods. “The best.”

“Good.” Scarlett plays a little with his hair, resting against him for a minute or two. “If she doesn’t treat you, you tell me. I taught her better than that.”

“I will. Need anything?”

Scarlett always laughs. “Trying to get me into trouble. I like it.” Sometimes it’s just a kiss, and it’s nice, fun, different. But there’s always a little voice in the back of Joe’s mind that’s comparing when he knows he shouldn’t. It’s not the same. Not Domme and though he likes the dabble, he never lasts away from Domme. 

Joe would seek Domme out even in the dark, pulled to her, called like sirens do to the crashed sailors. Joe doesn’t care to break the spell. Even with Scarlett in his lap, with her kissing over his neck and chest, Joe will look for Domme across the room--the prideful smile on her face makes his chest flutter. His whole body lit with fire.  

Sometimes Joe doesn’t find Scarlett again, just keeps an arm around Domme, pulls her into his lap or find a little corner of the room to bury his face into her neck, kissing at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. A silent plea for her and Domme always answers it, pulling his face out. 

“Want to get out of here?”

Joe will nod. “But I know we just got here.”

“Have all I need right here. Take me home. So I can have fun with you there.”

[ambiguouslady42]

Disneyland featuring Nanami Kento

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Fem! Reader WC: 0.8K CW: All the fluff and suggestions of sex at the end of the fic. Description: You and Nanami go to Disneyland!

Note: JELLY! I kept this short because otherwise it would've been a whole day of rides and it would be too long <3 Let me know how you feel when you finish reading it!

Tags: @pixelcafe-network, @lazyjellyfish300

"Come on, we're going to be late!"

You're pulling Nanami's arm to get him to walk faster. You're so eager to get to the gates before everyone else, but your darling planned today's special day so meticulously. "Darling, we stayed at this hotel for a reason…we get special privileges to enter the park early," he says with a tone of patience and reassurance. "We have to hurry to Adventure Land before everyone else gets there," you pout, trying to get Nanami to go faster. "My darling, I promise you that we'll get to do everything you want today, we planned for this," Nanami chuckles as you pull on him.

This day is all about you; he stayed up last night after you had fallen asleep strategizing when your breaks would take place, where to acquire snacks from, double-checking the dinner reservation, and the rides and times to use the Lightning Lane Pass (it's a lot better than standing in line for more than an hour or two). Nanami expected today to go perfectly, with no issues whatsoever.

Once inside the park, you were to start running towards Adventureland. However, before you could start running, he held your hand tightly. "Darling, remember what we agreed on. We had to get matching ears for today." The warm smile on his face tells you that you should slow down. "It's 7:00 am, the park will close at midnight," he continues. Nanami knows the ears are a big part of today. He took the lead this time, walking towards the Mad Hatter Hat Shop to specifically pick the ears he had in mind. He goes for the classic Mickey Mouse ears. He puts them on to show you, garnering a reaction from you. Your laugh and your smile guarantee that he made the correct choice. Without a second thought, you pick up the Minnie Mouse ears. In your eyes, today highlighted why you'll always be the perfect couple. He goes to the register to purchase the ears and waits to have his name embroidered on the back of his ears. While you wait, he holds your hands, doing small circles. He senses your restlessness, but it's not a moment too soon before the cast member signals him that they're ready to be worn.

"Darling, before we run off, how about we take a picture in front of the castle?" You thought he would never ask. You arrived in the nick of time before it got crowded and busy. A cast member was available to take your picture. You took a photo standing next to one another, with his arm around yours. Suddenly, he picks you up and carries you in his arms for picture number two, with him kissing your cheek, and you smiling. When you looked at the pictures, you couldn't conceal the blush. True to his word, Nanami was going to do everything in his power to keep that smile on your face.

Moving along through the park, your smile never waned, even if you had to wait nearly 2 hours to get on a ride (due to demand). There was never a moment of boredom between you two. Various sugary snacks were had in between to keep the momentum going to keep going through various parts of the park. Nanami enjoyed the moments when he could sit down, never complaining, even when it was time to ride It's A Small World. When the ride was over, an ornament commemorating the ride caught his attention, and he purchased it. "For our Christmas tree," he said. This filled your heart with warmth, wondering what other plans he has for your future.

Going through the entire park twice, the sun has set. Both of you welcome the exhaustion as your legs feel like they're going to give out at any moment. However, you refused to go back to the hotel before the big fireworks display. It was a clear night and there was no wind, making it perfect for the fiery show. Nanami strategically thought about walking towards Frontierland to find a secluded area for you to sit and watch the display. When you sat down, you felt relief after standing for most of the day. You felt his arm wrap around you and pull you closer to him. The warmth was welcomed, with his lips suddenly upon yours, slow and deep. Melting from the kiss, the first of the fireworks starts to go up into the sky. The booms don't distract you as you want this moment to last forever.

He pulls apart from the kiss to kiss your nose. "I hope today was everything you wanted."

"It was perfect," you whisper. "But I think it's time to go back to the hotel room…to start our own fireworks display."

He takes your hand to escort you back to the hotel room. He can't wait to do this all over again…maybe with a little one in tow.

[factual-fantasy]

21 Asks! Thank you! :}} 🏁

I've thought about redeeming Starscream and his brothers here and there somehow. But I think the problem I have with TFP Screamer is he is SOOOOO power hungry.

I think even in season 3 when he got whipped into shape and started being a proper lieutenant, I have no doubt he would snuff out Megatrons spark if he got the chance. I cant see him being loyal to anyone but himself. Or even really believing in anyone else or any other cause.. it feels like he just wants all the power for himself and to do what he wants.

Now if I'm wrong here please correct me- if it actually seems really in character for Screamer (AND his two brothers) to get a redemption arc/proper second chance in TFP then I'm willing to give it a go! :000 I thought it would be fun for them to be a thorn in Megatrons side as stupid lieutenants but an Autobot redemption arc is something I'm always willing to explore! :)))

I think you're right actually, in my opinion I think Ratchet would have a better understanding of internet memes than any other bot.

Some people might think Bee would understand better. But the truth is him and Ratchet are both cybertronians. Just because Bee is younger doesn't mean he automatically has a more based sense of humor. Their level of understanding of internet humor boils down to how much of the internet they have been exposed to. Which I think Ratchet has had the most exposure.

Not that's not to say he really understands it or finds it all funny. But its more like-

Arcee: "What... what even is this image. What am I looking at..??"

Ratchet: "Ah, that is another one of those "meme" things. It is meant to be a humorous image that humans send to each other to make them laugh."

Arcee: "...So.. how is funny..? What does it mean?"

Ratchet: "I have absolutely no idea."

@flutehammer

I have :0 I think I'll only want to watch it if its based around the Octopod and its crew. If it branches out to all the Octoagents I don't think I'll be interested <:/

Monster trucks are not in demolition derby's- <:0 Monster trucks are in Monster Jams and demolition derby's consist of normal sized cars.

As for the separate events, They wouldn't want to be in a demolition derby, cuz that would be painful 💀 but I'm sure a lot of them would have fun watching it :00

And none of them would be able to participate in a Monster Jam even if they wanted to. The bots that would be interested don't have a big enough frame to transform int a monster truck :( but they could at least watch them! Just like Bulkhead and Miko! :)

I imagine that would be very irresponsible of them XD so much for laying low. But I can see Vega, Miata and Zippy daydreaming about it. 😅

@florafandoms

Aww! :D Thank you so much! :))) And I watch a TFP playlist here on YouTube. So far the playlist is still up! :}

@milk-powrit

Actually now that you mention this, all 4 of the factual fam couldn't walk at first after becoming a drawing.

I always meant to draw comics over time of them slowly getting better and better at walking. But never got around to it.

In present day I guess I can say all that development was behind the scenes and they can all walk just fine now <XD

I don't think they'd pull any pranks on me of any kind. They wouldn't want to upset or confuse me in anyway. But boy would they probably mess with each other XDD Jangles and Cici especially.

I couldn't really put the gifs in this ask post <XD but I've always imagined trying to animate my fam and I wanted them to be very smooth and soft looking. Like Disney animation or something James Baxter would animate.

Bibi and Cici especially, smooth and flowy :0 Maybe someday I'll try to animate that....

I feel like Jangles would really dig that :00

@lilylink

AAAAA THANKYOU! :DDD 💞💞💞

I hate to day it, but his voice drives me up the wall 😅💔I cant watch anymore playthroughs of the demo because his voice annoys me so much. <:/

As for the fam. I feel like Gerald might have what it takes. But the other three would be a bit camera shy <XD Bibi especially.

I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the Stephen King or Harry Potter cars.. but I'm sure they'd have an interest in Doc Hudson! :D

I do that once in a while if I get an ask that inspires me. :0 But I don't think I'd want to do that regularly <XD That feels kind'a like I'd be roleplaying which would be kind'a weird for me-

@glitchhayden418

don't call me that 🫵👁️👁️🗡️

Also Walter sounds like a great name XDD But if not that then maybe Timone?

Bibi XDD

@randomfandomarts

There's more than one?? :0 I had no idea! If I could get my hands on them somehow maybe I'd be motivated to read them :000

@beryl-shade

I'd say its Bibi :0 And not just because he's actually the eldest sibling XDD Its also because he is usually the voice of reason and keeps the other 3 out of trouble. 🤭

@digi-vie

AAAWWWWW FLUFFY BABYEEEEEE😭😭💞💞💞

(First link in ask) (Second link in ask)

Aww, she seems so sweet in those two videos! 🥰🥰

Oh boy- I hope they don't make a cruddy movie just for the money 💔

[dekusleftsock]

I want everyone to know that I just started hyperventilating and crying at the last leaks screenshot where Ochako says toga is the cutest in the whole world.

[sunlight-shunlight]

i don't have an excuse for this. woe. young solas be upon ye.

[wyervan]

would Sun be mad if i fiddled with his hair? Not in a grooming way. . . more like. . .

Would he let me grab a strand and twirl it around my finger?

Mmh! Okay—only if you guys were like, super familiar already. and he liked you. a lot. and he knew your hands were clean. Otherwise, Moonie's the only one he's comfortable with touching his hair. Anyone else tries it, and he’ll be flinching away, making excuses, and inching toward the Lysol.

If all the above is true, he quite likes having his hair played with! Twirling strands, gentle tugs, carding through his mane with your fingers. He’s lids will droop and he’ll get a dopey smile on his face 🥴. Be nearly purring in no time.

[faaun]

said goodbye to him feeling weird!

[roseworth]

part of the appeal of a jason & rose team up to me is that they are so similar personality-wise but they are soooo different in their approach to crimefighting in the sense that jason is a meticulous planner and rose does not plan more than 10 minutes ahead. jason spends weeks putting together every aspect of their plan and backup plans in case something goes wrong just for rose to ruin it by going "im gonna kick down this door and see if anyones behind it"

[satanfemme]

people always say "this website's hate mail game is insane" but I can't even remember the last time I received a hate anon that didn't just make me roll my eyes. it's like... so mid. sometimes it's so boring I forget I'm supposed to block. and look, I'll admit this is almost frustrating because if you're going to develop some kind of hateful obsession with me that's cool and gets me going a bit, but I'd like it if you actually paid attention to who I am as a person (it's like you don't even care about my major and obvious insecurities), or at least otherwise showed some kind of conviction and passion.... none of you are suitable kismesis partners for me and it makes me sad. you are all anxiety-ridden & reactionary cowards who, rather than forming a useful political identity, search tumblr for your favorite discourse keyword of the month so you can (fail to) posture yourself as effortless bullies because it makes you feel better about your own shit lives and it's so transparent that it could never work on anyone with even 1% less insecurities as you have. it's sad! :-(!

[savage-rhi]

Magenta 😥

[haarute]

it's amazing how almost all of my friendships (and by almost all i mean Every save like three) are ruined by my own self essentially swerving into a wall and crashing on purpose due to my inability to believe my company could ever be even slightly desirable to anyone and i'd rather just burn it all and die than see myself as someone who intrudes and abuses people's kindness out of my own selfish desire to want companionship.